The Seattle Star Newspaper, April 4, 1922, Page 13

ATTLE STAR BY AHERN THE OLD HOME TOWN HOLD BR. NEWT ALL I GOTTA SAY 16 I {PAID FoR GETTING OUR LAST PACK OF 'MAKE-UP! TOWELS WASHED! You'LL. HAVE "To GO “THROUGH 1H’ AGONY OF PARTING WITH A DOLLAR ‘To PAY FoR “TH’ NEXT BUNCH = You USE MOST OF EM ANYHow, AN! ABUSE “TH TOWELS WITH THAT MUG OF YouRS = I THINK TLL G WrTHouT A 'MAKE-UP’ AFTER Is! YEH, YOUGHTA Go OW WITHOUT A ‘MAKE-UP'= WE NEED SOME COMEDY WW OUR ACT Y'DON'T HAVE “TO MAKE ANY HOT SHOTS ABOUT MY FACE =THAT DIAL OF YOURS WON'T CAUSE ANY | FEMALE HEART 1 MISS FIRE EITHER} SAY, How ABOUT TH! “TIME You USED MY SILK SHIRT FoR A TOWEL WHEN You Dip 'BLACK- FACE’ 2=I NOTICE YOUR PURSE GOT A PARALYTIC STROKE WHEN (T CAME “TO DAY FOR GETTIN’ IT WASHED = (Continued From Page 6) wel have a holiday.” b ; vaken it out ag And why not? | What did it mat But he had a She showed pusslement. “A holl.| Prevision that it was going to mat What. the office? All of you? | ter. Mabel did not particularly like She had paused three steps trom | Nona. the foot of the stairs, her right hand en the banisters, His wife! . . He stit his hand up the raf and rested it on hers. “Good lord, no. | Not the office, No, I suddenly thought we'd have a holiday. You! 1” He half hoped would respond | to the touch of his hand by turning | the palm of her own to it, But bh thought, “Why should she? and sh @id not. She said, “But how extraor. | @inary Whatever for?’ “Well, why notr” “But what did you e@ay at the of. fice? What reason did you give™ “Didn't give any. I just said I thought I wouldn't be back.” “But whatever will Mr. Fortune inkl “Oh, what does it matter what he thinks? He won't think anything about it.” “But he'll think it funny.” “What time's lunch? Half-past ene? What about getting your bike and going for a bit of a run first?" She was at a drawer of her table | where she kept, with beautiful neat- ness, implements for various house- hold duties. A pair of long scissors came out, “I can’t possibly, I've things to do. Besides some one's coming to lunch.” Ho began to feel he had been a fool. The feeling nettied him and he! thought, “Why ‘some one’? Dash it, I might be « stranger in the house. Why doesn’t she eny who? And) then he thought, “Why should she? ‘This is just it. I'd have heard all about it at breakfast if I'd been de cently communicative.” He sald, “Good. Who?” She tock a shallow basket from the shelf. He knew this and the long scissors for her flower.cutting imple- ments. “Mr. Bagshaw.” And before he could stop himself he had groaned. “Oh, lord! She “flew up” and he rushed | to make amends for) his blunder and prevent her flying up. “Mark, I do wish—" “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I really am Most awfully sorry, Mabel. Oh, lord’ "s not really profanity. You! know it's not. It's just my way—” “T know that.” But he persevered. “As a matter of fact, it's clear connection of thought in this case. Bagshaw's a .) and my mind flew in- stantly to celestial things.” She did not respond to this. “In| you should object to Mr. Boom Bag. shaw.” He laughed and came across the room toward her impulsively. He ‘They went thru doors into the garden and @ continued, “Really chatty. I'm got out of bed the wrong morning, didn’t 17” mid, “Was that the reason? How awfully funny of you" and she gave one of her sudden bursts of laughter. ™ She cut the first rose and held it to her lips, smelling it. “Lovely ‘Who was your letter from, Mark?” He thought, “How on earth did| | over He said, “Just to say they're back, She wants us to go up there,” “An invitation? Whyever didn’t she write to me?" “Whyever” again! “May I eee itt Me took the letter from his pocket and handed it to her, “It's not ex actly an Invitation—not formal." She did what he called “flicked” the letter out of its envelope, He watched her reading it and in his mind he could «ee asx perfectly as he with her eyes, the odd, neat script: in his mind he read it with her, word by word. Mabel handed it back, without re. turning it to its envelope. She said, “No, it's not formal.” She snipped three rosea with as tonishing swiftness—snip, snip, «nip! thai She took up a creamy rose and snipped off a fragment of stalk over the saucer, “Why does she call you ‘Marko’? He was utterly taken aback. If the question had come from any one but Mabel, he would have quite fatied to connect it with the letter. But there had distinctly been an “inci dent” ; the letter, tho #o far he bad imagined, that he Was completely surprised. He said “Who? Nonat™ “Yes, Nona, if you like, bar.” “Why, she always has. You know that.” Mabel put the rose into a speci. men vase with immense care and touched a speck off its peta her fingers. “I really didn't.” “Mabel, you know you do. must have heard her.” “Well, I may have. But long ago. I certainly didn’t know she used it tn letters.” He felt he was ie angry. “What on earth's the difference “It seems to me there's a great deal of difference. I didn't know she w you letters.” He was angry, “Damn it, she docan't write me letters.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You seem to get them, anyway.” _ Maddening! And then he thought, “I'm not going to let it be maddening. This is just what happens.” He said, “Well, this is silly. I've known her —we've known one another—for years, since we were children, pretty well. She's called me by my Chrie tian name since I can remember. You must have heard her. We don't eee Lady Ty- much of her—perhape you haven't I thought you had. Anyway, dash the thing. What does it matter?” “It doesn't matter”—ehe launched & flower into a vase—"a pit. I only think it's funny, that's a “Well, it's just her way.” Mabel gave a little «miff. He thought it was over. But it wasn't “If you ask me, I call ita funny letter. You say your Chris- tian name, but it isn't your Chris tian name—Marko! And then «ay ing, ‘How are you? like that" “Like what? She just said @idn't she™ : “Yes I know. And then ‘Nona.’ Don't you call that funny?’ “Well, I always used to call her ‘Nona.’ She'd have thought it fun. ny, as you call it, to put anything else. I tell you It’s just her way.” “Well, 1 think it's a very funny way and I think anybody else would think *o. I don't like her. I never did like her.” ‘There seemed no more to say. Iv A gong boomed enormousty thru the house. The reverberations had ts where the flowers had been and where now was her embroidery bas | ket. She was embroidering, an art| which, in common with ail the do mestic arts, she performed to perfec | ton. “Bagshaw’s late?” said Sabre. Mabel gianced at the clock. Her. gesture above her busy needle was pretty, “Well, he wasn't absolutely sure about coming. I thought we wouldn't wait. Ab, there he is j ‘There was only one person in all England who, arriving at Craw. shaws, would not have been gently but firmly enfolded hy the machine like order of its perfect administra. tion arid been led in and introduced | with rites proper to the occasion. But | | that one person was the Reverend | | Cyril Boom Bagshaw, and he now strolled acrons the threshold and into} the room, * ! He strolled in. Hie wore a well |made suit of dark gray fiann | brown brogue shoes and a soft coll with a black tie tied in @ satlor’s knot. He disliked clerical dress and he rarely wore it. He was dark. Hie good-looking face bore habitually a/ rather sulky expression as tho he were « little bored oF disnatiatied You would never have thought, to GEE, CAN YoU look at him, that he was a clergy- | man, or, an he would have said, a | priest, and in not thinking that you YELL WE WHO | would have paid him the compliment SUCCEEDED that pleased him most. This waa not decaust Mr. Boom Bagshaw lacked earnestness tn his calling, for he was enormously in earnest, but because | he disliked and despised the conven tional habits and manners and ap pearance of the clergy and, in any case, intensely disliked being one of a class. For the same reasons he wore a monocle; not because the vision of his right eye was defective but because no clergyman wears a monocle. It is not done by the priest: | hood and that ts why the Reverend Cyril Boom Bagshaw did it Ho strolled negligently into morning room, his hands in his trouser pockets, the skirt of his Jack. ¢t rumpled on his wrists. He gave | Now, PERCOLATE THAT ! she know?” He had forgotten it| scarcely ceased when Low Jinks, al-| himself. “How ever did you know?|tho she had caused the reverbera From Lady Tybar, They're back.” |tions, appeared in hia room with a/ “I saw you from the window with | brass can of hot water. the postman. Lady Tybar! What “Mr. Boom Bagshaw haa not ar: ever was she writing to you about?” | rived yet, #ir.” said Low Jinks: “but He somehow did not like this. Why |the mistress thought we wouldn't “whatever”? And being watched was | wait any longer.” rather beastly; he remembered he| Sabre washed his hands and went) the Impression of having been stroll: ing about the house all day and of now strolling in here for want of a better room to stroll into, He nodded | negligently to Sabre, “Hullo, Sabre.” He emiled negligently at Mabel and t po jation. It's seated himeelf negligently on the | 4” pyre Nicene san Wei te edge of the table, still with his hands | 19° “oN Ot ng it’s @ dammed | in his pockets. Well, Gash Sabre thought.) panéy.” house!” You're right It is out of pince. I abominate ftip. | it's “This € my r is a | RUN UP AND ASK YouR MOTHER FIRST- SHE MAY WANT YOU To GO! ‘a =f go = STUPID STEWART SPENT THREE HOURS PUTTING UP A NEW SIGN ON MAIN STREET TODAY, NO SIR! I'VE GOT You Ne“ iF you co ALLCLEANED UP AND OUT I’LLCOME | WANT You To STAY AND GET LIKE FON ' THAT WAY- WE’RE You WILL- You r Qoattle vt | nuisance A silver entree dish wan placed be. | damned nuisance had fiddled about with the letter—j|down. Mabel was in the morning! half put it im his pocket and then|room, seated at the center table fore Mabel, another before Sabre. | Sabre began, “Well * Low Jinks removed her mistress’ cov-| “Now, listen, Sabre, It Isa damned APVENTURES |se"snd'Mr" oom Parshaw posted | nuimnce, and I put ie to you tha Pg | aside a flower vase to obtain a view. | when a toad is discovered embedded | ce Page 641 END OF MR. NEELEY'S STORY “I thought,” said David, “that! “Mother made it as nice as she maybe your mother was too tired | Could and father mended the root and then we all got busy clearing to go on Just like @ lot of other | SG litte’ wady to build a bet | “I don’t eat salmon,” he remarked. |The vase was now between himeelf and Sabre, in @ solid mass of coal or stone, that coal or stone, when it was slowly He again moved It, “Or |forming about that toad, was a | cutlets.” | damned nuisance to the toad.” Mabel exclaimed, “Oh, dear! Now) gabro asked, “Well, am I going to 1 got this salmon in specially from! be disco Tidborough.” OF THE TWINS THE RAVELING vered embedded—" | “Now, listen, Sabre, Another man | “I'l have some of a. ronal bo my place would say he did not pioneer mothers we've heard) ter cabin Mr. Boom Baguhaw; and he arose] intend to be personal. I do intend as es ede ae psa . sulkily and strolled to the sideboard |to be personal. I always am per about, but then she had only Everybody worked haere * where he rather sulkily cut from a! sonal. I say that this Garden Home three of you to take eare of—till| women and children and all, An¢ when night came we lay down they brought her the boy with the Maybe that's | ham in thick wedges. The house was|ix springing up about you and tha j clearly his house. you are not realizing what is hap iM 4 arrow in his back. 4 928 “we'd been there just about He addressed himself to Mabel. | p&ning. This Garden Home is going rie | |*"Now in @ very few woeks you'll no|to enshrine life as it should be lived. |f “?Y two weeks and things were begin. longer have to get things from Tid- |More. It is going to make life be Mr. Neeley looked thoughtful! ning to seem quite natural to us you know how it is with chil dren—and then one morning we waked up with a sort of strange feeling. and seemed to think about what our David had said. “I don't know,” he finally went on slowly. “I don't ete myself how she did) wrnere was a good fire going everything she had to do, and! in the fireplace and father—not lived, but when she was 96 years | mother—was stirring around gvt old and we wanted to hire a girl| ting breakfast, while mother lay } in her builtin bed and smiled at to help her do:her house work, she | iI \ien she saw we were awake. taid, ‘Nothing doing. I'l do my “And then, then we heard a own housework.’ queer little thin ery coming from somewhere near mother, and what lo you think it was? A new baby | borough, Mrs, Sabre—salmon or any-| lived as it should be lived. Some |thiig else. The shops in Market/one said to me the other di the | | Square are going the minute they’re | Duchess of Wearmouth; I was stay |complete. I got a couple of fish |ing at Wearmouth Castle—that the mongers only yesterday.” Garden Home is going to be a anc “Two! maid Mabel jtuary. T eaid ‘Bah! like that—Rah? “Two. I encourage competition. |1 eald, ‘Every town, every city, every No one is going to sleep in the Gar- | village in a sanctuary; and asleep in den Home.” ita sanctuary; and dead to life in tts | “What will all the bedrooms be! anctuary; and dead to Christ in its used for then?” Sabre inquired. |aanctuary." TI «aid, “The Garden | He directed the fork at Sabre and | Home is not going to be a sanctuary | after an impressive moment spoke: nor yet a sepulehre, nor yet a tomb. “You know, Sabre, I don’t think| It ts going to be a symbol, a signal Some POOPLE TON'T CARE -How MUCH INFECTION THSY SPREAD BY CARELESS SNGEZING. THSY NGED THEIR Eves OPENED To THE DANGGR OF 'T. “Have you all gone crazy?” demanded Nancy “You know where that cut Is {n | Yes, it was the Squeediliums who a little while there was a scattering had carried off the record and made|of earth and gravel as they dug a| you're quite alive to what it is that | shout.’ More ham.” the hill? Gravel? Just as you ‘10 yor & OPEN THEM BY a dance floor of it. Fortunately they | larger opening for the return of the| is growing up about you. Flippancy (Continued Tomorrow) leave Auburn going up towards} "ine we slept, there CLOSING Hem | Used the wrong side, so it wasn't burt | record. Be: —— —_— Boumelawt” way ont in the big dark forest in = @ bit. ‘Oh, goody?’ cried Nancy. I'm) Yeu, David and Peggy both re-/ the old cabin, that wee baby girl ve just happened to see it here,” |s0 much obliged to you, Mr. Jinks. said Mr. Jinks, “and so we carried | You've no idea how precious this it oft.” | thing tar” “Are you fairies?” asked Nancy. “H'm? What's that?’ asked Mr. “Indeed yes,” answered Mr. Jinks | Jinks suddenly. “Who are you and proudly. “You never saw bumans|who am J, and what are you talking this size, did you?” about?” | “No, we never did,” she answered| The Twins thought he had s#ud-| thoughtfully. “But I've seen all|denly taken leave of his senses sorts of bugs your size.” | "Does he get this way very often?” Mr. Jinks was offended. ‘Well, you | asked Nick of the others. had come. And she was the first white child to be born on White river.” “That made another one for your pioneer mother to keep care of, didn't it?” Peggy said. “Yes, and later there were more,” the other David said, “but she never grew tired of us.” membered it “Well, that’s right where we came over the hill when we came) Polly and Paul—amd [Paris By Zee Beckley (Copyright, 1922, by The Seattle Star) | to this place “We found a little old log cabin eight by 10 feet—standing in the woods, and we set up our house keeping in that, SS eee , CHAPTER LIII—THE MARKETS ‘The city was not yet awake when) well, evoked a squeal from Polly. “Why do they fix it that way?” “Um-m," Barray considered, “part 4 Barray iasued from their but It} Polly a little cafe, dawn had come: can look in all the bug books and| “What way?" asked a bluesatin ly their innate sense of beauty; part firm. He was shouting at terrifio|tirea?’ animal books, too. But you won't fairy. “And who are you? We never |®4ve Polly @ feeling of strangeness |jy to keep the leaves from being hve canstat aoeian earoall them | Potty, endhanted speed, but unexcited and casual Polly hadn't realized it, but she find Squeedillums. The Fairy Queen |saw you before, And what's this|and adventure to seo the first pinky: | bruised. ‘The French regard thelr! siingly, with the grace of a| “Food is a science and an art with| “What {8 he jabbering about?” |was weary to the dropping pointy has us in her fairy book, though. | black thing doing here?” gold sun rays slanting along the nar.| vegetables like flowers. ‘They'll Mm MEY Wiel te ae nought |them,”” said Barray, “The feed wit 3 | eried Polly, crowding to the edge of |The morning sun was bright now, We're one of her nine hundred and| “Have you all gone crazy?" de-|row streets, to smell the clean out-|rhapsodize over a beautiful carrot— | iii inl Cubens ak ik UY Se it, from the weed to the the {nis clrele. and with its fullness the mystic spell Rinety-nine kingdoms—smail, to be) manded Nancy |door freshness of early morning.|and almost weep over an artichoke |\NOm 8 Bit tas a biog Hi Ne fin-| “Quoting prices asked and offered, |was waning: |. tte @neeneaa sure, but important.” | “Crazy? What's crazy? We forget |One turning brought them upon the! with smashed lavest’ o ae gates down to quarters and eighths of a/the night was done, She must hurry | A Then turning to nome of the lit-| everything,” they answered vast markets, Les Halles, The great; “Oh, do look at these heavenly great martes iovked more ise! clamor arose nearby centime, The price that finally stands | he Suppose the concierge should tle fairiey behind him, he waved a| Suddenly Nancy led a raveling |arched ¢ roofs of the different!onions! I never knew an onion|4 flower garden than @ place where! ‘The mushroom auction,” said | without further bidding sets the rate | see her at that hour with Barray ag hand wrapped about them and she knew, |sheds—one for meata, one for fruits, |could be so utiful! And those lit were hawked. Most of the | Rarray, |for that day thruout the market and | escort, ‘ome, boys, we'll have to g0\'The Cloth of Dreams wan still mak-|one for vegetables, etc., etc. cover-| tle polished new potatoes—like wood | stalls were presided ower by women) A man in a blue smock, with a| practically all over Paris, The same| He hailed a cab that was early back to the ballroom and get theling trouble. The raveling had been |ing many acres, made Polly gasp in|carvings! Yum-m, smell that parsley|—bis and fresh-faced and busin | purple neckerchief, stood on a barrel | procedure covers asparagus and but: | astir, and they sped to Polly's house new dance floor. This lady and gen-| sticking to the record and the fairies | surprise |—and what’ are those little round |like, who sung out their wares with | surrounded by great baskets of|ter, fresh exes and forget-me-nots, |a little silent, eman say it belongs to them had touched It | Deep baskets of watercrens, ar-jthings on green leaves?” the dignity of opera stars. | mushrooms, beautifully neat, each|mackerel and maccaroons—almost Walking toward them from the q Bo the little folks all turned back (To Be Continued) ranged with the heady of the| “Fresh figs—ever eat them? ‘Try| “Even the cheeses and fish are| basket so full that not another speck | everything! * And how is your came Violet. [corner bunches inwards, forming a sort of | some,” Uke porume from Araby,” chirruped | could be added, yet all so safe androyal highness feeling—a litle (To Be Com4wed {nto the underground passage and in| (Copyright, 1922, by Seattle Star)