The Seattle Star Newspaper, April 6, 1922, Page 11

a te do; as one says “There on } ®t last eitting down after much fe Meue. Bho tossed her qauntiets on to a chair, She walked past him towarde the window. “You got my letter?’ “Yes.” ; Mer face was averted. Her voice had not the bantering tone with Which she hed spoken at her entry “You never answered it.” “Well, I'd Just seen you—juat be } fore I got it.” She was looking out of the win. | dow. “Why haven't you been up? don't knéw, I was com ‘ _. eer made no reply. He could think She turned sharply away from the Window and came towards him, radi. again, aw at her entry. And in first bantering tone, “I know you it.” she smiled, resuming her Suggestion, “me coming here, this, It makes you feel uncom. You always feel uncom when you see me, Marko, Ta like to Know what you thought When they told you I was here—* He started to speak. She went on, “No, I wouldn't. I'd th know just what you were een told you, Tell me wasn't doing anything. It stopped his words. his throat, it caught Iv He got up quickly, “I aay, Nona | Hever mitnd about thinking. yOu What's been doing Happened just atter 1 met you the other day.” “The dust on thane roads!" she handkerchief. “What, Marko?" “Well, old Fortune promised to take me into partnership about an age ago.” “Murko, he ought to have done it Qn Age ago, Whats there rotten about that’ “The rotten thing ts turned tt down, that he's At least practicaily has, He He told her of the Twynitg and Fortune imeident, “Pretty retten of old Fortune, don't you think? “Ola tienar* trout! Sabre laughed. “Good word, trout. The then here all any he's like a whale. They call him Jonah,” and he tolt her why She laughed gaily. “Marko! How disgusting you are! But I'm sorry. Lam. Poor old Marko. or course it doesn’t matter Orme. radish what an old trout like that thinks about your work, but it does Matter, doesn't itt I know how you feel, They had an author man at a place we were staying at the other day~Maurice Ash—and he told me that altho he says it doesn't matter, sald Nona, “Ol | | | | | | Tilt tet | Rotten. | sald, She touched her eyes with her | OPE 2 Fie, It Se 7 / MISS GILBERT HAS TLL BET HE THINKS NEWPORT NEWS 19 A PAPER! | CASES AT FIRST AND HE “TOTES A ee oe 1@'WALLY FLOWER I MINK Hes GRAND =| DID You SEE “HE FOUR HORSEMEN | OF THE APOCALYPSE, MR. WASHBURN 2 4 tl i i Hs -9/! Poe 1] % OY hives. | ls i —, — Ad notuer ROMEO THE SHATTLE STAR "BY AHERN | WAG THATTH MOVIE © {'MAN*O-WAR’ RACING “THAT CANADIAN HORSE YEH, L SAW IT TWICE, AND HE Won TH’ Nea | i i RUSHES MISS GILBERT—- “THE OLD HOME i TOWN Me: | ce ee ai SMITHING PAILS & PIPE {| SToves 7 Te (WOLD ER| oe NewrT LS SHES / mea f f JUST WHEN THE BOYS WERE ALL FIXED FOR A NICE CHAT ON THE SUNNY SIDE OF “THE STREET TODAY, THE OLD FENCE GAVE AWAY. Ny iw) BY STANLBY { rs MOL OLPOTUT HTT 1, \ \ fat si Y ‘ \V//7 Ss Uke you best when you're and knows it doesn’t matter, when don't you! ad absolutely trivial person says something riling about any of his ead. | stuff, still it does matter, He said & Clever | thing you've produced out of your. mine.” | seit you can't bear to have slighted —~not by the buteher, Giadys Oc Cleve made us laugh. Maurice Ash said to her, ‘It's lke @ mother’s Tom Was a Near Prospect THE DIVIDENDS ARE PAID EVERY THREE MONTHS - THE STOCK WiLL: GO WA “TEN THOUSAND DOLLA' A SHARE IN THREE MONTHS. first! she cated tt “pear thine} DOINGS OF THE DUFFS and returned it to ita place with a . on HOW DO You DO, MR. DUFF - ID ene ened anny. “Oh, well, Ak%)1T LIKE TO INTEREST You IM_A 4 ¥ PROPOSITION THAT WILL PAY You 30% OM YOUR INVESTMENT-| ‘THIS IS THE LAST DAY You HAVE i WHAT 1S IT ? PLL HELP YOU OUT - ALL ‘THE WELLS YOU SEE HERE IN RED ARE PRODUCING - RIVE ‘THOUSAND DOLLARS INVESTED IN THIS COMPANY WILL MAKE | You A MILLIONAIRE IN FIVEYEARS: Bhe moved about the room, touch: cd in I Just go on™—she to use, strangely mt the word away from its application. “I believe ther what { was thinking you came, Nona. About just go on—fiotaam. Don't on @ river where it's tidal, Seashore at the turn, the word | ; and ity the tide beging to take fe drawn off and moves ar ‘That's : Eg Hi SE Eee over. horseman might |. He some ferriding, and he said “But How can hit. Look here, you're a countess,’ he eid to her. “You oughtn't to tind what a butebér thinks of your children; but supposing the butcher seid your infant Henry was tle brat: what would yo Gladys said she'd dash « beet end of the neck straight into his face.” Sabre laughed. “Yes, that’s the feeling, But of course, all these books"—he indicated the sheives— “aren't mine, not my children, more ike my adopted children’ ’ 4 She deciated it was the mme “More #6, In a way. You've invented them, haven't you, called them out of the vasty deep sort of thing and brought them up in the ‘Way they should go. I do think it's rather fine, Marko.” Her bands were moving about the Volumes, pulling out a book here and ing things, looking at things, “Show me something eles. Is that where the olf trout baske? Can he I'm giad I've seen your ‘ko, 1 shall imagine you pureling in here.” Ho said, “I tell you what, Nena ri you something. I've an idea sometimes of cutting out from ali this piace and starting an education al publishing business on my own.” She was enormousiy interested. “Oh, Marke, if only you would? “Well, I think abéut i. I do, I can see a biggish thing th it, The Tidborough Preas, 1'@ call it. Like the University Press, you know, O= “Ob, you aust! began to pour out the tremen- bit dous and daring echeme, |there: she mused the gy at pen Unaeens—Proae’; Greek Hows person, Marke! “The Shell igebra’; “The Shel) Latin Grammar’; mld. He was standing beats her. Delightful thie! His pride in his work thrilied anew. “You see the idea of the thing. Gives the boy the feeling of something definite to get hry in a definite time.” She was reading one of the pref. aces, signed with his initials, “Yea I wee what + avoiding the formidable and unattractive wil- derness that a new textbook com monly presents to the puptl's mind.’ I call that jolly good, Marke, f call [it all awfully good. Fancy you sit. }ting tm here and thinking out ail thowe idens. Or do you think them | out at home? . “Fancy” She bandied it. “How feartuily proud of it you must have been, Marko, And | Mabel; waan’t she proud? The very re oe The soft surface of the mountain had caved in Naney and Nick bade the Squeed- fiums goodby and started up the Biderdown Mountain. It was thé Middle one of the Seven Mountains. “My! said Nancy, looking all atound. “It's all blue plush and as soft a8 & pillow, This will be an easy mountain, Nick.” But no sooner had #he spoken than she dimappeared. The soft blue surface of the mountain had caved im, ike a snow drift does when you step on it, and closed over the top of Nancy's ead. Nick stood stalk-atM, not daring to move or breathe scarcely, for fear of going under, toot “Oh!” he whine “Oh, oh, goodnesst He clutched the record tightly aa though it might save him. Suddenly the magic paper tamped it of his pocket and spread itself t fiat aealnet the record ‘Then the red feather pen jumped of his other pocket and began fy write on the paper. “Turn sround and run down mountain the way you came,” A wrote the pen. “Nancy will come up on top again in a minute, and you must call to her to follow you. |Then wish yourselves up to the Weather Man's Star, ‘Tell Mr. | Sprinkle Blow, the Weather Man, to |eend a hard rain. When the Eider. |down Mountain geta wet it will go | flat for it is stuffed with feathers, | Wish yourselves back to the same | spot and try it again.” When the magic pen had teased |writing it Jumped back into Nick's pocket and the magico paper fol lowed. Nick obeyed instructions and ran down to the foot of the soft biue |plush mountain, which kept caving in at ever yatep. Relieved of Nick's weight the mountain sprang into place again, and Naney appeared. “My, I'm |nearly dead,” she coughed. “1 thought I was gone for eure,” some on down,” called Nick. "We can't cross the mountain till it gotn wet. We have to see Mr, Sprinkle Blow.” (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1922, by Beatie Stary “Well, that's all,” he eal. Bhe declared, “It's splendid. that matters,” she said. He asked her, “What do you mean —not that that matters’? She made @ little face at him. “Marko, you're not to snap me up times, what a man does, that matters.” He laughed. “Well, that lets me down pretty badly if that's the eath | mate. I'm awful, you know.” She shook her head. “Oh, you're “You don't know ma Ive been TO GET IN ON IT- (7 the papers. It's that: seeing a thing from only one point of view and going ail Out for it from that point growing awful thease yeara” “Tell me how awtul you ara. Dow Mabel think you're awful? “You ask hert I'm the most an satisfactory sort of person ifs pos | aible to meet. Really.” | “Go on; tell me, Marke, I tik | thin," | “What, Ike heartng how uneatis factory I am? “I like hearing you talk. Yon've got rather @ nice voloo—I used to tell you that, didn’t 1tand I like hearing you stumbling about trying to éxpiain your ideas, You've got ideas, You're rather an ideary per son. Go on, Why are you unsatia factory?” , How famfilar her votoe was on that note—caressing, drawing him on. He said, “I'll tell you, Nona I'm Unsatisfactory because I've got the most infernal habit of seeing things from about twenty points of view in stead of one. For other people, that's the most irritating thing you can possibly tmagina, I've no oom victions, I always can see the other wide of a case, and you know, that’s absolutely fatal—* She sald gently, “Fatal to what, Marko?” He wan going to my, “To happt- ness”; but he looked at her and then looked away, “Well, to everything; to muccems, You can't pownibly be sticeensful if you haven't got ¢onvic tions—what I call bald-headed con- victions, That's what sticcsss tn, Nona, the success of politicians and big men whose names are always in By Jeo Violet walked to the corner again. ‘The concierge made no reply save to apply to her sweeping a vigor that éxpressed disapproval of this smartly kowned visitor who came at such an unheard of hour inquiring for Mme. Dawson. If Mme. Dawson went to a party and chose to spend the night with her friend, Mile. Brady, what affair wan it of anyone else? Huh! And the good housekeeper flicked her dust with a will. The rattle of m taxi made her look round, It drew up at the curb, and at the same moment the 'ady who had come inquiring returned from her stroll to the corner, Out of the taxicab stepped Mme. Dawson and 4 gentleman! The ‘of view. Convictions, Not mucking about all round « thing and seeing it from twenty different aiden like I do, You know, you can't pull out this big, booming sort of stuff they call audcem if you're going to see anybody's point of view but your own, You must have con. victions, Yea, and narrower than that, not convictions but conviction. Only one conviction—that you're right and that every one who thinks differently from you is wrong to blazes.” He laughed. “And I'm dashed tf 1 ever think I'm right, let alone conviction of it. I can always see the bits of right on the other wide of the argument, That's me. Dash me!" She sald, "Go on, Marko. this.” “Well, that's all there ts to ft, Nona, These conviction chaps, these booming politicians and honors-list chaps, these Bagshaw chaps—you | know Ragshaw?—they @o like & can- |non ball, They go like hell and jemash through and stick when they get there, My fort's like (he foot. balls you @ee down at the school puntabouts, Wherever there's a punt I fell {t and respond to it. My sort’s out to be kicked—”" He laughe1 again. “But I couldn't be any other sort.” She mld, “1 Marke, You" used to be. same.” He aid not repty. (Continued Tomorrow) T ttke glad you conlén't be, Just the same as you I'm glad you're the Polly and Paul—and Paris Beckley (Copyright, 1911, by The Keattle @ar) CHAPTER LV—THE REBUFF conclerge’s mouth fell ajar with amazement. Surely it couldn’t te, and yet—there waa her own eyea! She walted for no more, her shrewd wits telling her that the handsomely dreased lady was there for somo ugly purposes, She didn't want to know. She gath. ered up her cleaning things, and went into the hotise, Violet contrived to come up just an Polly was being helped from the cab by Bartay. “Well, well!’ She advanced with hands extended, “Where liave you two children been? I knew you'd got lost, Polly, and I ¢ame over to see if you'd come home all right. 1 “‘ah? mid HMadealit, when he found himself on the shore, ‘I do not trust the salt water enough; 1 must get a stick big enough to rest upon, and then the waves will carry me safely’ “Bo he cut another tree a little larger than the first and got upon it, but it rolled over, and over, and over, and poor Hadwalit had much ado to kerp from going agnin to the bottom, but te once more regained the shore, “This time he sat and sat and thought and thought; daylight faded into twilight; a atar twinkled overhead, and presently am little creseent moon showed over the tall trees, “long and long Hadaalit watched the moon, and he eald to himself, ‘It floats and floats in the dark sea that is above me, and never does it turn or fall.’ “Thefi he seemed to hear a voice which came on the night wind which said, ‘See the little moon is hollowed out, and it has high- pointed ends. Wind for yourself a great stick like that—potnted high “THERE |S JUST ONE “THING THAT MAKES ME a Page 643 AUNT ELLEN'S LEGEND at both its ¢nds and hollowed tn the center—and it shall bear you tate.’ “Then Hadalit slept. “For marty days he searched the forest for the moon- shaped stick, but he found none. And all the while his heart waa | ead, for he was very, very lonely “Then one day he thought to himself, ‘I will cut a tree and I will make for shaped stick, which will bear mo on the salt water, “So carefully cutting with his sharpest stone hatchets and burn- ing with slow fires, he worked, and when he had done—to and be- hold! he had made tho first canoe. “And he pushed it Into the salt water and lay down in it and the moon, which was by this time quite rotind and big, shone down on him and smiled “But while he floated and did not sink as before, and while the canoe shaped like the new moon 4id not rol! and turn, still he had no power to guide it, and it drift. ¢d with the wind and the tides, and Hadaalit was driven up os a beach far, far from the one he had known and hé was lonelier than ever,” (To Be Continued) after, myself a moon- the OVIDENCS OF | \cceemmneennneeeene AH 9 snenneeeeneneeeene? suppose you've perfectly good alibis for this little-ah—all-night excur- sion?” Polly felt frozen, speak, but her voice failed her, She looked dumbly at Barray. » He swerved around toward Violet. “None of your insinuations, Vio! he said with restrained sharpness. “You ought to know better. What do you mean by weylaying us in this fash. ton anyhow? I don't like it.” She tried to! take care of myself any way I could!” retorted Violet. “1 might ask, as you do, ‘what do you mean by uch conduct?” You may we!l make an explanation. I have every right to ask one.” Polly made @ movement an ff to excuse herself and go into the house, Violet turned upon her. “Yes! sho cried seornfully, “you would go on playing the innocent! 1 wonder if you realim that you owe “Neither do t like your tratpsing off with Mrs, Dawson, leaving me to Me an explanation?” Polly took breath to speak, but HESITATE DID You WANT tO See Someons ¢ Barray cut in; “Mme. Dawson owes no explana- tion to anyone, If there is,any fault, it is mine, Perhaps I do owe an ex planation, It is simple, We got separated, quite accidentally, from the others after the studio party. We searched in vain. Some turning, some suddenly concocted plan of theirs, out us off. We wandered on, glad of « breath of air. We thought of the markets, and went to them, It's quite @ usual thing to do, ‘There's nothing suspicious or open to criticiam about it, ve Madame Polly home~-and there brought | ta ~ES, L WANT TO see MR. TRUS. our story!" He bowed to Polly, “Good night, little queen,” he eald quietly, “or rather good mo.nii 1 regret more than 1 can say, this contretemps,” Polly mumbled confused to them both and entered the house, ‘The conclwrge was scrubbing the marble hallway. It was good to see Mme. Dubois’ comfortable back, her ruddy, kindly face... . “Bon jour, madame! Polly. making her way into the little litt, Mme. Dubois raised an upamiling fe Be Continna® Laide re