The Seattle Star Newspaper, June 10, 1922, Page 11

(Continued From Our Last Issue) Bol's eyes and mouth tightened, of @ lurid court proceeding and ren- ered piquant exploitation of “wild r7 MARTHA DEAR, I / THOUGHT Ir Baer MAKE ANY ENGAGE - MENTS “TOMORROW MB AS T AM SCHEDULED “TO MAKE OUR BOARDING HOUSE ‘TO ADVISE YOU NOT “MAT WOULD OLIGATE A SPEECH BEFORE THE THE SEATTLE STA So!= WELL, AMOS HOOPLE « You CAN INVITE YOUR FRIENDS “To COME HERE “TOMORROW “To WATCH THE GREAT ENGINBERICAL a life inside the movie colony,” the ” FEAT OF You It's not an wanatural ® ppoaition, case went into quick ectipes. ROVAL SOCIETY oF PUTTING UP “THE that you may have concluded you've! “Lucinda spent the best part of ENGINEGRS” WHO oreo eertv” ) .) ee 2) eee A had enough.” “Enough, Belt” “Of both. . .* “That can’t be anything but cal @ulated impertinence?” Bel made a wry face as he stooped to pick up bis motorcoat “The conversation ts degenerating into a ‘wrangle in which I have the tradi tional chance a snowball has in the place where motion-pictures were spawned. Mind lending me a hand, Linda? Can't quite manage this with one arm.” At once angrily and gently Lu. cinda draped the motorcoat over his shoulders, Bel continued; “I'm to understand, | then, my wishes mean nothing to your Lucinda gave a little, silent laugh, and in silence for & moment gazed on Bellamy, her eyes unreadable. “You forget, what I don’t, Bel,”| Lucinda said slowly, “that it was ons made the mode of life with T was content impossible for Mme. If this life I've taken up here is fm some sense a makeshift, tt's all T've got to take the place of all I had. And now you'd rob me even of it! And one thing more you forget: If I should give in to your wishes and leave Hollywood today, I would nly be doing what you say you! ‘want to prevent, confessing by flight “that my only real interest in my pic ture work was my greater interest im Lynn Summeriad. For that rea- fon alone—and not, as you believe, to spite you—I've got to and I'm a. go to the end of this t production, at least. After that . . . I don't know... Discountenanced. “I hadn't thought of that,” Bel owned square ly. “You might be right... ‘That's your last word, Linda?” “My last word to you, Bel—I hope.” XXXIV The finding of Nelly’s body rushed beneath the wreckage of a Motor-car on the beach some fifty Wiles north of Los Angeles, gave the story of the Summerlad shooting an that day in the projection-room with Zinn and Wallace Day, her new dt- rector, sitting in judgment on 36 reels of film, the accumulated sum of Nolan's fumbling with about two: thirds of a picture. * To the weariness of those days t visit of Hartford Willis came welcome interlude, It did Luctnda good to hear him grow! and scold about anything as relatively inconsiderabie the lunacy of throwing money away— “ike water!—and then refusing to set the machinery of the law in mo- }tien to apprehend and punish Lon- taine, And Lucinda took | with dewy eyes. . friend... Now she had nobody left but | Fanny: and she was coming daily to repose less faith in Fanny's loyalty. She was feeling very sorry for he: | left, and very lonely, and when most |im need of friendly compantonship— | Panny was seldom at her call. Fanny had given up the bungalow and | moved to a ential hotel on the | Outskirts of the Wilshire district, | whose accommodations she claimed } were cheaper than the Hollywood's. Deep in Lucinda's subconscious. ness an incidental recollection turned in its sleep. Somewhere, | Romnatine, she bad heard that Barry | Nolan had a bungalow down Wil- | shire way. Or hadn't he? | A week from the night of their rencontre In Summeriad’s bungalow | Bellamy called to tell Lucinda he | was leaving for New York the next | morning. Zinn would take charge of his producing tmterests during his absence, He coulkin't amy just how long that might be. If he could be of any service to Lucinda in the east, he would be glad. . . “Goodby, Bel,” she said, with not unkind decision but decision unmis- takable for all that. “And good luck. But . . . please never come back.” .. . That night she sobbed herself awake from dreams of dear days dead, and lay for hours hating the leave of him .» ber one true ARE VISITING THIS COUNTRY ! after morning, tion, ter work than she had ¢ to do, the days. lom the day following Bellamy's di And in the morning and morning ihe rose with a beart as heavy as any she had ever known |! to address herself to the dally grind. | Yet she had no right to whimper. The new director was living up to) ail Zinn’s claims, There was no fric- | and under his sympathetic Suidance she felt she was doing bet ir hoped But she counted hourly the tale of | Twice she heard from Summertad: SCREENS! HELLO, ouma? THis J$ ‘Tom - 1'D Like To BY AHERN OLIVIA, SEE MRS BAILEYS NEW HAT- don’ ou THINK IT'S THRE OLD HOME TOWN A STRANGER WHO BOUGHT STORE LATE YESTERDAY R NEWT | AREARIN WHY IT EVEN LooKs GooD On-ME, MRS. BAILEY! Dio You H AVE IT MADE? Yes, |HADIT MADE- IT'S JUST YOUR | styie,ouvia! “TWo POUNDS OF TEA AT ROBINSONS WAS ROUGHLY HANDLED BY TOWN BOYS WHEN IT WAS\DISCOVERED HE WAS FROM HOOTSTOWN, PARTIES | parture, & penciled scrawl, inform. | ing her that he was now permitted | receive callers and protesting his impatience for the visit which he} knew her charity would not permit her to deny him; and four days later another letter and a lon; bringing proot of steady improvement im leas | {infirm penmanship and phrases turned more carefully, repeating all the first had said and calling atten- | [tion to the venerable saw about the iM wind: on the writer's side at te every impediment to their marriage | had been abolished . . . | In the upshot Lucinda acknewt edged receipt of neither, but fer two mornings her waste-basket, with tts, deep drifts of notepaper minutely | scrapped, bore witness to her en-| deavors to frame a reply at once final and not too cruel. Better (she decided) send no word at all than a letter which could only hurt his pride... i Lynn otill | believed he loved her eee parc, ever . For her part, the thing was dead} }and done and finished and as some | | thing that had never been; the only | wonder was, it ever had. . . One evening, as she was leaving | | the studio, she met Wallace Day on | the steps of the administration build. | ing, ahd learned from him that, mak | ing fair allowance for every imagin- | |able delay, he counted on making an | |end to camera-work in two days more. | Accordingly, instead of going di-| rectly home to the Hollywood, Lu jeinda motored to Los Angeles and | | booked reservafions for Reno. | On the way back to Hollywood she instructed her chauffeur to make a| ’ | detour and stop at Fanny’s hotel. |car Lucinda had been watching} | Drawing near the hotel, she recog: | when siecp clatmed her . . . | nized the conspicuous car of Barry| Another car, of course, Neverthe | Nolan, waiting at the carriage-block. | less the coincidence was surprising. | and as she bent forward to teil her| she lay for a little lasily watching chauffeur not to stop, she saw Fan-/ it; @ powerful, spirited piece of ma-| [ny come out of the entrance, Nolan! chinery, well-driven, breasting gnl-| ambling, with an alr of contented) lantly that long ascent about which | | habit, at her elbow. | the train was making such vast ado: | Well! that waa that... drawing abeam, forging ahead, flirt- | Yet it was long before the picture| ing derisively a tail of dust as it) faded of that girlish figure, posed| vanished trom the field commanded | prettily in startiement, brief skirta| by the window . , . Bound whither? | whipped about it by the evening| upon what urgency of life or death? | wind, with its gay look of mirth, half| that tt must make such frantic haate| shame-faced, halfimpudent, wholly |in the heat of the desert sun. . .| charming . . . sweet grist for the} She waited by the window, looking mills whose grinding knows no| out upon without seeing the few rude | rest... bulldings that composed @ tank town at which the train had made « halt} for water, } extended lease of 74 hours only on|cheerless comfort of hotel rooms, ont page space in the newspapers. | missing poignantly the intimacy of ‘Then, since the death of the un-' her home and the sense of security u woman had defeated all hope she had known nowhere else. e © For You to Color e sa |: TINTED TRAVELS By Hal Cochran , (Copyright, 1922, by The Seattic Star) PPO TST OAN ES eeee FALLS ° SHOSHONE SoeterP Zieh HNN Pe? 6 ar Geattle _ « 2: OTD I Cleland _*% Page 699 EVEN AS YOU AND TI Mothers and fathers and all our, cross as a bear. ‘I won't wash pots older friends like to have us think] and kettles for anybody,’ she Yhat they were never guilty of the | grumbled, ‘I can’t do it.’ sort of fittle naughty things; “But the other girls did It last To BS ARE TO GST ALONG IN Peace, So 1 Bouse n Idaho, the Shoshone Falls Drop some two hundred feet. Tis aes tng ie, mee * * xXXXV ‘When she had bribed her maid to Nancy and Nick went to Cob There was magic about—not a doubt of it! Chris Crow said so. Mr. Peerabout, the Man-tn-the- Moon, had fixed everything for a nice clear moonlight night. But Chris didn’t want it. He wanted to dig up the sprouted grains out of Farmer Smith's cornfield with his long sharp beak. And he @idn't want the Scare-Crow to nee PEERABOUT LEARNS ae MONKEYING WITH MOO Coon’s tree and telephoned. Nancy and Nick went to Cov Coon's tree and telephoned to Mr Peerabout what had happened. “All right,” answered the Moon. Man, “I'll go to my handle-house and ee who has been fooling with the handles,” 80 off he trudged thru the Golden Forest. He had pulled out the handle marked “full moon; nice and cle and fastened it so it would stay. observe discretion concerning her| A knock at the door, She «tarted| night: it’s our turn,’ Olive remind jplans, and had herself attended tol!up, pronounced a tremulous “Come which children do in 19: pe yak | the business of checking her trunks | in? | But once in a while, once In a] “wp just won't! You can do it |thru to Reno, thus keeping her des- | | tination secret even from the woman, Lucinda felt fairly confident of get |ting away unhindered and unpur | sued. | She caught the train with little to spare, and not until it was in motion |did she discover a box of roses in jthe luggage rack in her drawing: room. Her favorites, Hadleys, two dozen | suavely molded blooms of deepest |crimson, exquisitely fresh and frag | rant; roses such as Bel had been ac. lcustomed to send her dally, once} upon a time . . . how long ago! . .| An age since any one had sent her| flowers... The box bore the name of a city to find the very scene she had been gazing on bathed in hot splendor of | jyou to Listen to this last appeal. I florist but was untagged and con-|band to live, and have ‘been ever} tained no card to identify the donor. since you left me, Because I want| ° you back, because I’m lost without} And it was as if she had slept not| you, because I want to make you| at all, save that she felt rested; as if{happy ... as you were happy she had closed her eyes on darkness | when first loved mo, long and unclosed them an instant later/ago . Bel entered, shut the door, dropped upon the red plush seat a duster and cap, caked with alkall, and stood ap-| prehensive of his welcome, his heart in his eyes, She fell back to the partition, breathing his name, her whole body vibrating like a smitten lute-string. In a choking voice he cried: “Linda! for God's sake listen to me, I've been up all night, driving} against time to overtake you and beg want you to promise me not to go to Reno, Not yet, at least. Give me a little more time, a little chance to prove to you that you're the only woman in the wrid for me, that I'm living the life you'd want your hus- She lifted shaking hands to him, cried his name again, swayed blind- sunlight, warm with color. Still the|ly into his arms. desert stretched its flats of sand and| “Take ms back, Bel," she whis- alkali; still the train drudged stoutly| pered. “Make me happy... Be on an* upgrade; still upon th trail| kind to me, Bel. be fair. . .” beside the tracks raced the notor. THE END long, long while there is a Mrs. Kabler or a Mra. Hewitt who re- members even these, So when Mrs. Hewitt was fin time of waiting for an attack from the Indians, she didn't stop with the eclipse and the thrills; she went right on to tell about Jane, who was the daughter of “the woman with hysteria.” She told it this way: “Meanness creeps out in funny ways and places, and it's a good deal of a test of character to have as many people crowded into one small house as we had that time “And hard experiences sort of | show people up, whether it's chil- | dren on the play ground or men on the battlefield, “go the morning after our all. night watch was a sure enough hard time. After breakfast the dishes were piled on the tables, and the kettles and pans set on the hearth, the big dish pan was filled and the work began. “Emily Ann and Sally chatted away and laughed and made the best of their dishes, but Jane was Ril hy ishing the tale of the dreadful | your own self, missy, so there.* Jane's voice grew louder and louder and before they knew it there was an honest-to-goodness- fight going on, with hair pulling | and everything. And Jane was so mad that she didn’t see Olive when she finished up her part and put the dishes back on the built- in shelves. “I've finished up my half and put ‘em away. Now you can fin- ish up and empty the dish pan,’ she said, “Jane's disposition was no bet- ter for the fight. The table was j an old ‘drop leaf" like all pioneer tables, and Jane was too mad to notice that the leaf of the table had been turned almost in, and she banged the heavy pan of dish- water down on the leaf, and it gave way—and splash! went the water all over the floor, The rest of us stood by and watched, while the raging, tearful Jane not only finished her pots and pans, but serubbed up the dishwater on the floor," Mrs. Hewitt chuckled at the memory, “I’m afraid she got no sympathy from any of us—we all giggled.” eens nineadn nanan After two park policemen had walked off with my assailant, Jack what had happened. But goodness WOMEN, GH € WHEN WS WGRE MARRISD ‘OU PICOMISED FAITHRULCY To Forest OTHS WOMEN ti! Re “Over nothing at allf’ Jack called ‘ amining pearls when I saw him yes back from the kitchen, where was terday, I couldn't tell his from knews, he was not at fault! He steadied me, wiped the grime hanging my soaked garments. yours. He told me there are twe “All utterly futile,” said I to Me, | Successful imitations, scientific and him. He told Nancy and Nick moon- light was a nuisance. But what did he see? The ful! moon handle pushed back to place OUR FIRST YEAR wt. By a Bride took my arm, Without a word, with- out a kiss, he turned me homeward. from my closed eyes. I had splashed | “But w He said his frrend, CometLegs,|and a handle marked “dim moon splashed | “But what if that wretch had fired? | synthetic. One kind is built up i ; Dn; 7 We walked in silence back home.|his new summer serge from collar|And killed Jack? Tt iigh 4 wom fx things up for him. ee rte an misty pulled out instend CHAPTER XXXIII—FATE TRIPS ME The gutter in front of our apartment |to ankles, And ‘I dripped black | happened! ou might hie veorane Menace yong oo bree ow Comet-Legs was a ¥ goodn cried Mr. Peer. “Don't hurry,” remarked the high-;Jack that the man had a gun. was still running almost curb high, | mud! ” it fairy, the Man-in-the- | about, moppin, ment, be a widow—" Jealous ot is forehead, “Who by both kinds.” on lll apes Bl, Seas ryt oh | ge at tay Dp Ae hana wayman, interrupting my wordy| I rained my hand as tf to unclasp|I released my arm from. Jack's| And 80 we looked at each other} Tho rest was unthinkable. I| “Mine are just plain beads” E sings. Nancy and Nick Due talk duaadey tates Coes pon 4 plea that he take the handbag and ice bead pee tins berately: ee ee iin bo gi 73 pete pele oh hon am hands | rushed nto, my kimono and out to | marked. R a oe y - 0 7 a * ve me ne “ d 7 . loor, . “Gosh, Pp wesaeny + po ye a dim-—oh gh Sey we capes, > esteemed, htpeme Seas Sar As the man started to place the| My narrow skirt hampered me./|the happiest two in the wide word. |, dak was washing my pearls under tncuw the Sees chee ae he a Ee eenly the saoch get Mise Ban perl a old Peor-| you talk, lady, #0 long a# I get the |automatic in his pocket Jack sprang |Down I fell, face down, flat into the| Thus ended our first quarrel. the kitchen faucet, bage pail before they get yon end out os a faded bution Chris Crow (To Be Continued pearls upon him, struck up his arm, and | black pool! “Pride had a fall that timer | “Queer stuff,” he commented, as|some real trouble!" h Boe ight, 192 1 was searching my head for a|the gun flew away and fell among| Jack fished me out and put me on | called out, presently, from the bath |he handed them to me, “One of my C Was as happy as a clown, (Copyright, 1922, by Seattle Star) | phrase with which I could warn |the bushes, my feet with many an apology for | tub, prospects is'a jeweler, He was ex (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1922, by, Seattle Stax)