The DIM LANTERN
By TEMPLE BAILEY —- —
O PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY —WNU SERVICE
CHAPTER XI—Continued
—17—
"I know,” said Jane thoughtfully.
“Bob, do they think that if that
specialist comes it will save Judy’s
life?”
“It might. It—it’s the last chance,
Janey.”
Janey hugged her knees. “Can’t
you borrow the money?”
“I have borrowed up to the limit
of my securities, and how can I
ever pay?”
Her voice was grim. “We will
manage to pay; the thing now is to
save Judy.”
"Yes,” he tried, pitifully, to meet
her courage. “If they’ll get the
specialist, we’ll pay.”
She had risen. “I’ll call up Mr.
Towne, and tell him I can’t dine
with him.”
“But, Janey, there’s no reason
why you shouldn’t keep your en
gagement.”
She had turned on him with a
touch of indignation. "Do you think
1 could have one happy moment
with my mind on Judy?”
Bob had looked at her, and then
looked away. "Have you thought
that you might get the money from
Towne?”
Her startled gaze had questioned
him. “Get money from Mr.
Towne?”
"Yes. Oh, why not, Janey? He’ll
do anything for you.”
"But how could I pay him?”
There had been dead silence, then
Bob said, “Well, he’s in love with
you, isn’t he?”
“You mean that I can—marry
him?”
“Yes. Why not? Judy says he’s
crazy about you. And, Jane, it’s
foolish to throw away such a chance.
Not every girl has it.”
“But, Bob, I’m not—in love with
him.”
"You’ll learn to care—He’s a de
lightful chap, I’d say.” Bob was
eager. “Now look here, Janey, I’m
talking to you like a Dutch uncle.
It isn’t as if I were advising you
to do it for our sakes. It is for
your own sake, too. Why, it would
be great, old girl. Never another
worry. Somebody always to look
after you.”
The wind outside was singing a
■wild song, a roaring, cynical song,
it seemed to Jane. She wanted to
say to Bob, “But I’ve always been
happy in my little house with Baldy
and Philomel, and the chickens and
the cats.” But of course Bob could
say, “You’re not happy now, and
anyhow what are you going to do
about Judy?”
Judy!
She had spoken at last with an ef
fort. “I’ll tell him to come over
after dinner. We can ride for a
!bit.”
"Why not stay here? I’ll be at the
hospital. And the storm is pretty
bad."
She had looked out of the window.
“There’s no snow. Just the wind.
And I feel—stifled.”
It was then that she had called up
Towne. “I can’t dine with you . . .
Judy is desperately ill ...”
The houseworkcr had prepared a
delicious dinner*, but Jane ate noth
ing. Bob’s appetite, on the other
hand, was good. He apologized for
it. “I went without lunch, I was
so worried.”
The bell rang. Jane, going to the
door, found herself shaking with ex
citement.
Frederick came in and took both
of her hands in his. “I’m terribly
sorry about the sister. Is there any
thing I can do?”
She shook her head. She could
hardly speak. “I thought if you
■wouldn’t mind, we’d go for a ride.
And we can talk.”
“Good. Get your wraps.” He re
leased her hands, and she went into
>the other room. As she looked into
the mirror she saw that her cheeks
were crimson.
She brought out her coat and he
Jheld it for her. "Is this warm
enough? You ought to have a fur
coat.”
"Oh, I shall be warm,” she said.
As he preceded her down the
strirs, Towne turned and looked up
at her. “You are wearing my rose,”
he told her, ardently; "you are like
a rose yourself.”
She would not have been a woman
if she had not liked his admira
tion. And he was strong and ador
ing and distinguished. She had a
sense of almost happy excitement
as he lifted her into the car.
“Where shall we drive?” he asked.
“Along the lake. I love it on a
flight like this.”
The moon was sailing high in a
rack of clouds. As they came to the
lake the waves writhed like mad
sea-monsters in gold and white and
black.
“Jane,” Frederick asked softly,
“what made you wear—my rose?”
She sat very still beside him. “Mr.
Towne,” she said at last, “tell me
how much—you love me.”
He gave a start of surprise. Then
he turned towards her and took her
hand in his. "Let me tell you this!
there never was a dearer woman.
Everything that I have, all that I
»■ am, is yours if vou will have it.”
There was a fine dignity in his
avowal. She liked him more than
ever.
‘‘Do you love me enough"—she
hurried over the words, "to help
me?”
“Yes.” He drew her gently to
wards him. There was no struggle.
She lay quietly against his arm, but
he was aware that she trembled.
“Mr. Towne, Judy must have a
great specialist right away. It’s her
only chance. If you will send for
him tonight, make yourself respon
sible for — everything — I’ll marry
you whenever you say."
He stared down at her, unbeliev
ing. “Do you mean it, Jane?”
“Yes. Oh, do you think I am
dreadful?”
He laughed exultantly, caught her
up to him. “Dreadful? You’re the
dearest—ever, Jane.”
Yet as he felt her fluttering heart,
he released her gently. Her eyes
were full of tears. He touched her
wet cheek. “Don't let me frighten
you, my dear. But I am very hap
py.”
She believed herself happy. He
was really—irresistible. A conquer
"She and'Baldy are mad about
each other."
or. Yet always with that touch of
deference.
"Do you love me, Jane?"
"Not—yet.”
"But you will. I’ll make you love
me.”
Then just before they reached
home he asked for the rose. She
gave it to him, all fading fragrance.
He touched it to her lips then
crushed it against his own.
"Must I be content with this?”
Her quick breath told her agita
tion. He drew her to him, gently.
“Come, my sweet.”
Oh, money, money. Jane learned
that night the power of it!
Coming in with Frederick from
that wild moonlighted world, flushed
with excitement, hardly knowing
this new Jane, she saw Bob trans
formed in a moment from haggard
hopelessness to wild elation.
Frederick Towne had made a sim
pie statement. "Jane has told me
how serious things are, Heming I
want to help." Then he had asked
for the surgeon’s name; spoken at
once of a change of rooms for Judy;
increased attendance. There was
much telephoning and telegraphing.
An atmosphere of efficiency. Jane,
looking on, was filled with admira
tion. How well he did things. And
some day he would be her husband!
CHAPTER XII
It was two days after Jane prom
ised to marry Frederick Towne that
Evans bought a Valentine for her.
The shops were full of valentines
—many of them of paper lace—the
fragile old-fashioned things that had
become a new fashion. They had
forget-me-nots on them and hearts
with golden arrows, and fat pink
cupids.
Evans found it hard to choose.
He stood before them, smiling. And
he could see Jane smile as she read
the enchanting verse of the one he
finally selected:
“Roses red, my dear.
And violets blue—
Honey’s sweet, my dear,
And so are you.”
As he walked up F Street to his
office, his heart was light. It was
one of the lovely days that hint of
spring. Old Washingtonians know
that such weather does not last—
that March winds must blow, and
storms must come. But they grasp
the joy of the moment—masquerade
in carnival spirit—buy flowers from
the men at the street comers—
sweep into their favorite confection
er’s to order cool drinks. th« worn
en seek their milliner’s and — '
forth bonneted in spring beauty—the
men drive to the links—and look
things over.
And clients came. Not many, but
enough to point the way to success.
He had sold more of the old books.
His mother’s milk farm was becom
ing a fashionable fad.
Edith Towne had helped to bring
Mrs. Follette’s wares before her
friends. At all hours of the day
they drove out, Edith with them. ‘‘It
is such an adorable place,” she told
Evans, “and your — mother! Isn’t
she absolutely herself? Selling milk
with that empress air of hers. I
simply love her.”
Edith had planned to have dinner
with them tonight. Evans took an
early train to Sherwood. When he
reached home Edith and his mother
were on the porch and the Towne
car stood before the gate.
‘Tve got to go back,” Edith ex
plained. “Uncle Fred came in from
Chicago an hour or two ago and
telephoned that he must see me.”
“Baldy will be broken-hearted,”
Evans told her, smiling.
“I couldn’t get him up. I tried,
but they said he had left the office.
I thought I’d bring him out with
me.” She kissed Mrs. Follette. “I’ll
come again soon, dear lady. And
you must tell me when you are tired
of me.”
Evans went to the car with her,
and came back to find his mother in
an exalted mood. “Now if you could
marry a girl like Edith Towne.”
“Edith,” he laughed lightly.
“Mother, are you blind? She and
Baldy are mad about each other.”
“Of course she isn’t serious. A
boy like that."
“Isn’t she? I’ll say she is." Evans
went charging up the stairs to dress
for dinner. “I’ll be down presently.”
“Baldy may be late; we won't
wait for him,” his mother called
after him.
The dining-room at Castle Manor
had a bare waxed floor, an old
drop-leaf table of dark mahogany,
deer’s antlers over the mantel, and
some candles in sconces.
Old Mary did her best to follow
the rather formal service on which
Mrs. Follette insisted. The food &as
simple, but well-cooked, and there
was always a soup and a salad.
It was not until they reached the
salad course that they heard the
sound of Baldy’s car. He burst in
at the front door, as if he battered
it down, stormed through the hall,
and entered the dining-room like a
whirlwind.
“Jane's going to be married,” he
cried, "and she’s going to marry
Frederick Towne!”
Evans half-rose from his chair.
Everything turned black and he sat
down. There was a loud roaring in
his ears. It was like taking ether—
with the darkness and the roaring.
When things cleared he found that
neither his mother nor Baldy had no
ticed his agitation. His mother was
asking quick questions. “Who told
you? Does Edith know?”
Baldy threw himself in a chair.
“Mr. Towne got back from Chicago
this afternoon. Called me up and
said he wanted me to come over at
once to his office. I went, and he
gave me a letter from Jane. Said
he thought it was better for him to
bring it, and then he could explain.”
He threw the note across the ta
ble to Mrs. Follette. “Will you
read it? I’m all in. Drove like the
dickens coming out. Towne wanted
me to go home with him to dinner.
Wanted to begin the brother-in-law
business right away before I got
my breath. But I left. Oh, the
darned peacock!" Jane would have
known Baldy’s mood. The tempest
gray eyes, the chalk-white face.
“But don’t you like it, Baldy?”
"Like it? Oh, read that note. Does
it sound like Jane? I ask you, does
it sound like Jane?" ,
It did not sound in the least like
Jane. Not the Jane that Evans and
Baldy knew.
"Baldy, dear. Mr. Towne will tell
you all about it. I am going to mar
ry him as soon as Judy is better.
I know you will be surprised, but
Mr. Towne is just wonderful, and it
will be such a good thing for all of
us. Mr. Towne will tell you how
dreadfully ill Judy is. He wants to
do everything for her, and that will
be such a help to Bob.
"And so we will live happy ever
after. Oh, you blessed boy, you
know how I love you. Send a wire,
and say that it is all right. Tell
Evans and Mrs. Follette. They are
my dearest friends and will always
be."
She signed herself:
"Loving you more than ever,
“Jane."
Mrs. Follette looked up from the
letter, took off her reading glasses,
and said complacently, "I think it is
very nice for her.” The dear lady
quite basked in the thought of her
intimate friendship with the fiancee
of Frederick Towne.
But the two men did not bask.
"Nice, for Jane?” they threw the
sentences at her.
"Oh, can’t you see why she has
done it?” Baldy demanded. He
caught up the note, pointing an ac
cusing finger as he read certain
phrases. “It will be such a good
thing for all of us . . . he wants to
do everything for her ... it will be
such a help to Bob ...”
"Doesn’t that show,” Baldy de
manded furiously, “she’s doing it be
cause Judy and Bob are hard up
and Towne can help—I know Jane.”
“I don’t see why you should ob
ject,” Mrs. Follette was saying; “it
will be a fine thing for her. She
will be Mrs. Frederick Towne!”
“I’d rather have her Jane Barnes
for the rest of her life. Do you
know Towne’s reputation? Any
woman can flatter him into a love
affair. A fat Lothario.” Baldy did
not mince tne words.
‘‘But he hasn’t married any of
them,” said Mrs. Follette trium
phantly. She held to the ancient
and honorable theory that the
woman a man marries need not wor
ry about past love affairs since she
had been paid the compliment of at
least legal permanency.
Evans’ lips were dry. “What did
you say to Towne?”
"Oh, what could I say? That I
was surprised, and all that. Some
thing about hoping they’d be happy.
Then I beat it and got here as fast
as I could. I had to talk it over
with you people or—burst.” His eyes
met Evans’ and found there the
sympathy he sought. “It’s a rotten
trick.”
"Yes,” said Evans, “rotten.”
“I think,” said Mrs. Follette,
"that you must both see it is best.”
Yet her voice was troubled. Though
her complacency had penetrated the
thought of what Jane’s engagement
might mean to Evans. Yet, it might,
on the other hand, be a blessing in
disguise. There were other wom
en, richer—who would help him in
his career. And in time he would
forget Jane.
Old Mary gave them their coffee.
"Shall we walk for a bit, Baldy?”
Evans said, when at last they rose.
The two men made their way to
wards the pine grove. The twilight
sky was a deep purple with a thin
sickle of a moon and a breathless
star.
And there in the little grove under
the purple sky Evans said to Baldy,
"I love her.”
"I know. I wish to God you had
her.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Colorado Elk Herds Show Increase in Number
More than 20,000 elk, the greatest
number since 1890, roam the slopes
of the Rocky mountains in Colorado,
despite the fact they have been the
targets for hunters during 10 con
secutive open seasons, the U. S.
forest service reported.
The present elk population in 14
national forests in the state, which
harbor approximately 95 per cent
of the total number, has been esti
mated at 20,000 head by the regional
office of the forest service here,
writes a Denver United Press cor
respondent.
The figure represented an increase
of 455 per cent since 1914. The com
putation was based on a study con
ducted by the division of wild life
and range management of the fed
eral service.
The most important factor in in
creasing the number of elk in the
state, it was stated, was in closing
the hunting season and providing
protection for 10 years when it was
apparent the herds were diminish
ing.
Even then, it was said, conserva
tion of the animals was not started
until four forests in the state were
totally devoid of elk, and so few re
mained in three other forests that
rigid protection precautions were
necessary.
Remnants of the remaining herds
and animals obtained from northern
Wyoming were introduced into the
elkless forests, and all hunting was
barred for several years. Feed was
provided during the winters when
deep snow covered the mountains
and every precaution was taken to
eliminate disease.
The first elk placement was made
in 1912 when 23 head were released
in the San Juan forest in south
western Colorado. During the fol
lowing year 16 were placed in the
Holy Cross forest to supplement an
almost equal remnant of native ani
mals. Twenty-eight animals were
released in Roosevelt forest to cre
ate the nucleus of the vast herd now
found in the region of Estes park.
The action produced such success
ful results, forest officials reported,
that it probably would be several
years before a hunting ban again
would be placed upon the Colorado
elk herds.
Old-Time Chalrmakers
As a chair maker Hepplewhite
lacked the genius for symmetry
which Chippendale possessed.
Pastels Vie With Prints in
Midsummer Fashion Picture
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
WHEN it comes to the voguish
ness of prints versus pastels
in the present mode the matter re
solves itself into pretty much of a
fifty-fifty proposition. Which is to
say that the midsummer collections
are made op of a goodly showing of
each.
There is no doubt as to the im
portance of pastels especially for
cleverly tailored daytime dresses
that observe a nicety of detail which
gives them "class" In the eyes of
discriminating women who know
their fashions. Favor for pastels
is expressed not only in silk crepes
and sheer woolens but a hue and
cry is resounding for smart linens
in delectable muted pinks and
blues, rose shades, cool-looking
greens and grays, light yellows, lav
enders and novelty shades as cycla
men, tulip shades and such. White
linens and linens au natural are
also chic.
One reason for the big splurge
that linens are making this season
is that through the wonders of mod
em scientific processing newer lin
ens carry a promise of non
wrinkling and non-shrinking.
At the top of the picture to the
left see the attractive spectator
sports dress of pastel blue crease
resistant imported linen. It has one
of the very smart umbrella-tucked
skirts. A belt braided in matching
blue, fuchsia and yellow silk floss
says color in unmistakable terms.
The boutonniere is of self-linen and
the cunning poke bonnet is of white
straw.
The dress to the right in the back
ground of this group is of a nubby
sheer, pure linen in a delectable
shell pink. Fitted waistline and
sleeves cleverly appliqued with con
trasting bands of periwinkle blue
and strawberry linen are highspots
in its styling. Sunburst tucks at the
neckline, and unpressed pleats in
the skirt, are also significant de
tails. Every dress with a Jacket is
fashion's decree this season which
accounts for a matching shell pink
bolero which you carry or which
you wear according to pomp and cir
cumstances.
Before leaving the linen theme,
just a word in regard to the smart
looking redingotes tailored of white
or natural linen which ladies of fash
ion are wearing over their lingerie
frocks this summer. They are a
modem version of the one-time hon
ored "linen duster.”
In regard to the silk prints that
are everywhere present, and which
are in friendly rivalry to smart
linens, there is a decided flair
among women who dress in the
height of fashion for pattemings
that run to neat checks, and to
plaids and stripes with nothing less
than a stampede for dotted effects
of every description. As the mid
season approaches suits of the new
check silks will come into play in
perfect fashion.
To the left in the foreground of
the illustration a fashionable miss
is wearing a smart frock for a day
under the sun in the country. The
dress is of blue silk with white
pin dots. The collar piece is white,
likewise belt and buttons.
A gay and colorful evening gown
is shown to the right. It is of Scotch
plaid trimmed with lace. The
white organza blouse is also
trimmed with lace. The full floor
length skirt of gay print with dainty
lingerie shirtwaist is a favorite eve
ning fashion formula.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Play Suits Adopt
‘Little Girl’ Air
Some of the new play suits have
a little-girl air. A 1939 variation of
the popular shirt, shorts, skirt com
bination is made of gay floral
striped cotton, and links a one-piece,
puff-sleeved play suit and a detach
able skirt hemmed with a frill.
Another, of ticking, is made up
of a square-necked puff sleeved
frock and shorts of the same ma
terial.
Tennis fans are choosing more
dresses than shorts for play this
year, one of New York’s smartest
shops reports. The smartest are
white pique rayon or linen, designed
with brief gored or plaited skirts
ending above the knee.
Enthusiasm Grows
For White Jersey
The practicality of white Jersey,
the smart appearance, the adapt
ability to sculptural draping and ex
quisite tailoring has so impressed
designers they are expressing an
enthusiasm for it that knows no
bounds. Try out a costume of Jer
sey and see what it does for you.
It will slenderize you, it will be to
the touch the sort you “love to
wear." The white rayon jersies es
pecially come out after a tubbing
“white as snow” which is exactly
what every woman hopes for, even
longs for in her white costumes.
Diamond Earrings
Earrings, particularly diamond
and pearl ones, are becoming in
creasingly important as accents for
every costume.
New Hobby
Looms a new hobby on the hori
zon. It’s handkerchief collecting.
Not just ordinary handkerchiefs, but
handkerchiefs that depict mem
orable events in American history.
There is an interesting group of
four, just out, created by Burmel,
designer of note. They include
Mark Twain's Mississippi, Covered
Wagon, Mount Vernon and the Land
ing of the Pilgrims, printed in vivid
tableaux against fetching floral bor
ders. Landing of the Pilgrims is
the theme of the handkerchief de
sign carried by the charming col
lector pictured.
Star Dust
★ Film Folks on Stage
★ Ann Waited and Won
★ Kenny Signs Up to Talk
— By Virginia Vale —
Hollywood is planning
for next summer, and
you ought to do the same, if
you’re interested in seeing
your favorite stars of the
screen on the stage. It’s all
because of Charles Coburn,
who has been an actor for the
last thirty or forty years, and
for the last two has been in
Hollywood. During the last
year he has appeared in
“Idiot’s Delight,” “Made for
Each Other," "Alexander Graham
Bell,” and the recently released
"Bachelor Mother.” And before
long you will be able to see him with
Carole Lombard and Cary Grant
in "The Kind Men Marry."
But the project to give film star*
stage experience is largely due to
his experience as the guiding genius
of the Mohawk Dramatic festival,
which takes place each summer at
Union college, Schenectady. There,
experienced stars perform in well
known plays.
After his first year in Hollywood
Charles Coburn discussed various
faults of the motion picture industry
with some of the directors and pro
ducers. He was asked to do some
thing to remedy those faults—to start
something like the Mohawk Drama
festival, in fact. But he saw trouble
ahead, with each big company de
manding the leading roles in his
theatrical productions for its stars.
He felt that the best way out was
for him to line up plays if some
college would take over the festival.
The University of California came
forward, and now it seems to be all
set. Stars, featured players, bit
players and extras will have a
chance to get theatrical experience.
-It
Ann Sothern deserves congratula
tions for knowing what she wanted
and going after it, although some
times the going was hard. It’s more
ANN SOTHEBN
than a year since she refused to
play any more of those ga-ga hero
ines and declared that she’d do
nothing but character roles. She
had a long wait—and in Hollywood
it’s scary to wait too long between
pictures, because the public forgets
you so soon.
Then came her chance In "Trade
Winds," Just what she wanted. An
other wait, and she was signed up
for "Maisie." She was so good in
that one that Metro wanted her to
sign a contract, but .she’d have none
of it unless she could be assured of
getting the kind of parts that she
wanted. She’d rather be off the
screen altogether than be on it with
no chance to do anything but look
beautiful.
So—Metro gave her the contract
that she wanted, and her first pic
ture under the new deal will be
"Busman’s Holiday,” made in Eng
land with Robert Montgomery.
-*
New York had its picture taken
from the air the other day, more
extensively than ever before. A
complete crew of cameramen and
sound technicians spent several
days shooting the harbor, the sky
line, the World’s fair, and every
thing else that they thought might
be of interest to you when you see
the forthcoming Walter Wanger pro
duction, "Eternally Yours.” Mr.
Wanger is doing everything possible
for that picture; look at the names
in the cast—Loretta Young and
David Niven, Hugh Herbert, Billie
Burke, Dr. Aubrey Smith, Zasu Pitts.
If you pass this one up it won’t be
his fault.
-*
Kenny Baker has a nice contract
for next year, and Jack Benny will
have to find a new singer to replace
him. One of the big oil companies
has lured Baker away, giving him a
handsome salary, and a contract
that will permit him to talk as well
as sing, which Benny’s sponsors
didn’t want him to do.
-*
ODDS AND ENDS—Paramount is
in favor of making Martha Raye a
blonde for her next picture, and she
doesn't like the idea . . . Maybe Sally
Eilers was no lady when she dumped
her ice cream soda into the lap of the
woman who insisted on taking the seat
Sally was reserving for a friend—but
she was doing what thousands of ladies
have yearned to do . . . When Dorothy
Lamour went to Waukegan for the
opening of “Man About Town” she
was assigned to the hotel suite where
she stayed when she eloped with
Herbie Kay.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
