CHAPTER XU—Continued
—15—
"Lord, Autumn, what’s come over
you?” Florian reproached her. "You
need a shaking up. I’ll be out for
you around eight.”
“Will Lin be along?”
‘‘Not on your life—not with me,”
Florian replied. “She has made oth
er arrangements.”
"Of course.”
“Bruce is coming in to look after
her. We’ll make it a nice little four
some when we get together. Any
objections?”
“None whatever,” she replied
lightly. “I’ll be ready when you
come.”
When she mentioned the affair to
her father and asked him if he would
not like to come along, he drew
down one shaggy eyebrow and ele
vated the other humorously.
“Me? Scarcely,” he said. “But
buy me a ticket—buy me half a doz
en. It’s a worthy cause. You run
along and enjoy yourself. It’ll proba
bly be the last spree for you in this
part of the world. Put on your glad
rags and show ’em what it means to
be a Dean!”
Autumn laughed a little tremu
lously and kissed the sere and bris
tling eyebrow. “I’ll do that very
thing. Da,” she told him. “Though
you’d cast more glamor on the name
than I can, if that’s what you want,
you old Roman!”
He tweaked her ear, and Autumn
ran upstairs to dress.
• Florian, turned out flawlessly in
evening clothes, was waiting impa
tiently in the drawing room below.
His quick flush as she came down
to meet him, the silver web of her
evening wrap on her arm, would
have been sweet to the light vanity
that had been hers in a day gone
by. Now she heeded it only with a
feeling of faint vexation. Florian
came forward and lifted a cool and
waxy corsage of white orchids from
the small table near the door.
"Permit me, most beautiful!” he
said, bowing elaborately from the
waist. "And if you tell me you hate
orchids, I’ll make you eat ’em!”
Autumn laughed and brushed the
delicate aristocrats with her finger
tips. "Extravagant wretch!” she
said, and fixed them to her gown.
"They’re beautiful, Florian. There.
Thank you so mufch.”
She did, as a matter of fact, de
test orchids, and in her imperious
days at Aunt Flo’s she had never
thought twice about spurning them.
But that was before this curious pos
session of pity had come over her.
“You haven’t seen father, of
course?” she said as they turned to
leave.
“I crashed the gates with Han
nah’s assistance,” Florian said. “Is
the Laird still peeved about the hay
stack episode?”
“No,” she replied. "He has for
gotten that, I think. But he has his
bad days.”
“Probably feels low about your
leaving him so soon again.”
"Scarcely that. He may be join
ing me in the fall.”
They had got into Florian’s car.
"We’re going to miss you like the
deuce,” he said.
"It’s something to know I’ll be
missed, anyway,” Autumn mur
mured.
Florian put out a hand and
crushed her fingers within his own,
then let them go and grasped the
wheel. “Damn it!” he muttered.
“If you would only listen to
reason—”
me nau in wnicn me aance was
being held was packed when they
arrived. Japanese lanterns and gay
streamers festooned the ballroom
and across the bobbing sea of faces
came the giddy blare of a jazz or
chestra. Autumn looked down from
a balcony upon the throng with
heavy-lidded eyes behind which
there was a searching glow.
“Some crush, eh?” Florian ob
served, standing close beside her.
“Shall we go down at once and get
our shins kicked? Or shall we wait
awhile? They’re using everything
down there from the Ark gallop to
the latest wiggle of the rumba.”
“Let us look on for a while first,"
she suggested.
As she spoke, her lashes swept
low over her eyes. In the compara
tive freedom of the outer fringe of
dancers, sne had seen Linda and
Bruce Landor. Above Linda’s head,
Bruce’s eyes moved cautiously along
the rim of the balcony, paused for
an imponderable instant as they met
Autumn’s, and moved on in in
difference.
“There's Lin and Bruce,” Florian
said suddenly, "down there near the
wall—to the right.”
Autumn looked, pretending not to
see at once. “I see them now,”
she said finally.
“You could pick them out of a
million,” Florian said admiringly.
“They make the rest of the crowd
look like also-rans. Let’s go down
and give them a little competition,
Autumn.”
“So you got here?” It was Hector
Cardigan speaking at Autumn’s el
bow. She turned upon him a radi
ant smile and extended her hands.
“Hello, darling!" she cried throat
ily. “How gorgeous you look!” She
seized the lapels of his dinner jack
et and surveyed him with wide eyes.
“Are you going to give me a
dance?”
“You flatter me,” Hector said in
his courtly fashion. “Do you guar
antee to bring me safely out of the
melee?”
“She brings us all safely back
out of everything," Florian put in.
“Are you so afraid?” Autumn
asked, as if she had not heard Flor
ian’s remark.
“Those young things down there—
they terrify me," Hector said.
"And you a soldier!” Autumn ban
tered.
Hector smiled. “I was younger
then than I am now,” he said. "And
stepping all over one’s toer was
considered against the rules.”
Autumn and Florian laughed, and
the three made their way down to
the dancing-floor, the men on either
side of Autumn, her arms drawn
lightly through theirs. They stood
chatting for a moment beside a
great potted palm, and then Autumn
waved back at Hector as Florian
swept her away into the dance.
“The next one, Hector, remem
ber,” she said over Florian’s shoul
der. “I’ll meet you in the lounge.”
Hector nodded, but when she was
out of sight he frowned. Bruce Lan
dor ha'd just come off the floor with
Linda Parr. They strolled toward
him, saluting him from some dis
tance away as they approached. It
“Permit me, most beautiful!”
occurred to the old soldier then that
Autumn’s wish to dance with him
had been merely a ruse. Her real
desire was to avoid dancing with
Bruce.
“Hullo, Hector!” Bruce said
warmly as he came face to face
with him. Linda, with a nod to
ward Hector, had been caught up by
someone else and was already mov
ing away into the crowd.
“Good evening, Bruce,” Hector
said with a stern smile. “You seem
to be enjoying yourself.”
“Immensely," Bruce replied with
a promptness that brought a slight
lift to Hector’s eyebrows.
Hector toyed with the ribbon
guard of his glasses. "The hospital
ought to benefit from this,” he re
marked. “It’s the best crowd I’ve
seen for years.”
"Everybody’s here,” Bruce
agreed.
They stood for a moment and
watched the dancers swirl past
them.
‘‘I think I’ll get out of the crowd
a bit,” Hector said at last. "What
would you say to a smoke, my boy?”
“I’d be all for it,” Bruce replied.
“Let’s go to the lounge, then,"
Hector suggested.
They made their way to a corner
of the lounge where there was a
measure of privacy and seated
themselves in two chairs that made
an angle facing the entrance.
“I haven’t seen much of you late
ly,” Hector said as he offered Bruce
his cigarette case.
“I haven’t been out much, except
on business,” Bruce replied. ‘Tve
had a busy summer of it, one way
or another.”
"Yes, yes, of course. I was sorry
to hear about your prize Merinos.
There was underhand work in that
affair, eh?”
Bruce lit his cigarette and blew a
cloud of smoke as he settled back in
his chair. “I can’t talk about it,
Hector,” he said. "It makes me
want to fight when I even think
of it.”
"Naturally, naturally," Hector
said. “The less you think about it
the better, I should say.” He smoked
a moment in silence, then cleared
his throat softly. “I understand you
are going to lose your young neigh
bor soon,” he remarked casually.
“You mean Autumn Dean?”
Bruce said without a flicker of ex
pression revealed to the shrewd look
that Hector turned upon him.
"Yes.”
“Lin told me tonight that she plans
to go back to England,” Bruce said.
“Next week, I believe. And you
are letting her go?”
Bruce cast a quick glance at the
old man. "I’m letting her go? I
wasn’t aware that I had anything to
do with it,” he said in an off-hand
manner.
Hector smiled slowly as he looked
at Bruce, then sighed reminiscent
ly. “The age of chivalry seems to
have passed,” he said, shaking his
head.
Bruce gazed at his cigarette
smoke with narrowed lids. “I don't
follow you, Hector," he said. “I
can’t See what chivalry has to do
with it when a girl takes it into her
head to run off to Europe.”
“Do you know, my boy," Hector
replied, after a moment of silence,
“I suspect that this younger genera
tion they talk about so much nowa
days—I . suspect they're a pretty
faint-hearted crowd compared with
their fathers—or their grandfathers,
for example.”
“I’m not in a position to question
you, Hector,” Bruce said. “If your
reference to the faint heart has any
thing to do with the fair lady—”
“Of course it has!” Hector put In.
“In my day, if a young man had
notions about a young lady, she
wouldn’t get a chance to run off to
England and leave him in the
lurch.”
Bruce laughed lightly. "Hector,”
he said, “you’re barking up the
wrong tree, old boy.”
Hector bristled immediately. "I
don’t bark—" he began, then halted
abruptly and got to his feet. “Here
comes Autumn herself,” he said, his
pleasure and annoyance making a
curious gnome-like mask of his face.
For an almost imperceptible in
stant, Autumn paused in her ap
proach to them. Hector saw her
quick pallor and put out a hand to
ward her. Bruce rose and made a
slight, formal bow with an ease that
was disconcerting to Hector.
After a brief "Good evening!” to
Bruce, Autumn turned at once to
Hector.
uur dance, Hector! sne an
nounced. “Or haven’t you finished
your smoke?”
Hector waived her question and
then drew himself up sternly. “You
are planning to leave for England
next Saturday, I understand,” he
said to Autumn.
“Next Saturday morning, Hector,”
she replied.
“I am inviting you two”—he said,
and looked aggressively from one
to the other—“to dinner at my house
next Thursday evening. Will that
suit you both?"
There was a silence in which Hec
tor, the spectator, saw the clash of
humorously blue eyes and clear,
stricken, sea-green eyes. Bruce
thrust one hand idly into the pocket
of his coat and stood in a lounging
attitude, looking pleasantly down at
Autumn as he replied.
“Thursday will suit me. Hector.”
“Why, certainly, darling,” Au
tumn said breathlessly, turning to
Hector. “How sweet ot you! Shall
we dance now?" She took Hector’s
arm and led him away.
Bruce watched them go, then
smiled as he seated himself.
Poor old Hector, he thought wry
ly. Making a last gallant effort!
And how gamely she had taken it!
Came right back at him, her eyes
flaming in rage. Oh, well—what the
devil! He buried his cigarette angri
ly in the earth of a potted plant that
stood near at hand, then got up and
strolled out, the leisurely figure of a
young man who had no scar on his
spirit.
The evening was no more than
half spent when Autumn begged
Florian to take her home. She
pleaded a headache—from the noise
and the heavy air of the place. Flor
ian protested, but finally agreed.
They found Linda and together ar- ,
ranged for one last night at the
Parr hunting lodge before Autumn
should leave them. Autumn would
drive up from home and meet them
at the lodge. The day was set and
the girls kissed each other good
night. For once, it seemed, Autumn
was more languid than Linda
Fifty miles southward, and ten
more off the straight trail to Kelow
na, was the distance that Autumn
must go to the Parr hunting lodge.
She had left home early to attend
to some business in Kamloops and
to assure Hector that she would be
on hand for his dinner party on the
following evening. It was a matter
of indifference to her that Florian
would be at the lodge, too, but the
thought of meeting Linda warmed
her heart. It would be difficult to
say good-by to her. In her frivolous,
unsentimental way Linda had shown
her more unconscious sympathy
than she could ever guess.
It was barely dusk when Autumn
drove her car in through the rustic
gate that led to the lodge. She got
out promptly and glanced about, an
ticipating that Linda and Florian
would be on the lookout for her.
“Hello!” Florian came hurrying
toward her from the doorway of the
lodge.
He took her gloved hands in a
firm grip and stood looking down
at her with a strange, inscrutable
smile.
“Hello, Florian!” she returned,
her voice a little unsteady. “Gosh,
I’ve been driving like a fiend!”
“Go on in,” Florian told her and
gave her shoulder a little squeeze
with his hand from which she shrank
with instinctive uneasiness.
He jumped into the car and drove
it hurriedly into the garage cabin.
Autumn started toward the lodge,
but Florian caught up with her and
opened the door for her to enter.
Within the large room, familiar to
her now with its antlered heads pro
jecting from the walls, its bear and
cougar skins scattered about the
floor, its deep stone fireplace, its
properly rustic but comfortable
chairs and deep divan, its buffet lit
tered with bottles and glasses which
would be an eternal adjunct to any
furnishings of the Parrs—there was
not another soul but herself and
Florian.
Autumn turned upon him.
"Where’s Lin?” she demanded.
Florian had closed the door. He
was leaning against it now, his
hands thrust nonchalantly into the
pockets of his corduroy jacket. His
blond head shone in unruly pictur
esqueness against the stained log
surface of the door. His dark eyes
smiled at her, half closed in con
templative pleasure.
“Lin came down with tonsilitis this
morning ” he told her.
"Why didn’t you telephone me,
then?”
"We did, but you had already left
home.”
"Why didn’t you have Elinor come
along with you?” Autumn demand
ed, vexed at Florian's manner.
"Lord, Autumn, don't get all
worked up over nothing,” he re
plied. "Elinor doesn’t go out with
me. Besides, isn't it all right this
way?”
"You know it isn’t—as well as I
do,” she told him.
He took a step toward her with
easy indolence. "Don’t be a simp!”
he said. “Give me your things.”
Autumn looked at him coolly, sur
veying him hostilely as he regarded
her with his smile of assurance.
"Certainly not,” she said. "I’m
going back home right now. You
know I wouldn’t have come if I had
known you were to be alone here.”
She moved toward the door, but
Florian grasped the shoulders of her
loose automobile coat and pulled it
off her.
"Don’t be such a fool!” he said
“Now that you're here, sit down and
be pleasant about it. I’m not so old
fashioned as to make any assaults
on your virtue, if that’s what’s on
your mind. My God, I had to come
up here to tell you, didn’t I?”
"Now that you’ve told me—I can
go,” Autumn replied.
“You’re not going to get out of
here till we’ve had a drink and a
bite to eat. After that you may dc
as you please.”
Autumn seated herself and took a
cigarette from her case. She lit ii
and sat without speaking while Flor
ian carried ner coat to a closet anc
hung it up. When he came back h<
poured a couple of drinks at the buf
fet. rne of which he handed to Au
Autumn looked at him coolly.
tumn Then glass in hand, he stood
before her and laughed sardonically
“So little Autumn was afraid her
Florian was going to stage a regular
old-time, knock-’em-down-and-drag
'em-out scene, eh?” he observed.
“I wasn’t afraid.” Autumn told
him.
“As a matter of fact, I really
should do something about it,” he
went on. “Come to think of it,
you’ve succeeded in making a fool
of me all summer.”
“I see," said Autumn. "You’d
like to get even. I didn’t credit you
with being vindictive.”
He flushed darkly. Then a pathet
ically boyish and disappointed look
came over his face, so that for a
moment, in spite of herself. Autumn
felt sorry for him. Perhaps it had
been unsporting of her to play with
him all summer when she had
known from the first how he had
felt about her. Florian threw him
self into a chair and sat with his
hand shading his eyes.
"No," he replied slowly, "you've
got me wrong. Autumn. I’m not
saying anything about what I would
do if I could. But—not against your
will, my dear. I admit I was glad
when Lin found she couldn’t come
out. I was glad of this chance of
being alone with you. I was silly
enough to think that perhaps—alone
with me for the last time—you might
relent a little.”
"I’m sorry, Florian,” she said
wearily. "I have tried to make it
clear from the first that we could
never be more than friends.”
“You have your reasons for that,
no doubt,” he said. “Am I so—so
absolutely impossible?”
Autumn sighed and turned her
eyes to the window. “I seem to have
made a mess of things, all around,”
she said.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
! Bolero and Princess Types
Compete for Style Prestige
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
NO MATTER the elegance of fab
ric, no matter the color glory
of the material, no matter the per
fection of detail, no matter whether
it cost a plenty or less if your dress
or your coat or your suit be not
figure flattering then all is lost inso
far as allure or smart appearance is
concerned. Yes, indeed, we are
hearing a lot these days about
“lines” and "hips,” wasp waistlines
and the new corseted silhouettes.
From the figure-flattering stand
point there are two types that stand
out definitely in the mode this sea
son, namely the bolero costume and
the form-fitting dresses and coats
hat are cut a la princess. The dif
ference between the two is that the
iress or suit with a bolero possesses
the magic to make figures that are
not a hundred per cent perfect look
ip to par, while to wear a princess
successfully one really must have
a good figure.
If in doubt, there is no safer, saner
choice than a bolero ensemble. To
lefine the bolero theme is a big
irder, for it expresses itself in in
fnite moods ranging from tailored
types made of utilitarian wools to
afternoon types starred with sequins
jr more or less embroidered even
unto whimsical affairs that are all
aglitter with jeweled embroidery,
>strich trim, filmy lace that tones
to formal evening wear.
Most practical is the tailored
bolero dress or suit made of a sheer
wool weave or of a silk-and-rayon
crepe, or of the now-so-smart faille
or bengaline. Such a dress-with-bo
lero or skirt and bolero will prove
the better part of a wardrobe with
in itself. You can wear different
blouses and change the entire ap
pearance of your costume from day
to day. The suty may be simply
tailored or the bolero can be hand
somely all-over braided.
At the smartest places you see
bolero costumes similar to the
model pictured to the left in the
group. Sheer wool or silk crepe in
a chosen pastel tone, a skirt rip
pling to a wide swirling hemline, a
blouse that looks like a froth of tint
ed lace, a bolero that bespeaks youth
in its every line thus the story of
this charming costume is told. The
lace blouse worn with this bolero
twosome reminds us that the fore
word coming from fashion head
quarters is that the dainty lace
trimmed or all-of-lace blouse is
scheduled to reach a new high in
fashion next spring.
Princess coats and dresses are all
the style this winter. In coats the
classic double-breasted form-fitting
princess type of wool coating or
richly colorful tweed is an acknowl
edged favorite. As to the princess
dress, style-alert debutantes and
girls of high school age have fallen
in love with the simple classic such
as is centered in the illustration.
Describing this model, it is a black
bengaline coat dress, suitable to
wear from morn to night. The form
fitting princess lines are cut with
purpose to achieve the chic skirt
fullness that develops a wide flar
ing hemline. The dress is further
styled with sailor collar and a row
of gold buttons at the front closing.
If you are young, slim, svelte and
alertly fashion-conscious, tie a rib
bon in your hair and wear a form
fitting princess dress like the one
pictured to the right in the group.
Buttons down the front make this
model do the most for the typical
junior figure. The gored, hemmed
skirt flares gaily. And the four lit
tle embroidered and edged in val
type cotton lace pockets!
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Sequin-Trimmed
Sequins flash at you from the most
unexpected places this season, the
latest idea being to trim the black
jersey frock in glittering bands
done in white and gold sequins as
you see pictured. The gown has
the new long sleeves, a high neck
and open back that buttons only at
neckline and waistline. These new
“coverup” fashions are the smart
est of the season. Note that the
fullness is brought to the front in
the skirt.
Call for Glitter
Brings Up Metals
In harmony with the call for glit
ter in fashions this winter is the re
turn to favor of metal weaves for
dinner gowns for cocktail frocks,
and especially smart is the blouse
of rich lame to be worn with the vel
vet afternoon suit or with the long
formal skirt at evening functions.
Milliners report a big demand for
exotic looking turbans of metal cloth
draped in oriental fashion, these to
match the gowns or blouses or jack
ets with which they are worn. These
flattering turbans look stunning with '
winter furs and women who like to I
dress for occasion are playing up
the idea of the metal-draped tur
ban for all it is worth.
Metal jackets that button with jew
eled buttons are definitely good style
for evening worn with the black vel
vet or crepe formal skirt
Bright Red Leads
The Color Parade
Bright red triumphs in the color
realm Bright red for your hat,
your scarf, and a spectacular turn
of affairs is bright red gloves worn
with your dark furs.
Bright red jackets top dark skirts
day and evening, the more formal
ones scintillating with glittering em
broidery. Young girls love the new
long red capes or coats if you pre
fer, that are so swank for evening
wear. Sometimes brass buttons add
to their glory.
Corduroy and Wool
Bright corduroy and printed wool
are combined in a comfortable
ankle-length dinner dress for infor
mal dining at home.
Mantlet
Mantlet is the newest name for
the waist length evening jackets of
fur with attached hoods.
Practical Pinafore
That Will Stay Put
TpHIS pinafore apron (1876) will
* be a great favorite with every
body in the sewing circle—it’s the
most useful kind you can have!
It goes on in a jiffy—not even a
sash to tie! It covers both the
top and the skirt of your dress
thoroughly. It won’t slip off the
shoulders. It has two capacious
patch pockets that you will find
mighty handy.
Buttons and bright piping give
it a gay touch; it’s prettily small
at the waist and flared at the
skirt. Best of all, it’s so easy to
make that you can turn it out in
a few hours. Send for the pat
tern today, and make half a dozen
aprons like this, so that you’ll al
ways have one ready to put on,
fresh and clean. It’s nice for gifts
and club or church sales, too.
Make it of gingham percale,
chintz or linen, in cheerful prints
or plain colors.
No. 1876 is designed for sizes
32, 34, 36, 38, 40, 42, and 44. Size
34 requires 2% yards of 35-inch
material; 2 yards bias binding to
trim.
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1324,
211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, 111.
Price of pattern, 15 cents (in
coins).
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The Spoken Word
Far more effective (than books)
is the spoken word. There is
something in the voice, the coun
tenance, the bearing and the ges
ture of the speaker, that concur
in fixing an impression upon the
mind, deeper than can even vigor
ous writingsi—Pliny the Younger.
Worthy Action
Count that day lost, whose low
descending sun views from thy
hand no worthy action done.—
Stanford.
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