SYNOPSIS
Dr. David Jebb 1* a passenger on the
crack train, the Nord-Express, with Os
tend as his Immediate destination. He
is bound for America. With him is flve
year-old Cynthia Thatcher, his charming
young temporary ward. On the train
they meet Big Bill Gaines, former class
mate and fraternity brother of David's.
He tells Gaines of his mission, and of
his one unconquerable vice—an over
whelming desire for liquor. Jebb feels
the urge coming to him again, and wants
to safeguard the child, whose father Is
dead, and whose mother waits her com
ing In America. During a stop. Gaines
leaves the train to buy a present for
Cynthia. The train pulls out without him.
Then Jebb Is slightly, but painfully. In
jured in a minor accident. A fellow
passenger gives him a drink, which
makes his desire for liquor all the
stronger.
CHAPTER II—Continued
After Cynthia had wasted a long
and weary while of tenderness upon
the wretch whose torment was so
much beyond her comprehension,
she grew fretful of her own account
and began to ask for a story. ‘‘Tell
me a story, Nunkie Dave.”
“I don’t know any new ones, hon
ey.”
‘‘Tell Thinthy about madic car
pet.”
From his chaotic remembrance of
that tangled chaos of countless-col
ored skins, the “Arabian Nights,”
Jebb brought out a twisted yarn:
“Once upon a time there was a
poor old sailor named Sindbad, and
he was sailing across Sahara in a
ship of the desert, that is—the back
of a camel—you've seen ’em at cir
cuses."
“What wath the camelth name,
Nunkie Dave?”
“The camel’s name was Clarence,
I think. And he was thinking of his
beautiful little daughter.”
“Oh, did the camel have a daugh
ter?”
“No, it’s Sindbad I’m speaking
of.”
“What wath her name, Nunkie
Dave?”
“The daughter’s name was Bridg
et, I believe—or Patricia, I forget
which.”
“Where did little Bridthet live?”
“See here, young lady, am I tell
ing a story or passing an examina
tion? If you’re not careful, I’ll make
you tell the story. She lived in Con
stantinople, I believe. Can you spell
it?” The curls shook violently. “It’s
a C and an I and a constanti, and a
steeple and a stople and a Constanti
nople."
This old lyric entranced the child
and she had to learn it. But, once
mastered, she was hot on the trail
of Sindbad the sailor. And she forced
the frantic mind of Jebb back into
the harness. He went on:
well, as binaDaa was sailing
across the sand and sailing across
the sand and a-sailing across the
sand what should he see ahead of
him but a—a bottle.”
The word was out and it was like
a knife in Jebb’s heart. But he
churned on:
“So Sindbad said to the camel,
•Whoa, Dobbin!’ ”
With the fanatic accuracy of a
child in matters of narrative, she
insisted:
“Hith name was Clarenth.”
“That’s right. He said, 'Whoa,
Clarence,’ and Clarence whoa’d, and
Sindbad threw out the rope fire
escape and climbed down and tied
Clarence to a hitching post that hap
pened to be standing there, and he
picked up the bottle and pulled out
the cork with a corkscrew he always
carried, and as soon as the cork
was out, what do you suppose popped
out of the bottle?”
“Milk?”
“Not milk but a—ugh! a genie!”
“Whath a genie?” %
“A genie is—well, it's—a—er—see
that big cloud out there that looks
like a giant on a draught-horse?
Well, a genie is a terrible being as
big as that—a kind of a horrible
fairy goblin demon. And he had
been corked up in that bottle by an
old magician, and he was just ach
ing for some poor fool—er fellow to
come along and pull the cork so that
he could chew him up.”
"Wooh!” gasped Cynthia, cuddling
closer.
“That’s what the genie said:
‘Wooh!’ You see he had been locked
up there about three million hundred
years and he was hungry, and he
was just going to gobble Sindbad up
when—’’
"Umm! Did Mr. Thinpat get
scared?”
“Scared! His teeth went clickety
click like this train. But, just as the
genie was sprinkling some salt on
him to make him taste better, Sind
bad happened to remember the right
charm. He waved his wand and
yelled, ‘Abracadabra, presto
changeo, snicker-snee!’
“And you should have seen that
genie wilt. He got down on the
ground and said, ‘Please, Massa
Sindbad, don’t put me in the bottle
any more. Let me work for you.’
You see, Cynthia, some people have
the magic charm, and they can
make the bottle-genie work for them
and cheer them up and be their
slave, but other poor fellows don’t
know the word, and they become the
genie’s slaves.*’
Cynthia, like most of her sex, was
not for moralizing, but for plot. So
Jebb went on:
“Sindbad said. ‘Look here, you
black rascal, I want to get home
and see my little daughter Susie’—”
“Her name ith Bridthet.”
“ ‘My daughter Bridget, and I
want to get home quick. D'you un
derstand?’ And the genie said, ‘Yes,
Massa Sindbad, you’re agoing to be
da in a jiffy.’ ”
“Whath a Jiffy. Nunkie?”
“That’s something I never could
find out, honey. But the genie knew
and he brought out a magic carpet.”
“Did he have it in his pocket?”
“He must have had."
“How could he get a carpet In a
bottle?”
“You’ll have to ask him, Genies
are very peculiar. But he brought i!
out and spread it on the grountf, and
said, ‘All aboard!’—and Sindbad
stepped on it, and the genie said,
’Hold fast!’ and rang the bell twice,
and the next moment Sindbad found
himself at home in Constantinople,
and his little girl—what do you sup
pose was the first thing she said?”
“She said, ’What did you bring
me for a prethent?’ ”
“That’s just what she said. And
her father said to the genie, ‘Here,
you black rascal, what did we bring
the little girl?’ And the genie took
out of his suitcase the most beauti
A window of quaint and
alien design.
ful—but here we are at Cologne,
honey. Let’s get out and take a
breath of air and see the Cathe
dral.”
Cynthia, like many another, cared
more for the architecture of event
than of stone. She insisted:
“But what did the genie bring the
little girl?”
“We’ll open the suitcase when the
train starts again. It will do us
good, honey, to stretch our legs a
bit.”
Jebb was impatient to be moving.
He could not imagine what was in
the suitcase, and he felt that if he
sat in the train another moment he
would leap through the window and
carry the glass flying.
Taking Cynthia by the hand he
descended from the car, leaving all
their hand-luggage except the small
Gladstone containing the precious
drawings. This he carried in gin
gerly manner, his turbaned thumb
yelping with pain at the slightest
jar.
Learning that the train would rest
at Cologne some minutes, he struck
out across the platform. Cynthia
was hungry; the loss of the oranges
had whetted her appetite. There
was a refreshment room in the sta
tion, but Jebb thought they would
better step outside and take a look
at the Cathedral towering above
them like a storm cloud.
Of all the eyes that have stared
at that carven mountain in the many
centuries since it began to upheave
its mass above the town, not many
eyes could have regarded it with less
observation. The child’s thoughts
were turned inward upon the fasci
nating mysteries of the gift the ge
nie brought to Miss Bridget Sindbad.
Jebb’s eyes ran here and there like
foxes in a cage, with the restless
ness of a man in torment.
His shifty gaze was caught by the
sign of the Dom Hotel, with the cof
fee-house adjoining. People were
seated at tables. Some of them were
reading the papers one finds there.
All of them had some liquor be
fore them. Jebb shivered with de
sire, his knees wavered. The ge
nie of alcohol was fuming from the
bottle and he knew no subduing
charm.
It usurped his will. He could not
wish to subdue it. Everything on
earth became a mirage, the two
things real were the thirst consum
ing him, and the relief at hand.
Throwing off irresolution as some
thing contemptible he stalked ma
t .
jestically across the street, the lit
tle girl toddling alongside, haud pas
sibus aequis.
She never questioned the probity
of her guide. If she felt a little
fear that they were going too far it
was lost in her trust of Nunkie Dave.
She made one comment as her feet
pattered across the rough cobbles of
the city:
“It don’t thmell like cologne, Nun
kie Dave.”
A voice came from his high-held
head:
“So Coleridge said, honey.”
She panted as she ran:
“Who wath he, Nunkie Dave?”
"He was the man who wrote the
‘Ancient Mariner.’ ”
“Who wath he, Nunkie Dave?”
"He was the man who slew the
albatross.”
“Whath a albatroth, Nunkie
Dave?”
“It was a beautiful bird, honey,
and the man that killed it suffered
horribly of thirst. You must never,
never slay the albatross, honey—
never slay the albatross. It’s the
unpardonable crime.”
Strolling along the Domhof, Jebb
and Cynthia soon reached the Dom
Hotel. Jebb took the child to the
dining-room, told an elderly waiter
to bring her what she wanted, cau
tioned her not to stir till he came
back, and kissing her good-by, made
straight for the wine-room.
Cynthia had never heard of Casa
bianca, but she shared his grit.
She and the waiter, who spoke a lit
tle dining-room English, and had
five or six little Kindchen of his own,
became great friends. It was a
pleasanter place to wait than on a
burning deck, but Cynthia's appe
tite was soon sated, the waiter
speedily emptied his English vocab
ulary, and his bag of tricks for
amusing a child jaded with delay.
And still Jebb did not return. Loneli
ness for her playmate, and terror for
his loss, agitated the child, and she
was fretting:
I want Nunkie Dave! I want Nun
kie Dave!” And then, that cry fail
ing, she began to whimper:
‘‘I want my mamma!”
At last Jebb arrived at the door of
the dining-room. Cynthia precipitat
ed herself across the floor with a
shriek of joy that disturbed the sol
emn room. The waiter followed to
explain with much joviality and
some policy, how long and well he
had entertained his charge.
Jebb. with a remarkable magnifi
cence of manner, called for the reck
oning and paid it with a gold piece
of ten marks, and bade him keep
the change.
The rain of gold had begun. Mr.
Croesus was himself again.
Leaving the voluminous waiter
palpitant with admiration, Jebb took
Cynthia’s hand and they went back
to the station. In his other hand he
still grasped the Gladstone.
His manner to the child was one
of lofty tenderness, of the courtesy
an ancient knight would have shown
a ladye of high degree, mingled
with the absentmindedness of a poet
whose thoughts were busied with
some great theme.
"Seems to me, honey, that the
train was headed other way when
we left. Prob’ly—probab-ly I’m mis
taken. Get turned round easily in
foreign countries.”
In his eagerness to board the train
he tried to walk over and through a
gorgeous officer who looked to be at
least a taker of cities instead of
tickets. On demand Jebb brought
out his pocketbook and produced the
remainder of a ticket and a half to
Ostend.
He was informed that his train
was, "Vor langer Zeit gegangen.”
With an air of angelic patience
Jebb informed the man, whom he
called "Mein lieber General,” that |
he desired and intended to take the
train standing before him. The
guard, greatly touched by the title
(he had been a soldier, of course),
informed the distinguished sir that
the train was no longer the Nord
Express, but the Ostend-Vienna Ex
press and that other tickets would
be required.
Jebb replied that that made noth
ing to him out, and went to the
ticket office where, in German of
surprising correctness, he called for
one and one-half tickets. The man
in the cage naturally inquired,
though in less aristocratic German:
“Please, for what station, my
sir?”
Jebb smiled airily and quoted a
remembered line.
“What stations have you?”
The beard within waved like
wheat and the ticket-seller answered
with a laugh.
“Frankfort-am-Main, Homburg,
Wurzburg.”
“Wurzburg, eh? That tastes good
to me. (Das schmeckt mir gut.)”
CHAPTER III
Hovering a little this side of sleep,
his drowsy eyes saw, or seemed to
see, through a window of quaint
and alien design, a distant tower of
soaring stature, just visible in the
dim light of daybreak. At its top
most tip the rising sun had coaxed
a rose to bloom. The rest of the
slim shaft was still enveloped in vio
let shadow.
In a balcony circling the tower he
rather Imagined than descried a
mote of a figure, and rather dreamed
than heard a voice far, far away,
and crying:
“Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Al
lahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!"
It was only on its fourth intonation
that he made out the words, and
then they meant nothing to him.
There followed a chant in the same
strange language, so mellowed by
remoteness that it interwove with
the dream-rug on the loom of Jebb’s
drowsiness. The words were strange
and there was no meaning, only a
foreign music, in that concluding
phrase, ‘‘Prayers are better than
sleep,” which the drowsy and dubi
ous muezzin, weary of the steep spi
ral stairway, adds to the sunrise
Azan.
When his eyes actually perceived
the minaret through the latticed win
dow, and made out what manner of
room he was in, he sat up with a
start. He fell back immediately. His
nerves jangled like a harp thrown
to the floor.
To move his head ever so slightly
was to put himself on the rack, but
curiosity forced him to endure the
turning of his face so that he could
study his whereabouts. Wonder filled
him till he thought he was back in
a dream.
The last thing he remembered
was a sense of drowsiness on a train
in Germany. But this was neither
a train, nor Germany.
‘‘This is Japan,” thought Jebb,
who had never been there.
He lay on a sort of wall-platform
covered with a heap of cotton mat
tresses. Over him were spread
quilts of delicate fabric. On the
floor were many rugs tinted like
heaps of autumnal leaves.
"This is Persia,” he concluded,
thinking of the rugs. He had never
been to Persia.
At some vaguely later period he
thought he heard the creak of an
opened door, and his own leaden
eyelids seemed to creak as he
heaved them ajar. The door was
indeed slightly opened, and peering
into the room was a face. It was
the black and glistening skull of a
Negroid—something more than a
Negro and less than a man.
(TO HE CONTINUED)
3,000 Kinds of Sandpaper Used in Industry
There comes the time in the do
mestic life of the man of the house
when of all things in the world he
yearns, with super-powered earnest
ness, for a bit of sandpaper, maybe
not large enough to cover a can
celed postage stamp.
But, at the immediate moment,
that scrap of sandpaper is worth its
weight in gold to him and it is non
existent in his otherwise happy
home. It gives him small comfort,
then, to be informed that there are
in this country manufacturing
plants where the abrasive stuff is
turned out by the acre, where miles
of the material, in the making, are
run through automatic machines
and, further, that the growing uses
for sandpaper in all sorts of indus
tries are steadily increasing its out
put.
Most sandpaper is not paper, and
sand is not the scratchy stuff which
makes it useful, but the material
always will be known as sandpaper.
"Sandpaper has ceased to be
mere grains of sand glued to paper
and has become a tool with thou
sands of cutting edges,” D. H. Kil
leffer of New York says in a report
to the American Chemical society.
"Variations of as much as 1,000 per
cent in the usefulness of sandpaper
were formerly common. Today
myriads of tiny cutting edges, ar
ranged and held in orderly array,
cut surfaces instead of wearing
down surfaces by mere friction.
“Literally millions of dollars’
worth of sandpaper are consumed
annually in scores of different in
dustries. Production of such wide
ly different articles as fine furni
ture and felt hats, automobiles and
airplanes, shoes and steel speci
mens, machine work and marbles,
gem stones and golf clubs, consume
acreages of coated abrasives. Much
of the product designated as sand
paper is not made with paper and
a minimum proportion of it uses
sand, in the sense of silicon diox
ide, as an abrasive.
“Some 3,000 varieties of coated
abrasives are required to meet the
needs of users, and each must be
accurately fitted to certain specific
requirements. Above all, each of
the three thousand must be made
with the greatest possible uniform
ity and at a unit price that must
be kept down. The most important
development in this industry has
been the process of securing uni
formity in distribution and position
of abrasive particles on the sheet
by using an electric field.
Comfort, Style, Color, Novelty
In New Spring Shoe Fashions
By CHERIE NICHOLAS
AS A prologue to the season before
us the National Shoe fair, held
in Chicago recently, launched many
new styles for the Easter parade,
and for the spring and summer
months to follow. It is not possible
to tell of all the shoe fashions ex
hibited, so in the next few para
graphs we will cite a few outstanding
highspots.
First, one is impressed with the
striking originality that marks the
styling of shoes this season. The
big news is the swing toward back
decoration. The newest models are
styled with all sorts of fancy cutouts
in heel and side-back sections. Open
toes appear in a substantial percent
age, with good taste using a restrain
ing hand.
In leathers there is decided in
genuity in combinations, especially
with fabrics. In the forefront are
leathers from the reptilian family.
Patent is a top-honor contender, di
viding its style prestige with gabar
dine. Suede is also definitely in the
picture. The stepins are prime fa
vorites. The majority of these, and
of pumps, carry elasticised sections.
For the initial purchase smart
women will select black or the new
bluejacket blue, a dark navy. Mali
bu beige is also a color you will be
parading. Gray is due for a de
cided revival.
Heels introduce more novelty in
their heights and shapes than in
any previous year. They will "click”
from flat platforms to new spike
altitudes. Wedges io medium and
high heel versions promise a great
vogue. When you see the new play
shoes you won’t be able to resist.
Wedge shoes with soles in brilliant
red kid and tops of Paris blue, buck
piped in red, with a red drawstring
around the top will embark you gaily
on that all-American spring which
fashion advises will be here, with
patriotic colors flagging interest
from head to foot.
Ready to step out for spring are
bluejacket pumps with bows and
moccasin-effect fronts edged in
white os shown to the left in the
picture, worn with a navy and white
print frock and navy and white ac
cessories. Gay stripe wool for coats
is a spring promise. To wear with
your striped coat choose shoes such
as accompany the coat illustrated.
Describing the shoes shown in the
inset, beginning at the top, No. 1
is the new double platform type.
The alligator pumps next below are
real smart. They are in the new
taupe gray, have the latest square
toe and heel design, with stitching
in brown. Shown next is a signif
icant style forecast. It combines
alligator with suede or gabardine.
Two pert bows of alligator add
swank. Comfort plus style is the
very important message conveyed
by the shoe that concludes the group.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Pastel Blouse 1
A sheer crepe blouse in monotone
pastel, pale blue, muted pink, gray
ish green or the new wheat color
with a dark skirt of rich fabric
is a dress formula that carries style
conviction. The blouse pictured ob
serves the newest styling details.
High neckline, long generously full
sleeves, the wide corselet effect that
gives a nipped-in waistline, they are
marks of fashion-wise dressmaker
touches. A matching turban is late
fashion decree.
Nepotny is launching new styles
in chemisier blouses, making them
of silk or cotton novelty shirting
and trimming them with old-time
featherstitched braid and nacre
shell-shaped buttons.
Milliners Turn Out
Cunning Spring Hats
A pastel felt or a gay fabric tur
ban make good "starters" for
spring. The sailor theme is a most
important one. As for turbans you
can wear no smarter headpiece. The
latest is to have a turban match
either blouse or bag or match some
thing that has to do with your cos
tume.
The outstanding feature about the
cunning hats that tilt over the face,
some not much larger than the palm
of your hand, is that they all throw
the spotlight on back views. Mil
liners have devised all sorts of
schemes in the way of snoods and
fitted deep bandeaux and ribbon
cap-fitting contrivances not only to
insure a comfortable fit on the head
but to give chic and charm to back
views.
House Coats to Fit
Your Personality
House coats and hostess gowns,
like all other costumes, should be
chosen to match your personality.
Once in a while the tall, stately
woman may find it amusing to go
frilly and feminine at home and
the hoyden may try her hand at
elegance, but these are the excep
tions rather than the rule.
Ordinarily the woman who spends
many hours in her home likes pret
ty, cheerful pastels, while the career
woman who keeps an eye on the
practical side chooses the darker
red, wine and blue shades.
Wet Day Ensemble
Chic and Sensible
Copper and white are attractive
ly combined for a rainy day ensem
ble. A trench coat of copper-toned
gabardine is teamed with white
rubbers and a transparent copper
toned umbrella. The umbrella has
an old-fashioned ivory tusk handle.
An amusing lapel pin for this coat
is a pair of white celluloid ducks
I
Charm ing New A pron
Has Square Neckline
'T'HIS pinafore apron (1888-B) is
so pretty that it really de
serves to be called a fashion—a
crisp, flattering, practical home
fashion! The square neckline (no
troublesome straps), the princess
waistline and bosom gathers
make it fit as becomingly as your
favorite afternoon dress. And it
covers your dress with protective
thoroughness.
Send for the pattern this very
minute! You can finish the apron
in a few hours, because it’s simply
nothing to make. And the first
time you slip it over your head,
tie the sash bow, discdver how
pretty it looks and comfortable it
feels—you’ll go ahead and make
up several, in order to have a
fresh, clean one always ready.
Tuck some away for bridge prizes
and shower gifts, too. Gingham,
percale, calico and chambray are>
pretty for this.
Barbara Bell Pattern No. 1888-B
is designed for sizes 34, 36, 38, 40,
42, 44, 46 and 48. Size 36 requires
314 yards of 35-inch material; 1
yard trimming.
For a pattern of this attractive
model send 15 cents in coin, your
name, address, style, number and
size to The Sewing Circle Pattern
Dept., Room 1324, 211 W. Wacker
Dr., Chicago, 111.
—N
There Are Two Wayi
to Get at Constipation
Yes, and only two ways-be/ora
and after it happens! Instead of
enduring those dull, tired, head
achy days and then having to
take an emergency cathartic-why
not KEEP regular with Kellogg’s
All-Bran? You can, If your con
stipation is the kind millions have
-due to lack of *‘bulk" in the
diet. For All-Bran goes right to
the cause of this trouble by
supplying the “bulk" you need.
Eat this toasted, nutritious
cereal regularly — with milk or
cream, or baked into muffins—
drink plenty of water, and see if
your life isn't a whole lot bright
er! Made by Kellogg’s in Battle
Creek. If your condition is chron
ic, it is wise to consult a physician.
V J
Seeing Myself
“I have never seen a greater
monster or miracle in the world
than myself.”—Montaigne.
WHEN kidneys function badly and
you suffer a nagging backache,
with dizziness, burning, scanty or too
frequent urination and getting up at
night; when you feel tired, nervous,
all upset. . . use Doan's Pills.
Doan's are especially for poorly
working kidneys. Millions of boxes
are used every year. They are recom
mended the country over. Ask your
neighbor!
MERCHANDISE
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to be j j
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