cybvicVuow
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GWEN
BRISTOW
THE STORY THUS FAR: Spratt Her
long, motion picture producer, had mar
ried Elizabeth after her first husband,
Arthur Kittredge, had been reported
killed in World War I. Elizabeth had
been orphaned when a baby and had been
raised by her aunt and uncle In Tulsa,
where the met Arthur. Within n year
after their marriage be enlisted and soon
afterwards was reported killed. Elizabeth
moved to Los Angeles, where she met
Spratt. When he asked her to marry
him, Elizabeth told Spratt all about Ar
thur—also stating that part of her died
when Arthur died. Spratt, thankint her
for her honesty, still insisted and they
were married.
CHAPTER VIA
But she had waked from it. Like
Its predecessors, this period of rec
ollection had gone as abruptly as it
had come. Elizabeth pushed a lock
of hair off her forehead and reached
for a cigarette. ‘‘What a fool I am,"
she said, her eyes on the picture of
Spratt that was standing on her desk.
She had a picture of Arthur packed
l away somewhere in the back of a
* closet, but it had been years since
she had looked at it. She wanted
Spratt there, Spratt whom she
loved, her children's father. Spratt
and her children were what she lived
for. They filled up her thoughts—ex
cept for these rare minutes of agony,
minutes that were more cruel be
cause they had to be borne in si
lence. She could tell Spratt anything
on earth but this. She could mention
Arthur to him without self-conscious
ness, as she did sometimes—“There
was a man like Mr. So-and-so in the
company Arthur worked for in Tulsa,
one of those pseudo-intellectuals who
bought first editions for no reason
but to show them off. I remember
one day Arthur said he . . .” Just
as simply as that. And they
would chuckle over Arthur’s wise
crack and go on talking. But no
matter how seldom they occurred,
she could not tell Spratt that there
ever did occur such experience* of
black anguish as the one she had just
passed through.
And W'hy in the world should she,
Elizabeth asked herself now. It was
over, gone completely until the next
time, if there ever should be a next
time. By tomorrow she would have
forgotten it. Already the fact that
she had been powerless to escape it
was making her ashamed of herself,
and glad to ignore such absurdity.
The air was growing chilly. The
children should have come in from
the pool by now, and she hoped they
had hung up their suits properly. It
was about time she went downstairs
and got out the cocktail tray to have
it ready when Spratt came in.
The telephone ran again, and when
she answered it she felt pleasure at
the normal steadiness of her voice.
Her caller greeted her cheerfully.
“This is Irene Stern. Elizabeth. How
are you?”
"Fine, never better.”
“And Spratt?”
“Working himself to death and
flourishing on it.”
“Any news on the picture, or do I
dare ask?"
"Good news, I hope. Anyway, a
new writer who seems to have
ideas.”
"Anybody I know?"
"I don’t think so. He’s just off
the boat."
"Oh dear. Spikka da Inglis?”
"Fairly well, I believe. They’re
better at languages than we are.”
“They should be, can’t go a hun
dred miles over there without need
ing a new one. Elizabeth, I called to
ask if it’s all right for Brian to stay
for dinner with Peter.”
"Irene, you’re an angel about that
child, but are you sure it’s no trou
ble? Brian takes half his meals
with you as it is.”
"It’s no trouble and I wish you’d
let him stay. He and Peter are up-’
stairs getting starry-eyed over a new
collection of bugs—Elizabeth, is it
really necessary for the Scouts to en
courage such a fearful interest in
natural history? Peter does nothing
these days but mount insects.”
"I know, Brian’s room looks like
all I've ever heard about delirium
tremens. There’s nothing we can do
about it.”
"It must be a recent craze,” said
Irene Stern. “I remember Jimmy—”
#he was referring to her older son—
^ Jimmy was an enthusiastic Scout,
but he never had this passion for
creeping things.”
Elizabeth began to laugh. “You’d
better send Brian home, Irene. He’ll
be a distressing influence on Peter.”
“But when they’re mounting bugs
together they’re so happy. I can’t
bear to separate them. So let him
stay for dinner, Elizabeth. We'll
bring him home by nine."
“All right then, and thank you
for being so good to him. It’s been
ages since I’ve seen you—I’m going
to ring you one day this week for
lunch.”
“Do. I’d love it."
They said goodby and Elizabeth
put back the phone. She laughed to
herself as she did so. Everything
was back where it ought to be. Her
friends, her children, the warm se
curity of her life. Going over to
the desk, she took up Spratt’s pic
ture and kissed him through the
glass.
As she went downstairs she heard
a babble of young voices and a
sound of laughter. Dick and Cherry
had evidently come indoors with
their friends, and the four of them
were making quite as much noise as
might have been expected if they
had been greeting one another after
year* of separation. “Doesn’t their
energy ever give out?” Elizabeth
asked herself with fond wonder as
she heard them. She glanced into
the dining room to make sure the \
table had been set with two extra
places, made ready the cocktail tray
in the living room, and then went
to the balcony that ran along the
back of the house, to observe the
state of affairs around the pool.
The children had hung their suits
and towels on the line provided, leav
ing the place quite tidy after their
swim. They were really very good
about that, except now and then
when they had something important
on their minds and forgot to clear
up. What a good time they were
having now! They had gone into
the back den, the windows of which
opened on the balcony where she
was standing, and she could hear
them as they discussed something
that must be excruciatingly funny,
What a lucky woman she was, she
reflected.
for the conversation seemed to con
sist less of words than of laughter.
Not wanting to interrupt whatever
it was they were enjoying so much,
Elizabeth sat down in a deck-chair
on the balcony to wait for the ap
pearance of Spratt’s car in the drive
way.
The shadows of the lemon trees
were like dark lace shawls lying on
the grass. A little wind rumpled the
surface of the pool and moved gently
past her, bringing odors of damp
grass, lemon blossoms, torn gerani
um leaves. The air was full of the
twittering of birds making farewell
to the sun as joyfully as the children
were laughing within.
Elizabeth leaned back, wrapped in
a warm glow of pleasure. What a
lucky woman she was, she reflected,
and how much she had—a beautiful
home, a husband who loved her, such
charming, happy children. In the
midst of all this, how foolish it was
ever to remember anything else. It
was good to have a few minutes
alone, like this, to look at all of it
and know she had a right to be
proud because she had created it;
good to take pleasure in her chil
dren’s laughter and know they were
so happy because of the love and se
curity she had given them. No mat
ter what might happen to them in
the coming years they would have
this to remember.
She found herself laughing too, in
echo of the four mirthful youngsters
in the den. They were reading some
thing, for she could hear the rustle
of pages—no doubt those dusty old
magazines they had brought in from
Julia’s mother’s attic—and their
voices came through the window to
her, breathless with merriment.
"What were Liberty Bonds?”
asked Julia.
“Government bonds to pay for the
war, like the War Bonds jve buy
now. Here’s a question-and-answer
department, and somebody writes in
to ask if it’s quite fair to sell long
term bonds to be paid for by future
taxpayers. He asks, ‘Isn’t that mak
ing future generations pay for this
generation’s war?' and the editor an
swers—this’ll kill you—he answers,
'Exactly so, and this is one of the
best reasons for buying Liberty
Bonds today. For the fruits of this
war will be enjoyed by the genera
tions yet unborn.”
“Jumping Jupiter!” Pudge ex
claimed as the four of them went
off into another paroxysm of mirth.
"Generations yet unborn!” Cherry
repeated. “That’s us.”
"And aren’t we enjoying the fruits
of that war!” said Julia. "Let me
see that one, Dick. I wonder if this
editor is still alive.”
"If he is,” said Cherry. "I bet his
face is red. Oh do look, here’s a
beauty. A picture of a lot of babies,
and the title is. ‘The America of to
morrow, for whom the world is be
ing made safe today.’ ”
“1 bet every one of 'em’s in the
army now,” said Dick. 'Take a
peek at this. A picture of a lot of
soldiers ready to go abroad, and
the line under it says, ‘A payment
on our debt to France.’ ”
"Any time France feels like mak
ing a payment on their debt to us,”
said Cherry, ''I’m agreeable.” There
was another sound of rustling pages,
and she burst out laughing again.
"Listen, everybody. ‘One of our
greatest aims in this war is the re
construction of Europe on such a
basis that future holocausts like this
one will be impossible. Out of the
world's anguish must be born a new
Germany, a nation in which democ
racy shall rule, where no tyrant and
no group of bloodthirsty lunatics
shall ever again have the power to
plunge a whole continent—’ ” The
rest of her words were lost in a con
fusion of laughter.
"For the love of Pete," murmured
Pudge, incredulously.
"It’s right here in print, only you
didn’t let me finish and the last sen
tence is the funniest of all. ‘Ger
many will be defeated, but their de
feat will bring the German people
one tremendous gain: it will mean
for them the complete and final over
throw of autocratic government.’
How do you like that?”
"I get it,” said Pudge. "We were
Just fighting the Germans for their
own good, were we? Gee, when
they look around they must be so
grateful.”
“1 see by this paper,” said Julia,
"that the International Sunday
School convention planned for 1916
has j’.st been called off because the
delegates are too busy shooting each
other to attend this year.”
“Where were they going to hold
it?” asked Cherry.
"Don’t look now, dear. In Japan.”
They began to laugh again. Pudge
exclaimed, "Be quiet and let me
read you something funnier than
that. These editorials about the first
air raid on an open city. It seems
the Germans had things called Zep
pelins—that’s a kind of blimp—and
they sent some of these Zeppelins
over Antwerp and dropped a few
bombs, and here's what the Amer
ican papers were saying about it.
‘The attack upon Antwerp, made
without warning to its innocent pop
ulation, is completely contrary to all
rules of civilized warfare—’ ”
“Rules?” Dick interrupted mirth
fully. “You’d have thought it was
a football game.”
“ 'Zeppelins have dropped bombs
on an undefended city!’ ’’ Pudge
continued reading with mock horror.
“ ‘This is not only contrary to the
laws of war. but can serve no legiti
mate military purpose—’ ”
“What is a legitimate military pur
pose.” Dick inquired, “unless it is
to kill everybody you can?”
“Shut up and let me read this. ‘As
those who were killed or injured by
the bombs were women and male
non-combatants, the airship attack
was nothing but a plain act of sav
agery. This is not war, but mur
der!’ ’’
“Did you ever hear anything so
naive?” asked Cherry.
“Was that first attack a bad one?”
asked Dick.
“I was saving that for the last,”
answered Pudge. “If you can be
lieve it, that first air raid, that das
tardly, bloodthirsty, savage raid that
made everybody sit back and yell
with horror—that raid killed ten
people and wounded eleven.”
"Holy smoke!” exclaimed Dick,
and the others joined in his derision.
They chuckled joyfully. Cherry
exclaimed, "I wish you’d look at
these recipes for war-meals. ‘Free
dom Meat Loaf,' made out of pea
nuts and cornmeal.”
"Peanuts do have Vitamin B in
them,” suggested Julia.
“They'd never heard of Vitamin
B,” Dick said scornfully. “They had
to eat peanuts and call ’em meat
because our brave allies were buy
ing up all the meat with the money
they borrowed and didn’t pay back
and never did intend to pay back.
Do look at that headline—‘Every
housewife who saves meat and flour
in her home is bringing nearer the
day of universal democracy.”
“Do you suppose they really be
lieved all that?” Cherry asked in
wonder.
Outside, on the balcony, Elizabeth
lifted her hands from the arms of
the chair and saw that each of the
bright blue cushions was stained
with a round spot of dampness
where she had gripped them. On
the other side of the window the chil
drean made some fresh discovery
and went off into another peal of
laughter, gay, mocking, and terrible
because it was so utterly innocent.
Elizabeth stood up, her muscles
tense with impulse. Then she
stopped, standing motionless be
cause she did not know what the
impulse wa$. To do something to
them—but what? She could not walk
in upon them white with anger and
cry out, "Yes, we believed it! You
inhuman young wretches, we be
lieved it!"
She could not say that because
they were not inhuman, and they
were not wretches; they were young
and well-bred and intelligent, and
they would hear her with a pained
bewilderment, and answer with the
cool logic of their years, "Aren’t you
ashamed that you did, when you
look at the world we’re living in?"
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Ttl.Phillipj
Vwv n i itwt
McGOOFEYS FIRST
READER
I
1. —Oh, see the egg! Is it a fresh
egg?
2. —Yes, but you musn't be too
particular these days.
S.—Which came first, the chicken
or the egg?
4. —That no longer matters. The
point to bear in mind today is that
the customer comes last.
II
1 _Who Is this?
2.—It is Jennie. Penny is a house
wife. Jenny is carrying a basket.
5. —What is that in Jennie’s bas
ket?
4. —A revolver, a letter from her
senator, some credentials from her
minister, a coil of rope, a map, a
megaphone and a large bundle of
money.
5. —Where is Jennie going?
6. —Jennie is going to try to get
some eggs.
7. _Will she get some bacon, too?
8. —Don’t be redick.
III
1—Oh, see the egg! It is not like
the egg in Chapter I.
2. —No. Hie egg has been polished,
taken to market, card indexed,
graded, stamped and given wound
stripes.
3. —How does an egg get wound
stripes?
4 —If you had to go through the
wars that an egg has to go through
in getting from the farm to the
consumer you would have wound
stripes.
IV
1. —Jennie is looking at the egg,
isn’t she?
2. _There are 67 people ahead of
her, though.
3. —Will Jennie get the egg?
4. —No.
V
1. —Where is Jennie going now?
2. —She has left the store. She is
going to a bingo party.
3. —Why?
4. —The door prize is one egg.
5. —Will she have a better chance
to get the egg there?
6. —It won’t be any worse.
VI
1. —Who is this?
2. —This is a maker of adages. He
is author of the adage ‘Never place
all your eggs in one basket.”
3. —What is he doing?
4. —He is changing the adage to
read: “Never use a basket to get
negative answers.”
• • •
IN THE FOG
Ernie and ’Erbie and Clement A.—
A Big Three of their own are they;
John Bull with dripping, furrowed
brow,
He hardly knows the old place now!
• • *
“Truman in Frankfurt Review.”—
Headline.
Is this the first formal recognition
of the hot dog in the global setup?
To a Jap his old position balanced on
top of a hif(h ladder in a cirrus must to
day seem a position of comparative se
curity.
• • •
Robert S. Wilson has been named
the new United States rubber ad
ministrator. HfJs reported to have
plenty of bounce.
• • •
The Pullman company announces
that after the war the old fashioned
diner will largely disappear, to be
replaced by a hot and cold buffet, or
“Smorgasbord” car. Huge platters
of "tempting dishes”—foods will be
piled on a center table, from which
the passengers will take their
choice. The old cry "Last call for
dinner” will disappear. This is okay
with us, although we doubt that the
railroads have even a remote idea
what constitutes "tempting dishes.”
Nothing in the general record to
date so indicates. If anything on
the diners today is tempting, we will
eat the flagman’s lantern, without
mustard Of coursp the war is
largely responsible, but in peace
days we never once heard anybody
leave a dining car exclaiming “Boy.
wasn’t that dinner a knockout!”
A Harvard board has decided that
the present educational system
there, in most colleges and in high
schools is pretty defective. It must
make a university blush to find that
It ha* ben teaching the wrong stuff
for over 100 years.
The board says Harvard has been
educating the boys in specialties
and neglecting the all-around gen
eral education necessary to develop
the intelligent and sound citizens.
• • •
Howard Hughes is completing a
giant airplane that will have eight
motors, carry 750 passengers and
be big enough to support a super
fortress on each wing. The general
idea is to assure airplane tourists
every discomfort they can find on
the ground.
• • •
Joe Stalin is now the only survi
vor of the original Big Three. He
must have moments when he won
ders whether he is conferring with
tome team mates or just helping
break in a junior membership.
SEWING CIRCLE PATTERNS
Simple, Flattering Daytime Frock
1374
36-52
Slenderizing Frock
A CHARMING daytime frock for
the woman who likes unclut
tered simplicity. The gored skirt
is slenderizing and very flattering
to the larger figure. Shoulder
tucks give a soft, feminine air.
Even Then the Farmer s
Wife Was Nameless
Having accumulated a tidy little
nest-egg, the old farmer went to a
lawyer and said he would like to
make a will.
“I’ll leave all my money, house
and stock to my good wife,’’ he
said, “so just you write it out plain
for me.”
“Certainly,” said the lawyer.
“What is your wife’s name?”
After thinking for some minutes
the farmer had to admit he
couldn’t remember it.
“Well, go to the door and shout
upstairs as if you were calling her
down,” suggested the lawyer.
Hobbling to the door, the farm
er opened it and roared up the
stairs:
“Missus! Missus! Missus!”
Pattern No. 1374 Is designed for sizes
3fl. 38, 40, 42. 44. 46, 46, 50 and 52. Size
38 requires 4 > au!s of 35 or 39-inch ma
terial.
Due to an unusually large demand and
current war conditions, slightly more time
Is required In flHing orders for a few of
the most popular pattern numbers.
Send your order to:
8EWING C1RCI.E PATTERN DEPT.
530 South Wells 8t. Chicago
Enclose 25 cents In coins for each
pattern desired.
Pattern No. ,. _ - .Size
Name .. ... .. . -
Address ...
State Song9
Today, 25 states have an official
state song, 19 have adopted theirs
since the First World war. Flori
da’s Swanee River and Kentucky’s
My Old Kentucky Home were
written by Stephen Foster, while
Virginia’s Carry Me Back to Old
Virginny was composed by James
A. Bland, the Negro Stephen
Foster.
Rotating Statue
One of America's outstanding
memorials of the First World war
is The God of Peace, the 38-foot
onyx statue of an Indian by Car]
Milles, installed in 1936 in the
Ramsey county court house in St«
Paul, Minn., says Collier's.
To show the detail of its back,
this 60-ton figure rotates automat
ically on its base, to the right and
to the left, 66 degrees in each di
rection, completing the two move
ments in five hours.
.MAKE:
ICE CREAM
At horn# — Any flavor — DoIktouft— Smooth
— No ico crystal* — No cooking —No ro
whipping—No tcorchod flavor - lotv —
I no n pom i vo — 20 rtcipn in ooch 154 pVg
Pltoi* toad tbit od for froo full-tiio »om
plo off«r, or boy from your grocor. j
LonoonDeimy
Brand Homrmad# Ico Croom
STABILIZER
HERE'S
Baking Powder .
The Baking Powder
with the
BALANCED Double Action
Clabber Girl’s balanced double action makes it the natural choice for th«)
modern recipe ... for just the right action in the mixing bowl, plus that)
final rise to light and fluffy flavor in the oven.
CLABBER GIRL
FOR QUICK RELIEF FROM
MUSCULAR ACHES
Stiff Joints • Tirod Muscles • Sprains * Strains • Bruises!
NgF W/catt/eu N££D ui
SLOAN S LINIMENT
Tire$tone
GROUND GRIPS..
Beat’ on, EVERY> -
U/HdC&z ALL ComcIi&A’hA
GOOD tractor tires do two things. Fhey
get every ounce of pulling power from
your tractor. They stay on the job. That’s why
Firestone Ground Grips are best on every
job . . . under all conditions.
There are sound reasons for this. Cord
bodies are 14% stronger. . . able to withstand
hard knocks. Tread life is 40% longer . . .
capable of giving years of extra service.
Firestone Ground Grips increase pull at
the drawbar by as much as 16%. That’s
because traction bars are
connected, adding up to
1 215 inches of traction bar
length per tractor. Also,
there are no broken-bar,
trash-catching pockets.
The strong, sturdy bars
are always clean . . . ready to take
the next deep, forceful traction step.
That’s why it is just sound
economy, when buying tractor tires,
to demand Ground Grips, made
by Firestone, the pioneer and
pacemaker.
for the best in music, listen to the " Voice
oj Firestone” every Monday evening over
SBC network.
CoprrigM, 1945. The Flmtone Tire k Rubber Cr
/m LONGER
> 'n
TREAD LIFE
%>
(m STRONGER CORD BODY
C
II
UP
ro
I6& MORE DRAWBAR PULL
7
Mr. Extro Troction represent* the
Extra Bar length)thot givet Superior
Pulling Power to FIRESTONE
GROUND GRIP TRACTOR TIRES
FIRESTONE PUT THE FARM ON RUBBER
