> • < (Continued From Yesterday.) IV. He did not break into the path an if to intercept her. He seemed to know that she would pause and he drew up beside her, hat in hand, with a look that rather repeated her own way of verifying an earlier impression, nave that his look wan morn than curious. There was a glint in It. "Seem* like trailing you,” he said. *T did nee you go.” "Why should you trail me?” she asked. She was still In the heat of the resentment aroused by Emma Trnub, and there was a fresh resent ment In which she felt accused of a complicity. He could think she had rushed off to meet him. "I wanted . . .” Was it a pretended embarrassment? She had built up a picture of him that had no possible diffidence in it. Yet here he was. fumbling. "I wanted to thank you,” he said. ‘No harm in that." "T didn’t do much.” "O yes, you did. You sure were a good sport.” "1 didn't tell.” She wanted to get this out, whatever happened. She might run away in a moment and it must be said first. He nodded. "Of course not. I guess we know who did blab. Poor devil, she was frightened." "No,” protested Jo Ellen. "She • didn't tgll. I saw her afterward." "Same thing, though. After see ir.g her he thought he knew. He wouldn't have been so sure later on. Anyway, 1 saw him coming—strolling along. The other chance looked bet ter than that. Never thought of the luck of you and the boat. But that isn't what I wanted to tell you.” Jo Ellen was silent. "I wanted to tell you that I wasn't lying to you in a tight place. The police crowd had me wrong.” “You mean, you hadn’t done—" "It wns another man. I knew ft would come out. When the time was right I went straight to them and laid my cards down. They're a dirty hunch. It might not have gone. But 1 was clean on the thing. It was a little spite higher up. Do you be lieve me?" "What difference does that make?” He turned his eyes away from her foita. moment and thrust a fist against New York ••Day by Day » , - --- By O. O. MTNTVRE. New York, July 9.—During their college day* Ring Lardner and Riley , Wilson, another famous wit, hired out with Dr. Casper's Kurako Medicine show. Lardner was a sort of advance man and Wilson did a black face turn. Dr. Casper was a picturesque fig ure In wide chamois colored hat, rat tlesnake belt and patent leather ^oots. His remedy was one of those famous cure alls—for the lungs, stomach, kidneys, heart, rheumatism, fits and fistula, and alee removed tapeworms. He had a great forensic flair In extolling Its virtues. The medicine was a product of nature—the herbs and roots that abounded along the purling streams and country hill side. Nature had provided Its won ders for her children, but It was Dr. Casper who brought it to them. One evening Dr. Casper was In the midst of his panegyric. "Ladees and gentlemen,” he was saying. “Out yonder under the clustered stars caught In the silken web of night lests the fruitful marvels of Mother Earth. They have lain dormant until Dr. Casper furrowed the peaceful hills and valleys. "I have taken from the roots of tiees the universal panacea—the crowning catliolicon—and brought It to you. I am not here to sell it, nor am I here to give It away. I am here to advertise one of nature’s most powerful remedies for the ills of mankind. It grows In yonder for est—” At this juncture a heavy pall of smoke swept down from a hill and permeated the medicine tent ahow. The audience was plunged Into a fit of coughing. There was a forest fire two miles away. Wilson came out of his dressing room and accosted Lardner. "What's all this smoke about?” he Inquired. “O,” said I^ardner with noncha lance, "It's just one of Dr. Casper's drug stores burning up.” Lcs Copeland, the vaudeville pian ist, who has been In Paris running an American cabaret, was in a the atrical club recently when he came across Corse Payton, self-styled the world's worst actor, and former entrepenuer of the old atyle ten, twent and thlrt melodrama. "How are you, Corae?” asked Cope land. "Fine, Les, fine.” was the reply. ”T am going hack In the ahow busi ness very shortly." "flood,” said Copeland. “I haven't heard a shot fired since you quit.” There Is another actor who had been toying with the grape longer Ilian was good for him. He had made a nuisance of nimaelf around several theatrloel elula* and finally hia frienda carted him away to a Turklah bath. After they had put him in the ateam room they con calved the Idea of putting a little ball of tar on each cheek. While he was sleeping they got some feath ers and stuck In the tar. In about an hour the actor In the throeg of a mighty perspiration awakened and naturally felt of his cheeks. He rushed to a looking glass and In spected himself. "Whew!" he exclaimed. “In hell, and a Dlrd!” Spooning In New York Is difficult. The parks are too well policed and the bus tops are open to public gaze. Some spoonera have found the only place left is the Orand Central sta tion. The beaux may begin at Track J (trains to Bucyrus, Yellow Springs and Akron, O.) and proceed to say goodbye to her all the way to th~ 20th Century (Albany, Cleveland and i "hlcago). If that ie not enough to satisfy the fond lovers they can pro ceed to the lower level and line up in front of the locals to Poughkeepsie, Harmon, IlartsrtRle and where not. Also If one feels too ftromlscuous at the Orand Central there la the Pennsylvania station, which has heaven knows how many different levels. (Cerrrlffht. 1114.) Ithe berk of ■ tree beside him. "A fel low might care, you know. He [ might.” He faced her again. "Sup , pose you had been in my fix. Wouldn't you care?” 1 "I don't know.” answered Jo Ellen. : "If anybody didn't believe me, I think - I’d let them go ahead.” "Maybe you wouldn't If you—” He ! kicked at the roots of the tree, wrenched his hat. then astonished Jo Ellen by laughing softly. “If anybody had told me I'd do this—you never know what you will do, do you?" "I don't understand you,” said Jo Ellen. "That'e Just like other people. I thought you were different from other people—” “You didn’t come all the way over here to tell me that, did you?” "That's the funny thing. I did And I feel like a fool. Does that mean that you are different?” Jo Ellen looked at him frankly. "I made a secret out of meeting you. Guess I sort of promised that. Some times I wish I hadn't.” The movement she remembered came Into his lips; with it came a sign of his being checked, as if there might he more than one answer. In the end his annoyance was not hid den. "If all of Inwood has to know, go to it.” Jo Ellen's instant gesture of turn ing away from him had equally quick effect in his half-extended hand. "Excuse that, won’t you?” He moved a step. “You caught me there, and I was rough. Do anything you think's fair." "Fair . . . ?” "To me. Is it the fun of telling it, or what?" "A secret's a kind of a nuisance when there's no use for it. I don’t think you'd care now . . . when no body’s chasing you.” He had a hard smile for this. "I see,” he said. "You think I have no feelings when the police are out of it.” "I mean I'd think better about you if it wasn't secret.” He looked puzzled, but added quick Iy, "In that case the secret's off.” "I don't mean that I’m going to rush and tell it. It’s only—” "I know,” he said. "Your thinking better about me's the important thing —to me, I mean." He halted with this much, because he detected again the movement of leaving him. "Why do you want to get away?” "You ask a lot of questions,” de dared Jo Ellen, standing very straight. The movie director was now using a megaphone, and the voice rolled up from behind these two with a peculiar booming intensity. The echo of the sounds seemed to quiver In Jo Ellen. "A quetsion is what all this is about. I came up here to ask you a question." He spoke with a quiet that made Jo Ellen uneasy. She could not have said why, but it had the feel of some thing that threatened; and she knew that she would never forget the way he looked: handsomer than the pic ture (hat came whenever she had thought about the meeting In the empty house; with a kind of bright powerfulnes that showed in every movement of him. . . to ask you a question,” he re peated. "Haven’t you asked it?” "No." “Maybe you'd better," said Jo El len, "if you came up here to do it.” "What started me was wanting to know whether you were going to keep on thinking about me as a dim crook." "I don’t know what I’m going to think.” "What do you think now?" "You're foolish to ask me that." "Why?" “Because I think very likely there's something wrong about you.” “Will you give me a chance to prove that I'm not a crook. If that’s what you mean?” "Give you . . . "I know. You must think I'm 1 either crooked or crazy. I’ve done a lot of things, but this is the craziest. It didn't seem so crazy when I first thought about it—about coming: to find you. And you stand there block ing me. That’s it. J never met a girl that—you Just got me that day And that'll make you laugh. If it had come right this time, [ suppose I might have said that so it wouldn't be a flop. You win. You've had fun with me, as if—" "Goodby,” said Jo Ellen. He stepped into the path with a gesture that implied a controlled w-ish to touch her. "Damn you!” he flung out. "How did you do it? How did you—” Jo Ellen belt a burning at her tern pies. “You're talking like a crook now." “That’s the way. A crook. Tell them all. crook—who came around crying like a kid—wanting—you'll he square up against It trying to figure what he did want. A crook. Give them that." She slipped past him. He swung about and stood tightly, watching her leaping pace. She did not look back. V. If he could have seen her on the porch, peering, for the length of a dozen seconds. like a nervous bird; if he could have seen her behind win dows, front and back, at a mirror in the living room, in the kitchen gulp ing a cup of water; if he could have seen her rocking rapidly In the old est chair, with eyes fixed and hands wandering, some of the mystery would have gone out of » his speculations, thougli perhaps a deeper mystery would have entered In, That period before the family came back was short in minutes, but long in emotional excursions. Jo Ellen wanted to think, but feelings came, crowding one another In a disorderly scramble. She ran a second time to the mirror, to remind herself of what It was he looked at when he stood there squirming and fumbling. When he could take hold of her. he knew what to do and how to do it. When he couldn't take hold of her, he was stupid He had come to Inwood on the chance of seeing her in some wav such a§ the way that happened. If it were in a atory the ahort of It would have been that he had fallen in love with her—fallen in love with her on a few minutes’ acquaintance, or when he came to think about it, which would be a Billy thing to believe. And yet he hadn't quite said this. He only tried to any It. Maybe it wa« true that a liar would have said It better. Maybe not. If ahe had helped * him he might have said It so well that It would have sounded altogether like a trick. (To Be Continued Tomorrow > THE NEBBS THE SAME OLD STORY. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess /WHNTS THUS'? e>\U-V. THKTX / WOf^P^N HA^S &EEN OOvnG some \ INTENSW/E SHOPPING — 6WE \ TMVNKS THE GREATEST FJORDS / or r^iOOTw OP PEN ARE •• * v7 ^-vv “charge vt.-v o 7d /this looks uvce & sentence to thA POOR-HOUSE- BUTTS ELKTTERIN& V THE CONFIDENCE THESE STORE KEEPERS WfXVE IN ME - TWO "GOWNS"/— ‘DRESS'* DON t SOUND SOSwELl_C^LL \T ^*GOWN“i A,nD TOO CAN CHARGE tMORE / lVZ_ POR 'T ^--X /Ws nE&B, WH ATS THE IDEA OF ALL , the wardrobe ? too-re not going \ TO LEAVE ME ANDGOONTHE STAGE '7 J OR DID SOME BOON TELL NO U THAT S l WAS GO'nG TO BE appointed * 1 AMBASSADOR TO ENGL AND AnO / V you WERE GOING TO TROT AROUND/ \\wiTV4 THE QUEEN 7 /NO -I JUST MAD TO GET SOME NEW ~V CLOTHES TO KEEP PEOPLE FROM HANDING ME PENNIES WHEN I COME ALONG THE street- and dont you tell tour ( PARTNER Slider there WAS nothing BETWEEN you AND GREAT RiChE \r yOO THiNK TOU'RE GO'NG TO < 1ROLL IN WEALTH AND MAvJE ME JK\ •WRAPPED INGlNGWAMXOO'RC^y I ST .ALL MIV.ED^UPJ.k Barney Google and Spark Plug DID BARNEY SMELL SPARKY’S BREATH? 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