10 JO ELLEN By ALEXANDER BLACK. Copyright. 1H4. j (Ocntlnned From Yesterday.) IV. The autumn seemed to rush b: very quickly; which was odd In vlev of the slowness of effect In Mr Trupp’s office. There might be grea excitement In print; there might bi eubmarlna sensations and all aorta o emotional upheavals, with prophec; gesticulating at the brink; but Mr Trupp could tell stories while Rom< burned. In the moments when he permit ted himself to comment on the war he Indicated an assurance as to th< United States which had the estab lished flavor of a religion. It ws: simply a question as to whether thi United States should take the tlmi to go over and stop the thing. Jo Ellen learned to suspect that despite Its casualness as she saw It Mr. Trupp had a comfortable busl ness. Evidently most of It happened where It was Invisible to her. Shi would like to have gone with him ant watch It happen. Since this was im possible she settled into a toleratior of conditions as they were, carried hei book and newspaper, found ways t< endure blank spaces, and even to en dure Wilton when that apparition ap peared. A man at the other end of the slxtf floor asked her, one morning when ht met her at the mail chute, whethei she knew a stenographer vt'ho could be had. Miss Pascoe came into hei mind and phe sent her a letter, wit! the result that Miss Pascoe took hei flrat place as a neighbor worker. Th< man at the other end of the floor wai not at all like Mr. Trupp, and had s business that was quite as different as the man. Mis* Pascoe worked very hard. Her hoss had a way ol dictating long letters at the end ol the day to be typed and signed "pei M. P.” after he had gone, so that she ofte nwas in the office until 6 o'clock. It was nil wrong, Jo Eller thought. Miss Pascoe should have had Mr. Trupp. .To Ellen would have known what to do with the man whc left legacy letters. Miss Pascoe, although she had had longer study and practice than Jc Ellen, was nervous for weeks. She was, Indeed, too nervous ever to be really well. She lacked the confidence to make definite work plans, and Jc Ellen's call that took her out of_the school was the occasion for a fervent gratefulness. The words were few but the gratefulness was made plain. The two formed the habit of going out to lunch together. One noon time when they were leaving the building a young man standing within the doorway took n step forward, halted at seeing that Jo Ellen was not alone, then decided to ask: "Miss Rewer?" "Yes," answered Jo Ellen blankly. "This Is for you,” said the strang / 1 ■« New York —Day by Day— j By O. O. MTNTYRB. • New York, July 18.—Thoughts while strolling around New York: The aftrenoon parade along the Rialto. Spruce old boys of 78 and liable to go to par. A clog dancer’s club. Wonder If they have a check room for wooden shoes. F. Scott Fitzgerald. And his col legiate look. Waffle wagons and their enticing aroma. Youthful idlers. Nothing in their pockets but their hand*. Sidewalk cafe tables. Just like Paris. O, boy! What a spot. English liner cabin boys with short Jackets and funny caps. Short haired girls with rasping voices and clgaret coughs. How tough the men have to be these days to be effeminate. There's the humming bird's sleeve garters—a movie hero with a pink sport jacket. Very Piping Rock. O, very! Whatever became of Mike Donlln? Almost every ham and eggery called the St. Regis. Wilton Hackaye and De Wolf Hopper In hunting togs. Now we are In for some hunting stories. Hotel porters packing Pekes. Brides and grooms off for Niagara. Seance parlors. Filled with seekers of light from the Hither and Beyond. Dismal side street rabbit hole*—coal, ice, kindling and Junk. A silk hat In an ash can. How the mighty do fall. Glrla In bloomera seeking a bit of fresh air after a winter garden re hearsal. Ned Wayburn. And his old faded sweater. There goes New York’s most famous gambler—a pale aesthete whose head seemt! to be knocking the stars. A cosmetic relief station— where glrla may freshen up their complexion for so much per fresh and go on their way. The beginning of automobile row Known to the vulgarians as gasoline alley. The windiest corner In New York—Fifty-seventh and Broadway. And never without It* curb loungers. The splash of Central park s fountain. Now for a bench. There are at least SO ahops In mid town devoted to the merchandising of bird cages. It used to be a bird cage was for a bird but lately they are the grand motif of the Interior dec orator. Where they used to put a w hat not they now put a bird cage He came from one of those towns where the leading citizen fell dead In the postoffice and wasn't found for three days. He has been In New York three year*. Ttday he wear* a monocle and acarves and shirts to match hi* clothes. He sat next to me In s restaurant the other day and complained bitterly to the head waiter heeauae the petite marmlte was too well seasoned. It sometimes takes these hoys suddenly yanked away from a plow to show Manhattan deft touches in city slicking. The very same lads may b* found at tea time casually mentioning they nre dining tonlftht on Morgana yacht—and at the same time stifling s yawn. It goes over in New York, but let them try to pull It around | the boys on the cracker laurel In front of the village store back home! I recall going back home from school one Xmas holiday In peg top trousers, sawed off coat and moun tainous toed shoes, I casually men tioned to some of the boys l>e!ln Kng had waved to me from the stage. It whs s half truth. I was In the gallery and she waved at all who sat there. I remember one of the hoy* easing ■'go Delis Fox waved at you did she? Now I'll tell one," My ego hurst with s bang Before going horns I had that ?**lt*| at ' Brut* *s the world, *■« f'H *kSW Ml" fester* I let* I ifgit Uu common clod I »u. ifinrri**. UU.) •r, holding out an envelope. Aa Jo Ellen took the envelope end read her ' name, the young man vanished. "What do you suppose . . .T” Jo Ellen opened the envelope as they walked, and turned to the signature, i The name of Stan Lamar leaped from ' the sheet. Miss Pascoe looked straight ahead while Jo Ellen put the letter in her ! handbag. "Some people have funny ways, remarked Jo Ellen. There was no occasion to go further In comment, i particularly as Miss Pascoe did not Intrude. When the office wae reached Mr. Trupp was there. Something, per haps the elevator, made him think of the famous Incident of that tumble In the barn and how hard It Is to get a doctor quick, so that your head can pretty nearly bleed Itself empty be fore the right way is found to stop It. Then there was a very long letter about a contract, with passages to be quoted from documents on file. Jo Ellen began to regret that she hadn't read the letter from Stan Lamar to be rid of it. Its whisper in the hand bag became Intolerable. It was re sponsible for several errors In her typing, by which It became necessary to do whole sheets a second time. When at last the work was finished and Mr. Trupp. after narrating the Incident of an insurance man in A1 toona who backed his car into an Elks' parade, left the office for the day. her impatience had been dulled to the dimensions of a grudge. As she settled to the reading of the letter, Wilton came In. He seldom came In the afternoon; but there he was. She felt as if he were listening to what she read. Anyhow, his silence seemed to become noisy and his shadowy figure to crowd the place. It -was a simple letter. "You may not like this” Lamar wrote), "because you have an Idea about me that's all wrong. In that house—It was the wrong way to meet, I suppose. I was feeling rotten— you know how hot It was there— and my tongue hanging out—and you getting me as a burglar or something like that. Then it looked as if I never could dig that out of your head. When I saw you afterward I was tell ing you the truth and I didn’t make any hit with myself the way I acted when you wanted to run away. 1 thought you were throwing me before I had a fair chance. I can see how you felt. It would have been differ ent If we had met some other way and If a nice friendly family hadn’t given me a reputation. I'm not Bay ing anything against the family, hut I wish I could put up my own case to you. I can't do that now. I'm away off here in Arizona about horses. Horses have made trouble for me be fore this. But what I know about them is worth something now. It's for the war. Some day I'll be hack In New York and then I'll try to square myself with you. I’m not asking you to write. I'm not giving you any address. I know you wouldn't write. The way this goes to you Is the only way I could think out. The friend that gets It through Is all right. If he doee what I tell him. It won’t mean anything more I have to equare myself for. Perhaps I can start even. I'm asking you to forget some things and let me do that—start without too much of a handicap, anyway. There's no your friend at the end of this be cause I haven’t the right yet. But I'll fight for It. Always yours, Stan Lamar." Wilton decided to go away and Jo Ellen reread the letter when quite alone. There tvas a tingle In It. It had much fhat wasn't said. Very likely Mr. Btan I.amar thought he was being very shrewd. It was to sound sincere. Maybe It was sincere. But the cautions only looked crafty. No, she liked him best when he wasn't being careful. And his careful eat trick was not so clever as he thought—sending a friend with the letter. Implying a secret. There was flattery to himself on the whole theory of secrecy, as if he stood apart and could continue to be considered on such terms. The letter was an accusation of the secret. There shouldn't have been any secret—not If It was to mean anything. It had been exciting when it didn't seem that it had to mean anything. She hart a right I i a secret. But It was fright fully awkward to have It grow. Go lng back over the whole thing to ex plain—that could look silly. Hs was making a little affair that didn't mat ter look like a big one that nobody would be able to understand, and that couldn’t be told without. ... To ex plain you would be showing the let ter. Tearing it up would even look suspicious. Yet she was glad he hadn't sent the letter to the house It would have been humiliating to have been forced perhaps with no choice, to reveal, like a naughty child, the foolish story that had managed not to be told. She put the letter back into h"i handbag. At E o'clock she took k out, read the last lines again, and watched the piece* drop Into her paper basket. Stan Lamar became annoyingly vivid when the letter had gone. V. In snow time ahe caught herself wondering whether there was snow where Btan was and what gathering horses for a war might mean as an occupation. Also, what trouble horses might have made for him. Very like ly the trouble had been mixed up with racing or something of that sort. . . . Perhaps something crooked Presumably gathering horses for a war was entirely straight._ Then suddenly It was April and the United States was In the war, and everybody stared and talked, and Marty had enlisted. His father knew a colonel and he was to Join a na tional guard regiment then in the south. Suddenly it was a Saturday. and Marty, after all the talk, was really going away. Thay war* hav ing lunch together where there was music, and Marty was persuading her to dance. Hia fingers against her back had an excited way of fidgeting. Because It was Saturday and her aft ernoon waa free they went up to In wood together and swished through the foam of left over leavea, talking about camps, submarines, fox trots, birthdays, and Mr. Trupp. Marty saw to It that they came at last to the high place. Here he talked about letters. Would Jo Ellen pay attention to them If they came once In a while? Her promise had rtot the heartiness he teemed to be wishing for. Yet he knew that the had never been etlrred much by let tere. Once he had copied a poem Into a letter and ehe never mentioned It. although there was a special meaning tn the lines. (X* Be Con tinned Tomorrow)_ Oh, Man! / i'vVgoVtcTgo ) [ - To CANADA ON | \ Z- 7? A BU6INPS5 trip I j ON Me ( S not I SO GREEN AS TOO Think * I . i By Briggs I Vs CcT’To \l why MR. BiNnyt Go To* Canada ( \ D»DNT Think NtKT< WEBK \ IT O^YOU'lM on OuS'nctas / \ Pes — i - "TivEtY ^ V SUR-TRICED! . minim IN' l-fTAV/INO \) Yts-l HEAR. EPiDAV Fr,R (T IS QUITE Th£ Canada on I Thing Tb Have a eusiNF 1 'Business‘ in TRiP " \ CANADA _ THE NEBBS BUY, BUY, FANNIE. i /OH THAT'S nnOnOERFUL 1 THEMt CM*I HAVE * "Y - i MAID AMD GET A .LOT OF TMvNGS l NEEDj-THWKS £ A WONDERFUL OFFER -MOO'D BETTER Rom OOWN M, | AMD TARE IT BEFORE HECWANGE&H\&M\nO _ yTfi * -tu ajrv5> MORE THAN MORGAN EVER MARE OOT OF / f ! = -THE WATERIN ACOUPLEOF UFETtMES - THERE/ j IJ 3, p^TT >2E000E* WORTH or WATER IN . —w—f ,* i ^ Y PAQFIC OCEAN ^P|J Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hete ^ /scocctcw vouft tcwnG palm — \ f O'41 S0\ / going totranseer i / MANX -THINGS \ A LOT 07 1 AND we NEED \ ^EtcwA.NOlSE AMO VUEARVNG \ furniture too apparel i the: minute vdu — OUR HOUSE ) GET vooR hano on a dollar J V. LOO^S SO / VOUR e»RA\N STARTS WONDERING J \ SHABBY / \ WWAT nou CANl Exchange y s' \T FnR » (Copyright, 1984, by The B^^ndicate, fur) > . — JHr Barney Google and Spark Plug Barney Has the Dough, But Can’t Raise It. 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