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Smiles In Lnek *Tm glad it’s good form not to wear a watch with a dress suit.*' “Why?” "Because I never have my watch and my dress suit at the same time.” Voicing It "Do you ever hear any more about the money you lent to the people next door?” "I should say so. They bougnt a radio with it.” WEIGHTY PROBLEMS "He’s a man of such heavy thought.” "Who? That coal dealer?” "Yes; he’s always thinking in tons.” A little girl said to the little boy who was playing with her* "When I was born I was so s’prised I couldn’t speak for a whole year and a half.” Too Much to Expect "You have a nice collection of books, but you should have more shelves.” "I know, but nobody seems to lend me shelves.” (,1 M.HAL KLECTRIC DIALING GOES INTO THE DISCARD WKH 1MHR Qiw0» yon IS* itation you mrlt at tJf touch of a flngr .* irsjf * »v; 09 «■» 3* MW WITH TM1 AMAHH* 0-1 TONI NONITOt MODIL P-96 9 TUBES 3 BANDS Touch Tuning (7 buttons). Silent Tun ing. AFC Tone Monitor. Louver Dial. Visual Volume Control. Visual 4-point Tone Control. Automatic Band Indi cator. 12-inch Subilized Dynamic Speaker. Bass Compensation. Foreign- Domestic Reception. R.F. t^nAnC Pre-selector Suge. Hand- V||I|1«H) some Full-length Console. IUU $10.00 DOWN DELIVERS REE HOME TRIAL { GINISAl KlICTRIC PERRY-MANN ELECTRIC COMPANY, INC. (Whol—mU DUtributori) Columbia, 8. C. FOR REPLACEMENTS SPECIFY 0-1 PRE-TESTED RADIO TUBES the Specials You can de pend on the special sales the merchants of our town announce in the columns of this paper. They mean money saving to our readers. It always pays to patronize the mer chants who advertise. They are not afraid of their merchandise or their prices « « « Under Pressure By George Agnew Chamberlain - C George Afntw Chamberlain WNU Service SYNOPSIS Joyce Sewell, on the eve of her twen tieth birthday, rebels Inwardly at her lot, dependent on her detested atepmother, Irma, and full of tragic memories of her mother'* murder twelve years before and her father's death six months ago. Irma calls In Helm Blackadder, an admirer, to help her persuade Joyce to marry rich, young Michael Kirkpatrick. CHAPTER I—Continued 2 Joyce started toward a chair but stopped. <"No; if we are going to have one of our reasonable talks, I’d rather stand.” ’That means I’ll have to stand too,” said Blackadder, sensing he faced a wise and clever fighter. "It doesn’t leave me a choice, does It?” "Not if you feel you have to stay.” “Joyce!” cried Mrs. Sewell sharp ly. "How can you be rude to Mr. Blackadder, a man twice your age and my oldest friend?” ”1 wasn’t trying to be rude,” said Joyce coolly, ”1 was wondering why he’s here.” ‘Tve told you. Because he’s my oldest and almost my only friend. We were boy and girl together and If I can’t turn to him in my trouble I can appeal to nobody.” “Your trouble!” exclaimed Joyce. “If you’d only leave me alone, let me go my own way, you wouldn’t have a thing in the world to worry about” "That’s Just It—I can’t I can't stand aside and watch you ruin your life. It wouldn’t be right I can tell you to your face, here before Mr. Blackadder, if you don’t take Mich ael Kirkpatrick while you still have the chance you’ll regret It the rest of your life.” “So it’s narrowed down to Mike, has it?” said Joyce. "How did you come to pick on him?” As if she were resigning the floor Mrs. Sewell made a gesture toward Blackadder. Strangely uneasy he straightened and braced his elbows on the mantel. He leveled his eyes at her, taking her measure. "Let’s see if I can talk your lan guage. Do you mind listening till we find out?” “No; I’ll listen.” "You’re young, Joyce, and you’re up against a tough situation. You don’t like your stepmother. Well, there’s nothing we can do about that. Likes and dislikes don't go by favor or obligation; they hang on two Spanish words, easy to un derstand, hard to translate — sim- patica and antipatica. Right?” "Yes,” said Joyce, amazed at the boldness of his attack and startled by his idiomatic use of a language she thought she alone in Elsinboro knew. "The yoke of living on Irma has been galling you till all you can think of is escape. The first thing you picked on was to be a teacher, but you found out it isn’t enough to know your subject—you’ve got to have a string of silly letters after your name. So you thought you’d be a stenographer and look for a firm engaged in foreign trade. Un fortunately, you’re unfitted for busi ness. You’d be an absolute flop." "Why?” "Because you’se emotional and a thoroughbred; the first time you found yourself the mechanical link in a gyp game you’d walk out." "Then what’s left?” asked Joyce dismally as much of herself as of him. "We’re coming to that,” said Blackadder sharply. Perceiving he had shake* her, his head moved for ward between his shoulders and his eyes grew beady. “You don’t like Irma, but you’ve, lived on her since you were eight years old. She’s given you everything you've had— shelter, food, raiment and care— and you’ve never paid for any of it in love or in cash." “Oh!” gasped Joyce, wincing un der the sting of a lash she had used on herself again and again. "How could I? You know I have nothing- nothing!” "That’s not so,” said Blackadder, shooting the words at her. “You have plenty if you take it to the right market. Let’s get down to bed rock. Do you dislike Mike any more than you do your stepmother? Do you?” "No!" said Joyce. "Then why not live on him for a while where you can pay ten for one?” Watching her sink into a chair as if he had knocked her knees from under her he felt a curious elation. He had beaten her, it had been a hard fight, but he had won out “This way out that Helm sug gests—” said Mrs. Sewell—"this thing I’ve been begging you to do— you don’t think it’s for me, do you? It's for you—for your own good. We’re older than you are, we can see back as well as ahead. Can't you believe us? Can’t you see it’s your best chance for happiness?” "Happiness!” breathed Joyce. “I suppose every girl has her dream of happiness.” Then her low voice be gan to grow in volume and intensi- ty. "I know I have mine and it’i a dream of giving, not taking. 1 don't mean giving things—money, food. clothes—because love doesn’t grow out of things. Even if you try your best to make it, it doesn’t, it won’t I mean giving something that’s in side you, that aches to be given and—and—” "I know, dear,” interrupted Mrs. Sewell soothingly, "but believe me, you’ll feel all that if you’ll only Just-” “Oh, you’re horrible!” cried Joyce desperately. "I wish I hadn’t told you! Do you think I’m blind? You want to be rid of me—both of you. All right. I give in. I prom ise. If it isn’t Mike it will be some thing else, some other way. I prom ise.” She was gone from the room before either of them could answer. CHAPTER II Her departure left Blackadder breathless and somewhat confused. He continued to stand with his back to the mantel staring at her at if her hurrying figure were still in sight, filling his eyes. And he had thought she was licked! He became aware of Irma’s murmuring voice. “You were wonderful Helm, but I knew you would be, I was sure of It The minute I thought of you the load began to lift off my shoulders and now, whatever happena, it’s A Pungent Odor of Age-Old Paper. gone. But let's forget trouble. 1 can’t tell you what it means to me to see you standing there like a pil lar giving sense and reason to ev erything in the room, including me.” She smiled up at him expectantly. His lips parted but it was ordained the maid should enter then. "It’s Mr. Kirkpatrick, ma’am.” The young man entered, flamboy ant as to hair, complexion, manner and clothes. "Michael you know Mr. Blackadder, don’t you?” "Sure thing,” said Mike, holding out his hand. Blackadder beat him to the grip and almost crushed his knuckles, then let go too quickly for a come back. Mrs. Sewell came to the res cue. "You can go right up. Michael. You’ll find Joyce in her sitting room. I—I wish you luck." Something in the manner of her final words made Kirkpatrick glance at her curiously. He nodded and started for the back where a side staircase supplemented the one in the main hail. Arriving at Joyce’s door he knocked softly, pretended he heard an answering call, turned the knob and stepped in. Joyce was on her knees before the petaca, in the act of fitting a clumsy key into the homemade lock. “Where did you find the Ellis is land trunk?” he asked Jovially. She turned her head and stared up at him out of unbelieving eyes. "It was my father’s,” she answered automatically. Then she rose, hold ing tight to the key, and stood at her full height. "What are you do ing here?” she demanded. "Who told you you could come in?" He backed against the door until the latch clicked shut “You did. I knocked and I thought I heard you say. ‘Come in.’ ’’ “You were mistaken. Please go.” “Aw, get off the horse, Joycie. Can’t you talk from the floor for once in your life?” Abruptly her frown deepened. "Did they send for you?” "Who?" “Mr. Blackadder and my step mother." "They did not; I brought myself.” "Then take yourself away.” "What’s the rush, Joycie, now i'm here? Listen, let’s have a show- ! down. I’ve told you over and over again I can give you a lot of things and so can you me, but I’ve done all the crawling I’m going to do. i Besides, I've Just had a tip. I may not know books like some of your rah-rah friends, but I can see out oi both eyes. So I’m asking you for the last time—will you marry me or won’t you?” "I won’t, now or ever.” He stepped toward her, his fingers Itching but his eyes frightened and wet Abruptly he stopped. Why? He didn’t know. She had not moved. She stood with the big key held tightly in her right hand as though it were a dagger. Pressed against her dark dress her fist seemed small and white yet powerful She had brought him to a halt with only a look—a look of loathing beyond words. He turned, tore open the door and rushed from the room. Joyce knelt on the floor, then bent over the little rawhide trunk, turned the key and raised the lid. A pun gent odor of age-old paper, rust, leather and rotting tape greeted her nostrils. Her father’s last years had left her memory of a weakling, a lov able weakling. Now, immersed in his fervent letters and shocked by the impersonal frigidity of the re plies they had evoked, she saw him in his true proportions as a- martyr burned at the stake. Slowly, day after day, month after month, yet utteriqg.no cry. Unshed tears stung in her'ey es, blinding her. Anger at injustice mounted into rage and rage into the incandescent heat that tempers steel to a cutting edge. He had left no son to avenge his wrongs —only a girl She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. Some day, somehow, she would find a way. Again there came a knock at her door, a hesitant knock quite unlike her stepmother’s. "Who is it?” she whispered hoarsely. "It’s me, Miss Joyce," answered the maid’s voice. ‘Tve brought you a letter and a bit of supper.” "Thanks, Ellen, but I don’t want a thing to eat. Please slip the let ter under the door.” It was long and without a stamp, probably a circular. Her inclina tion was to let it lie, but abruptly she was seized by its similarity to a dozen envelopes in the petaca, all bearing the penalty-for-private-use formula. A pale yellow slip flut tered to the floor as she tore open the official envelope and unfolded the letter within. She read it at a glance, then again slowly, word by word: "At the instance of the Mexi can ambassador, who has deposited the necessary funds. I beg to en close a warrant on the Treasury of the United States for $10,000 com pensation in full for the death of Ann Burden Sewell. Your endorsement will be sufficient receipt.” She caught up the pale yellow slip. Sitting cross-legged she stared and stared at it, for it looked like no check she had ever seen. Yet its purport was unmistakable — the Treasury of the United States held $10,000 at her disposal. The finger of fate was upon her. If this amaz ing windfall had come an hour sooner she might have signed it over to her stepmother, flung it at her with actual Joy, in payment for back rent and board. But not now—no, not now. She put her arms around the petaca, pressed her cheek against its arabesques of brass tacks and bowed her head as if she were making a vow. Presently she went to bed, but lay awake for a long tirrife, dreaming, planning, then floating off into a restful haze mid way between sleep and conscious ness. In the morning she was up early. She drank her coffee with eyes on the clock and shortly after nine was being shown into the private office of the president of the City National bank. Toward the last Mr. Bradley had been her father’s only remain ing friend. "It’s Joyce,” she reminded him, “Joyce Sewell.” "Why, of course! How you’ve grown, my dear. You’re lovely!” “Mr. Bradley, are bankers like doctors, lawyers, and priests? I mean are they bound to keep a se cret if you ask them to?” "They are and they aren’t A court order can open wide our mouths and our vaults, but short of that we’re bound to respect our cli ents’ wishes. Why? Have you a se cret you want to deposit?” “Yes; oh, yes.” He leaned toward her and asked in a whisper, “Is it about the check ■far ten thousand?” She sank back, hv** eyes wide, the color draining from her cheeks. He patted her knee reassuringly and chuckled. “There, there, that was a mean trick. Nobody knows but me, my dear. It was I who supplied your name and Addrei*.” “Oh!” breathed Joyce. "Please don’t ever do a thing like that to me again!” “You’re safe. I doubt whether I’ll ever have any other chance. But why the secrecy?” "Because I’m going away and I don’t want anybody to know where.” She leaned forward. "Mr. Bradley, you know my father’s sto ry, don’t you?” “No man knows It better, and that goes for his one-time lawyers.” "I learned it last night,” said Joyce. "I read every letter, every paper, every deed back to the origi nal grant from the king of Spain. Is there any doubt La Barranca be longed to my father?" “None whatever. He had as clear a title as I have to my hat or my coat or anything else I’ve paid for in cash.” “Then it’s mine now.” ”1 wish I could answer no to that, but I can’t.” “Have you a conscience, Mr. Bradley?” she asked soberly. “Me?” he exclaimed, puzzled and astonished. “I was wondering whether It’s ever right to—to take your con science and choke it.” His eyes twinkled violently but he did not laugh. “I see. What’s your conscience been telling you to do?’’ “Give this money to my step mother.” “What for?” “Well, for all she’s dohe—keeping me all these years.” Mr. Bradley’s eyes shone with a strange and increasing fire. “Who’s been stuffing your head with that?” he demanded. “Anyway, let me put you straight In the first place step-parents are required by law to do what’s been done for you; it’s an integral part of their original bargain. In the second Irma’s kindness ruined your father by keeping him from going to work. In the third, since she’s a do-good- to-others addict, she’s had her mon ey’s worth out of the two of you ten times over.” “Thank you,” she murmured. “You don’t know what you've done for me. Now I can do what I’ve been planning; I can go.” “Where to, Joyce?” She looked at him steadfastly. "All those years my father stayed here, Mr. Bradley. But La Bar ranca isn’t here; it’s in Mexico. I’m going to Mexico.” Joyce laid the warrant, already endorsed, on Mr. Bradley's desk and rose. "I’m leaving the money with you. but you understand I may need a great deal of it any day, don’t you?” "Sit down, Joyce,” he said sober ly. "Do you know what I’ve been asking myself?” “No, sir,” said Joyce, sinking to the edge of her chair. "If I had a girl—your age, your looks, your background — what would I want some other fellow to do in this particular case?” He frowned. “Of course you remom- her Mexico, but do you remember what happened?” (TO BE CONTINUED) United States and Great Britain Have Thirty Per Cent of World’* “Who’* Who’ 1 The United States and Great Brit ain have more than 30 per cent of the persons listed in the internation al “Who’s Who” published in Lon don. This book, 19,000 biographies of persons who were considered by the editors to be of “international prominence,” had 3,150 persons from Great Britain and 2,650 from the United States. The total percentage of women in the book was only 1.6 and Great Britain’s contribution was only 2.8, but the United States women had 5.6 per cent of the space. Frank B. Littell, of Washington, dissected the lists in the magazine "Science" and found the following percentage distribution of interna tional celebrities by nationalities: Great Britain, 16.7; United States, 14; France, 9.1; Germany, 8.2; Italy, 3.7; Sweden, 3.3; Japan, 2.6; Den mark, 2.3; Hungary, 2.2; Canada, 2.2; Netherlands, 2.1; Australia, 2.1; and Poland, 2.1. A comparison of tne attribution of internationally known men in the United States and Great Britain shows where the most striking rec ognized advances have been made in the two countries. For example, politics is first on the British list and fifth on the American list Since the British have dominions all over the world and thus are, in a sense, in ternationalists, this could be expect ed. On the other hand, scientists led the American list, as might be expected from the "inventingest” and most science-worshiping nation in the world. Of the 2,650 Americans in the "Who’s Who” 610 attended two col leges or universities, 200 attendel three institutions and 110 attended four or more. On the other hand, 420 did not list any college educa tion. Harvard is the alma mater of more famous Americans than any other school. Columbia and Yale were next Many Immune to Seasickness Many persons are relatively im mune to seasickness, particularly acrobats, tightrope walkers, profes sional dancers and others whose oc cupations require considerable body balancing.—Collier’s Weekly. OPJ SEi 4- Ruth Wyeth Spears /^.ET a wooden box from the gro- ^ cer. It should be about as long as the width- of the chair with which the ottoman is to be used. The depth of the sides should be four inches as shown here at A. The legs should be made of two by two’s. Fasten in place with long screws through the corners Of the box as shown here at B. About half a bat of cotton will be needed. Put five or six layers of the cotton on the top, cutting the first layer about four inches smaller all around than the top of the box. Place it in the center. Cut the next layer a little bigger and the others still bigger until the last one is the same size as the top. Now, cut a layer of cotton to go over the top and down over the ends as at C and another to go over the top and down the sides as at D. Cut a piece of heavy muslin to fasten tightly over the cotton. Cut the corners of the muslin as at E. Sew with heavy thread as at F and then tack as at G. Every Homemaker should have a copy of Mrs. Spears’ new book, SEWING. Forty-eight pages of step-by-step directions for making slipcovers and dressing tables; Make This Attractive Ottoman. restoring a&d upholstering chain, couches; making curtains for ev»» ery type of room and purposo. Making lampshades, rugs, otto* mans and other useful articles for the home. Readers wishing a copy should send name and address, enclosing 25 cents, to Mrs. Spears, 210 South Desplaines St., Chicago, Illinois. A Little Learning Is a Wonderful Thing Many stories, some true, soms —well, not quite so true, are told about the remarks of schoolboys. A well - known headmaster vouches for the accuracy of this one. ^ A certain twelve-year-old was about to be caned for some trivial offense. The headmaster asked him how he preferred to receive his punishment. “Well, sir,” said the boy quick ly, “if you please, I’d like it like the Greek style of penmanship.” “What on earth do you mean?” asked the master. “Please, sir, the upstrokes heavy and the downstrokes light.” HERE'S AAI A All ITPUCDC should WHAT LULU Lfl lILnCnO know WHAT A RELIEF! iTHArt CERTAINLYj GREAT FOR A HEAD COLD I EST OF ALL, MR.DEAN,IT HELPS PREVENT A LOT OF COLDS IF YOU. USE (TIN TIME! ZUm'W' k* T his specialized medica tion—Vicks Va-tro-nol— is expressly designed for the nose and upper throat, where most colds begin—and grow. Used in time—at the first sneeze or sniffle or irritation in the nose—it helps to pre vent many colds, or to throw off head colds in their early stages. Even when your head is all clogged up from a cold, Va-tro-nol brings comforting relief—lets you breathe again 1 Vicks Va-tro-nol Keep it Handy .. Vu it Early A Resolution Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight; always to try to be a little kinder than is neces sary?—James M. Barrie. Perfect Virtues Industry, economy, honesty and kindness form a quartette of vir tues that will never be improved upon.—James Oliver. LIFE’S LIKE THAT By Fred Neher ’Looks Uke the servb team’s in a hoddie