The Barnwell people-sentinel. (Barnwell, S.C.) 1925-current, December 16, 1937, Image 6
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SYNOPSIS
Joyce Sewell, on the eve of her twen
tieth birthday, rebel* Inwardly at her lot,
dependent on her detected stepmother,
Irma, and full of tragic memories of her
mother's murder twelve yesrs 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. Mike,
sent up to Joyce by Irma and Black-
adder, demands a showdown on his pro
posal and Is rejected. Reading her fath
er’s papers, Joyce realizes that La Bar
ranca, a Mexican hacienda which her
father had owned, legally belongs to her.
Later she receives a letter enclosing a
warrant on the United States Treasury
for 110,000 compensation for her moth
er's murder at La Barranca. She con
fers with Mr. Bradley, a banker and
only remaining friend of her father's.
She confides that she wants to make a
secret journey to Mexico.
CHAPTER H—Continued
She sat staring at the floor, not
answering at once. “I know what
you mean," she said finally, “and
I’ll try to explain. I remember ev*
erything, but I've found out that be
ing far away from a thing like that
doesn’t help you to forget—it makes
it Into a picture on the wall Then
there’s something else. Places go
by contrasts, don’t they? I won’t
say anything about Elsinboro; all
I can tell you is that when I've been
.unhappy, when I’m most miserable,
I look back and dream of happiness
and La Barranca." She swept her
eyes to his face. “My mother isn’t
here, Mr. Bradley. I mean she
couldn’t possibly come to Elsinboro
—not even in my thoughts. Does
that sound foolish to you?"
"Not foolish, my dear,” he mur
mured, “not at all foolish.”
Touched by his understanding she
reached out one hand impulsively
and laid it on his arm. “Oh, Mr.
Bradley, please be my friend. You
can help me so much! My passport,
a letter of credit, but that’s not all.
You know my stepmother. Father
used to keep telling me she’s a good
woman. Well, she is, but if she
finds out what I’m doing or where
I am I’ll have two fights on my
hands instead of one."
"How are you going to work it?
How will you get away?”
“I’ve thought it all out. I can
say I’m going to Frances Holder’s
for a visit."
“H’m. But they’ll trace you. Now
adays a deliberate disappearance
is one of the hardest things on earth
to stage.”
"I’ve thought of that too.” She
gave him a look so composed it
set his blood to tingling. "If I go
by air, where will I be by the time
they begin their tracing?”
He blinked at her admiringly. [
"Joyce, I’ve made up my mind.
I’ll do everything I can to help you
and I promise I’ll keep my mouth
tight shut till you say the word.”
On the same impulse they rose
to their feet and stood with right
hands half extended, not quite
touching. "You’re awfully young,
Joyce, and most people would say
I ought to be jailed for letting you
go. But you’ve got heart as well
_ as head, and as for youth—what’s
it for? To spend while it’s strong.”
He proved as good as his word
and better, for he could see a lot
further ahead than Joyce. Within
ten days not only did he arrange
that her passport for travel abroad
should come direct from the State
department rather than through the
local county clerk, but he coached
her on her deportment in the mean
time toward her stepmother, pro
vided her with a certified copy of
her father’s will, warned her about
excessive baggage and bought her
tickets by air in a fictitious name.
Later, without detection, she
boarded a plane at Elsinboro’s al
most deserted airport that connect
ed at Newark with a night plane
south.
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CHAPTER III
Dirk Van Suttart, seci: secre
tary of embassy, would have
showed to greater advantage in any
other setting. The traditions of an
ancient name were behind him, he
had more than his share of good
looks, a reasonable amount of
money and a merry eye. Away from
his Job he was as clean-cut a young
American as ever drew breath, but
he was on the way to being spoiled,
poisoned by the bite of the diplo
matic bee.
He was engaged in testing the
spring of a polo mallet when the
reception clerk entered, laid Joyce’s
slip on the desk and lingered to
smoke a cigarette. Dirk read the
paper over his shoulder.
"What does she want?”
"Same old thing. She’d like to
walk in on the chief.”
Dirk finished testing the stick, pot
It away in a clothes closet, went to
kis padded chair and rummaged for
• dispatch. "All set You can show
her in.” Presently Joyce stood be
fore Mm. He perused the dispatch
frowningly for e moment longer,
•ten motioned her to e chair be
side Hie desk.
"Won't you sit down. Miss Sew-
•n?"
Joyce hesitated. "You're not the
are you?"
i.
.> v :.
"Hardly. I’m the second secre
tary.”
"I wanted to see the ambassa
dor.”
"Are you an Apoerican?”
"Yes; bom of American parents
residing abroad. I arrived from the
States last night Do you wish to
see my passport?"
"That’s not necessary at present.
I suggest you state your business.
If it’s something I can’t handle—or
if it’s important enough—an ap
pointment will be made for you
with his excellency.”
Joyce sat down without taking her
eyes off him. She was puzzled. Here
was a young man, the very anti
thesis of Mike Kirkpatrick in looks,
manner and breeding, yet all she
felt was bitter disappointment.
Why? Suddenly the answer swept
over her. She was face to face
with the mask that had defeated
her father—immature, perhaps, its
veneer not yet solidified, but the
same unfeeling mask.
"What’s your name?” she asked.
"Dirk Van Suttart,” he replied,
betrayed by the suddenness of the
question. A glint lit in his eye and
color rose to his cheeks, but he
quickly controlled his anger and
raised one eyebrow. "Really, Miss
Sewell, while you requested a per
sonal interview I didn’t realize you
were contemplating an exchange of
confidences.”
"I like to know to whom I am
talking,” said Joyce coolly. "I think
you’ll find my business is quite per
sonal. I’m the daughter and sole
Anger Surged in Her Veins.
heir of the late Cutler Sewell and
there’s a file in this office under
his name. I wish to know my rights.
Am I entitled to have copies of the
dispatches, or to examine them, or
to be given a resume, or—if all that
is impossible—can I be informed of
the last step in the negotiation?”
By this time both Van Suttart’s
eyebrows were raised to the limit.
"No copy of any dispatch can be
given to anybody,” he declared,
"except by specific direction of the
Department of State, and the same
restriction applies to the balance of
your question. May I ask to what
this file refers?”
"To my father’s property in this
country.”
"I thought so. Miss Sewell, Amer
icans abroad suffer from an unfor
tunate delusion which you seem to
share that the foreign service is
maintained for their individual con
venience. It isn’t It was created
for the benefit of the United States
as a whole and of the taxpayers at
home who foot the bills. Haven’t you
heard of the Mexican claipis com
mission in Washington?”
"I have.”
"That, my dear young lady, is
where you should file your petition.”
"I did, through my father, when
I was eight years old. I’m not eight
now, Mr. Van Suttart though you
seem to think so. The Mexican
claims commission has been sitting
for a great many years considering
claims amounting to $250,000,000.
Has it settled a single case?”
"I’m not at liberty to say.”
"You mean you don’t know? I’ll
tell you, it hasn’t—not one."
“Miss Sewell, this conversation Is
getting us nowhere. May I say in
conclusion that I’ve given you all
the advice—the only advice—to
which you are entitled? The embas
sy can do nothing to help you—noth
ing whatever.”
"Help!” exclaimed Joyce. "I
didn’t come here for help; I asked
for certain information. Are you
sure you have the authority to re
fuse it?”
"Quite sure.”
Joyce stood up to find her knees
were trembling. She had been dis
missed, told to leave 1 Anger surged
in her veins—anger against some
implacable force outside herself and
Van Suttart She became a flame
and suddenly its beauty cut through
to his inner consciousness. In •
half daze he was telling himself that
if he had met this girl at a cocktail
party instead of in the course of offi
cial business he would have crashed
through to her side and stayed
there. But he was too late, the pol
ished shell he wore had held out too
long.
"Mr. Van Suttart” said Joyce,
"your imagining I came to you for
help has its funny side. Aren’t you
ever puzzled as to why you’re alive
—why you draw down pay? A ca
nary in his gilded cage earns his
keep with song, but a popinjay can’t
even sing."
She was gone before he could
wipe the look of amazement from
his face, much less answer.
She hurried to the hotel where
she was living, paid her bill and
asked that her baggage be brought
down. At sight of the petaca there
were supercilious glances from the
tourists, the clerk and even the por
ter, but not from the taxi driver;
again the little native trunk served
her well He did not bother to lie
about the fare and even understood
her quest _for the best hotel unfre
quented by foreigners. Unhesitat
ingly he drove her to an establish
ment in a back street but near the
center of town. The proprietor
greeted her in soft Castilian and
took the trouble to accompany her
himself to a top-floor room.
“Can you recommend a woman
lawyer?” she asked.
"I know of one, but she’s a Mexi
can.”
"I prefer a Mexican," said Joyce.
"Will you give me her name and
address?”
He took out his card, scribbled on
it, and handed it to her. "Shq’g a
difficult person,” he remarked, "but
an excellent lawyer.”
Joyce decided to waste no time
in telephoning for an appointment,
but she did stop long enough to un
pack her bag and hang up her
clothes. As her rage at Van Sut
tart began to cool she wondered at
it and felt a little ashamed. Prob
ably that manner of his had got him
his job,, perhaps he was paid to
make people feel exactly as she had
felt. She opened the petaca, sorted
out the documents she thought she
would need and made her way on
foot to the lawyer’s address. It
was a strange, old-fashioned build
ing with a long dark narrow hall
which opened suddenly upon a big
square well surrounded by balconies
and roofed by the sky. There was
an elevator but no attendant. Rath
er than attempt to work the mech
anism herself she walked up two
flights and located a door upon
which was inscribed: Lie. Marga-
rida Fonseca.
She knocked; there was no an
swer. She opened the door, stepped
into an empty anteroom and
coughed. The door into a room be
yond was open. She passed through
it and stopped short. On the farther
side of a littered desk, leaning back
and apparently absorbed in staring
through the thick wall at some vi
sion far away, sat a woman whose
appearance could be described only
as leonine. One glance was enough
to make her speak in English.
"What do you want?”
"A lawyer,” said Joyce.
"What for? What about?”
"May I sit down?”
"No! What about?”
"An estate.”
"Whose?”
"Mine. I have the documents
here proving absolute title if you’ll
only take the trouble to look at
them.”
"No use. You’re wasting my
time. Don’t waste yours or your
money by going to any other law
yer. I give you that advice for noth
ing.”
“What is your time worth?” asked
Joyce, switching into Spanish. *T
like you. How much would you
charge to let me sit and look at
you for half an hour?”
French Nobleman’s Will Provided Body
Be Seated in Room to Face Angry Sea
The Marquis d’Urre d’Aubais was
a curious man when alive, but when
his will was read after his death the
court was astounded. It was sur
prising enough for a marquis to
leave $60,000 to the French postof-
flee, but the conditions accompany
ing this gift were a little too much
for the court, writes a Paris United
Press correspondent
First the marquis demanded that
his body be embalmed. That was
simple enough and the undertakers
had done so before the will was
unsealed.
Then the marquis demanded that
a small house be constructed on the
shore of the Mediterranean, placed
on a high point with the walls of
glass facing toward the sea. The
body should be placed in this room
with a radio set and family portraits
to keep him company.
Authorities decided that the mar
quis must have liked the sea. They
constructed the little house at the
little port of Carro and equipped It
with a special radio set which gives
signals to passing ships to avoid the
dangerous rocks that endanger
the coast at this point.
The lifeboat at the Rogues de Car
ro also was named after the mar
quis.
But the final request was too
much for officials, for the marquis
asked that his body be placed seat
ed in the room from where it could
look out on the angry sea. Per
haps the men who executed this will
were suspicious and feared the bale
ful effects of the dead man’s eyes.
Anyway, the marquis’ body re*
dines now, with only a glass win
dow in the coffin above his face.
Seamen in the tiny port are thankful
for the marquis' gift to them, but
they feel better knowing he is asleep
and not sitting watching them.
Volcano Aids FoasM Study
The largest known volcanic explo
sion in the history of the world,
which took place in 1911, furnished
material for fossil study. An oppor
tunity was given to see the begin
ning and end of a process «f laying
down plant fossils.
1J (SUNDAY
International I SCHOOL
Li S S O N
By REV. HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST,
Dean of the Moody Bible InaUtute
■< of Chicago.
C Western Newspaper Union.
%
Letaon for December 19
Margarida Fonseca swung around
in her swivel chair, planted her el
bows on the desk, her fists in her
cheeks, and stared. “Cara’o! Hab-
las Castillano, gringuital So, we talk
Spanish! Who are you?”
"My name is Joyce Sewell. Pm
the daughter of Cutler Sewell who
owned—”
“Tst! Tst! Nobody owns anything.
You possess, you don’t own.”
"Oh, but I do,” protested Joyce,
“I can prove it” She advanced, sat
down on the edge of a chair and
laid her documents on the desk.
“Please let me show you.”
"It’s no use, my child. I’ve told
you the truth and the whole truth.
Incidentally I don’t like Americans,
but let me give you something else
for nothing. Get out Go back to
your own country before somebody
makes one bite of your pretty
head.”
Joyce stood up and buried her
grave blue eyes in Margarida’s
black ones. “I’ll get out, but I
won’t go back. I was wrong about
you. I may not find a lawyer with
more brains, but I’ll get one who
isn’t a coward.” She snatched up
her precious documents, turned
quickly and started toward the door.
"Stop!” yelled Margarida. "No
body can say that to mel Come
back and sit down. Give me the
papers.” She took them, spread
them out but kept her puzzled eyes
fixed on Joyce. Abruptly she smiled.
“I thought you were out to make a
play on the tender female heart but
I’ve changed my mind. Have you
any money?”
"How much?”
"Ten thousand dollars.”
"Really! You’re loose in Mexico
at your age with $10,000! We’ll see
the papers.”
She glanced over them swiftly
with odd jerks of her nose as if
she were a parrot tearing the meat
out of one nut after another.
"Why didn’t you tell me it was La
Barranca?” she asked of the blue
sky.
"You didn’t give me a chance,”
said Joyce.
Margarida turned. “I think I’ve
found a way. It has nothing what
ever to do with the courts. Coma
back in a week.”
"That won’t do,” said Joyce, "It
won’t do at all!”
"Why not?”
“Because a week is too long!”
"You have courage, little one.
Since you don’t do your fighting with
tears we’ll go hunting together.
Fortunately I care nothing what
happens to you—nothing at alL Is
that clearly understood?”
“Don’t worry,” said Joyce. “Show
me the road and I’ll look out for
myself.”
Margarida scooped up the papefs,
crammed a hat on her head, showed
the way out and slammed the door
behind them. A moment later they
were in a taxi which scurried along
interminable back streets to draw
up in exactly 15 minutes at the resi
dence of Gen. Zacharias Onelia, .
right-hand man to the minister of
war.
"General, it is very good of you
to receive us,” said Margarida.
"Do you mind taking a look at this
young lady before she goes out to
walk around the patio while you and
I have a talk? She has a peculiar
value, General.”
"To me?”
"Especially to you,” said Marga
rida and turned to Joyce. "Sup
pose you go out, chica, and stay
out till you’re called!” As soon as
Joyce had gone Margarida leaned
toward Onelia and continued in a
low voice. “General, this is a mo
mentous business, far deeper than
may appear at first glance. The
young lady, Miss Joyce Sewell, is
undoubtedly the lawful owner of ha
cienda La Barranca."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
THE BIRTH OF JESUS
LESSON TEXT—Luke 2:8-20.
GOLDEN TEXT—For unto you Is bom
this day In the city of David a Saviour,
which is Christ the Lord.—Luke 2:11.
PRIMARY TOPIC—When Jesus Came.
JUNIOR TOPIC—When Jesus Came.
INTERMEDIATE AND SENIOR TOP
IC—The Birth of Our Saviour.
YOUNG PEOPLE AND ADULT TOP;
IC—God’s Gift of a Saviour.
Few indeed are the stories that
will bear retelling or the books that
are tforth re-reading. Rare is the
song that we care to hear more than
once. How significant then that we
come to the observance of Christ
mas each year with heatts full of
delight in the story of the birth of
Jesus, eager again to htar the ac
count from God’s Word, and to lis
ten with attentive souls for the
sound of the angel’s song in the
Christmas music.
The birth of our Lord as ihe in
carnate Saviour of men is still front
page, headline news, even in 1937.
The glad tidings of his coming still
color the thinking and living of a
world that has gone far from him,
that lives today in hatred and en
mity, even while outwardly recall
ing the coming of the One who was
to bring peace on earth. We have
even gone so far that men feel that
the way to promote peace is to use
the sword. Until the Prince of
Peace himself shall reign there
may be no. other way. But let us
be certain at this Christmas time
that the tender baby hand from the
cradle at Bethlehem has reached
out hearts and lives, bringing us
peace with God and good will toward
men.
The first seven verses of our chap
ter relate the coming of Mary with
Joseph to God’s appointed place at
his appointed time, for the entrance
into this world of the Son of God as
the “Word” that “was made flesh
and dwelt among us” (John 1:14).
Our lesson opens with the proclama
tion of the blessed good news to the
shepherds in the field. Three
thoughts are suggested for consider
ation. The announcement of the
coming of the Saviour; the person
al response of the shepherds to the
glad tidings; and their immediate
activity in making it known to oth
ers.
I. "Unto You Is Born . . ^ »
Saviour” w. 8-14).
Christ was a great teacher, one
whom the common people heard
gladly, "for he taught them as one
that had authority, and not as the
scribes” (Mark 1:22). He was a
leader among men, and lived a life
which was an example beyond that
of any man. But mark it well, this
was not the central and essential
purpose of his coming. He came as
a Saviour. His mother was told be
fore his birth that she should "call
his name JESUS: for he shall save
his people from their sins” (Matt.
1:21).
It is not enough to be among the
countless thousands who superficial
ly observe Christmas with greetings
and gifts.. We must with the shep
herds go and present ourselves in
personal devotion to him. If you
have not met the Lord Jesus as yqur
own personal Saviour do it now. And
if you know him. make this a Christ
mas in which Christ shall be su
preme.
II. "Let Us Now Go . . . and See”
(w. 15-16).
Their fear changed to assurance
by the words of the angel, the shep
herds at qnce "go” and “see.”
Would that all those who heard to
day did likewise. The shepherds
might well have found all manner
of excuses for not going. They
had sheep to care for, they were
not prepared for a journey. No, the
divine urge was upon them “and
they came with haste ... and found”
Jesus.
Let us follow the example of *he
shepherds lest any of us be like the
guests who were bidden to the great
supper (Luke 14:16-24), who "all
with one consent began to make ex
cuse” so that none of them ever en
tered into the supper chamber.
III. “When They Had Seen . .
They Made Known” (vv. 17-20).
Mary the mother of Jesus had
special reason to ponder these
things in her heart But the shep
herds "returned, glorifying and
praising God for all that they had
heard and seen.”
"Let the redeemed of the Lord
say so” (Ps. 1G7:2). When we have
found the Lord Jesus we must not
simply rejoice in the satisfaction
and peace that has come to our
own souls. We are saved to serve.
The normal expression of the new
life in Christ is the proclamation of
the gospel to the ends of the earth.
Only in that spirit do we truly keep
Christmas!
To every one that sees these lines
—whether editor, typesetter, or
proofreader—whether a reader in
the midst of the clamor of the great
city or in the quiet of a distant coun
tryside, whether old or young,
whether well or on a sickbed, wheth
er alone, far from family end
friends, or in the bosom at your
family, the writer of these lines
extends in the name of Christ a most
hearty good wish for a blessed
Christmas.
SEw
4*'~ Ruth Wyeth Spears
Making Over a Chair of the Ginger-Bread Era.
'T'O modernize the old walnut
chair at the right the pieces
under the arms were removed and
most of the carving covered up.
The padding at the back was re
moved entirely and replaced by
a fiber board which was covered
by a loose cotton filled cushion
tufted like an old fashioned bed
comfort except that the tied
thread ends of the tufting were
left on the wrong side.
This back cushion was fastened
in place with tapes that slipped
over the knobs at the ends of the
upper carving. If the knobs to
hold the cushion had been lacking
it could have been tacked in place
along the top on the under side
by using a strip of heavy card
board to keep the tacks from pull
ing through the fabric as shown
here for tacking the box pleated
ruffle around the seat as, at A.
A plain rust colored heavy cotton
upholstery material was used for
the covering.
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;
restoring and upholstering chairs,
couches; making curtains for ev
ery type of room and purpose.
Making lampshades, rugs, otto
mans and other useful articles for
the home. Readers wishing a
copy should send name and ad
dress, enclosing 25 cents, to Mrs.
Spears, 210 South Desplaines St.,
Chicago, Illinois.
National Prosperity
What constitutes national pros
perity? Not wealth or commerce
simply, or military achievements,
but the greatest possible number
of happy, noble and graceful
homes, where the purest flame
burns brightest on the altar of
Family Love, and Woman, with
her piety, forbearance, and kind
liness of soul, is permitted to of
ficiate as High Priestess.
For a Happy Life
Remember this—that very little
is needed to make a happy life.—
Marcus Aurelius.
Belief Necessary
You have to believe in happi
ness or happiness never comes.—
Douglas Malloch.
CHEW LONG BILL NAVY TOBACCO
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