Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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r Jo ■ vt. " ;»rv' / I# 4 - i Thursday, May 19, 1932 McCORMICK MESSENGER, Mc^ORMICK, SOUTH CAROLINA r *■ PAGE NUMRE] DEMJOWN LRUBY M. AYRES TENTH INSTALMENT nover tell her so. But she could sode, precious as it' had been, was not believe that he cared—why definitely ended, should he? There were so many She did not know what plans women in the world more-deserving Dennies had made, and she hard- At twenty-two the only thing Diana really desired was another woman’s husband. A nervous wreck from the excitement and strain of London’s gay life, she is taken by her aunt, Mrs. Gladwyn, to a fam ous specialist’s office. The phy sician orders her to the country to all her life she would hav2 to do Dennis except that deep down in pathetic. She learns that he is noti without him; that would be hard-| her heart was a foolish, feverish of happiness than she—noble, un selfish women—not *just selfish, spoilt—useless. Then she was con scious of a great fear; fear because ly cared. Since the afternoon she sent that wire she had often won dered why she had done it. It was not because she wanted to go with est of all to bear. When morning came she the great man himself but an as sistant, Dr. Rathbone. “God made the country and man made the x ^ ^ . town,” he tells her, and she agrees that out of the mass of confused to go to a rural retreat. thought only one fact had strug De^nU* Waterman’s S flatf°“he*re Sled; she must keep her pride they are surprised by Linda, Den- whatever happened. Nobody must nis’s wife, who takes the situation ever know, nobody must ever dream quite calmly. “I suppose she wants you to marry her?” she asks Den nis. At the night club where she goes with Dennis, Diana collapses. She regains consciousness in a little country cottage, with a nurse, Miss Starling, bending over her. Dr. Rathbone’s home was close by, Miss Starling told her. After three weeks Dennis Water man calls. He tells her he will have to go away, and his mahner, as he leaves her, suggests that his love is waning. But Dennis has that she had loved him and her love had not been returned. “I may as well go away with Dennis, or anybody else who wants me,” she told herself reckless, as she watched the creeping daylight. “I can’t ever have the man I want, so nothing matters.” CHAPTER XV Diana made a quick trip up to London to do some shopping. She not been gone many days before had lunch with Dennis, who told Diana finds herself asking Miss jier Linda was going to Paris and Starling all sorts of questions about Dr. Rathbone. N6t long afterwards she learns begged her to run away with him. , She kept putting him off with in- a woman living in Dr. decisive replies to his urgent beg- Rathbone’s house, a woman named Rosalie. Rathbone saves her from the beast, dresses her wounds and takes her to her own cottage. Both realize now that this is love, but Dr. Rath bone tells Diana that he can be no more than a friend, because of things in his life which he refuses to explain. He urges her to go back to London. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY And then, as there was no an swering smile on his face, she sigh ed and went on. “I wish I understood about my self. Sometimes I think that you understand, that you know all about me, only you won’t explain to nie. Why won’t you? “Perhaps because I’m not. clever enough. Perhaps because I know I should only hurt you Diana was looking down at the little three-cornered scar on her ■slender arm. “Well, I’ve got this to remember you by, anyway,” she said ruefully. He made a swift movement, as if of protest, then stood still again. “Nothing more than that?” he asked. She raised her, eyes. “Yes, much more,” she said. “I shall always remember you as the dearest, best—” “Don't make me conceited.” She sat down in the chair in which he had sat to dress her arm, leaning her chin on its high back and looking up at him. “Well, that’s that,” she said a puzzled sort of way. v“When do you want me to go?” / He smiled at the question. ‘Well, not today or tomorrow,” hff^said whimsically. “I only thought that before Mrs. Gladwyn comes back . . . ?” “Supposing she never comes '“back?” ‘We won’t suppose anything so unlikely, and besides, I must see that left arm a great deal better before I let you out of my sight.” “Then I hope it never gets bet ter,” Diana said. Dennis had come down for one last visit before Diana returned to London. He was full of plans for their future but Diana found herself cold to all of them. His caresses failed to thrill her as they had be fore her illness. ging and he finally drove her back to the country. She promised him, as she was kissing him good-bye, that she would give him an answer in a few days. Miss Starling told her when Den nis had left: “Dr. Rathbone came just after lunch.” • “Oh,” Diana’s voice was studi ously indifferent. “He left a message for you.” “Oh,” Diana said again. “What j hope that perhaps he could help found ; her to forget—could drug her senses and take away the endless pain of loneliness and longing. Dennis was the one creature in the world of whose love she was confident, and so she had turned to him as a half-frozen outcast would turn to the first fire that gleams through /the night. She had no regrets—nothing nattered. At seven o’clock she sent the maid for a taxi and put on her cloak. She would be a little early for Dennis, perhaps, but the silence and memories of this room worried her—it would be better to get out and mingle with the noise and bustle again. , She went down to the waiting taxi, leaving orders about the suit case. She did not care if her aunt’s maids suspected anything; she knew it would not be the first time she had set them all talking. It was only really genuine people like Miss Starling and Jonas who made one feel ashamed. The cab stopped, and a com missionaire hurried to open the door. Dennis had chosen to meet her at this small, rather unpreten tious restaurant because he said they would be unlikely to meet any one they knew, and it was Diana She thought herself mad or dreaming, for the woman was Linda Waterman. was it?” she asked as Miss Starling kept silence. “He asked me to tell you that he did not consider there was any real need for him to call any more -that he had arranged with Dr. Finlay to look after you regularly, and that he hoped you would ap prove. He asked me to say that, of course, if you wished to see him again particularly, he would be herself who had suggested the theatre. “It’s so long since saw a play,” was the excuse she made, but that was not the real reason. It was because she felt the desperate need of employment to help her—of stimulant to giv her courage; if Dennis offered her champagne tonight she would cer tainly not refuse. She walked in to the little lounge and sat down pleased to arrange to call or for by the fire. It was very quiet— you to go to his consulting room in just the kind of place runaway peo- London.” The Creature was knit ting so rapidly now that the need les flashed dazzingly in the after noon sunlight. Diana closed her eyes. “Thank you. That will do nice ly,” she said, uncertainly. When, a little later, Miss Star ling had gone for her usual con stitutional, Diana sent a telegram. It was addressed to Dennis Wat erman at some West End Club, and came across the lounge with easy Finally Dennis had flung away consisted of only two words: |confidence, beautifully gowned and from her and gone back to London.! “ Yes , Diana.” looking young and untroubled. His angry departure had failed to Diana left the cottage very quiet- “How strange—that you should stir her, although it left her with ly on the Friday afternoon. She be here,” she said. “Dennis tells me the feeling her world was falling told the Creature she was going to y 0 u have been very ill. I hope you away from her. dinner and a theatre with Dennis She wondered if her love for him Waterman and would not be home had died. And the thought, until late. strangely, carried with it no re- Dian a drove straight to Mrs. Gladwyn’s house when she got to pie would choose, Diana thought cynically. The swing door moved noiseless ly, and Diana turned. If it was Dennis—Diana stared blankly for a moment at the woman who came in—stared, and thought herself mad or dreaming, for the woman was Linda Waterman. She was alone, and their recog nition was mutual before Linda nis hated it—he was longing to get oack all the time.” Her eyes dwelt on Diana’s face with half-amused interest. “Are you waiting for him now?” she asked abruptly. Diana’s lips moved, and she flushed crimson, but no words would come, and Linda said with an unconcerned laugh: “You need not mind telling me if you are. I have not come here to spy on you—it’s just bad luck that we should both have chosen the same rendezvous. I am wait ing for a freind myself.” Diana rose to her feet. “I thought you were in Paris,” she stammered, and then wondered why, of all the things shj might have said, she should have chosen words that were surely an admis sion. Linda shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose Dennis told you so? Well, I wanted him to believe I was going to Paris,” she said quiet ly. “It suited me for him to think so.” She laughed again. “It’s very odd, but it never seems to oc cur to my noble husband that per haps I too have my secret orchard.” She held out the hand that wore the big diamond and stared at it meditatively. “I’m rather glad you and I have met again,” she said. “I intended to write to you soon, anyway.” “To write to me?” The burning colour rose again to Diana’s face—she felt utterly at a disadvantage. Linda was so assured, so cool—she was sure at last that Linda no longer cared for Dennis. “You need not look so angry,” Dennis’s wife said clamly. “I know you hate me, but you need not. I quite like you, Diana; if it were not for Dennis, I believe we could be good friends.” She moved suddenly, coming a little closer to the girl. “I suppose Dennis never told you that I offered to divorce him, did he?” she asked interestedly. “I aslure you I did—before we went to America, the night you dined at the flat.” (CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.) txt gret. And then suddenly came the rev elation that it was Donald she lov ed, maddeningly, distractingly.' She knew then she could never be hap py with any other man. “Tomorrow,” Diana said to her self, “tomorrow I am going to Lon don.” She was glad because it was Rathbone whom she loved; a man surely worthy of the best life could give him, and in some strange way that gladness overweighted the knowledge that, even supposing he cared for her in return, he would London. She was not expected, and the maids seemed rather flust ered by her sudden arrival. She intended to pack a small suitcase for which Dennis would presently send his chauffeur, and after that—well, after that her mind was a blank—after that no thing would matter very much. Nothing mattered very much now, if it came to that. Diana was amazed because she felt so cold and unconcerned. Even the thought of Rathbone hardly distressed her. That cpi- are better.” “Yes—yes, thank you.” Linda held her hands to the warmth. There was a large dia mond on one finger that caught the light and sparkled into cold white flashes of fire. Diana was very pale, and the vivid blue of her gown intensified her pallor. She was wondering vaguely what would happen when Dennis arrived. Something seem ed to tell her that of them all he would be the only one seriously dis turbed. With an effort she forced herself to speak. “Did you have a good holiday in America?” “It was hardly a holiday. I had so much business to attend to. Den- THINGS— ' I know a young man who had a good job up to a few months ago. He spent money liberally while he had it, but was always unhappy. Now he is earning barely enough to pay the rent of a cheap room and provide a couple of modest meals a day, and he is happier, tells me, than when he had plenty. “T haven’t so many THINGS to worry about,” he said. “I’ve more time to think, to read, to listen to music, to look at pictures; and I’ve come to the conclusion that the principal trouble of most people in these days is that they’re never learned to get along without THINGS.” I think my young friend is right. Things are of value as they are useful to people, but too much use of things makes us dependent up on them; we become slaves of the machine. We give so much thought to many things which are, after all, only toys or means of gratifying our vanity, that we don’t have time left for the enduring values that come from thought and reflection. ALICE— what it is, as it has remained from the beginning of time, “Alice” and her adventures will be read. It seems to me that giving the world enduring enjoyment is a greater achievement than solving the most profound problem in mathematics. LAUNDRIES— A friend showed me the other day a list of thirty-seven different chemicals which are used in the laundry and dry cleaning industry. Another friend showed me a new machine for dry-cleaning which he believes will revolutionize that in dustry. It uses no gasoline or other inflammable material, so it can be installed anywhere, and it will clean a suit of clothes in fifteen minutes. In London, he told me, where he found this ma chine, you can drop into a shop, sit in a closed booth while, your suit is being cleaned and pressed, and get out in twenty minutes at a cost of two shillings sixpence (“half a crown”) with a fresh, new-looking suit. Considering that cleanliness is quite a modern idea and soap one of humanity’s most recent inven tions, it is amazing to regard the amount of money we spend to keep ourselves and our garments clean and it is not at all surprising that we are still careless about smoking chimneys and street dirt and other things which run up our laundry bills. BOOTH— I saw a letter the other day from Ballington Booth, head of the Vol unteers of America; telling of the strain under which the people of his organization is laboring to help the out-of-work and distressed. The same day I passed by the national Headquarters of the Salvation Army, where his sister, Evangeline Booth, is leading in the same sort of unselfish effort to help the down-and-out. It struck me, as it has struck me many times, that the nearest that any great body of peo ple in this country come to living up to the teaching of Christ, the teaching of selflessness and the helping hand, is found sin those two great organizations. % And to me it is something to think about that the leaders who are carrying on this work are the son and daughter of a Jew, “Gen eral” William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army, who started life as a pawnbroker’s apprentice. It has always been the case that great men and women rise from the crowd by the force of their own courage and belief in themselves. And what makes them great is their ability to lead the crowd to higher aims and loftier purposes. CHICAGO— My Chicago friends are getting enthusiastic over the World’s Fair they are going to next year. They call it the “Century of Progress Exposition,” and from what George King and others tell me it’s going to be worth anybody’s time to visit it. One interesting feature will be a group of Lincoln buildings, dupli cating the Kentucky log cabin in which Lincoln was born, the In diana cabin in which he spent his boyhood, the store in which he was a partner at New Salem, 111., the Rutledge Tavern which his boy hood sweetheart, Ann Rutledge, liv ed, and the “Wigwam” in which he was first nominated for the Presi dency. I always enjoy visiting Chicago, whether there’s celebration going on there or not. It is the most typically American city we have. I get the impression always that Chicago may not know where she’s going but she’s surely going some where. I don’t think any Ameri can’s education can be considered complete without a visit in Chicago long enough to get the spirit of the place. Next year will be the biggest year for Chicago since 1893, and every- CHILD need REGULATING? CASTORIA WILL DO III When your child needs regulating, remember this: the organs of babies and children are delicate. Little bowels must be gently urged—never forced. That’s why Castoria is used by so many doctors and mothers. It is specially made for children’s ail ments; contains no harsh, harmful drugs, no narcotics. You can safely give it to young infants for colic pains. Yet it is an equally effective regulator for older children. The next time your child has a little cold or fever, or a digestive upset, give him the help of Castoria,’ the children’s own remedy. Genuine Castoria al ways has the name: CASTORIA C H 1 ‘ti D-tfc KH* <&ibY fOR VtftY,, uttst MAW MARfflALL One of my correspondents hast cut out half a dozen pairs of pa* jamas for young Bob and now she has written for help. Everything is easy enough, but the frog fast eners. It would perhaps have been the- better plan to cut the pajamas af ter a pull-on pattern, so that the tops would need no fastenings at all. Buttons and botton holes IOE61SI FREE AlR Mrs. Alice Liddell Hargraves, 80 vears old, the original little Alice bod y who can ou 8 ht t0 P lan now 0 for whom Lewis Carroll wrote g0 tliere “Alice in Wonderland” seventy j years ago, found New York so top sy-turvy, measured by her English £ standards, that it reminded her of ! the mythical adventures of her fic- | tional namesake. Next to writing a book that lives forever, there must be a great sat- I isfaction in having inspired it.! “Alice in Wonderland” and “Through the Looking Glass” have i delighted generations of children and their elders as well. The Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, who wrote these books under the name of “Lewis Carroll,” was a great mathematician and student. He wrote ponderous poems that nobody but a mathe matician can understand and that everybody has forgotten. But as, long as human nature remains tf ’n NY WAY , ™ E - bEPkBSStow uUSTUTTED A LOT OP STUFFED SHIRTS THAT LOOKED REAL HAUDSOME have the serious drawback that they are likely to become broken and torn in the wash. Frog fast eners really are better and in many of the stores braid frogs may be bought ready made—simply need ing to be sewn into position. But making frogs yourself is an inter esting bit of hand work and not at all difficult. You may use white cord or tape or you may cut bias strips of the material about an inch wide. Fold them over so that the edges meet in the center and then fold again toward the center and whip the edges together with coarse thread so that you have a neat cord of the material. This is then, ready to use to make the frog which is sewn to the pajama top at the desired position. To make the frog, curve the tape or bias strip in a continuous design some thing like a four-leaved clover. Three of the loops are fastened flat to one side of the pajama front, the other is used in place of a button hole to loop over the button on the other side.