Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Thursday, June 16, 1932 McCORMICK MESSENGER, McCORMICK, SOUTH CAROLINA PAGE DEMTOWN ^ RUBY M. AYR K &a! FOURTEENTH INSTALMENT an urgent call. He had gone without even saying Diana, a young Englisti girl, in good-bye to her. love with Dennis Waterman, a mar- CHAPTER XXI ried man, undergoes a nervous col- A , , , ... lapse and is sent to the country Anna had b een waiting up obeyed. He did not really object to the fog, but he was in no mood to go. There was a dark spot in his ; mind whenever he thought of Don- for aid Rathbone. to recuperate under the care of Dr. her. She said with unusual kind- ’ He felt as if, during the past Donald Rathbone, who lives near ijness in her voice: weeks since he first met her, she find^hSreelT^alUn^in^love Jith should go to bed and try and had unconsciously been giving him the doctor, but still trying to hold get some sleep.” ( broken pieces of a puzzle, which Dennis’ affection:. Linda, Dennis’ “i couldn’t sleep,” Diana said. had slowly and carefully formed Sb^a ^diyorce^ b^tV?wouWmo^ac- “ Let me ^ive you something to themselves into one, until this cept it; he would have felt com- make you sleep—some of that ( morning, he suddenly realized that elk pelled to marry Diana. Diana’s love for Doctor Rathbone is tem pered by jealousy of a woman nam- draught you used to take before it was complete. And it was Rath- you were ill. You must sleep, Miss bone’s face that he saw in the fin ed Rosalie, who lives in the doctor’s Diana.’ finds Anna came back with the sleep- ished picture. The love Jonas felt for Diana was house. 'At last Rathbone l ? eep,y „ in J°Xf ing draught and Diana took it and , the kind of love which Dante had Rosalie is his wife. allowed herself to be put to bed. felt for Beatrice. He had been He had married her but of sym- “I’ll be close by, if you want me,” content to love on his poet’s dreams when her husband had been she said of her , asking nothing more for hopelessly insaifel Diana and ^a'th-' Something in her tone of voice himself than that he might be al- bone part, and a letter comes from made Diana think suddenly of Miss lowed to continue to dream. to* 1 ?,* Gladwyn calling Diana back starling, and an almost childish But that she should be unhappy Dennis^omes to see her She lon smg for her and for the peace was more than he could endure, discovers that she is all through of her little room at the cottage It was nearly midday before As sbe is leaving for awoke in her heart. Jonas reached Rathbone’s. The n on a letter comes from Dr. How amazed the Creature would big gates were wide open—a most be if she could know! unusual thing in his Rathbone, expressing his hopeless I?. ve * . *n London she learns that Linda Waterman, Dennis’ wife has been for years in love with a married man whose wife has iust died in ah insane asylum. Life seems a frightful, puzzling affair. She goes to a party, expecting to be bored, but the footman at the door announcing the incoming guests, << ® r * Donald Rathbone.” NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY Diana had been idly watching the scene before her, her thoughts far a^fcay, but at the sound of that name her slender body stiffened, and her face went as white as her gown. “No . . . no . . . no . . .” Her heart cried out in passionate protest even as her dilated eyes met Rathbone’s across the long room. And she had been afraid that she • was beginning to forget him! Forget him! Forget his big, pow erful body against, which she had once been held in such perfect hap piness and peace? His grave steady eyes, and the mouth that looked as if it rarely smiled? He did not smile now, though a little flash passed across his som bre eyes before he turned to greet his hostess. It seemed an eternity to Diana before Rathbone began to make his way across to her. He seemed to know a great many people, many of whom stopped to engage him in conversation. Rathbone was beside her now, but he made no attempt to take her hand, and she did not offer it. “Good-evening, Miss Gladwyn.” Diana raised eyes that were in finitely pathetic, because they fought so hard for indifference. • “Good-evening, Dr. Rathbone.” “A great rock in a weary land 9t « • • • How silly to think of that now, and yet—oh, how wonderful to feel once again the peace and safety of his presence! “I hope you are well?” he said formally. “Yes, thank you.” “Quite well?” She tried to answer, but now that suffocating feeling had mastered her, and she could only nod silent ly. Then someone came and took him away. At dinner he was a long way from her; he sat on Mrs. Foster’s left hand with the great newspa per magnate on her right; evident ly Rathbone was the second most important guest. The dinner was endless; to Di ana’s overwrought imagination, the long table seemed to grow longer till Rathbone appeared to be sep arated from her by miles; course after course followed one another in terrible monotony. How could people go on eating for such— hours! She almost said, “Thank God,” when at last the ordeal was ended. Rathbone would come and talk to her now, she was sure; he would find some way of shaking off all the otner people, and he would come to her, and he would say something that would stop this dreadful pain. He would know what she was suffering; perhaps he was suffering equally himself. But though she patched the door of the great unfriendly draw ing room with strained eyes till the men began to appear, Rathbone was not among them. Then she learned that Rathbone had been called away suddenly on unusual thing in his experience, Diana sat up in bed, rocking her- and as he neared the house he saw self to and fro. that the front door was wide open She wished she could cry, but her also, regardless of the damp fog eyes felt too hot and burning to al- that swirled in. low the relief of tears. Were other girls made to suffer like this, or were they too wise to He drove round to the side door and got down. Nobody answered his repeated allow themselves to care very much knock, and presently he turned the for anyone? handle and looked into the kitchen. With a terrible feeling of rest lessness she got out of bed and be gan to walk about the room. Nobody about. He set his basket of eggs and butter down on the table and had turned to go when If only he had bid her good-bye Hobson, the * chauffeur, suddenly at Mrs. Foster’s. Shown some af- appeared. fection for her. If only she could sleep! . . . Her head was throbbing so: it remind- Jonas looked at him. “Where’s everybody?” he asked. He indicated the basket. “I’ve just ■N:;? r> v - I m ifli !i m +:•? m- / sSs Xv:--' m V* Mi W Hobson grumbled, trying to hide his anxiety. “If I tell Mr. Shurey he’ll send some of us along to help,” Jonas said. “It’ll get dark early today, with this fog hanging about.” “If you tell Shurey the whole vil lage’ll know,” Hobson said lugubri ously. “Not but what I don’t think you’re right. The more of us that looks for her, the sooner she’ll be found.” “Have you tried the woods? She used to go there a lot in the sum mer.” “Tried the woods,” Hobson said scornfully. When you can’t see your hand before your face out in the main road, how do you think you’re going to see in the woods? Not but what it isn’t an idea,” he added. “I could find my way through them in the dark,” Jonas said quickly, but Hobson shook his head. “What I’m afraid of is the river,” he admitted reluctantly. “It always had a wonderful fascination for the poor lady. Sit for hours watching it, she would, and singing to her self.” He broke off with a touch of emotion, then pulled himself to gether to say gruffly: “I can’t waste my time talking to you; but if you do see anything of her ” “I’ll keep a lookout,” Jonas prom- i ised. He went back to the trap and drove slowly away. The river! ... It was a disagree able thought on a morning like this. His imagination was deeply stirred. The river would be icy cold and full of dead weeds. It seemed to be getting dark al ready, although it was not yet three o’clock; the grayness of the mist was deepening and intensifying, as if someone were blowing black smoke into it and the two were slowly mingling together. Before he had gone a mile on the road he was obliged to get down and lead the little pony. It was almost impossible to see the ditch or any turnings. And somewhere, wandering hopelessly about, was Rosalie—a poor “mad” thing, as Diana had called her. The curious acrid smell of a riv er was in the air, a mingling of rotting vegetation and dank water If he was indeed anywhere near the river, then he had wandered very far from the right direction, for the river wound half a mile be hind the village in a wide semi circle. CONTINUED NEXT WEEK) X 91k*./. *** *—*1 r mil.... ’ w Mac/e specially for B A B 3 E S and CHILDREN Physicians tell us that one condi tion is nearly always present when a child has a digestive upset, a starting cold or other little ailment. Constipa tion. The first step towards reliet is to rid the body of impure wastes. And for this nothing is better than genuine Castoria! Castoha is a pure vegetable preparation made specially for babies and children. This means it is mild and gentle; that it contains no harsh drugs, no narcotics. Yet it always gets results! You never have to coax children to take Castoria. Real Castoria always bears the name: CASTORIA m CHILDREN CRY R I T If only she could sleep! . . . ed her of that night at the Savoy with Dennis, when the world had seemed to be filled with a million demons, all of whom were conspir ing together to torment her. Anna’s sleeping draught had been useless: it had only excited her and racked her nerves. Perhaps if she took some more She looked round the room eagerly; yes, the bottle was there on the dressing table. Diana crossed the room. She was a childish figure in her white nightgown with her bare feet and disordered curly hair. Her hands shook a little, making the bottle rattle against the glass as she measured out some of the drops. It had a nasty bitter taste. “That’s because I haven’t put any water with it,” Diana thought vaguely. “I don’t care; perhaps it will really make me sleep this time.” She shivered and made a little grimace as she crept back to bed. Why were all the things that were supposed to be good for one so nasty? CHAPTER XXII Jonas was putting the pony and trap away in the stable when Mr. Shurey came down the yard, a giant figure looming out of the gray mist. “Don’t ’ee put her away yet,” he said. “There’s some things for Rathbone’s.” Jonas turned round. “It’ll be difficult to get so far in this fog,” he said rather sullenly. The farmer frowned. “When I was your age I didn’t argue about things being difficult,” he said bluntly. “I did ’em. If you go up to the house the missus will give you what’s to go.” Jonas shrugged his shoulders and Her head was throbbing so. i brought that. Isn’t there anybody about?” “We’ve got something else to do besides hang round waiting for you to call,” Hobson said tartly. He half turned to go, then came back. “Which way did you come?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Through the village.” ♦ “Oh—well—you didn’t see any thing of our Miss Rosalie, I sup pose?” “Miss Rosalie? No. Why?” “Why?” Hobson echoed with the impatience of anxiety. “Why, be cause she’s out somewhere, of course. Been out since nine o’clock this morning, as far as we can make out. Not very nice for a young lady to go wandering off on her own a morning like this, is it?” “Alone?” Jonas said. “You mean—she’s lost?” Jonas asked. “No, l don’t mean nothing of the sort,” Hobson retorted angrily. “You can’t get lost round about here. It’s just the fog that makes it difficult to find her. If you see anything of her it ’ud be a kind ness to let us know or to bring her back.” “All right,” Jonas said briefly. He had turned to go when Hobson call ed to him again. “Look here,” he said more confi dentially. “You won’t open your mouth all over the village, I know, so I’ll tell you. “Miss Rosalie has been missing ever since it was light. Nobody knows how she managed to get out —it’s never happened before, and there’ll be h to pay if the doc tor comes home and she isn’t here.” “Isn’t the doctor at home?” “No, he isn’t, hasn’t been home for two nights, lucky for us; but we’ve got to find her before it gets dark, and that’s all there is about it. I’ve been out myself since sev en—haven’t had any breakfast yet” FRANK PARKE] SIPCKBRID6 SCHOOLS— I wish every teacher and every parent could read and ponder upon the remarks of Dr. William J. O’Shea, New York Superintendent of Schools, who said the other day that the efforts of the schools must be directed toward defining what is success in life. “Too often the unthinking identi fy success in life with wealth, and judge human achievement in terms of material acquisitions,” he said. I have long felt that our school systems started off on a false trail when they began to try to teach children how to earn money. That inevitably results in setting, up ac quisitiveness as the chief virtue, and money-getting as the principal pursuit in life. CONFIDENCE— The other day a banker said to me: “We’ve got more money to lend than we’ve had at any time in two years, and I think that is true of most other banks, but we are not lending it, because the people who ought to be borrowing it have lost confidence in themselves and their businesses.” I asked him to explain. lie point ed hut that in normal times sound banking consists in making loans for productive purposes. It is not sound banking to lend money to someone who cannot use it to make more money in order to pay it back. Most of the would-be bor rowers today, my banker friend said, are trying to get money to save something that is irretrievably lost. I am inclined to think there is plenty of bank credit for every legi - timate purpose, and that the rea son it is not being used more free ly is that business men are afraid to try anything new BEAUTY— Three or four years ago an art ist moved into the little New Eng land village where I vote and trade my farm produce. He bought the tumbledown but picturesque old stone mill and made a studio of it. He was a pleasant, unassuming fellow, who quickly got acquainted with the village people and won their confidence and respect. The artist’s eye was offended ev ery day by the unartistic appear ance of Main Street. There are perhaps, thirty houses and stores between the crossroads and the bridge, and no two of them were the same color. Some of them looked as if they had never been painted at all. Quietly, without advertising his purpose, the artist persuaded one of the store owners to paint his building white. It looked so clean and fresh that the owner of the adjoining property felt obliged to paint his also, and he put on a coat of white paint Then a lady across the street decid ed that this white paint made her old yellow house look dingy, so she painted that white. Now every house on Main Street is painted white, which is the best color of all for buildings set among green trees, as these are, and tour ists driving through, instead of hurrying on to get past an ugly and unattractive spot, slow down to ad mire the trim looking village. And the village folk are proud of theif town now—all because one man succeeded in selling beauty to his neighbors. > POTATOES— Botanists from the Department of Agriculture are exploring the mountains of Bolivia in search of new varieties of potatoes. Potatoes came originally from the high Andes, where more than 150 varie ties are known. The natives pre serve them in the ice water of the mountain streams, and “cook” them by freezing. They were taken to Spain by the early conquerors, but did not spread over Europe for more than 200 years, when a Yan kee advisor to the King of Bavaria introduced them into Germany and taught the people how to grow and cook them. They were intro duced into Scotland as a substitute for turnips about 1790, and into Ire land some years later. In communities where the potato will grow it is the safest reliance against famine that has yet been found. When all other crops fail the potato can be relied upon to keep a nation alive. The end of the recurrent famines in Ireland came when the people began to cultivate potatoes. If they would grow in China and India we would probably hear no more of famines in those countries. SPELLING- HOW do you spell analogous? Correct. I spelled it with three “a’s” and had to step down, in the return match of our Stockbridge versus West Stockbridge spelling tourna ment. I had the satisfaction, however, of lasting a lot longer than the principal of the High School did. The winner, now hail ed as the spelling champion of Berkshire County, Massachusetts, was the wife of one of my f£ neighbors. I don’t know that spelling bt prove anything, except that the ability to spell is more a gift than something that can be acquired by study, and that a rural spelling bee is a lot of fun. X MYtfOME YOURS toyBERTHAfDSON LAY Fish and Egg Croquettes To one cup of flaked fish, (cold salmon, haddock, or cod) use three hard boiled eggs, chopped finely. Mix with one cup of white sauce, season and spread on a plate to cool. Shape and dip in slightly beaten egg, then in fine bread crumbs, fry in deep fat, using a fry ing basket. One may add a little lemon juice if one desiresx when making the croquettes, or may serve quarters of lemon with the finished cro quettes. If one’s children go away to school, it is always wise to darn the stockings where the mother is sure to know from experience, that par ticular child wears the stocking hardest. Darn on the wrong side, not allowing the stitches to come « through to the right side. If the child is old enough it is wiser to teach him or her to darn stockings. It is no disgrace for a boy to know how to darn. Select cucumbers of equal length, half as many as there are persons to be served. Peel them thinly, cut length-wise in two pieces. Scoop out the inside, leaving a firm out side, however. Chop the part re moved, with a small slice of onion, a half green pepper, and add enough canned peas to double the chopped mixture. • Mix the whole with mayonnaise and refill the cu cumber boats. Serve very cold on lettuce leaves. Tea stains are not always readily removed therefore it is wiser to at tend to them before the stained article,is put into the wash. Try holding the stained part over a large pan or bowl, " and pouring boiling water from a height until the stain disappears. Or sprinkle with borax and soak. Or, if one prefers try sdaking in glycerin, then washing. If cement is not obtainable and there are mouse holes to be stop ped, try this; soak newspapers in a strong solution of hot water and sal soda, mash or squeeze to a pulp, and fill the hole: > ; JXJ HEM The 4-H club ’member who does not go in for health work in his project program is missing a good deal because it will not only show him what his or her defects are but will help to overcome them. How this work is plainly shown.in the case of two Indiana club mem bers who were recently chosen health champions in the annual round-up of club members held at Purdue University. Both of these champions had been in the previous state contest and made good scores, but not good enough to win. So they started in a systematic way after returning to their homes to improve their health score, and the result was that when they came back to the next con test they won the highest award. The boy champion is John Phillips, who is 16 years old and weighs 164 pounds. His height is 5 feet and 9 3-4 inches. He is the youngest of four children, whose parents are farm people. The judges gave this boy a score of 99.3 his main de merits being three filled teeth and a slight defect in posture. The champion girl, Dorothy Caster, is 18 and is a neat looking blonde, who scored 98.33. Her main demerits were slight defects in gait and posture. She is the oldest of three children and spends a great deal of time out of doors. Her weight is 143 and she is nearly five inches over five feet. She, too, had close rivals for championship.