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THE SUN, NEWBERRY, S. C, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1937 Opening Jars.—A strap with a buckle on one end can be used to good advantage in opening glass fruit jars. Run the strap through the buckle and tighten it around the cap. This enables you to get a good grip on the lid. • • • Preserving Bright Color.—Cook ing preserves or jelly rapidly helps to retain the bright color of the fruit. The addition of pectin shortens the necessary cooking time. • • • Crab Savory.—1 crab, 3 toma toes, 1 lettuce, watercress, 1 egg, pepper and salt. Shred the crab meat finely and mix with a little mayonnaise. Wash the lettuce and arrange leaves around and at the bottom of the dish. Place some crab in the center, then season with pepper and salt; add slices of tomato and hard-boiled egg and watercress. • • • Dried Peel.—It is nice to dry the skins of several oranges and lem ons and grate them, then putting them in a glass bottle in the re frigerator to be kept for flavoring purposes. It certainly saves time in the future and one is inclined to uae these flavorings in interest* ing ways if already at hand. * * * Using Kerosene Safely.—One of the safest ways of using kerosene is to mix it with wood or coal ashes, then use a few spoonfuls of this mixture when starting or re kindling a fire. This can be stored for regular use in a gallon bucket or other suitable container. WNXJ Service. It Took a Child to Stump the Prof "All it wants is practice,” point ed out the professor. "There is no earthly reason why each of you ladies and gentlemen shouldn’t use your left hand with the same dexterity as your right.” With a piece of chalk he began to draw a figure, using his right hand, then finished it with his left. “There,” he said, "I defy any one to mention a single action which I can perform with my right hand and which I can’t do equally well with my left.” Silence; then a small voice: "Mummy,” it said, “can he put his left hand in the bottom of his right-hand trouser pocket?” GENERAL ELECTRIC MODCL P-96 9 TUBfS 3 BANDS Touch Tuning (7 buttons). Silent Tun ing. AFC Tone Monitor. Louver Dud. Visual Volume Control. Visual 4-point Tone Control. Automatic Band Indi cator. 12-inch Stabilized Dynamic Speaker. Bass Compensation. Foreign- Domestic Reception. R.F. easvMnr Pre-selector Stage. Hand- j1|lll>)3 some Full-length Console. IWW $10.00 DOWN DELIVERS FREE HOME TRIAL GENt R Al Elf CTR1C j R A D10 PERRY-MANN ELECTRIC COMPANY, INC. (WhoUtaU Distributors) Columbia, S. C. FOR REPLACEMENTS SPECIPY 0-1 PRE-TESTED RADIO TUBES — — — — Under Pressure By George Agnew Chamberlain C George Agnew Chamberlain WNU Service SYNOPSIS Joyce Sewell, on the eve of her twentieth birthday, rebels at her lot, dependent on her detested stepmother, Irma, and full of tragic memories of her mother’s murder twelve years before and her father's death six months ago. Irma calls in Heim Blackadder, an admirer, to help her persuade Joyce to marry rich, young Michael Kirkpatrick. CHAPTER I—Continued 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?’’ “I wasn’t trying to be rude,” said Joyce coolly, “I was wondering why he’s here.” “I’ve 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’re 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 shaken 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 hai her dream of happiness.” Then her low voice be gan to grow in volume and intensi ty. “I know I have mine and it’s a dream of giving, not taking. I 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 H Her departure left Blackadder breathless and somewhat confused. He continued to stand with his back to the mantel, staring at her as 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 happens, it’s A Pungent Odor of Age-Old Paper. gone. But let’s forget trouble. I 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 hall. 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?” tie 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. Besides, I’ve just had a tip. I may not know books like some of your* rah-rah friends, but I can see out of 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 uttering'no cry. Unshed tears stung in her eyes, 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. “I’ve brought you a letter and a bit of supper.” “Thanks, Ellen, 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 time, 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 for ten thousand?” She sank back, her 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 address.” “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 o’- anything else I’ve paid for in cash.” “Then it’s mine now.” “I 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 done—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 remem ber Mexico, but do you remember what happened?’’ (TO BE CONTINUED) United States and Great Britain Have Thirty Per Cent of World’s “Who’s Who” 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,#50 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 the distribution 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 attended 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. Gayety Is a Toole Gayety is a tonic. Gayety is a stimulant. It is a drug more power ful than any pharmacopoeia. Anil you have the prescription for it within your own mind. Give your self large doses of gayety—it is all a matter of the wilL T HE way to day-in, day-out chic for the woman who sews is shown in today’s attractive new three-way plan. It goes deeper than the surface, you see, in the presentation of a sleek new slip. Ah, and it gives great thought to the surface, as you can’t help but note in the two wing-side models. Spicy New Model. As shipshape as a Parisian streamline fashion and, in its own role, as important—that’s the lit tle number at the left above. It does wonders to give one that up and doing feeling that’s handy to have around the house in the morning. You can repeat it time and again without fear of being repetitious; without losing your fondness for it. Anything in gay cotton: shantung, print, ging ham, crash, will do nicely for this one. A Congenial Slip. Beneath a well-groomed surface hqngs a perfect fitting slip! That’s an old and honest notion and one Sew-Your-Own abides by re ligiously. Today’s five piece ver sion is as easy to put together as it is congenial to your comfort and outward superbness. Make two while you’re about it: one with a plain top for everyday, the other witti a bit of frou-frou for dress- up occasions. Deft Design. The "girl in the little green hat” wears a dress with many tucks in this her latest picture. It is the dress for you, Milady, to star in at familiar Fall festivities. Deftly but definitely it gives you em phasis where you want it; soft pedals worry-areas. No more will ing and able frock than this was ever designed and it can be yours so easily. Thin wool is a smart material and it fits this frock’s personality to a T. Let’s sew and be seen places this Fall. Okay? The Patterns. Pattern 1389 is designed for sizes 36 to 52. Size 38 requires 4% yards of 35-inch material, or 4% yards, with long sleeves. Pattern 1988 is designed in sizes 34 to 46. Size 36 requires 3% yards of 39-inch material, plus 1 yard of ribbon for shoulder straps, and 1% yards of edging for finishing upper edge. Pattern 1392 is designed for T OVE is the river of life in this world. Think not that ye know it who stand at the little tinkling rill, the first small fountain. Not until you have gone through the rock gorges, and not lost the stream; not until you have gone through the meadow, and the stream has widened and deepened until fleets could ride on its bos om; nc‘. until beyond the meadow you have come to the unfathom able ocean, and poured your treas ures into its depths—not until then can you know what love is.— Henry Ward Beecher. sizes 14 to 20 (32 to 42 bust). Size 16 requires 2Vt yards of 54-inch fabric. Send your order to The Sewing Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1020, 211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, I1L Price of patterns, 15 cents (in coins) each. New Pattern Book. Send 15 cents for the Barbara Bell Fall and Winter Pattern Book. Make yourself attractive, practical and becoming clothes, selecting designs from the Bar bara Bell well-planned, easy-t»> make patterns. © Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service. for WOMEN only CARDUI is a special medicine for the relief of some of the suffering which results from a woman’s weak ened condition. It haa been fonnd to mak«r monthly periods less dis agreeable, and, when Its use has been kept up awhile, has helped mray poorly nourished women to get more strength from their food. This medi cine (pronounced “Card-u-i”) has been used and recommended by women for many, many years. Find opt whether it will help you by giving it a fair trial. Of course. If not benefited, consult a physician. — Of Greater Valne Good instruction is better than riches.—William Penn. What Two Things Happen When You Are Constipated? 1 TOC K , _ _ Fills'!* Wastes swell up the bowels Rod press on nerves in ths digestive tract. This nerve pressure causes headaches, a dull, lasy feeling, bilious speUa, loss of appetite and dis- 8ECOND: Partly digested food starts ay forming GAS, bringing on sous h (add indigestion), and heartburn, bloating woo dp until you aomsiimsa gasp for breath. Then yon apend many minermbU dnyn. Ton •an’t oat. You oan’t .bep. Your atomneh in •oar. Yon (nl tind out, grouchy and mime abb. To art th« ooinphU relief you orek yon muat do TWO thing,. 1- You mart rali.T. tb. ’AS. t. Yon mart obnr the bo web and GET THAT PRESSURE OFF THE NERVES. Aa soon an offending wnaten ere waahed out yon feel merreTc the world look* I There b only one prod rabbt that btm you the double notion you need.^It is ADLERIKA. Thu efficient oermioetfre cathartic relieve, that awful GAB at none. It of ton remove, bowel eongertion in half aa boor. No waiting for overnight relief. Adler- iki note on the atomaoh and both ' dianr^rJbxaUvaa^act^on the bang doctor* nod lag. an after Try Adbrika bowela. Or- bowel only. recommended by many dnigguta far U year*. No grip- •r effect*. Juat QUICK reauli* a today. You’D any you ban “ Intartinal iliarau Character Making The man that makes a charao- ter makes foes.—Young. CHEW LONG BILL NAVY TOBACCO “FIVE JNi—. TWO Leave* FOUR” WRONG? Well, ye*—and no. The arithmetic of your school day* taught that "H Mary had five dollars and spent two..." three dollars remained. But that is mathematics—not shopping! In managing a home... guarding a limited family income... we've simply got to do better then Mary did.We must sharpen our buying wits... ascertain where the dollar, of extra value lurk... take five doUars to town and get much more far the money spent Fortunately, there ere ever-willing guides right at hand—the adrertiee- mente in this newspaper. Advertised merchandise is often exceptional value merchandise. It makes dollars S-T-R-E-T-C-H.