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THE NEWBERRY SUN FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER. 29, 1939 PAGE SIX ML FIRST INSTALLMENT Marjorie Wetherill had always known she was an adopted child. She had been told when she was so young that it meant nothing at all to her. And as the years went by and she was surrounded by love and luxury, she thought little of it. Once when she was in high school she had asked about her own people casually, more out of curiosity than because of any felt need for them, and she had been told that they were respectable people who had been unfortunate and couldn’t afford to bring her up as they would like to have her brought up. It had all been very vague. But Marjorie was happy, and her foster mother greatly stressed the fact that while Marjorie had not been bom her own, she had been chosen because they loved her at first sight, and that meant more even than if she had been bom theirs. (Mrs. Wetherill was a devoted par ent, and she and Marjorie were dear companions. When Mr. Wetherill died Mar jorie was still in her school life, and she and the mother were brought even closer together, so that when Mrs. Wetherill was suddenly strick en with an illness that they both- knew would be swift and fatal, the girl spent the last months of her fos ter mother’s life in utmost devotion to her. When it was over and she was alone, she felt utterly desolate and life seemed barren indeed. There were many friends of course, for the Wetherills had a large pleas ant social circle, and there were in stant invitations for prolonged visits here and there, but Marjorie had no heart to go. She longed for someone of her own. The world seemed emp ty and uninteresting. Then one morning about ten days before Christmas, because she could not settle to anything else, and be cause she had been almost dreading to go over her beloved foster mother’s intimate papers, s ! he went bravely to Mrs. Wetherill’s desk in the living room, unlocked it, and began to look over the papers in the pigeon holes. As she went from drawer to drawer, emptying every pigeon-hole, and burning in the fireplace such things as had to be destroyed, she came finally to the little secret draw er, and there she found among sev eral other important papers, a thick letter for herself. “Dearest Marjorie:” it read, I have never told you much about your own people. I did not really know much myself to tell, until about two years ago. My husband arranged everything about the adoption. I never told you that you were one of twins. and so was your twin sister, yet she had a frailer look than you, and we found upon questioning that she had little chance to live unless she could have an operation and special treat ment, which your parents were un able to give her. But though neither of you were candidates for adoption, yet I had set my heart upon you. After seeing you, all the other babies looked common to me. So, my husband set about it to see what he could do. He discovered that your father was not strong and needed to get away to the country | Where he could have light work and be out of doors. My husband finally j put it up to your mother, while she ( was still in the hospital, that she j should give her consent to our adopt- j ing you, Mr. Wetherill agreeing to finance the treatment of both your father and little sister. Once, when you were about three months old, your mother wrote me, begging that she might come and see you, but I persuaded her that it would be better for us all if she did not. But then, about a year ago, just as you were graduating from Miss Evans’ School, your mother came to J see me. I really felt very sorry for her. She looked so much like you that I began to feel like a criminal. She wanted to see you. But I would not let her. 1 felt it would be a castrophe for you at your time of life. Your big photo graph taken in your graduating dress was on the desk and I showed it to j her, and finally gave it to her. She went away sobbing and I have never forgotten it. And now that I am about to die, 1 feel that I should leave behind me this information so that you may do what you wish in the matter. Perhaps you will want to do something for your own mother. You will have a fortune, my dear, and you are free to do what you wish with it, of course. So I am giving you your mother’s name and address. Do whatever your heart dictates. Your loving Mother, May D. Wetherill.” Below was an address in an east ern city: Mrs. John Gay, 1465 Aster Street. And below that, in pencil, had been written uncertainly as if with an idea of erasing it: “The name by which they called you was Dorothy.” She bowed her head on the letter and wept. First for the only mother she had known, and then for the mother she had not known. How piti ful it all seemed! So many little bab ies in the world without homes, and yet she should have been loved so intensely by two mothers! The suddenly a thrill came to her heart. But they were her very own, whatever they were! How wonder ful that would be! And her mother had wanted her, enough to come a long distance to see her! That night she could not sleep and lay staring about in the darkness of her room—the rooom that Mrs. Wetherill had made so beautiful for her—realizing how safe and sweet and quiet it all was here, and how many complications there might be if she broke the long silence between herself and her own family. Yet the longing in her heart increased, to see them, even to find out the worse pos sible about them, just to have them for her own. Not to be alone in the great world. There was a sister, too, and how wonderful it would be to have a sis ter! She had always wished for a sister. Or—perhaps the sister had not lived after all! Suddenly Marjorie buried her face in her pillow and wept. The morning mail brought two in vitations to spend Christmas week with friends. Christmas was only ten days off and it loomed large and gloorpy. The thought of Christmas without the only mother she had ever known seemed intolerable. But when she reasoned that per haps forgetting was best for the pre sent, and tried to decide which in vitation she should accept, she rea lized that she didn’t feel like going to either place. She was still in her unsettled state of mind when evening came, and Evan Brower arrived to call upon her. , The Browers were one of the best old families, and among the closest friends of the Wetherills. Evan Brower was three or four years old er than Marjorie, and though she had known him practically all her life, it had not been until the last year that he had paid her much at tention. “You are looking tired and white!” he said scrutinizing her face sharply. “You need a change, and I’ve come to offer one. Mother wants you to come over and stay a couple of weeks with her. She thought you might like to help her get ready for the family gathering at Christmas time. It will take your mind off your lone liness.” Marjorie’s heart sank. Here was the question again! And a family gath ering! The hardest kind of a thing to go through, with this thought of her own unknown family in the back of her mind. “Oh, that is dear of your mother, Evan!” she said. “I do appreciate it a lot, and some other time I’d love to come, but just now I don’t feel I could.” He settled down comfortably to combat her, just as if he had expect ed to have to do so. “You’re very kind!” said Marjorie with troubled gaze, but more and more certain that she wasn’t going to accept. Then suddenly she lifted frank eyes to his: “You see, Evan, there’s something I have to do first before I can go anvwhere and begin life again.” “Something you have to do? What do you mean?” He turned puzzled dominating eyes upon her. WOMEN! read how thousands have been able to GET NEW ENERGY IMPORTANT Medical Tests Reveal WHY Famous Lydia E. Pinkham'e Vaeetatle Com pound Has Been Helping Weak, Rundown, Nervous Women For Over Half A Century! 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You-ve always known that, haven’t you, Evan?” “Why—yes, of course, but what has that to do with it?” They were sitting on the deep couch, Marjorie at one end, Evan near the other, but now he leaned across with a comforting manner and looked into her eyes- “It’s my family. My own family, I mean. They are my own people, Evan!” “Nonsense! Nothing of the kind!” said Evan lifting his well-modeled chin haughtily. “You are no more connected with them than I am. They gave you up! I should think you would never want to see or hear of them!” Somthing in the harshness of his tone made Marjorie give a little shiver and draw her hand quietly away from under his. “I don’t feel that way, Evan!” she said gently, marveling that after her hours of doubt she suddenly felt clear in her mind about the matter. “You don’t know all about it, or you would not say that either, I’m quite sure. Mother left a letter telling me about my people and suggesting that I might want to hunt them up and see if there was anything I could do for them.” “And I still say, ‘Let sleeping dogs lie’,” said Evan coldly. And then he laid his hand once more on hers in a possessive way as if he owned her. “They never cared anything for you or they wouldn’t have sold you in the first place. And now you are a being of another world than theirs and they have no right to intrude in to your life and try to get your prop erty away from you! I insist—!” Marjorie drew her hand decidedly away from under his again and stood up, her own chin lifted defiantly, her eyes bright and indignant. “Evan! You must not talk that way! You simply don’t understand at all.” “But, darling, be reasonable!” said Evan softening his voice. Marjorie didn’ even notice he had called her darling. It was such a common phrase of the day, and Evan was a very close friend. But his voice was less aggressive now, more gentle. He got up and stood beside her, taking her hands in his and drawing her nearer to him. “Listen, little girl! If you are really serious about this thing, of course it will have to be in vestigated. I still think it would be better not, but if you have set your conscience to it, I beg you will let me do the investigating for you. ,1 am a lawyer.' I know how to protect your interests, and I will do whatever you want done conscientiously. I am sure you can trust me, Marjorie. I love you, don’t you know it, little girl?" She looked up at him startled. It was the first time he had ever spoken of love. He had just been a good friend, somewhat as she supposed a brother might be, only more polite than some brothers. She drew back and tried gently to take her hands away from his clasp, but he held them firmly and drew her closer. “Dear little girl!” he said suddenly, putting his face down and laying his cheek against hers, seeking her lips with his own and pressing a kiss upon them. For an instant she yielded herself to that embrace, her lips to that kiss; I but only an instant so brief it might | scarcely have been recognized by the j man as yielding. For suddenly she sprang away, and put out her hands I in protest. “No, please, not now! I can’t think j of such things now! He snatched at her hands again, trying to draw her back quietly to his I embrace. “Poor child!” he said stooping and kissing her fingers gently. “Don’t you realize tnat this is where you belong, in my arms? Don’t you love me?” “I don’t know!” said Marjorie turn ing unhappy eyes away from him. “I haven’t ever thought of you in this way. And my heart is full of so many other things now.” And he suddenly drew her close again and pressed hot kisses on her lips. But now she sprang away again, covering her face with her hands. “No! No!” she cried out. “I will not let you # kiss me until I am sure, and I am not now! Please, won’t you go away and let me think? My mind is so tired and all mixed up!” “Poor child!” he said gently. “I am sorry if I have seemed to hurry you. I only wanted to show you that I am your natural protector. But I am willing to wait, to go slow, till your sorrow is not so sharp. I only ask one thing of you and that is that you will not make any move in this matter of your family till you have t?!!:ed it over with me again. That veu will think it over, and it any thing has to be done you will let me 1 har.dle it for you. Will you promise?” Marjorie was still for several sec- | ends, looking down gt her hands clasp ed tightly before her, then she said (slowly, seiiouslv: “I will promise to think over what yon said. Everything that you have said.” (To Be Continued) TWO SIDES TO EVERY QUESTION By Lytle Hull The splendid address of our Presi dent on September third, creates a standard upon which we the People should unfalteringly pattern our con duct. With the principles he voiced no American can find fault, for to a real American the security of this country has now become the out standing consideration. There is no doubt about how Americans feel as regards to im mediate responsibility for the Euro pean catastrophe. The most chari table thing which can be said is that the man has lost his mind who would plunge his own and other’s countries into this inconceivable dis aster. There is no incentive strong enough to justify such an act. There is no question which cannot be settled by peaceful means and there were still innumerable peaceful openings thru which, with patience, Hitler could possibly have satisfied any just de mands. This possibility should have precluded even the slightest idea of forcing Europe into war. The United States however, was in no way responsible for any act, intrigue, historical reason, selfish reason, international purpose or po litical manoeuvering which may have been the cause of bringing on this strictly European conflict. To the publics knowledge, the United States was not consulted by either side of the controversy, upon any single one of the political moves which culminated in war. The United States, through its President, performed every possible act, within its province as an interested but out side party, to persuade the German leader to settle his differences at the council table. There is no doubt but that our government will continue to seek every opportunity to ameliorate the agony in Europe which is certain to continue while this war lasts—and for a long time thereafter. In its capacity as the most powerful neu tral factor on earth the United States may very conceivably be the means, if the opportune moment arrives, of bringing about the cessation of hos- tilties long before they would other wise terminate, and it would seem al most certain that this country will have vast influence in welding the terms of a sensible and unselfish peace. Even beyond all this, however, is the duty which we owe humanity to maintain ourselves as the watch dog and the last bulwark against the terrible eventualities which this war may provoke Those danger* are known to all. They consist rtiore in ideological conquests than in military conquests. If Europe is enslaved it will be the slavery of an “Ism” not of some military dictator. If Germany should win this war, it would doubtless force the Allies to pay heavily but it would not put chains on their ankles. If the Allies win, it will be Germany which must pay. But on a limb of patience sits a great bird of prey awaiting its hu man banquet. Its name is Anarchy. It is from the talons of this ugly bird that America MUST be in a position to save Europe, and there is one way to accomplish this — KEEP OUT OF WAR — AND BUILD UP A NAVY, AIR FORCE AND AN ARMY WHICH CAN, IF NEED BE, DICTATE TERMS TO ANY NATION OR COMBINATION OF NATIONS OR ISMS ON EARTH “Terror” seems to be the order of the day—let us build a giant which even “terror” will respect. The magnificent speech of our President tells us in simple terms how we can keep out of this war:— “. . . maintain as a national policy the fundamental moralities, the teachings of religion and the contin uation of efforts to restore peace — for some day, though the time may be distant, we can be of even greater help to a crippled humanity.” “. . . it is of the highest importance that the press and radio use the ut most caution to discriminate between actual verified fact on the one hand and mere rumor on the other.” “Let no man or woman thought lessly or falsely talk of America sending its armies to European fields.” “I trust that in the days to come our neutrality can be made a true neutrality.” “It is of the utmost importance that the people of this country, with the best information in the world, think things thraugh. The most dangerous enemies of American peace are tho=e who, without well-rounded information on the whole broad sub ject of the past, the present and the future, undertake to speak with authority, to talk in terms of glit tering generalities, to give to the na tion assurances and pronhecies which are of little present or future value.” “. . . no American has the moral right to profiteer at the expense either of his fellovij citizens or of the men, women and children who are living and dying in the midst of war in Europe.” “We have certain ideas and ideals of national safety and we must act to preserve that safety today and to preserve the safety of our children in future years.” “We seek to keep war from our ‘■’resides by keeping war from com ing to the Americas.’’ HOES oundl HOM E Author of Sl»t«t M»rT*» Kitchen October’s nut brown days are just around the comer, so it behooves the gardener who wants to plant peonies this fall to order his stock now. There are dozens of varieties in white, pink, and red, as well as double and single blossoms. The Mrs. Livingston Farrand is considered the most outstanding pink peony by many authorities. This is one of the extra fine new peonies that is high up in the price range. Other pinks that are of the first rank are Blanche Ring, Diadem, Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt, Mrs. W. L. Gumm, Walter Lindgren and West- hill. Splendid, pure reds are Blazing Star, Dearborn, Dixie, and half a dozen others. Prepare the soil several days or a week before you pian to plant the roots. Enrich with old manure, dig ging it in at least two feet deep, and mixing well. While you must make a deep bed for peonies, be sure not to plant the roots deep.. The “eyes” or buds on the crown should be two or three inches below ground level, with the roots going straight down into the well-pulverized soil. Roots mustn’t come in contact with the plant food or fertilizer, so put your plant food in the first six inches of soil in the bottom of the hole. Peonies like a well drained spot with plenty of light and air and room. Partial shade is desirable be cause the delicate colors of the blooms fade if exposed to the full sun all day. Also they very definitely re sent being planted where others have grown before. They prefer and de mand fresh settings. * * * Inside the house we’ll be putting up winter draperies and getting out the woolens. If you’re planning to re-drape the windows this fall, be sure to have plenty of fullness in the draperies so that they may hang in graceful folds. By the way, don’t hesitate to say “draperies,” when that is what you mean. The word “drape” is a verb and should not be used as a noun. An important point to watch in the selection of your draperies is the ma-- terial. Be sure that it harmonizes in color, texture, and “feeling” with the other articles in the room. Damask or velvet draperies would be most uncomfortable with sturdy maple furniture and hooked rugs. * * « An occasional coat of wax applied to the polished surfaces of your fur niture will make the daily dusting an easy matter. Wax seals the pores of the wood, enhances and preserves the grain and develops a hard, dry finisih. FE£e KIDNEY WEAKNESS "Tt’fai'ls REVIEW o/NEW BOOKS PAUL B. CLARK, PH. D. 1735 Woodbum Ave. Covington, Ky. SUFFERING HUMAN AND DI VINE. By H. Wheeler Robinson. The Macmillan Co., New York. Pp. xx-230. Price $2.00. This book is the latest book in the “Great Issues if Life Series.” It has a most commendable Introduction by the Editor of the series, Dr. Rufus M. Jones, one of the truly brilliant thinkers of America on philosophical subjects. In proof of this giant in tellect is the selection he made to write the most difficult book of the series, a book he well could have written himself in just such a master ful way. He chose, however, the Principal of Regent’s Park College, Oxford, England, H. Wheeler Robin son. The book is evidence that Dr. ' Jones made no mistake in his choice. The public does not know that the problem of this book is the most try ing problem that the human mind has to face until it reflects a little and discovers that mental suffering is more devastating than is bodily suffering. And the problems loom large when one begins to think in cosmic and metaphysical terms and tries to fathom the fact and the mean ing of pain and suffering. There is not a major phase of the issue that Dr. Robinson leaves untouched. The colossal point in the volume is his constructive Christian view that does not leave one stranded in a dualism. 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