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Show 1 -MMsl I ! 1 f mi; -m I I fS' LEH1, UTA" L J- n Zr I t a ri wk "1 1 :r I I wwZr THE Crochet Table Cloth Of Peacock Plumes 3? Pattern 6757. HEGINNERS, make an impres-sion impres-sion with your handiwork I This medallion, Peacock Plumes, so easy to crochet, will make you as proud as the peacocks who inspired in-spired it. Pattern 6757 contains instructions for making medallions; illustration o( them and stitches; photograph of medallions; materials needed. Send order to: Sewing Circle Needlecraft Dept. S2 Eights Ave. New York Enclose IS cents In coins for Pattern Pat-tern No Nam Address How To Relieve Bronchitis Creomulslon relieves promptly because be-cause It goes right to the seat of the trouble to help loosen and expel germ laden phlegm, and aid nature to soothe and heal raw, tender, inflamed in-flamed bronchial mucous membranes. mem-branes. Tell your druggist to sell you a bottle of Creomulslon with the understanding un-derstanding you must like the way It quickly allays the coucrh or you are to have your money back. CREOMULSION for Coughs, Chest Colds, Bronchitis Certain Wealth Not to be avaricious is money; not to be fond of buying is a revenue; rev-enue; but to be content with our own is the greatest and most certain cer-tain wealth of all. Cicero. Read This Important Message! Do yon dread those "trying years" (88 to 62)7 Are you getting moody, cranky and NERVOUS! Do you fear hot flaahee, weakening weak-ening dizzy spells? Are you jealous of attentions atten-tions other women getf THEN LISTEN These symptom often result from female functional disorders. So start today and take famous Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound. Com-pound. For over 60 years Pinkham's Compound Com-pound has helped hundreds of thousands of Srateful women to go "smiling thru" diilloult ays. Pinkham's has helped calm unstrung serves and lessen annoying female functional func-tional "irregularities." One of the tnott tjffno-tit tjffno-tit "woman's" tonics. Try ill To Forgive Only the brave know how to forgive. for-give. A coward never forgave; it is not in his nature. Laurence Sterne. "FOR TWENTY YEARS I've found ADLERIKA satisfactory." satisfac-tory." (H. B.-Mich.) When bloated with gas, annoyed by bad breath or sour stomach, due to delayed bowel action, try ADLERIKA for QUICK relief. Get it TODAY. AT YOUR DRUG STORE Cipher-Key How much lies in laughter; the AW cipher-key, wherewith we de cipher the whole man. Carlyle west J-Lll. ' K2H2X,I fixers GESSSIaB TEACHING A CHILD VALUE OF PENNIES A child of a wise mother will be taught from early childhood to become be-come a regular reader of the advertisements. adver-tisements. Inlhat way better perhaps than in anyother can the child be taught the greatvalue of pennies and the permanent benefit which cornea from making every penny count. S3 1 s rs SYNOPSIS When Virgls Morgan, widow, and owner own-er of the Morgan paper mill In the Carolina Caro-lina mountain district, turns down marriage mar-riage proposal from Wallace Withers, he leaves her house In a rage. Virgie turns him down because she believes he Is more interested in possession of her mill than In obtaining a wife. After he has gone, Branford Wills, a young stran ger. who has been lout on lhe mountain' side for three days, finds nis way to the Morgan home. Taken in, he la fed and warmed and allowed to remain over night. Next morning It Is learned that Wills, a government employee who has been wonting with surveyors in the ais trict, has developed pneumonia, due to his exposure. He is forced to remain In the household and Marian Morgan, Virgie's daughter, expresses her dislike with the arrangement for she dislikes Wills. CHAPTER II Continued As Virgie went through the gate her swift eye measured every sign and sound, every spouting feather of steam, every odor. The mill was roaring on roaring on without her. Tom was anxious. Virgie felt better bet-ter when she saw his gaunt face. At least Tom had missed her. She spent a half-hour telephoning, then was properly indignant. "Those government men went along back to Washington. Bridges says they said something about waiting wait-ing for this young Wills, then they decided that probably he'd caught a ride down the mountain. This is a crazy country! If you catch a six-inch six-inch fish out of a creek up there in the forest a ranger will chase you a mile but a man with brains and potentialities can go to waste anywhere any-where and nobody bothers about it!" But Tom was not worrying about young Mr. Wills, A government man more or less could be lost in the laurel hells Indefinitely without loss to the Morgan mill. Tom had other things on his mind. "Old man Perry Bennett come In." Tom pushed off his wide hat, worried his forelock. "He says he reckons he won't sell you that piece up Tuckaseegee. He says he got a better offer on it" Virgie's mind stiffened to attention. atten-tion. "Who'd buy that cutover piece and what for?" "Champion maybe." "Champion have got all they want And even with the Government taking tak-ing their best acreage, they wouldn't bother with a little thickety piece like old Bennett's. Tom, I think I see a few things you don't know about You let me handle this." "I ain't itchin to handle Perry Bennett" Virgie remembered presently to pull off her hat and spike it on the hook on the door. The telephone purred. Marian's voice came, thin, with an edge of fright on it. "Mother, it is pneumonia!" "Keep your head on." counseled her mother, dryly. "Open the window win-dow and keep the fire going. I'll get Ada Clark out there in a little." She hung up. "Where's Lucy?" she demanded. The chair, the little desk, the covered cov-ered typewriter on the other side of the office were vacant So was the prim little wooden costumer in the corner where every morning Lucy Lu-cy Fields, Virgie's secretary, hung up her green wool coat her small black hat Tom pulled out his ponderous watch. "It ain't but four minutes after eight" "My lord," muttered Virgie wearily, wea-rily, "I thought it was most noon." Lucy came in, on time to the minute, min-ute, taking off her overshoes, setting set-ting them neatly In the corner. Lucy Fields was another of those who comforted Virgie Morgan. Lucy's Lu-cy's quiet hazel eyes, her husky voice and smooth hair, gave an air of calm to the cluttered bedlam of the office. Lucy had gone to high school with Marian, but when Mar-Ian Mar-Ian was setting out for college with two. trunks full of clothes, and a little lit-tle roadster of her own, Lucy was learning Gregg and swift assured ways of knowing exactly which way a lost car of potash might be routed. Lucy's mother made watermelon-rind watermelon-rind pickles and tufted counterpanes for tourists. In good weather the counterpanes hung on clothes-lines on the porch of the Fields' cottage, facing the highway. Marian was sorry occasionally for Lucy, inviting her out to supper, suavely overlooking Lucy's made-over made-over frocks, her half-soled shoes. But when there were young men at the house on the mountain, with dancing and gaiety, Lucy was not Invited. "She blushes so. She squirms, actually!" ac-tually!" Marian justified this omis sion. "For a girl with the poise she has around the plant to let the boys rattle her so and make her tongue-tied, tongue-tied, is silly but that's the way Lucy is!" There were things about Lucy that Virgie was sure she knew. Prim little secrets that Lucy's quiet eyes hid. Still maids who fed on dreams, with no satin or moonlight or rose petals with which to wrap the timid bones of dreams, suffered. Virgie knew. She had been a tongue-tied, tormented girl in hand-me-downs, herself. She sent Lucy out into the mill for the chemical report. She'll have a good day and ev ery word will be spelled right if she sees Stanley Daniels first" she told Tom Pruitt There is something sudden, some thing intrepid and challenging about a mountain town. iawkin BY HELEN TOPPING MILLER A settlement gathered together on the plain marks the place where men paused, where they delayed and rested. But a town under a scarp, with foothold on the iron, hostile hos-tile knees of the ranges, with quarreling quar-reling streams gashing a roadway past the heart-straining rise of a ridge for a barbican, has something valorous about It; cocky, self-contained, a little defiant Stanley Daniels, chemist for the Morgan mill, lean and thirty, out of the University of Missouri, with young intolerance and the unbearable unbear-able sting and surge of young ambition ambi-tion in his blood, felt and resented this cool remoteness of the mountain moun-tain town clustered about the mill. He was In it and of it he was of hill stock from the Ozark country, yet this little town had never let him in. He lived at a rambling green house facing the main highway high-way and the railroad; a house needing need-ing paint with a vast asparagus fern on the porch and a row of stiff, Indifferent chairs around the wall of the parlor, with five kinds of meat set out in the long dining-room and the linen not always clean. The landlady, a Mrs. Gill, mothered moth-ered him, washed his socks for him, her face screwed up at the terrible rr5 Stanley Daniels was pleased by Lucy. chemical odors he brought in with him. Her other boarders, widowers torn up by the roots, judges and law yers in court week, odds and ends of detached humanity, were pleas ant enough to him. He was a young man in the quiet backwater of old lives drifted to gether. He let the elders admire his youth and take the winds of life, as they blow for youth, vicariously in their faces through him, but he never felt that he belonged. He was a bird alight, he was a hawk in the wind, something alive briefly, caught in the slow motion of a mountain mill village; sooner or later he would be caught up in a stronger current But while this hiatus in his life lasted he would ease it by such gracious means as came to his hand. And the most gracious of these gifts was Lucy Fields. Lucy was tuned deep. She had quiet splendors. She read a great deal and thought a great deal and she was as foreign to her thin, leather-skinned little mother, who wore asafetida around her neck all winter, as the moon is foreign to a barnyard lantern. Lucy still ached a little because she had not been able to go to college. col-lege. She winced when her mother said "over yan," or cleaned her dry fingernails with the scissors. She worked hard and believed that Virgie Vir-gie Morgan was the finest woman in the world. Stanley Daniels was pleased by Lucy, warmed by her admiration, sensed the fine gold under the quiet shyness, generously let her go on incubating in-cubating little dreams about him while he waited, cannily, committing commit-ting himself to nothing, waiting for whatever more splendid offering life might be saving for him. When the whistle moaned at five o'clock he waited for her. She was always conscientiously a little late, She dabbed about dusted, licked stamps, hated hurrying out of the office. of-fice. Usually Virgie or Tom had to shoo her out "Get along home, Lucy your beau won't wait out there all night in this raw weather." The wind dragged ai Lucy's skirt and made her thin silk hose feel like coatings of ice on her legs as she went down the cinder road to the gate. But at the sight of Stanley Daniels, hunched in a sheltered spot, warmth flooded her body, sang In her blood, made her cheeks burn and her eyes grow bright "Oh, hello!" The wind caught at her voice but could not chill the shine of her eyes. "Were you waiting wait-ing for me? You must be absolutely stiff. Let's walk fast" Daniels fell briskly into step. "Is this the best you can do in Carolina this kind of weather? What about all those songs moonlight and fields of white, trees in bloom, sweet perfumeall per-fumeall that stuff?" "Oh, that's for summer. Fall isn't very nice, anywhere not late fall anyway." the w mm m.m ww- - Ti i tv sb m gar m -m m i w mm. ' s sssa 0. APPLlTOlKtNMY CO. W-N-U-oerYii-c They were at the gate of Daniels' Dan-iels' shabby boarding-house. Lucy s home was at the end of a little street farther on. A scrap of a street that ran headlong Into the mountain and stopped. They stood for a moment and Lucy's wrists tingled. Would he walk home with her? He never had yet-Obviously yet-Obviously he was not going on. He tipped his hat, set it more firmly on his head, said with a smile, "Better "Bet-ter hurry in out of this wind." Lucy struggled with her disappointment disap-pointment walked home rapidly, certain what she would find there. A stuffy, too-warm room, littered with threads and snips of cotton, dull lamplight a smell of frying or the blatant offense of cabbage. But In her own bleak, frigid bedroom bed-room with the few dance programs and wistful souvenirs pinned to the window curtains, she let rebellion tear at her. Life was so unfair. Up there, high on the mountain where lights winked briefly, was Marian Morgan, who had everything, held it all casually as though it were her due! Stanley Daniels scrubbed the yellowish yel-lowish stains from his fingers, brushed his hair flat, buttoned his coat and went down to Mrs. Gill's dining-room. There was a caramel fragrance, sharp and tangy. Her pies had run over in the oven again. "Mock cherry." she bragged, complacently, "and If you can tell the difference, you're the first! Looks like winter was here, don't it? And ain't it awful about that young feller up at Morgans'?" "Is he worse?" Daniels inquired, indifferently. "I ain't heard if he is. But it's terrible to think what might 'a happened hap-pened to him out there in them mountains. I put you a place here, Mr. Daniels, because one of my neighbors has decided to come in and eat with us. This is Mr. Wallace Wal-lace Withers, Mr. Daniels. Mr. Daniels Dan-iels works at the mill." "How do you do, Mr. Withers?" Stanley Daniels regarded the stranger strang-er on his left saw only a well-knit, aging man with a weather-tinted face, narrow nostrils, and eyes that revealed nothing. "Lived here long, Mr. Withers?" Daniels asked, again, after a little interval of gustatory silence. "Born here." Withers was terse. "Born in the house where I live now. My father was born there." "They built it of good heart timber tim-ber then. No wood like that available avail-able any more, at any price," Daniels Dan-iels said. "The men that built it were heart timber, too." Withers spooned sug ar. "No scamp work on that building, build-ing, like you see nowadays. Say you work for Virgie Morgan?" "I'm a chemist over there yes, sir." "Ain't rushed to death these days, I reckon?" "Not rushed particularly, but business busi-ness holds up very well. Mrs. Morgan Mor-gan has managed to hold her markets." mar-kets." "Making any money, you think?" Stanley Daniels was young. Flat tered a little by the attention of this old man, he let himself expand a trifle. The mill, in his opinion, was holding its own, but not making the profits that it should. Mrs. Morgan was proud, but too conservative, keeping to old traditions, making a product too good and too expensive for the bulk of her trade. "You're a pretty shrewd young feller, I see. Own any stock over there?" asked Withers. "No, sir I don't think they are selling any." "If a forward-looking young chap like you owned a piece of it a good voting block it might be a good thing, you think? Get new blood in catch up with these modern mod-ern notions." T think" Daniels considered the question soberly "that it would be a good thing. Good for the mill and for Mrs. Morgan herself." "Well, young man, 1 enjoyed talking talk-ing to you. Not many young fellers talk common sense any more. Know where I live? Brick house out the river road, toward the reservation. Come out and talk to me some rainy evening. I'm always figuring on one thing or another I like to talk to a business man, especially a young one. We might Eet toeether on something, maybe." "Thank you. I'd be glad to come." CHAPTER III Back in the Morgan house Marian Morgan sat in Branford Wills' room watching him. Ada Clark was having her supper and Marian was on duty and annoyed an-noyed with the vigil. Illness frightened fright-ened her, and this young man had displeased her. She was not of the type to forgive easily. She sat on the edge of her chair, ready to escape es-cape as soon as possible. Branford Wills had trouble with his perceptions They were febrile and wild, they told him fantastic lies. This girl was not there, of course. He said, in a voice made dry and strange by fever, "You aren't real, of course. I'm sick as the deuce." She came nearer. Delusions did not wear red wool, did not have fingers cool as lilies. "A little ice on your tongue?" That was real 'It's nrettv bad I know. I had it once. You'll feel rotten for two or three days, then a lot of terrible pain. They giv you whisky and quinine and you're better." bet-ter." "This is disagreeable for you. You don't like me." "That doesn't matter." She put more ice in his mouth. "I get furious furi-ous when people pick on mother. This whole country would have been destitute during these bad times If she hadn't been the shrewdest manager man-ager In the world." He had, so Marian noted, absurdly absurd-ly slender, graceful hands. One nail was broken, it snagged the blanket Marian brought the scissors. "Hold still till I fix this." The twitching heat in his fingers disturbed her. She brought a cool cloth and sponged his palms and the backs of his hands where the tendons stood up and thin, dark hair grew. She felt queerly motherly and tender as she covered the hands with a blanket. For a year she had laughed at men, evaded them, taken what they had to offer dances, new cars to ride in, flowers, candy but so far the men had all been alike. One careless word, one relaxed moment the guard down for an instant, and they were all alike. Country boys with too much blood in their veins. But this man did not grip her fingers hard nor look meaningly up into her eyes. He whispered, "Thank you," when Marian straightened the pillow, and her heart gave a curious jerk. When Ada Clark came back, Marian Mar-ian went downstairs and wandered aimlessly through the rooms. The windows were dark and beyond the black glass the mountain night was cold and lonely, but the dark loneliness lone-liness suited her mood. Was this falling in love? She stiffened against that thought Love was weakness, love was surrender and she was of the blood of David Morgan, who had "Mrs. Morgan was too conservative." tolerated no weakness and never known the meaning of surrender. Bry Hutton telephoned and she answered him curtly, while Lossie stared and listened from the kitchen. kitch-en. No, she said, she didn't want to go out No, she wasn't mad about anything. She was just not interested. inter-ested. Virgie Morgan drove up the mountain moun-tain road toward Hazel Fork on a foggy winter morning. The road was narrow and rutted with outcropping out-cropping boulders that raked the crank-case of the old truck. Stumps banged the hubcaps on either side. Frost oozed from the ground, making mak-ing a gravy-like sludge over the still-frozen iron of the mountain slope. She drove slowly and alone. Her booted toe prodded the grunting old engine. She wore riding trousers and a leather coat left open at the throat The truck overheated on the stiff grade and she waited for the engine to cool, getting down and trampling the grass, counting the spruce seedlings seed-lings that were near at hand. Then behind her on the twisting one-way road, she heard the labored piston-slaps of another straining motor. "Somebody's lost" she said aloud, trampling on her starter. The truck jangled as the other car came up behind and stopped with a choked gurgle. black car, heavy and expensive, ex-pensive, with two strange men in it Virgie pulled out of the ruts, her old engine walloping, got out and walked back. "You've missed your road," she said. "This is nothing but a woods trail. You'll have trouble with that heavy car if you try to go any further." fur-ther." "We're looking for a piece of land formerly owned by a man named Pruitt" the taller of the pair said. They were city men of a type Virgie Vir-gie Morgan knew well. All one tint of gray, close-shaven, milled like dollars, the cautious click of shrewd finance in their voices. "Tom's land is on the other side of the ridge." Virgie told them. "You'll have to walk three-quarters of a mile. Do you belong to that Phillips' outfit? They defaulted on rvming tney bought in this coun-CTOBt coun-CTOBt CO.7l. 11 ? PI hotels . ' nil s3l3 Cub Reporter's Notes: nappy War Item: He was a top dance director In Hollywood. Taught Shirley Temple, Alice Faye and many others bow to hoof . . . She was a "name" in Europe, once wedded wed-ded to the Ziegfeld of Norway and Sweden . . . She came to Hollywood and her first film was a flop foolish story, shoddy direction, etc. . . . She returned to The Old Country . . . The Hollywood dance director followed fol-lowed ... He became a big hit In the London night club sector with his own joynt . . . They were married. mar-ried. Such happiness! . . . Then Came The War . . . They fled to her home In Oslo ... The bombers followed . . . And dropped their eggs close enough to let them feel the splinters . . . They took their children (one by the ex-husband) and sought refuge all over Europe . . . They finally landed In the USA ... Old friends never forget . . . Money gone, London night club and home in Oslo lost Buddy DeSylva gave Jack Donahue a role in "Panama "Pan-ama Hattie" . . . The girl is the beautiful Tutta Rolfe. Douglas Leigh, the Broadway electrick-sign-magnate (his newest Is the Wilson sign at 46th Street for the White-Lowell firm) tells this about Capt White . . . About a decade ago White and a handful of men were pioneering the African Airways, and one of their group (a famed war ace and stunt flier) attempted at-tempted a dangerous hop from Eastern East-ern Africa to Central Europe . . . When no word came, White assigned one of his men, a British aviator, to search for the missing pilot . . . Risking his life in the uncharted skies, the British birdman finally spotted the wreck en a tiny isle, radioed for help and rescued the disabled flier from his doom . . . Ten years later, the life which was saved by a British Royal Air Force plane was to dedicate itself to the death of Britain . . . The man the Englishman rescued was Captain Udet Germany's star stunt man, who is in charge of invading parachutists. para-chutists. Several years ago, when F.D.R. summoned the big business men to the White House (to discuss improving improv-ing conditions), one of them was Wendell Willkie. Jimmy Roosevelt who was his father's secretary at the time, was a friend of Willkie' s and took him in to meet F.D.R. They weren't together two minutes when they got into . a furious argument Afterwards, as he was leaving, Willkie Will-kie said to Jimmy: "Your father has a terrific personality, but what a stubborn man!" ... A moment later the President called Jimmy into his office and said: "Your friend, Willkie, has a terrific personality, per-sonality, but he certainly is stubborn!" stub-born!" Mae Keith-Johnson, wife of Colin Keith-Johnson, the actor who first attracted attention in America with his werk in "Journey's End," has two sons now fighting in England. After the surrender of Paris, she wrote a depressing letter to them. They replied: "We can't understand why you're so depressed about France giving in ... We in England aren't at all. We tell the story about the optimist and the pessimist The pessimist said: 'God, isn't this awful? First Czecho-Slovakia, then Poland, Norway, Nor-way, Holland, Belgium, and now France.' The optimist said: That's wonderful we're in the finals!' " New Yorker's Are Talking About: The director's wife on the Bundles For. Britain Committee, whe also sends shaving cream (difficult to get abroad) to an Italian Count in Rome . . . The fact that Betty Hut-ton Hut-ton is still unattached, and not a secret bride as rumored . . . The new Crossley system of checking radio listeners. They phone every two hours, instead of four times a iay. Hendrik Van Loon's new book "Invasion," "In-vasion," in which he Actionizes about people you know by name being knocked off by invading Nazis in I960 ... An exciting hunk of make-believe . . . But is it fiction? . . . The spiritual seances in town being organized as another way to spread Hitlerism. Number One devotee dev-otee ' a lady author whose husband hus-band puts up bail for local Quislings, et al . . . The packed houses at Chaplin's "The Great Dictator." Apparently Ap-parently not everybody believes what they read in the papers . . . The swell description of a boy brat in "G. Washington Slept Here" "Huckleberry Capone" . . . Nun-nally Nun-nally Johnson's hilarious satir-iclowning satir-iclowning in his Monday col'm. They're Also Talking About: Mark Hellinger's visit to Broadway Broad-way after almost three years in Movietown and his argument that "nothing has changed" . . . Except his girlish figger . . . The way Chaplin feels about his marital statusindifferent sta-tusindifferent . . . And that he didn't want any troublesome publicity pub-licity that might interfere with his picture . . . The ouch reviews on The Ballet Rusje de Monte Carlo, which the Trib rnusicritic called "a musical bore" 1. What does Old t to a Londoner? Eaile7 ea, 3.Whatls.tdCC 6. In ancient time. whT' worshiped Apis, th9 S$&k 6 How manyXJ claimed the discfW?.1 prior to the voyage of ?!? 7. 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