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iwolkevs to a cabin BY L I I) A LA R R I M O R E t MACKAE SMITH CO WN'J SERVICE SYNOPSIS Charming. wealthy GabrlcII* \Gay for short) Graham. rnjcaKfd to Todd Jaiieway. returni to a cabin in the Maine v. :*>ds ac companied by a friend. Kate Oliver. The idea of a stay at the cabin occurred to her WlMII she motlvtd a key to It folkyWtnC the death of her godfather. Uncle John Law rence The two girls notice that someone !? llvin* In the cabin. Kate -suspects tnat (Jmy knows the Identity of the mysterious occupant. The mystery mar. returns He is John Houghton, a young doctor whom Clay had known in previous years. Immediately aggressive. Gay asks him by a hat right he ta In the cabin. His right, she finds. Is greater than her own He. too. possesses a key. but more than that. Is heir to It from hla Uncle John. Clay's godfather Gay la high haaded with him. and he states courteously that he will leave CHAPTER II? Continued "I had no thought of finding you. John." said Cay. "I know that." He had, she thought, interpreted her statement a* m re'uuil. ine smile vmiumiim "I'm sorry to be a? complication." He was a complication. He had been a complication since the night they'd driven together through Cen tral Park, before that, even, since the summer here at the lake. She realized, now, how largely he'd been responsible for her dissatisfaction, her restlessness, her uncertainty concerning her approaching mar riage to Todd. A complication? That was too unimportant a word. Look ing at John, silent and unapproach able in the doorway, feeling his pres ence here in every tingling nerve, with every racing heartbeat, Gay knew she had found ths answei to troubling questions. He was nec essary to her, had always been, since she was fifteen years old. Todd was not a necessity. It was as sim ple, as hopelessly, frighteningly in volved as that. CHAPTER III He'd have to clear out He'd have to clear out, now, tonight, before he saw her again. John walked, rest less, in long plunging strides, along the rutted clay-shell road. The ex periment was less important than what was certain to happen to him if he remained at the cabin. He'd fought that battle twice before, and he had no intention of exposing him self to the necessity of fighting it again. But wasn't that necessity already upon him? He'd wondered how he would fee! if, by chance, he should meet her again. Chance, assisted by Uncle John, had given him that knowledge. He felt as he'd felt when they parted six years ago. There was something between tnem which time and separation had not altered, more vital than it had been three years, six years ago, because they were more mature, now, more emo tionally aware. Not that he hadn't been emotion ally aware of her that summer she'd spent at the cabin with Uncle John. He should have cleared out then, he told himself a trifle grirMy, in stead of prolonging what he had in tended to be a week-end visit into a stay of three weeks. He should have left before the day she'd turned her ankle walking with him through the woods and he'd carried her to the cabin in his arms. After that nothing could have induced him to leave. He remem bered with a feeling of tenderness for the innocent ardor of their re lationship which resentment could not efface, the week which had fol lowed. He remembered saying good-by to her at the station in Machias, straining for a last glimpse of her face, young and defenseless in the transient grief of parting, tears glittering on her lashes, her wide sweetly curved mouth trem bling in on effort to smile. "I'll see you soon, John," she'd said, clinging to his hand as they stood together in the vestibule of the train. And, sustained by his presence, too much in love with her to reason or question, "Yes, very soon," he'd re plied. But he had not seen her again un til he'd gone with Uncle John to New York for her debutante party. Her mother had taken her abroad that fall after her summer here. She'd written to him at lengthening inter val* during the first year, from Ge neva where she was in school, from various points on the French Rivi era when her vacations permitted opportunities for travel. He'd been relieved when the letters stopped coming, glad that he had been on a canoe trip in Canada when, nearly two years later, the cablegram an nouncing her return to America had arrived, glad, too, though he'd watched the mail for weeks, that she had not answered his forma! note of apology and explanation. It had been easier, then, to close a door in his mind, for reason, dur ing long hours of logical If rebel lious thought, had convinced him that the door must be closed and [ looked and the key thrown away. The key? John turned, realizing that he had reached the village. Why had Uncle John made that gesture? he wondered, walking more slowly bark toward the cabin. He'd known, of course, of th?! yov.ig attachment between himself ar.d Gay. It probably hadn't beer. diffi cult for Uncle John to read his thoughts the morning after the party in New York when he. John, had insisted, stubbornly and not very considerately, that they return to Cambridge at once. And Uncle John loved Gay. He had for her a deeper affection, perhaps, than for anyone in the world except him. But Uncle John should have fore seen, he thought irritably, that noth ing of lasting value could come of that attachment. He was romantic, idealistic, in the way of his genera tint. *it?+ Ka u'nc nm! h?r c?ntim? n?xl nor impractical. He ir.ust have seen that he, John, and Gabriella Gra ham lived in different worlds, that each would be a stranger in the at mosphere familiar to the other. Per haps though, the thought continued, when you were dying, such things as wealth or a lack of it, the differences in viewpoint which wealth engen dered, the distinctions and antago nisms it raised seemed relatively unimportant. Uncle John had known he hadn't long to live when they'd gone to New York. Perhaps during the following weeks, when his grasp on living had loosened, some wis dom had come to him which, by the gesture, he had attempted to com municate to them Perhaps ? But the wisdom which might come with death was, now, of no practical value. He and Gay had. in all probability, a great deal of living to do. Their divergent courses wr re charted, had been de termined, he supposed, long before they met here at the lake. That meeting was accidental and had no influence upon the direction of their separate lives. He was going to Portland to take over Dr. Sargcant's practice for a year in payment for loans which had enabled him to complete his medical course at Har vard. After that, if he could man age to support himself, he was going on with scientific research. There were before him years of work which he loved, of loneliness which he accepted. Gay was '*t marry Todd Janeway ? He had not allowed himself to think of that until now. His thoughts had moved warily, dodging that painful fact. But it must be faced, squarely and honestly. The fact must be accepted and removed from his mind. He'd known, of course, almost as soon as the engagement had been announced. He'd thought he had accepted it. He'd been able, during the summer, to look at cam era poses of Gay and Todd Jane way with interest not too intolerably mixed with pain. There had been a great many of them. It would be an important wedding. Todd Jane way was connected with the pri vate bank in New York of which his father was president. The Janeway estate on the Hudson adjoined "Dunedin," the Graham estate. It was all eminently suitable, he sup posed. He'd met young Janeway at Gay's party and had been im pressed with his friendly manner and blond good lool. i. Oh yes, it was all eminently suitable. Gay's desti ny, determined at her birth, an eventuality which no chance meet ing could niter or efface. The cigarette he had lit and neg lected had burned his fingers. The smart of physical pain routed mem ories, brought him abruptly to his senses. What he'd been thinking was madness. Uncle John had not intended them to have a stolen week together, hidden away in the woods. And he'd been presumptuous in as suming that Gay had any such thought or desire. Besides, there was Miss Oliver ? No, not too presumptuous, revert ing to Gay's possible thought and desire. He'd seen the expression in her eyes when she'd looked at him through the lamplight. There was no sane middle-course of friendship for them. At a word, a gesture, the antagonism which was their safe guard would melt and with more far-reaching consequences, now, perhaps, than in the past, since now they met as a man and a woman and would never meet again. His resolution wavered as he opened the door into the kitchen. Knowing that she was there seemed to give the door she had opened an especial significance. He felt her presence in the atmosphere of the kitchen and more materially in the perfume that filled the air with a fading scent. A light burned in the living-room. He would not go in there. He passed the door with his face averted. And then he heard her voice calling his nam*. He turned, disconcerted, incensed at having his resolution so unexpected ly frustrated, immensely and joy fully relieved. "Hello," he said from the door way. "I thought you were asleep." "I am? almost." She sat curled against heaped cushions in a corner of the couch beside the hearth. She wore a soft white woolen robe fas tened close up around her throat with long sleeves and a cord knot ted about her waist. The light from ths lamp fell upon her loosened mop of red-brown hair, lay warmly against the curve of her cheek. She smiled up at him drowsily, an over ture of friendliness in her long very deep blue eyes. "You should be in bed." He walked to the fireplac* in which a log she had evidently placed there burned above a bed of embers. "Are you warm enough? It's cool here at nitfhi " "It's heavenly. New York has been a blazing furnace." "The papers report a heat wave." He bent over the log on the andiron. "You're being pretty stuffy about this, aren't you?" she asked. making a clattering noise with tha tongs. "It's been really dreadful." "So I've understood." She laughed suddenly, disarming ly. "Must we talk about the weath er?" she asked. He rose to a standing position, stood looking down at her, unable to resist the appeal of her smile. "You suggest a subject," he said. "I'm afraid I lugged in the heat-wave." The smile slowly vanished. "I've been thinking of Uncle Johr," she said. "I was terribly sorry not to have come for his funeral." "It was pretty ghastly. The col lege turned out. You were fortu nate to have escaped it." "But I would have come. I was in Bermuda." "Yes, I know." He walked to the side of the hearth opposite to the couch, rested his elbow on the low stone shelf, stood looking down at her through the smoke of his ciga rette. "You wrote me." "Dad cabled. I couldn't have made it." Her eyes moved slowly, a little sadly around the room. "It'a strange to be here without him." "I've become accustomed to it. I've been here half a dozen times in the past three years." "Kate told me I shouldn't have as sumed that he left me this." Reviv ing humor glinted between her thick dark lashes. "She pointed out a few things I'd overlooked, that there would have been a deed, a transfer of property, tax bills." "Uncle John's estate pays the taxes. There has been a transfer of property. The estate ? there's very little ? is held in trust for my mother during her life-time. At her death it reverts to my sisters and to me." "Then I am? intruding?" she said uncertainly. "The cabin is ? yours?" "Not entirely, apparently. Not for an uncertain number of years." "I've been wondering. That's why I waited up to talk to you. I'm afraid you've been bearing some ex pense which I should have ahared. After all, my option? is that tha word?? should entail responsibility as well as create privilege. Do I owe you anything?" "Certainly not," he said a trifle brusquely. "But the expense of taxes and up keep must cut into your mother's income," she persisted. "There's a special fund for the maintenance of the property." "But that's hardly fair, is itT" she askrrt impulsively. "That fund might bo added to your mother's in come if some other arrangement was made. Why can't I help? If Uncle John intended me to have the privilege of coming here whenever I likp, certainly you shouldn't ob ject to my sharing the expense." "That's quite unnecessary," he said stiflly and saw her expression change. She had, he knew, inter preted the words, the tone of his voice, as a rebuff. And rightly, too, he thought in bitter self-reproach. Her offer had been fair and gen erous. Why couldn't he have ac cepted it in the spirit in which it was made? Presently, with a gesture which expressed some thought completed, some course of action determined, she dropped the fringed end of the cord. As he watched her, still brood ingly silent, she rose from the couch, composed, lovely, remote. "Then I shall be obliged to stay as your guest," she said and walked toward the closed door into the room she was to share with Kate. "You win again. Gay." Strange that it was less difficult to renew iiis resolution now that he realized he'd been a presumptuous fool. Odd that now, when her manner expressed in difference, he was impatient to go. "I won't be here. I'm leaving ? " But flinging off at this hour was un necessarily dramatic and so he add ed, " ? tomorrow." "You're being pretty? stuffy about this, aren't you?" she asked. "Possibly." The knowledge of what he had seen in her face was sustaining. He felt himself relaxing as though, by some agency, a strain had been relieved. '"Worse than that," he continued responding to the humor and the friendliness in her smile. "I'm being, I've been, unpardonably rude." "You have," she agreed cheer fully. "I understand, t'.ough. The shock was, is, mutual. We've nei ther of us behaved very well. Let's not make? decisions tonight." "But my decision is made." He knew that his voice lacked con viction. He saw her smile widen and deepen. She appeared to be satisfied. "Shocks p.re wearing," she said. "I'm going to get some sleep." "You'd better. You look all in." "Thank you. Aren't you afraid you'll turn my head?" She stood smiling back over her shoulder, her hand on the knob of the door. "Good night." "Good-night. Pleasant dreams." "I know I shall have them. Re member. No decisions. We'll draw Kate's straws ? tomorrow." Gay lay on the float in front of the cabin, her face buried in the hollow between her crossed arms. The sun shone warmly on her back and legs and the wind, ruffling her hair, was refreshingly cool. The float moved gently, rocked by waves which scur ried before the wind across the sur face of the lake. The warmth, the gentle motion, the whispering sound of the water, induced a state of drowsy contentment. She found it increasingly difficult to concentrate upon problems and eventualities though that was what she had gone there to do. (TO BE CONTINUED ) Robot Voice Machine Seen a* Speech Aid Sir Richard Paget, inventor of a machine that talks, seems to have confused for a time his inventive genius and his ultimate goal; but out of his works may come in the end an improvement in methods ot human speech. His machine feeds air through a tube to various mouth pieces, and by pressing the bellow? with his foot and placing a thumb before the orifices he makes the ap paratus utter a few simple words All right so far; but it is the hard est way to talk ever demonstrated with success. On the other hand, Sir Richaro philosophizes that, culturally, hu man speech is thousands of years behind the times. Ke notes that speech is the natural result of ges tures of the Tiouth and jaws, capa ble of 144 variations; but that the upper arm, forearm, wrists and fin gers together can make 700,000 ges tures. To complicate speech by sign language would generally annoy all except tourists in a strange land, but the talking machine has a mis sion If Anally perfected. Radio, for example, would be come more popular if all announce ments were broadcast by a robot voice. All would sound alike; no peculiar hates would be attached to voices under general classifications of silly, raucous, nasal, flippant, guttural or atomachic. Elimination of vocal personality cannot be at tained by transcription but a me chanical voice could do the trick. He I'ut I he W onls Right In Her Mouth to If in ftel "T'WO fellows who had been din. *? ing rather well were in mood for a ridiculous wager. "I'll bet you." said one solemn, ly, "that the first words my wife says, when I Ret home tonight are 'My dear.' " "And I'll bet you a fiver." sa,,} the other, "that she won't say, ?My dear." " They proceeded towards the first man's home. He knocked at the door and a head appeared it the window above. "My dear ? " began the man. His long-suffering wife interrupt ed with: " 'My dear' be hanged Wait till you come inside." Pull the Trigger on Constipation, and Pepsin-izeAcidStomachToi When constipation brings on acid indi . sour taste, and ted breath, you tain undigested foodand your l?wdsdo?t move. So you need both Pepsin to help break up fast that rich undigested food in your stomach, and Laxative Senna to pull the trigger on those lazy bowels. So be sure your laxative also contains Pepam. Take Dr. Caldwell's Laxative, because its Syrup Pepsin helps you gain that won derful stomach comfort, while the Laxativs Senna moves your bowels. Tests prove the power of Pepsin to dissolve those lumps of undigested protein food which may lingo in your stomach, to cause belching, gastric acidity and nausea. This is how pepsi* izing your stomach help* relieve it of suds distress. At the same time this medicine wakes up lazy nerves and muscles in your bowels to relieve your constipation. Se see bow much better yoo feel by taking the laxative that also puts Pepsin to work ao that stomach distomfort, too. Even fin icky children love to taste this pleasant family laxative. Buy Dr. Cakl well's Lax ative?Senna with Syrup Pepsin at yoor druggist today) Justice in Rebellion Men seldom, or rather never, for a length of time and delib erately, rebel against anything that does not deserve rebelling against. ? Carlyle. For Their Sakes If we would build on a sure foun dation in friendship we must love our friends for their sakes rather than or our own. ? Charlotte Bronte. FOUR-FOLD WAY TO SCALP COMFORT REMOVE LOOSE DANDRUFF To help the look* of your hair and remott loose dandruff, just use En-ar-co. Quickly it stimulate* the surface circulation- and good circulation is vital to a good head of hair. It lift* up and dissolve* the loose dandruff? ifl just grand for the h*if. At all druggists or wad . 10c for trial ?i*e to National Remedy Co., I SS West 42nd Strest. N. Y. C. Dept. W-*. EN-AR-CO Deepest Truths The deepest truths are best read between the lines, and, for the most part refuse to be written.? Alcott. KENT BLADES -Ssrlfc Standing Up Neighbor ? How does your new cat like your dog? Jackie ? Oh, fur straight. Kills Many Insects ON riOWIRS* MUITS VIOiTAtllt * SH?U?? Demand original boff /??, from nw <?(?' MORE FOR TOUR ? Read th? ad v?rHa?m?nt?. Th?y ar? mor? than a a?lling aid for busin?aa. Th ?y form an ?ducational ?yatam which ia making Americana th? b?at ?ducat?d buy?ra in th? world. Th? adr?rtia?m?nta ar? part ol an ?conomic ay>t?m which ia giving American a mor? for th?ir mon?7 ?t? tj d ay. M O N E Y
The Cherokee Scout (Murphy, N.C.)
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May 30, 1940, edition 1
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