:o a cabin
BY LIDA LARRIMORE
t> MACRAE SMITH CO. WNU SERV.CE
CHAPTER XVI?Continued.
?23?
Nat, pulling Skippy in an express
wagon, came up to the side of the
car.
??Hello!" he said, his smile widen
ing with recognizer., displaying a
missing tooth. "I'm not Admiral
Byrd now that there isn't any snow."
"Of course not. How stupid of
me. I should have known. This is
my cousin. Miss Oliver, Nat, and
Skippy," said Gay.
"Hello, Nat," Kate said. "Hello,
Skippy."
"Hello." Nat grinned again and
Skippy ducked his head.
"Is Dr. Houghton in now?" Gay
asked, feeling her heart leap and
plunge.
"No, he's not here now."
"You mean he isn't here at the
house?"
"He went away last week. Grand
father came home. He brought me
a whole fleet of boats."
"Brought me a boat!" Skippy
piped up.
"Is your mother here, Nat?" Gay
asked.
"Aya, she's here. She'll be pleased
to see you, I expcct. Did you come
all the way from New York? 'Course
I like boats better on account of my
father's an officer in the Navy but
that's some swell car."
"Drive them around a couple of
blocks, will you, Kate." Gay opened
the door and stepped out. "I want to
talk to their mother."
"Hop in, kids." Kate slipped over
under the wheel.
"Whoopee!" Nat shouted and
Skippy echoed his brother's enthusi
asm, then ducked his head again.
The long tan roadster moved away
from the curb. Gay walked up the
steps of the house and sounded the
knocker. Mary Adams herself,
opened the door. Her brown face
twinkled with pleasure when she
recognized Gay.
"C ne in," she said. "This is a
5ur> ise."
Tue wide hallway was familiar,
though now there were peonies and
iris in the vases which in March
had held bitter-sweet and feathery
plumes of pine. Following Mary
through the living-room to the porch
which faced the lawn, she remem
bered her last day here, the day
after John had brought her in from
his mother's home. They'd been so
distant, she and John, polite to each
other, unhappy, remote. Mary must
have noticed. Was she, too, remem
bering the end of Gay's visit here?
If she remembered, she gave no
sign.
"Are you alone?" she asked. "It's
marvelous to be able to use the
porch again. You don't appreciate
this weather unless you've spent a
winter in Maine."
"My cousin is with me, Kate Oli
ver."
"Oh, I've heard John speak of
her." Mary darted up from her
chair. "Where is she? Why didn't
you bring her in?"
"She's taking Nat and Skippy for
a ride. Mary," Gay asked, "where
is John?"
Mary curled herself into a wick
er chair. "I don't know exactly,"
she said.
"Has he left here," Gay's voice
faltered, "for good, I mean?"
"Yes. He was in Boston last
week." Mary glanced at Gay, then
down at her small brown hands.
"I know. He wrote me from
there."
"That there is a chance of his get
ting in the research department con
nected with the General Hospital?"
Mary asked eagerly. "Father thinks
it's fairly certain. John made a
splendid impression when he in
terned there."
"But since then," Gay persisted. |
"He isn't in Boston now?"
"We've been forwarding mail to
his mother's. I re-addressed a let
ter from you this morning. I've
learned to know your handwriting
pretty well. I?"
"This morning? A letter?"
"Yes. Why?" Mary asked quick
ly, in surprise.
"It was a letter which shouldn't
have been written," Gay said. "I've
come to head it off or explain. Could
he be at his mother's in Rockland?"
"I don't know. Why don't you?"
She paused, then said, "If you don't
want to go there, or call, I'll call
for you."
"Will you? I don't? There are
reasons. I'd like to see Debby but
I'm sure it would be better if you?"
"I will." She rose, smiled at Gay
compassionately and went into the
house.
Gay sat on the porch looking out
across the sunny lawn where peo
nies bloomed along the fence and
the fvliage of a maple tree shaded
the children's sand-box and swing.
She was only absently aware of the
objccts her eyes rested upon. Every
nerve, every sense in her body was
caught up in a state of suspense.
Had John gone away deliberately.
to avoid any move from her? Was
he, by his silence, making a clean
break as effectively us she had
meant to make it when she had writ
ten the letter which Mary, this
morning, had re-directed?
She started up as Mary returned
to the porch.
"He isn't at home," Mary said.
"His mother thinks that he may
have gone to a cabin down east n^-ar
Machias?"
"John is at the cabin?" Gay's
voice was light and breathless.
"They aren't sure. They've had
no word. They're holding his mail."
"Of course he has. I didn't
think?" Gay glanced at her watch.
"We can make it before night. Thank
you, Mary. I must find Kate."
"You're going there?" Mary asked
doubtfully. "It's a fairly long drive.
I had expected that you would stay
for lunch, at least."
"No. We're going. Wish me luck,
Mary. I'll need it."
Mary Adams smiled and pressed
Gay's hand.
"I think you'll carry your luck
with you." she said.
CHAPTER XVII
John placed a log on the fire, went
to the doorway, stood looking out
across the lake. Dusk was falling.
The last reflection of the sunset had
faded from the still surface of the
water. Across the lake a loon
screeched mournfully through the si
lence. John closed the door and re
turned to the fire.
He should prepare something for
supper, he thought, standing ir
resolutely on the hearth with his
back to the fire. Funny how he had
qpme to dread getting supper. When
that had been accomplished, the day
was definitely over and night had
begun. He was able to get through
the day fairly well. While the sun
shone, he made fishing from the ca
noe or lying on the float an excuse
for being out of doors. But the
nights were unbearably lonely.
He shouldn't have returned to tne
cabin. He should have taken the
walking trip through Canada which
he had half planned when Dr. Sar
geant had insisted that he take a
two weeks vacation until the Boston
matter was settled one way or an
other. He would be able to make
the decision he must make more
calmly and with less pain anywhere
in the world except here. The cabin
was filled with ghosts of Gay. He
saw her everywhere, on the couch
with the lamplight falling across her
hair; seated on the footstool beside
the hearth in a characteristic posi- j
tion, her arms hugging her knees;
coming out through the door of the
bedroom she and Kate had occupied,
her face fresh and smiling after a
long night of sleep, in a jersey and
slacks, a ribbon around her hair ...
He hadn't expected to feel as he
did. He had thought that he would
be able to make the decision here.
He had not questioned his ability to
think clearly and logically, to disci
pline his emotions. Strange that
he had not considered the pignant
insistence of memories, the ghosts
of Gay that lived on in the cabin.
But he must make a decision. If
he secured this post in Boston, he
would have to decide whether he
was willing to have her there with
him, using her own money to pro
vide a place .for them to live or
whether it wal wiser, for her ulti
mate good and his own, to make a
definite break and follow, alone, the
course he had charted for himself
before he had declared his love to
Gay. It was all or nothing. There
could be no compromise. The next
time they met?
But would they meet again? He
had sensed in her letters a change
in her feeling for him since she had
returned from her visit to Maine.
He couldn't blan her. It had been
pretty awful for her, as estranging
as his visit to New York. She loved
him. He did not question that. He
loved her. But was love enough?
Was it as fresh and as steadfast
now as it had been here at the
cabin last fall? Could any love sur
vive the misunderstandings, the
quarrels, the bickering to which
their love had been exposed?
Wouldn't it be better??
He wouldn't think of it, now. He
would build a fire in the kitchen
range and prepare supper, making
a long job of it to keep night from
coming too soon.
He went out into the dusk, filled a
basket with chips and birch logs.
None of his senses was secure from
ghosts of Gay. The smell of pine
needles and freshly chopped wood
recalled the night she had slipped
out of the cabin to meet him, the
night Todd Janeway had arrived.
His eyes lifted above the pile of
chips. They had sat there, leaning
above the logs. She'd worn a soft
white dress fastened up under her
chin and her hair had curled loosely
against her shoulders. He'd loveH
her so, then. He loved her now. If
they might have stayed here?
He lit the lamps in the kitchen,
laid the fire carefully, taking a great
deal of time. Yellow flames curled
around birch-logs in the stove. He
collected ingredients for flap jacks;
butter, milk, flour, eggs? There
were the fish he had caught this
morning, cleaned and salted, ready
for the pan. Cornmeal, salt pork cut
in strips.
He placed the fish in the pan.
Through the sputtering sound they
made, he heard a car coming in
the lane. One of the acquaintances
he'd made at the store in the village,
perhaps young Dr. Reynolds, stop
ping in on his rounds. Any visitor
would be welcome. Whoever it was
would see the light and come in.
He couldn't leave the fish.
He heard the motor of the car
race, then die off into silence as an
ignition key was turned. That mo
tor! No one of his acquaintances
here drove a car with such power.
His hand, holding a fork over the
fish, was shaking. He turned, his
heart thumping, a singing sound in
his ears.
The kitchen door stood open. He
saw her coming toward him through
the dusk, running across the clear
ing. up the steps.
"Gay?I" he cried, and plunged
forward to open the door.
She came into the kitchen, hesi
tantly, as though the sound of his
voice had checked the impulse which
had brought her swiftly to him
through the dusk.
"Hello, John," she said.
They stood staring at each other
like strangers.
"Where did you come from?" he
asked at last. "How did you know 1
was here?"
"I wrote you a letter," she said
quietly, "telling you that I was go
ing to marry Todd "
"I have not received it."
"No, it's in Rockland."
"Have you been there?"
She shook her head. "Mary called
your mother for me. She, your moth
er, thought you might be here."
The singing in her ears dimmed
her voice to a thread of sound.
"But if you wrote me that," he
asked, "why are you here?"
"Because I didn't mean it. I dis
covered, after I'd mailed it, that
I couldn't. I tried to get to you
before the letter did. I drove last
night to Portland, then on here to
day." Her eyes widened, then
closed. She swayed, reached out
for the table. "John?I"
He caught her, held her. She
clung to him. They kissed. Pres
ently she drew away. "Are you
glad to see me?" she asked.
"Glad! Oh, Gay!"
"Will you stil) be glad when I
tell you that I'm going to stay?"
"Are you?"
"Always?as long as you want
me."
He looked down into her lifted
face, weary but radiant, her eyes
shining softly through the tears that
misted her lashes. "Will you take a
chance. Gay?" he asked gravely.
"Can we make a go of it? Will you
be happy? In spite of everything
that has happened or will happen,
do you still want to marry me?"
"Darling!" She smiled. "Would I
have driven all these miles??"
His lips against hers stilled her
voice. They had in that moment of
reconciliation, of faith and trust re
newed, no need for words. His arms,
holding her. were strong and secure
and safe. Her vital young body
pressing close to him. was a prom
ise and an assurance. Moments
ticked away unconsidered in the se
cure realization of weeks, months,
years stretching in a bright open
vista ahead.
"I beg your pardon," a voice said
from the door.
They drew apart, smiling. Kate
came into the kitchen.
"It may mean less than nothing to
you," she said, "but something is
burning."
"Good Lord!" John groaned. "It's
the fish!"
He glanced around with a dazed
expression. Kate caught up a dish
cloth and grasped the handle of the
pan. She turned to regard Gay and
John with an expression of stud
ied derision whicii failed entirely
to conceal the emotion in her eyes.
"Get out of here," she said. "I'm
hungry. I want something that's fit
to eat."
Still fuming, she slapped the pan
in the sink. Gay and John looked
at each other and broke into laugh
ter, then, hands joined, went out
into the dusk.
[THE END]
'Built-in* Type Furniture
Is Latest Building Trend
Built-in furniture is rapidly in
creasing in popularity. In planning
a built-in corner cupboard, uphol
stered wall seat, or some other piece
of furniture, the home owner should
decide well in advance about such
important details as what fillers,
finishing materials and colors to use.
According to an authority on hard
wood finishing, it is important that
the right fillers be used in accord
ance with the color and consistency
desired, and also that the filler be
wiped at the proper time. A filler
is basically a mineral pigment such
as an asbestos compound, silica,
whiting, or clay, bound together
with a small amount of vehicle and
thinned with gasoline or mineral
spirits. There are many finishing
materials, and most of them are
well known to the home owner.
Among those most often used are
white and orange shellac, rubbing
varnish and spar varnish.
Because there is such a wide
choice of colors and demands vary
so greatly, each home owner should
select the color for his built-in
pieces so that they will be in har
mony with the general style of the
room. The natural color of wood
represents the warm side of the
color scale, and, remembering this
colors should be selected to con
form with the usual rules governing
good decoration.
Science Advances in Telepathy Tests;
University Man Gives Much Information
Is telepathy, mongrelized by years
of vaudeville trickery, at the thresh
old of becoming a science? As
tonishing experiments have pro
gressed to a point where private
home tests are invited. With them
goes the candid warning that, de
spite the fun of using the mind as
a messenger boy, there is hazard,
perhaps tragedy, as a possible re
ward for psychic tinkering.
The man who took telepathy out
of the music hall and put it into
the laboratory is slim, youthful, im
F ?tuous and mop-haired, a rapt be
liever in the theory that the human
mind is, to more or less degree, a
sensitive broadcasting station with
messages for those with minds ca
pable of tuning in the right wave
length, says the Literary Digest.
He is Dr. Joseph Banks Rhine,
whose experiments at Duke univer
sity keep people awake nightly from
North Carolina to California.
Mainly, success depends, he says,
on possession of the "gift" to some
extent, favorable mental conditions
to a large extent. Then:
"First, a genuine interest is re
quired. Preferably a fresh spon
taneous curiosity to see if you can
do it."
| In more than 100,000 trials, con
ducted since 1927, he has obtained
results that seem billions to one
against the operations of pure
chance. Mathematically, at least,
he has showr. that, in some per
sons, perception without use of the
ordinary sens? does in fact exist.
Support for Dr. Rhine's faith can
be found in "Man, the Unknown,"*
the recent book by Dr. Alexis Car?
rel, who wrote: "Those endowc;!
with this power grasp the secret
thought of other individuals without
using their sense organs. They also
perceive events more or less remote
in space and time. This quality is
exceptional. It develops in only a
small number of human beings. . . .
Clairvoyance appears quite com
monplace to those who have it. It
brings them knowledge which is
more certain than that gained
through the sense organs."
Dr. Rhine experimented with chil
dren, then college students. The
results were dismaying. Then he
tried hypnotized subjects and, final
ly the key to science, specially gift
ed students. Results followed im
pressively.
He is careful to distinguish be
tween clairvoyance and telepathy.
Clairvoyance, he says, is percep
tion, such as symbols on the cards.
Telepathy is "mind-reading." Per
sons gifted with one ordinarily pos-,
sess the other. (
Distance, he holds, makes no dif
ference. Indeed, better results are
obtained when test objects are sepa
rated by rooms. High scores ob
tain when several miles intervene.
Remarkable results were obtained
at a distance of 100 miles.
"With all its dangers it is, I be
lieve, the greatest field for intellec
tual adventure that the student has
before him today," says Dr. Rhine.
"The perils add to the zest, and the
sizii of the game is unequalled."
Wise and Olfterioit?
VI KN may U- fools to marn
1 1 but what rise is thete (OT
a girl to wed?
Barbrrs ol#-Nl In chargr
/or ihut in* ihr ffsiiaiil tiilli , |W|
/ore.
Photographers are responsi.
ble for many ol life's tnisrepre
sentations.
The man who keeps tellinj
girls love makes the world m
round is seldom on the squire.
Many a painter who claims to
be wedded to his art is in reality
a grass widower.
Jill say that murriun? m |oi?.
honor, and no pay.
StrangeFiitJ
More Japs Here
Choic of Nationality
All Ways to 'Home'
?. contrary to the impression cre
ated by our numerous Chinatowns
Chinese laundries and chup suej
restaurants, America has only hail
as many Chinese as Japanese resi
dents. Incidentally, 20 per cent ot
the Chinese and 40 per cent of the
Japanese are women.
C. When a baby is born of a Turk
ish mother and a French father,
while aboard a British ship in
American territorial waters, his
parents may claim for him any
one of the four nationalities.
C The average - sized Atlantic
coast oyster strains its food from
about 18 gallons of water a day; i
species of Mexican squash storu
enough moisture at one time to
keep itself alive for 15 years.
?. Homing pigeons in the service
of the United States army signal
corps have not only been trained
to fly as far as 63 miles in dark
ness, but also to locate their
"home," or loft, when it is mount
ed on a truck and moved man?
miles every 24 hours.?Collier's.
DON'T BE BOSSED
BY YOUR LAXATIVE?RELIEVE
CONSTIPATION THIS MODERN WAT
? When you feel gassy, headachy, ker
due to clogged-up bowels, do a* millions
do?take Feen-A-Mint at bedtime. Next
morning ? thorough, comfortable Telirf,
helping you start the day full of jeer
normal energy and pep, feeling Eke a
million! Feen-A-Mint doesn't dhtnb
your night's rest or interfere with worktto
next day. Try Feen-A-Mint, the chewii*
gum laxative, yourself. It tastes good, if?
handy and economical... a family supply
FEEN-A-MINT To<
Either Way
"What's your name, boy?"
"Jimmy, sir."
"No, I mean your full name?"
"It's Jimmy, full or empty."
Each Finer
Every babe born into the world
is a finer one than the Jast.?
Dickens.
Shortest Outlet
A railway line is now being laid
across the Caspian steppe. It will
link the northeastern coast of the
Caspian sea with the Orenburg rail
way, thus providing for the Emba
oil and Caspian fish the shortest out
let to th? Industrie 1 centers of So
viet Russia ^
Co-operation
Heaven ne'er helps the men who
will not act.?Sophocles.
TEACHING A CHILD
VALUE OF PENNIES
A child of a wise ?
taught from early ch'Mho?^^,.
eome a regular reader of
asrssa-sSSa
SS^SK?SS
from making every permr