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David Mallory. la search a( newspaper
work tn New Tort, la toned to accept a lob
aa awltcb-board operator In a iwank apart
ment house, managed bp officious Timothy
H logins. There David meets Miss Agatha
Paget a crippled eld lady, and her aharm
lng niece, Allegra. One day. talking with
Hlgglns In the lobby, David la alarmed by a
piercing scream. David flnda the scream
came tram the rentier apartment not tar
traso the Pa gets'. The Ferrtters Include
Lyon and Everett and their slater, lone.
Everett a genealogist is helping Agatha
Paget srrlte a book about bar blue-blooded
ancestors. Inside the apartment they And a
black-bearded man?dead. No weapon can
be found. The polios arrive. Hlgglns. who
actively dislikes Ifevld. Informs him that he
la fired. David la called to the Paget apart
ment Agatha Paget offers him a Job help
tog write bar family history?which will un
earth a few family skeletons Be accepts
the offer. Meanwhile, police suspect Lyon
Fcrrtter of the murder. Jerry Cochrane of
the Press offers David a lob helping solve
the murder. David accepts. He Is to keep
on working for Miss Paget Later David
32? WS8S
prowl through the Ferriter apartment Da
vid confronts Grosvenor with the story. Be
Is told to mind his own business.
A CHAPTER VI?Con tinned
Grosvenor watched me aa I took
my tankard. I thought he expected
me to reach a foot for a brass rail
or blow froth on the floor. Perhaps
it was another doubt that bothered
him. I forgot to wonder about it in
admiration of Miss Agatha.
She plunged her patrician nose
into the foam and, after a brief in
stant, set down the vessel empty
with a contented sigh. She caught
my eye.
"Beer," she said with authority,
"is a mass beverage, David. Its
virtue lies in volume. People who
sip their beer also like afternoon
tea or Wagner on a fiddle. No beer,
Allegra?"
The girl sat close beside her broth
er. He peered into his tankard. One
of her hands lay on his bowed shoul
der.
"No," she said and smiled, "I'm
too sleepy."
"Always," Miss Agatha told me,
nodding toward Ipr niece, "the soul
of courtesy. How much of that ma
terial did you get through?"
"All of it," I said.
It pleased her.
"Excellent," she exclaimed, with
a tiny click of her teeth. "Then
tomorrow we can get to work, burn
ing the scandal at both ends."
"Isn't it nice," the girl asked,
and I thought her jauntiness was
forced, "that after all the family
skeletons, Mr. Mallory will drink
with you, Agatha?"
"Bah!" said Miss Agatha and
reached for the untouched tankard,
"David is-"
"Jtlst," I said as she paused, "an
elevator man coming up in the
world."
The wrinkles came about her eye
lids. She chuckled.
"That isn't what I was going to
say. Since you are in New York
and your people are in Nebraska,
you may have more use for fami
? lies as institutions than I have. Dis
tance makes relations more endura
ble to one another. Of courae the
republic is founded on the American
home?"
"There she goes," Allegra said in
a loud aside to her brother.
"The family is the foundation of
the nation," the old lady went on,
"and I wonder if that isn't the trou
ble with things. I believe?"
The peal of the doorbell cut her
short. Grosvenor rose to answer it.
"Damn," said Miss Agatha. "If
it's that man Shannon again?"
It was Lyon Ferriter. I admired
Miss Paget's balance.
"Weill" she said warmly, as
though a wish had been answered.
"Come in and revel. Grove, an
other tankard."
L.yon cnecseo me tea ana smiiea.
His eyes, moving easily from face
to face, rested on mine an instant
and once more seemed puzzled.
"Thanks,"'he said-and'bowed to
Miss Agatha. "I shouldn't have in
truded but they said downstairs that
you had just returned. I came, with
Captain Shannon's permission, to get
some things from my flat and I
wanted to thank you?all of you?
for your neighborliness. There's an
odd word to use in New York, but
I can think of no better. You were
very good to my sister, Miss Pag
et," he added more softly; "I shan't
forget it You've kept your head
better than any of us, during this?
unpleasantness."
"My dear man," Miss Agatha said
crisply, "When you've lived as long
as I have, a mere murder can't
terrify you. And lone?"
"Better," Lyon, replied in the ten
der tone that always accompanied
his mention of her. "We're coming
back tomorrow. The Babylon is
hardly a refuge. Newspaper men
have found out where we were hid
ing. A policed man's life is not a
happy one."
He stood in the doorway, a brown,
worn and pleasant figure, and spread
his hands.
I said to Miss Agatha:
"It's time I went?or several
hours after time." *
"If," she answered and her eyes
were merry, "you can stir that?
that decoration there"?aha nodded
toward Grosvenor?"to an interest
>n fencing or any exercise, stay
longer."
? kuow you now. Your face has both
ered me for days. I saw you in
Chicago.
"If you did," I told him, "you
saw me get trimmed."
"By D'Armhaillac," he said as if
that excused anything. "You know,"
he told the others, "this lad really
is good."
"Was good," I corrected. "That
was two years ago." I was glad he
fortified the hasty lie I had told to
cover Grosvenor. Lyon ran on like
a boy:
"I use the sword a little myself.
Sometime, I'd like to show you my
collection of blades. Some of them
are rather good."
I almost told him I had seen them.
Then I remembered the dead man
who had lain before them, and
didn't. I gave Miss Agatha my new
address and left them talking as
easily as though the last thirty-odd
hours never had happened.
The events of the final sixty min
utes had scrambled my mind. They
had kicked over what theories I had
built and now memory of Allegra,
loyal and valiant and fearful, fought
against the erection of new. I was
half-way to the comer before ?! re
membered my suitcase still in Hig
gins' basement flat. Here was some
thing definite to do, an anodyne to
I Hi, M l got to my knees, die
outer door open sad s dim Of
ore that fled.
bewilderment. I faced about and
went back to the Morello.
The lifht was out before the base
ment door and the hallway beyond
eras dark. I thought that Higgina
might be asleep. That stopped me
for a moment. Asleep or awake, I
decided, there would be a squab
ble and I might as well face it now.
I closed the door, felt for a match
and, finding none, went along the
black hall.
Uy fingers touched the white
washed stone, once, twice. They
reached out a third time and re
coiled. They bad brushed rough
cloth and underneath that was a
body, pressed tight and still against
the wall.
For a second, neither of us moved,
or breathed. Then I lurched forward,
arms spread wide. My hands grazed
the harsh fabric but found no hold.
Something tripped me. I went
down. A foot stamped on my knuck
les. I grabbed for it and missed,
but its owner fell too, with a thud
and a gasp and a flat chime of
metal on stone. I leaped up to stum
ble once more over the thing that
first had tripped me. I fell again,
this time upon it. An angle smote
me in the midriff, driving out my
breath. I heard the quick sound of
retreating feet. I saw, as I got to
my knees, the outer door open and
a dim figure that fled. Then I squat
ted, blinking in ? blaze of light
CHAPTER VII
I could tee nothing but that glare.
It hurt my eyes. I knew dimly that
ray knees and my trampled hand
ached. I squatted, half up, half
down, for a long instant The daz
zling haze thinned and Higgins' red
face came through.
"What," he asked and I thought he
gloated, "is all this, hey?"
"I fell. I was tripped," I said
stupidly.
Higgins chuckled.
"So gre was tripped," he Jeered.
"Now ain't that too bad? The some
one that tripped ye lays beside ye,
me lad."
I looked down. The obstacle over
which I had twice fallen was my
own suitcase. Higgins, in a last
flare of spite, had left it in the hall.
I got up slowly and brushed dust
from my sore knees.
"Who else," I asked, "was in
here?" The superintendent chuck
led and anger helped me get hold of
myself.
"Who else?" he echoed. "Nobody,
ye tool, but yourself and your clum
sy feet."
Hlggme' locked the door behind
me. I stumbled up the steps.
The wind stung my face. Its blast
seemed to scatter my mind. Some
one had been in that basement hall
way when I had entered?someone
who feared to be found there, who
had fought off my clumsy effort at
capture. I had touched, I had heard
the intruder. He had left his heel- j
mark 011 a bleeding knuckle. Sus
picion that had pointed first to Lyon
Ferriter, that had centered on Gros
venor Paget, swung wildly about
now like a weathervane in a whirl
wind. I bad left both men upstairs.
The dim figure I had seen dart
through the doorway had seemed
?lighter than either. It could not
have been the buxom Everett. Why
had it been lurking in a basement
hallway of all places? What had
dropped to the floor with a clink
of metal and then had vanished?
Suddenly, I wanted to confide in
someone. It was the lonely wretch
edness of the overburdened. I
thought, as I slapped at my dusty
overcoat and trousers, of Shannon,
of Miss Agatha, of Allegra, and each
time found at once good reason why
I could not go to them. As I picked
up my suitcase, an amused voice
asked behind me:
"Ever try a whiskbroom, accom
plice? You can buy them at all the
better stores."
Jerry Cochrane'! coat collar was
turned up about his ears. His round
face had been spanked red by cold
and wind had watered his canny
eyes. He was sane flesh and blood.
I was glad to see him,
"What's this?" he asked, nodding
at my suitcase. "The body?"
He was medicine for the jitters.
At my question he gave a ges
ture, half shrug, half shiver.
"I trailed Lyon Ferriter from the
Babylon," he said. "Your hall force
wouldn't let me wait in the vesti
bule. I was across the street when
I saw you go down the cellar. So
when you came out, I?"
I grabbed his arm so hard that
he stopped and stared. I had trouble
-getting hold of words.
"Who came out ahead of you?" he
repeated, wide-eyed. "Out of the
cellar? Nobody."
"I groaned. "If you'd only
watched," I began, but he cut me
short.
"Listen," he bade. "I didn't have
anything else to do, except freeze.
No one came out of the basement !
except you. What's all the heat?" i
"Save it," I told him and ran to- '
ward the Moretlo. My suitcase bat
tered my legs. I swore at it and
myself. If Cochrane were not mis
taken, if the intruder who fled had
not gone up to the street, he had
lurked in the area by the stairs un
til after I had left. He might still
be hiding in that black pit.
Beyond the Morello, a taxi swung <
into the curb. Someone entered it. '
The door slammed and it slid away.
We were too far off to see the li
cense number or even the passenger
clearly.
"Sometime," Cochrane asked po
litely, "when you're not quite so ac
tive, you'll let me in on this?"
I told him, as well as I could, for
I was winded, what had happened.
"Who was it?" Cochrane queried.
"I think," I answered, "it was
Mr. Addison Sims of Seattle."
The wind boomed in the area
while we talked in hushed voices. It
struck my sweating face like the
gush of a cold shower bath. Coch
rane was panting, yet he shivered.
"Lyon?" he asked. I wondered
why it should have been his first
thought, as well as mine.
"Lyon Ferriter," I answered, "is
upstairs ? in Miss Paget's apart
ment. He couldn't have got down
here ahead of me."
"Unless he took the hidden way
the murderer traveled," Cochrane
pointed out stubbornly, and his teeth
chattered. "I'd like to know where
he is, this minute."
I turned toward the steps and
,.u ?
"I can go back and find out it
he's still upstairs."
"I'd like to know," Cochrane re
peated in a cold-shaken voice, as
he followed me upward. "It I'm
going to live to understand all this,
I've got to get a taxi and a drink
fast. Find out if Ferritcr is still
upstairs and then?"
But we bad no need for search.
As I came out of the area, a lean
figure left the Morello vestibule.
Shoulders hunched against the wind,
Lyon Ferriter strode past us. I
thought he recognized me, for he
looked hard and seemed about to
check his pace and then pressed on.
We watched him to the corner..
"Anyone," Cochrane gasped
through his rattling teeth, "who can
go without an overcoat on a night
lika this is a murderer or a sui
cide. Hi, taxi!"
As we bounced along toward the
address he gave, his questions prod
ded me once again through the story
of my struggle in the basement
"It doesn't make sense," he com
plained. "Maybe it.wee someone
colder than me, even?some Forgot
ten Man ducking in out Of the wind." I
"He wasn't too numb to move
fast," I reminded him. "And why
should he hang out in the area after
I'd flushed him, unless there still
was something in the basement
that he needed?" .
"True," Cochrane said. "Perhaps
he wanted to get his watch, or what
ever you heard drop."
"I heard it drop," I told him, "but
it wasn't there. I looked."
"It was, but it waa't," ha said
bitterly. "And there you have the
case in a few words, accomplice.
I'm sorry we hired you. Ton keep
messing up the puzzle. I owe you
one, though, for your tip en the
Babylon. 1 don't know who was
sorer?Shannon or the Ferritera?
when I ran 'em down."
(TO BK CONTUWKDJ
- ?
THE DOWN-AND
OUTER
88
Br JOAN SLOCUM
(McClurt Syndicate?WNU Service.)
IF DOUGLAS WALTON had
aaked Kay Bergen to marry
him the afternoon she had told
him she was going to New York
to make good, Kay would have set
tled down happily with him at For
est Station. She'd more than half
expected he would?and a good deal
more than half hoped he would. But
he didn't. On a business trjp from
New York to the city where he lived
he had stopped off at the small town
where Kay lived to see her.
"Oh, I see," said Douglas, at first
a bit banteringly, then more and
more seriously, "The small town
cramps your style. Well, if that's
the way you feel?only?I thought
last summer?"
"What did you think last sum
mer, Douglas?" asked Kay softly.
"Oh?" Douglas' voice was a lit
tle hard?"just that you weren't the
kind of girl who'd think that kind of
thing necessary to happiness. I
thought you'd like?oh, last sum
mer in the mountains I thought you'd
like different things. But if you like
New York and think you'll make
good there, why that's that and
there's nothing more to do about it.
I don't think you're right." He was
irritatingly practical now, accepting
her, not as a woman, but as a co
worker, another struggler in the
fight to make a living. "I think I
have a better chance of success
right home in Forest Station than
you have in New York."
He left a little later, after talking
trivialities, and there was no ap
proach to anything like sentimei^
between them.
So, decided Kay, if that was the
way he felt about it, she would show
him. She'd be as good a business
woman as she could. She'd beat him
at his'own game.
Weeks passed. An occasional let
ter from Douglas. He was getting
along slowly but surely, he wrote,
in the law office where he held a
junior partnership. Not big money
in these times in a small town?
but not bad, either, when you com
pared expenses and income. He was
glad to hear of her success. She
seemed to have struck a great piece
of luck, working her way right up
to the top. Hard work, of course,
but if you like that kind of thing, of
course it was great.
Kay had, indeed, done unexpect
edly well, though she hated to have
Douglas give luck all the credit. In
spite of depression, she had got into
one of the big stores. Kbd, because
of a real genius for using words
vividly, she had obtained a place
in the advertising department, and
had been promised a speedy rise to
a really goad job.
But when the first novelty of suc
cess and accomplishment had worn
off, Kay found other visions min
gling with those of her progress to
tame. And, being an honest sort of
a girl, she faced the facta and ad
mitted to herself, after six months
in New York, that she would give
up everything she had gained or
could look forward to for the sake of
life beside Douglas in quiet little
Foiest Station. She liked her work.
She found her new friends interest
ing. She thrilled to New York, with
its vivid life and fast tempo. She
enjoyed the few gay parties she
found time for. But her heart was
with Douglas.
? nis wners inieiy naa Deen lew
and far between. Perhaps he didn't
care (or her aa much as she had
once hoped he did. Perhaps be
cared for someone else. She knew
nothing, really, of his friends and
life. She'd never been in Forest
Station, and in the mountains where
she had met him at a resort hotel
the summer befbre they were both,
of course, among strangers. She
kept reminding herself that he had
never told her anything to make her
know he really cared. Perhaps her
belief that he did was only the nat
ural reaction to what, she now ac
knowledged, was her love for him.
So Kay worked out a scheme to
And out if Douglas cared.
"Dear Douglas"?she wrote. "This
isn't a very cheerful letter, for I
think I'm going to lose my job. Isn't
that too awful? After I've bad such
fun and done so well. But the cruel,
big city seems to be too big and
cruel for me."
She waited for a sympathetic an
swer. None came. She wrote:
"The blow has fallen. I'm lust
not a big-city sort of person. I've
lost my Job. And in this unfriendly
place I don't know where to turn
for another."
No answer. In her next letter:
"New York is pretty dreary when
you're down and out. I've been
walking the streets today looking
for work And there isn't any. Of
course, I'm all right, for my father
will be only too glad to have me
beck home again. But I'm ready to
admit that New York's too much for
me?too big, too impersonal, too
cruel."
"And if that doesn't bring some
sort of answer," thought Kay, "I'll
give up, and stick to my work and
try to enjoy it"
No letter came, and as she dressed
for a party one evening a week lat
er ? she had been really thrilled
when Courtney Brown, brilliant
young advertising manager for the
store, had asked her to go to dinner
and the theater with him?she de
cided that her tactics with Douglas
bad been all wrong. He's lost what
interest ha might hava had in her
last summer; was married, for all
she knew. Her stupid letters must
seem to him the most blatant bids
for sympathy. Oh, well, she'd go
with Mr. Brawn and have a good
time and when she'd made good in
her Job she'd forget all about Doug
las. *
She pulled a black velvet dress
over her shoulders and let it settle
softly to the slender curves of her
body, patted her hair in shape, and
sat down to wait for Courtney
Brown. When, in answer to the
bell, she opened the door of her
small apartment and found, not
Courtney, but Douglas, standing
there, the only thing she could think
of to say was: "Oh!"
But Douglas said enough for two.
"I've come to take you back to
Forest City," he began. And that
started things.
Half an hour later, said Kay: "Oh
?I forgot. Where's Courtney
Brown? He's my boss?and I was
going to dinner with him. And,
Douglas, I'll have to explain, I'm
not really down and out?I Just
wrote that so I could And out how
you felt about me."
She watched his face anxiously
for signs of disapproval.
He beamed. *1 know. Courtney
Brown is an old friend of the family
?he's taking my sister to dinner
and the show in your place. You
don't think I didn't know how you
were getting on, do you? Courtney
kept me posted. And I realized that
if I didn't come to rescue you soon
you'd get away from me for ever?
poor little Down-and-Outer."
'
Cupid's Code
By DOROTHY G. WAYMAN
iHcdun Syndicate? WNU Service.)
TP HE lighthouse stands on the
A point where the great ships
steam past to enter the canal, and
there lived Mary Ann and her father,
who was the keeper at the light.
Mary Ann had kept bouse for her \
father for the Ave years since her
mother died, in spite of the constant |
urging of Billy Bo wen that she
marry him. It was hard, hard for
both of them. Billy wanted Mary
Ann, and Mary Ann loved Billy, and
yet she could not forget the promise
she had made to her mother that
she would look after her father for
her.
x rim ipanuins August morning
her father had rowed acroas to toe
mainland for auppliea, and just after
he had gone Billy Bow en had come
to see her. He looked ao handsome
with his thick black hair, bronzed
face and white teeth, as he pas
sionately urged her to marry him!
"I've waited for you two years,
Mary Ann, and I need you!" he de
clared, and when she replied that
her father needed her still, he lost
his temper, and bitterly asserted
that he did not believe she loved
him at all. He vowed that unless
she would promise to marry him
soon he would take the boat for
New York that night and she would
never see him again.
"When the boat goes by the light
tonight, I'll be on it," he said, his
boyish voic^ rough with feeling;
"and I'll be thinking. There's
where the girl lives who doesn't
love mel"
And poor Mary Ann, loyal to her
dead mother's trust, could only
watch his lithe figure striding away
without one backward look, and cry
and cry and cry. Then she must
bathe her face and brush her hair
to hide her sorrow, for father must
not know of her sacrifice.
She heard the sound of her fa
ther's oars, and soon he entered the
little kitchen. ?
"Mary Ann," he said happily,
"you've been a good daughter to
me, and it has been hard on you
here all alone with an old fellow
like me . . . but it's over now.
Jane Hatch said today that she'd
marry me. and I guess I know what
you 11 do next! I've been watching
that Billy Bowen making eyes at
you Maybe we can have a double
wedding, girl!"
After supper she crept into her
own little room to sob her heart out
in the twilight of the summer eve
ning. Zoom-m-m-m! sounded toe
whistle of the New York boat?Bil
ly's boat He was standing on the
deck, looking at the light
Mary Ann sprang from the bed,
slipped off her shoes, and softly,
breathlessly climbed the iron stairs
to the light. She could see across
ths water the lights of the great
ahlp like a string of Jewels on a
square of black velvet, and she knew
that Billy Bowen's eyes must be
turned towards the light
She placed her little brown hand
firmly on the black-handled copper
frwife switch that controlled the
light, and the great beacon's rays,
playing across the water like wun
mer lightning, took on a strange sig
ni flea nee.
Dot dash, dot, dot dash. In In
ternational code she flashed her me*
sage into the dark. "B-I-L-L-Y
Y-E-S!" Over and over she spelled
it out.
But Billy Bowen, once a sailor m
the navy, read it only once ashe
stood on the deck of the
boat. Then hastily stripping off his
cost and shoes, he climbed upon ths
rail and dived far out into the warm
waters. .
"Where'n thunder are you going?
shouted a deck hand as Billy came
up, shook the water out of his eyes
and struck out for the point where
winked the light. He turned his
head long enough to shout back:
"Going to get married!"
[?"FIRST-AID*
AILING HOUSE
By KOGCt?. WWTMAN ^
(? Bo?n B. Whitman? WNU Service.)
Cooling ? House ia Summer.
INDOWS on the sunny side of
*' the house should be protected
against the heat of the sun. Awn
ings do not always help, for some
kinds confine heated air against the
windows. Air under an awning will
be heated and should be permitted
to escape before the heat can pass
through to the room. Outside Vene
tian blinds are an advantage over
canvas awnings in this regard, for
while they cut off the direct heat of
the sun, they permit the free escape
pf air from underneath.
For ventilation in a room, win
dows should be opened both at the
top and at the -bottom. Heated air
under the ceiling of a room can then
pass out through the upper part of
the window opening and will be re
placed by outdoor air drawn in
through the lower part. Neither
opening should be covered by cur
tains or shades, for these impede
the flow of air.
Still air is more stilling and is !
more difficult to stand than air at the ;
same temperature that is in mo- j
tion. For comfort, air should be in '
circulation.
An electric fan arranged to blow |
out through the open upper part of a
window will draw in outdoor air
through the lower part. The circula- I
tion that is thus established will add
greatly to comfort.
Slippery Floors.
Question: We have an old farm
house with oak flooring. When we ,
wax it, the Boor is too slippery, as
we use hooked rugs. Can you tell
us how to treat it, so that it will
not be too oily or slippery?
Answer: Too many coats of wax
and heavy applications of wax most
frequently cause extreme slipperi
ness. Wax should be applied in thin
coats, each coat being very well pol
ished. Waxing of Boors two or three
times a year should be sufficient.
Frequent rubbings with a soft cloth
will keep the floors well polished.
Excessive wax can be removed by
wiping with turpentine. As a pre
caution against slipping at rugs, you
can get a powder to be sprinkled on
the backs of rugs. This is sold in
department stores.
Whitewashed Stone.
Question: The old cellar stone
walls hi our house have been white
washed. We should like to cement
the cellar walls, but are told that
the cement will not stick to the
whitewashed walls. Is this true?
What can be done to remove the
whitewash?
Answer: Whitewash Is apt to peel
taking the cement off with it. Re
move the whitewash by scrubbing
with a strong solution of household
ammonia and water. Rinse the sur
face with clear water. For good
results, be sure the surface of the
stone is well roughened before put
ting on the new cement. Raking
out the mortar points will give the
new cement a better bond on the
wall.
Question: What can be done to
preserve book bindings of leather
and cloth? The books are about SO
years old. and suffer from the ef
fects at time, drying and disintegra
tion rather than wear and tear.
Answer: For the leather bindings
you can get preservatives especia:.y
made for the job. Any public li
brary will tell you of them. This
can also be used on leather backs
and comers of cloth bindings. Cloth
bindings can usually be cleaned by
wiping with a doth dampened with
soapy water, after going over them '
with a stiff brush. Some bindings
will not stand moisture: you should
make a test on each one before go
ing ahead.
Paiatlac a Metal Bed.
Question: We have a metal bed,
mahogany color, from which the
paint has become rubbed off in vari
ous parts, and I would appreciate
it if you would advise me what kind
of paint to use to repaint it It has
a Itee (rain running through it
Answer: Any good brand of quick
drying enamel can be used, but the
wood graining, if desired, will have
to be done by a professiohal. Be
fore applying the enamel make sure
the surfaces are free of any grease '
or dust. The old finish is made dull
by rubbing lightly with fine sand
paper.
Desilveriag a Miner.
Question: How can I remove the
silvering from a mirror? The mir
ror is to be resilvered.
Answer: Remove the protective
coating with a paint remover. The
minor is then placed horizontally,
covered with a layer of salt and
moistened with a mixture of 1 port
water and 3 parts cider vinegar.
After several hours, the silvering
can usually be wiped off clean. The !
shop doing the resilvering can re
move the old silvering for very little
extrs cost.
Whitewash far Bricks.
Question: Please tell me how to
whitewash my brick bouse. I want
to be sure to use something that
will not peel or flake off in any way.
I understand the government uses
some special mixture on light
houses, and am wondering if you
could give me the formula.
Answer: The government white
wash formula is rather messy and'
complicated to make up. A cement
composition paint or outside ossein
paint will make a more satisfactory
finish for the brick wall, and will be
much easier to apply.
naJh. ^ ...^ ?^-^Bih..
/jj J
Making a Frame
For Rug Hooking
By RUTH WYETH SPEARS
'TWO of the nicest hook rugs I
A have were made without a
frame. Many rug makers like to
work this way so that they may
turn the work as they do different
parts of the design. Then, too,
whenever rug bookers meet there
is sure to be an exchange ai treas
ured bits of colored fabrics. In
no time at all a rug making group
is meeting and it is difficult to
carry a frame when ooe goes visit
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t
ing. It is often difficult to find
space to put a frame away in a
small bouse or apartment, too.
You can see by this that I rather
favor working without a frame
though I know perfectly well that
it is more efficient to work with
one. Almost all professionals have
frames that rest on a permanent
base. I have sketched base the
type of frame that most amateurs
use. You can buy the corner
clamps at the hardware store and
put the frame together quickly. It
may be the size of your rag or
smaller. If it is smaller, just part
of the rug m stretched on the
frame at one time.
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Skip's Tonnage
The term tonnage may mean one
of several things. In osing fr to
designate the size of a uaitoap it
means the total weight af water
displaced by the vesaei- As ap
plied to American merchant
it may be gross, net. ar dead
weight tonnage. Gross tonnage in
the space?an the basis af 1M ra
the hull and the rlnenl in spaces
above the deck for the carrying of
cargoes, stores, etc. Ret. or regis
tered. tonnage, the moot fre
quent designation, is the space that
remains after room for machinery,
crew quarters, etc., has been de
ducted. Dead-weight tiainagt a
weight of cargo and wippftrs that
will depress the boat from its light
water line to the load hae. or. in
other words, the weight of ton
total cargo that the vessel can car
ry safety.
COLDS
QUick/y Mil
DDD?r,
The moat manifest sign at srin
dom is a continual cheerfulness:
her state is tike that at things in
the regions above the moan, ai
taigno.
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