UNDER
© George Agnew Chamberlain By George Agnew Chamberlain
CHAPTER XV—Continued
—18—
“Yank off bridle and saddle and
turn him loose.” Suddenly Joyce be
gan to sob. “What are you crying
about? There’s simply nothing else
to do.”
“Oh, it’s not that!” cried Joyce,
still weeping as she unbuckled
throat iatch and girth. “It’s Tro
nido. I’m—I’m crying about Tro
nido.”
“Don’t,” said Dirk, “please don’t,
or you’ll have me so I can’t do a
damn thing. Don’t you suppose—
Hell!” Then he continued quietly,
“Joyce, hold on a bit; we may both
have to ride Rayo. The battery’s
run down.”
“Oh!” she gasped, grief forgotten
In the face of fresh disaster.
Suddenly Dirk started tearing out
the front cushion. "Here it is, thank
God—the crank. Get in, Joyce. Take
the throttle and work the choke.
Hurry!”
He leaped out and in a moment
was cranking with all his might. No
use. Not a spark. Then he began
using reason and judgment, giving
Joyce time enough to do the same.
They teased the motor—teased it
into a first gasp of life. Then more
teasing. Then a roar, so sudden, so
mighty that it seemed the old car
would shake itself to pieces before
Joyce could shut off the throttle.
The backfiring was deafening, more
like a machine gun than a motor.
“Oh, Dirk!” she screamed though
he was already at her side, “I can’t
make it stop!”
“Who's a fool now?” he yelled at
the top of his voice. “Take your
foot otf the accelerator and push
yourself over.”
Then he was at the wheel, back
ing, turning cautiously for fear of
the spikes of niggerheads, but final
ly straightening out on the Toluca
trail, shifting into second and at
last into high. Joyce turned, kneeled
on the seat and looked back. The
riders were closer now, quite close;
some of them were already dis
mounting, their carbines unslung,
and running to kneel on the farther
edge of the barranca.
“Never mind the bumps, Dirk,”
she called over her shoulder, "give
her gas and take everything that
comes. The shooting is about to
6tart.”
“How far off are they?” asked
Dirk.
Then and there Joyce was
stumped, for is there a woman alive
who knows by sight the difference
between a hundred yards and a half
a mile? “I don’t know,” she said;
“I haven’t the least idea.”
“Of course you have!” he shouted
impatiently. “How far? Is it ten
yards or a mile?”
“I don’t know,” said Joyce. “I’m
not being stubborn; I just don’t
know.” Then she cried, "Never
mind—here it comes!"
The first bullet struck in line but
well behind the car; it ricocheted
and passed over them with a
screaming whine. That was enough
for Dirk, he opened the throttfe
wide and sent the flivver careening
across the prairie, making note of
the direction he would have to take
to bring it back to the abandoned
trail. More bullets followed but none
so threatening as the first and pres
ently there was silence. Joyce sat
down and sank back, sighing her
relief.
“I guess we’re safe, Dirk. Hadn’t
we better nurse the tires a bit? They
must be pretty soft.”
“You’re right,” said Dirk, slow
ing down. “How long has this soap
box been parked in that gully?”
“Let me see,” said Joyce calcu
latingly. “Is it a year? No; it can’t
be. I’ll give you a chance to figure it
out for yourself, Dirk. How many
days have you been at La Barran
ca?”
“Nine,” said Dirk promptly.
“Then add three to that,” said
Joyce. “It doesn’t seem possible.
Twelve days, less than two weeks!
I was away twelve years; I’ve been
back twelve days. Somehow it
doesn’t make sense.”
CHAPTER XVI
At the first crossroads they were
lucky enough to get gas and the
poor old flivver, faithful to the last,
limped into Toluca a little before
noon. Abandoning it in a side street
to avoid unnecessary complications,
they walked to the San Carlos and
before long were feasting on crystal
trout fresh from the Lerma and cer
tain equally famed .accessories.
More than once they raised their
eyes to look at each other across
the table, then dropped them be
cause their hearts were too full of
content for words.
But the moment the meal was
over Dirk said without warning,
“Joyce, will you marry me? I’ve
got to know.”
“Yes, Dirk. When?”
“This afternoon. As soon as we
get to the city.”
“Oh? Why wait till then?” asked
Joyce.
But Dirk was in no playing mood.
“Because there’s no American con- ,
sul in Toluca," he answered grave
ly
“Does there have to be a consul?”
“Either that or some authorized
officer from the embassy. Any
preacher in good standing can do
the trick, but the presence of an
American official as witness is what
makes it legal at home.”
“I see,” said Joyce slowly; then
she raised her eyes to his face.
“Dirk, I’m yours. I’ll do whatever
you want me to.”
He reached out to lay his hand on
hers. “I love you, Joyce.”
“And I love you, Dirk. Is that
why we must hurry so? You’d think
it would make us willing to wait.”
He frowned. “You haven't told
me your reason for rushing to Mex
ico City, but I think I guessed it.”
“To attend to General Onelia,"
said Joyce, also frowning.
“I thought so,” said Dirk, “and
that’s why we’re going to marry to
day. When you take on Onelia or
the ambassador or any other small
“A Person of Your Particular
Looks, Size and Adorable Build.”
fry I want a right nobody can dis
pute to be in the ring—to sit in your
corner.”
She smiled. “Again I love you,
Dirk."
Going out in search of the finest
car available, he walked on air. He
was glad to be alive, glad to be re
lieved of the strain of driving and
to sit in the back with his arm
around Joyce, both of them wrapped
in the same rug. Arrived in the
city they drove straight to his little
house and from her first glimpse of
its exterior to the last long look
within Joyce was conscious oi
pleased wonder and a steadily in
creasing sense of well-being. Here
was a nurtured loveliness, unpur
chasable in bulk, individual to the
core yet with arms held wide to all
devotees of good taste. She was
happy in this house. Even Pablo,
masking amazement, all but chok
ing on suppressed joy at the return
of his missing master, seemed of
its warp and woof.
“What about a hot bath to start
with?" asked Dirk.
“Splendid,” she answered quick
ly, then her lips drooped. “I haven’t
anything to put on.”
“Don’t worry.” said Dirk.
“Search the world and you couldn’t
find a costume more becoming than
what you’re wearing to a person of
your particular looks, size and
adorable build.”
“Silly-head!”
“I can furnish you a soft shirt
for a blouse and by the time you’re
ready for them the jodhpurs will
have been brushed and pressed as
sweet as a flower.” He turned to
Pablo. “Pablo, this is the senorita
Joyce Sewell, from whom you may
take orders as coming from myself,
only more so. Give her into the
charge of Paulina. As for the rest,
I leave it to her since she talks
Spanish better than either of you.”
Dirk had not dismissed the hired
car and without bothering to inform
Joyce of even waiting to wash his
hands he started for the embassy
proper, passing the chancellery by.
The great iron gate was opened by
a strange porter but the man on the
door was an old friend.
"Good afternoon, Antonio.”
“Buenas tardes, Don Deerke,”
cried Antonio, excitedly, “buenas
tardes, buenas tardes!”
“Is the ambassador at home and
awake?”
“Si, senor; como no?”
“Tell him a Mr. Van Suttart
would like to see him. Be sure you
give the message just as I say it.”
As they entered the vast living
room the ambassador himself
emerged with a rush from his study,
stopped and stared. “Well!” he
gasped, “I’ll say you came on the
run!” His eyes moved up and down.
“Haven’t you changed those clothes
since you left?”
Dirk glanced downward ruefully,
then looked up and grinned. “I ad
mit it’s pretty bad, sir, especially
since I come as a private citizen.”
“What do you mean? I haven’t
fired you yet.”
“I was merely anticipating,” said
Dirk, looking around.
“What are you hunting for?”
“Two things. A chair with a wash
able cover and a drink.”
"Forgive me, my boy. Sit any
where you like; there’s nobody to
kick about it since I’m a grass-wid
ower from a week ago till the
Christmas holidays. I’ll ring for
your usual. Come on, now; what’s
on your mind?”
“I’m here for assistance, sir. I
want you to help me marry Miss
Joyce Sewell of La Barranca this
afternoon.”
The ambassador collapsed into
the nearest chair and groaned. Then
they talked—talked as only two men
who possess an identical back
ground can talk. The rapid fire of
questions and answers covered not
only Dirk’s absence but swept from
such broad considerations as his an
cestry for three generations back,
down to the trifling matter of his
present private income in dollars
and cents with salary omitted. Yet
there was no confusion. When they
got through there was nothing
either of them didn’t know about the
inner and outer workings of Dirk
Van Suttart.
“Let’s see where we stand,” said
the ambassador, summing up. “You
want to marry Miss Sewell. Well,
she’s certainly of age as far as that
operation is concerned, so stopping
you by getting her stepmother to
stop her is definitely out. Then you
state you can’t wait even to tele
phone your people because of the
urgency of securing Onelia’s aid,
because what they say wouldn’t
make any difference anyway, and
finally because they’re probably in
Europe.” He scowled. “The first
of those three reasons is what’s
bothering me — trouble heading
straight this way.”
“You needn’t worry on that
score,” said Dirk. “As a matter of
fact, sir, Miss Sewell emphatically
doesn’t want the aid of this estab
lishment. She says she can get
along a whole lot better without it.
Her idea is that ever since embas
sies have been run for trade and to
hell with the trader they’ve become
mere stumbling-biocks to the pio
neer—also a constant pain, an eye
sore.”
“Eh?” exclaimed the ambassa
dor, astonished; then he asked with
genuine solicitude, “Are you sure
she’s quite all there?”
“Quite,” said Dirk confidently.
“The truth is, sir, I’m inclined to
agree with her. Give her a chance
and she’ll make a monkey of
Onelia—which is more than we have
ever been able to do.”
"Dirk—I’m calling you Dirk be
cause I want you to think of me as
sitting here in place of your father
in less than two weeks this girl
hds managed to do extraordinary
things to your mind, so much so
that I beg you not to trust it until
you’ve taken advice from someone
capable of judging her with impar
tial eyes.”
“I agree to that,” said Dirk
promptly. “What about yours? Do
you think they would be impartial?”
The ambassador frowned, then
smiled. “All I can say is I’d try
my best to make them so. When
can you bring the paragon around?”
“Don’t think me impertinent, but
there isn’t time for that. Besides,
since she has nothing but riding
clothes she might find it embarrass
ing.”
“I take it you’re inviting me to
your house,” stated the ambassa
dor.
“Yes, sir,” said Dirk, “and I’d
be a lot more humble about it if
you hadn’t waived your ambassa
dorship to act as my father.”
“That’s a bull’s-eye,” conceded
the ambassador. “Let’s go—the
quicker the better.”
“Do you mind if I have a wash,
sir?” begged Dirk. “I mightn’t
have time later on."
“Help yourself; you certainly
need it and you know the way.”
Dirk washed all he could reach
without undressing, then paused
long enough to do some important
telephoning; consequently several
minutes elapsed before he found
himself in the ambassadorial car
and only then did he feel a first
twinge of trepidation. Almost an
hour had passed since he had aban
doned his prospective bride without
warning. How would she react to
such cavalier treatment? How to
the surprise he was about to spring
on her? Absurd as it might appear,
what Joyce thought about anything
seemed to him a lot more impor
tant than what the ambassador was
going to think about Joyce.
Even so he was in for a shock, for
the moment Pablo opened the
closed door of the living room and
stood back that his master and his
master’s chief might pass they
crashed in upon an astonishing
scene. Before them, back to the
door and with hands thrust in her
breeches pockets, stood Joyce in an
unmistakable posture of battle. Be
yond, a veritable lioness of a hat
less woman not only in appearance
but by virtue of her ruar, paced
the room from side to side. Words
were tumbling out of her in an un
ceasing and reverberating rumble,
yet Joyce’s voice, accurately
pitched, could cut across it quite
clearly without apparent forcing.
“It’s no use, Margarida," she was
saying. “You can yelp all you like
but you’re here and you’re going to
stay. Try to get out and I’ll ride
you down the block. That’s why
I’ve kept on these clothes.”
“Joyce, please!” cried Dirk in an
agonized voice; then he collected
himself and faced the older woman.
“Licenciada Margarida Fonseco,
may I present his excellency the
ambassador of the United States?”
He laid his hand on Joyce’s shoul
der as she turned. “Chief,” he
half gulped, "this is Joyce—Joyce
Sewell.”
The ambassador found himself
looking into as straight and blue a
pair of eyes as he had ever seen—
eyes of a blue that at the moment
was almost black. He took a hand
cool to the touch, slender, yet amaz
ingly firm, and the next instant a
current of courage and the will to
fight swept up the length of his arm
straight to his heart.
“My dear,” he heard himself say
ing after quite a pause, “don’t you
think we might all sit down?”
“Of course,” said Joyce; then hes
itated, looking doubtfully toward
Margarida.
At that moment Pablo appeared
at the door, stood back and an
nounced loudly: "General Sebasti
ano Sanchez y Robles, ex-minister
of war.”
"General! cried the ambassador,
advancing with outstretched hand.
“What brings you here, of all places
and people?”
"I don't know,” said the general,
glancing around in a bewildered
manner, “I really don’t, Excellen
cy. I came in answer to a mysteri
ous message from the young lady
who caused us so much trouble,
brought about my downfall and thus
established my reputation for all
time as a prophet. Is she here?”
Joyce stepped forward. "Pres
ente, mi General.” She smiled, but
almost immediately turned sober.
“If I did you an injury, I’m more
than willing and ready to make
amends. General, I’m going to tell
you a story. Frequently I shall have
occasion to call upon Licenciada
Margarida Fonseca for confirma
tion. Whenever she denies a point
you may take it she means the con
trary. Let her face be my star
witness; I defy her lips.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Red, Blue and Green Lights Seen as
an Aid in Growing Greenhouse Plants
In the plant world, red means go
ahead, green lights mean stop. Ex
periments conducted at the Smith
sonian Institution in Washington, D.
C., by W. H. Hoover, a scientist in
the department of radiation, show
that plants respond to colored lights
by speeding up or slowing down
their growth to zero.
The reason that plants exposed to
green light cease to grow or slow
down progress, is that they simply
reflect the green through the color
ing matter in their leaves, called
chlorophyll. Thus, they fail to ab
sorb the light, just a# if they were
growing in dense shade.
The reds, on the other hand, no
ticeably stimulated the process of
development. Able to absorb the
light, plants exposed to red and red
blue rays proved able to assimilate
larger quantities of the carbon diox
ide essential to their development
and so speeded up to a correspond
ing rate of growth
The process went on rapidly under
exposure to rays so intense that they
are invisible to the human eye.
Plants can evidently distinguish ul
tra-violet light and reds far beyond
the range of visibility for the human
race.
While the sensitiveness of plants
to rays of colored lights is a fact of
general interest to gardeners, it will
have an economic value, Hoover
believes, in bringing specimens into
bloom earlier or later than under
ordinary conditions. Growers wHl
be able, by flooding their green
houses with green light, to hold back
their plants or, by the use of deep
red and blue rays, to force them
into bloom far ahead of their season.
Papyrus Made From Plant
Papyrus paper was used exten
sively in Greco-Roman times and
was made of the papyrus plant,
which grew in profusion along ttas
Nile.
By
RUTH WYETH
SPEARS
B
npHIS pink and white chintz
apron with pink gingham frills
should inspire anyone to make
long strides towards the kitchen.
It is easy to cut. The material
required is 1% yards of 36-inch
wide chintz or cotton print and
one yard of plain material.
For the skirt of the apron, cut
a piece of paper or cloth 27 inches
wide and 23 inches deep. Fold
this lengthwise through the cen
ter, as at A, then measure down
from the top of the fold and in
from the corners the distances in
dicated in the diagram and mark
the dots. Using the dots as a
guide, mark the outline of the
apron skirt as you see it in the
diagram. The dimensions for
shaping the bib are given in the
diagram at B. The pocket is a
5-inch square with lower corners
rounded as shown here at C. The
apron ties are cut 6 inches wide
and 36 inches long. The strip for
the belt should be cut inches
wide and a facing strip the same
width should be cut for it. The
shoulder straps are cut 4 inches
wide and then creased lengthwise
through the center.
The strips of the plain material
TIPS „
(jardeners
Protecting Flowers
AN EARLY season flower pest
is leaf beetle, a chewing in
sect whose presence is indicated
by holes in the leaves. Found most
often on alyssum, zinnia, mari
gold and annual phlox. Remedy:
Use stomach poisons in the farm
of sprays containing arsenicals
or pyrethrum.
Snapdragon, aster, petunia and
verbena are the principal victims
of the cutworm, a chewing insect
which cuts off plants at the
ground. It should be combated,
says Gilbert Bentley, flower ex
pert of the Ferry Seed Institute,
by placing about a spoonful of poi
son bran bait around the base of
each plant.
Aphids bother almost all the
popular flowers except zinnia.
They cause wilting, crumpling
and discoloration of the leaves.
Spray or dust with pyrethrum or
nicotine sulphate.
Downy mildew shows up white
all over a plant and discolors to
black, killing leaves and rotting
stems. Remedy: Dust regularly,
but lightly, with flowers of sulphur.
'CATCH COLON,
EASILY?
VICKS
Va-tro-nol
helps prevent
vmany colds j
COWS NANO ON
AND ON ?
VICKS
VAPORUBi
helps end a {
cold quicker a
I nil Ii Illi II.) Hi I i I i III I. Ml h I II * mi
_.__
Becoming Honesty
What is becoming is honest, and
whatever is honest must always
be becoming.—Cicero.
A Truth Is Obscured
Every duty we omit obscures
somp truth we should have known.
—John Ruskin.
Let’s go to town
—at home!
NO TELLING what tomorrow's wsathsr may bs. It fools the bast fore
caster. Bat we do want ohlnti for tha windows. Wo do need a oar
pat sweeper, a new percolator, and a new end-table in the living-room.,
And we don't want to slosh around rainy streets to hunt them. Problem:
How to thwart the weather man. Simple enoughl Lef s sit down by the
fireplace and read the advertisements. Here if s comfortable and snug.
We'll take the newspaper page by page, compare prioee, qualities,
brand-names. Tomorrow, rain or shine, wa'll head for tha store that has
what we want, and be home again in a jiffy.
• “Buying at home"—through tha advertising columns—gives you wide
selection, more time to decide, and satisfaction when you decide.
• MAKE IT ONE OF TOUR PLEASANT HABITSI
for the ruffles are cut 6 inches
wide. The ruffle material before
it is gathered should be 2Vz times
the length of the space it is to fill
after gathering. Use the machine
hemmer foot shown here at the
lower left for hemming the ruffles
and the machine ruffler for gath
ering them.
NOTE: Mrs. Spears' latest book
—Gifts and Embroidery number—
is now ready. Ninety embroidery
stitches are illustrated; also table
settings; crochet; embroidery de
signing; fabric repairing; novelty
gifts and dress accessories. Forty
eight pages of step-by-step direc
tions. Available to readers who
will send name and address and
enclose 25 cents (coin preferred).
Just address Mrs. Spears, 210 So.
Desplaines St., Chicago.
Art of Meditation
The art of meditation may be
exercised at all hours, and in all
places; and men of genius, in
their walks, at table, and amidst
assemblies, turning the eye of the
mind inward, can form an arti
ficial solitude; retired amidst a
crowd, calm amidst distraction
and wise amidst folly.—Isaac
D’israeli.
MEN LOVE GIRLS
WITH PEP
U yon are poppy and full of fun, i«eu will In
Tito you to dance* and parti**. BUT, if you
are cross, lifeless and tired, men won’t bs
Interested. Men don't like “quiet" girls.
For three generations one woman naa told
another bow to go “smiling through” with
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. It
helps Nature tone up the system, thus lessen
ing the discomforts from tho functional dis
orders which women must endure.
Make a note NOW to get a bottle of world
famous Pinkham’a Compound today WITH
OUT FAIL from your druggist—more than a
million women have written in letters re
porting benefit.
Why not fry LYDIA E. PINKHAM'3
VEGETABLE COMPOUND?
Add Not Another Fault
If you see a fault in others,
think of two of your own, and do
not add a third one by your hasty
judgment.—Flamner.