PAGE TWO i AFRAI D/SiMAKKY W Sy ■ 7 A 1 Written for and Released by /IWI / J HELEN WELSHIMER X&lzJ central, press association^ BEAD THIS FIRST: Judy Rogers, New York heiress, is looking for a job because her father has been wiped out in a financial crash. When her father goes west with her step-mother,, her . own mother being abroad and remarried, Judy moves to a small hotel. Heart-broken because Craig Denby, the man she loved, mar ried another girl, she finds solace in the company of Ronald Birrell, bril liant young attorney from Tennessee, who recentlv joined the firm of, her father’s lawyers. Afraid of marriage, Judy realizes that is why she lost Craig. When she learns from her best friend, Marjorie, that Craig and Mary, his bride of a few weeks, have sep arated, Judy calls on Mary and phones Craig in an effort to bring them back together. A second call on Mary is nec essary to bring about a reconciliation. Judy cannot find work and one evening she returns to the hotel to find herself locked out because her rent is overdue. On the day ehe lands a job at Dance land as a hostess, Ronald tells her of an opening as social secretary to the wealthy and ambitious Abbey Boland, engaged to marry a count. Judy de clines it When a reporter spots Judy At Danceland, she decides to take the position at Abbey Boland’s home. There was much publicity and mystery over the fact she had exchanged dresses with another hostess who had admired the gown she was wearing. Judy embarks upon her secretarial job at the Boland estate. (NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY) CHAPTER 19 JUDY SAID “come in,” when the knock sounded ori* her door. She expected a white-aproned maid to ask if she might help her unpack. Instead Abbey Boland herself stepped into the room. Abbey was beautiful. Judy grant ed her that instantly. Her hair was honey-gold. Her eyes were dark purple under long, curly, black lashes. She was taller than average, and quite slender. Her dress was a twilight lavender, and slippers of darker hue were on her feet. Her slim silver bracelets were set with amethysts. The dream lasted until she spoke. Her voice was too high, too rapid, as though it hurried to overtake a phrase which always ran ahead. “You’re Miss Rogers, of course,” Abbey stated instead of asking. “Are your comfortable ?” “Oh, yes,, Very. It’s a delightful room. I like the view of the Sound and the open wood fire is too tempt ing to make me stir.” Abbey dropped down in a chair, and when she did she looked very young, almost scared. “There’s a lot of work to be done. We are having almost a continuous house party until after the wed ding, so there are sleighing parties when the snow comes, skating and skiing. Oh, yes, the swimming pool is an indoor affair, with cabanas and sun lamps on the terrace. We loaf there a gteat deal. We have tea about five before the fire in the library, or down in the game room • . . You’ll learn your way around. Til go over lists and plans with you tomororw. Is ten o’clock too early?” # “Ten o’clock is fine. I’d like to get organized/’ *, - i < “We are having a dinner tomor row night, and I want favors for the guests. I’ve a whole box of possible things you can sort. If you knew the people you could de ride better.” “Maybe I do know them,” Judy said gently. “Oh, of course. I almost forgot that you are THE Judy Rogers. [Fanners Hurt By Fail ing To Raise Foods j i (Continued from Page One.) . 1 . . ■thl* as an odd way of looking at the .matter, I mean to say that it would 'have been go considered years ago, ;when I lived in the wheat, corn and jhOf belt. A poor growing season in era rated as a public calamity. ;To be sure, farmers complained that Trices were low when they had bum- Mr yields, whereas they didn’t have '.Anything to sell when figures were due to drought, hail or grass- M *f . . - | A Queenly Bow i 1 ttmm im ~ ■.-.■■■ ••-- 1 1 | ' '" ' - • ] t 4&V' t* This unique angle shot was taken of the semi-clipper bow of the Canard v,. "White Star Line’s newest luxury liner, the Queen Elizabeth, 86,000-ton vessel built at Clydebank, Scotland, for Atlantic trade. JDhe vessel will have two pear-shaped funnels, two short masts, and will be streamlined. Maybe you’ll want to come to din ner instead of eating alone.” Judy's head came up swiftly, as though it had worn a crown and would wear one some day soon again. “No, thank you. I’m here to do a job, that’s all.” She wondered if she fancied the relief on Abbey Boland’s thin face. She detected a snobbish trait in the wealthy girl, one which refused to admit that a paid worker in the household had social position. Something intangible passed be tween the two girls. Judy felt it. It might have been a challenge. Maybe it was a warning. She didn’t kn6w. “If you need anything just ring for Myra. She’s the maid in this section of the house,” Abbey said, and excused herself. From below Judy heard laugh ter, light voices, music. She hung her dresses, unpacked her books, took a bath and brushed her hair. She climbed into the wide bed but could not sleep. Presently she got up, put on a skirt and warm sweat er, and a brown tarn on her curly hair, and slipped down the back stairway. She let herself out and walked V'* cold blue air, throw ing her head to the stars, looking far, far across the Sound. In the house she felt'like a prisoner. Un der the dark canopy of the silver bright stars she was free. This beauty she knew. She came back in an hour tired, sleepy, at peace. The side door was ldcked. She rang a bell but no one answered. There were lots of doors, she decided. One of them would be open. She crossed to the south side of the house, but there was no response at the two doors there. She found another one, and rang in vain. Apparently the servants were busy elsewhere, or callers were using the wide front dodr. She had avoided that entrance purposely, fearing she might run into the dinner party. Well, there was no help. She would avert her face if she met anyone and slip un obtrusively up the stairs. She knew she had made a mis take the moment she entered. The dinner party, about to go to the nearby club for further festivities, was assembled in the wide hall, Someone gave the signal. “Judy!” "Judy Rogers, where have you been?” “Hi, Judy, welcome back! The town’s been dead without you.” They surrounded her. They pulled her this way and that. They let her know how they welcomed her. The young people whom she did. not know gazed at her with eager interest. She sensed that she had stolen the limelight. It was funny. She, Judy Rogers, working for a living, was standing in the middle of this dressed-up group, wearing an Qld brown sweater and tarn, and wondering how Abbey was taking it. Abbey had made no sound. She stood aloof, lips narrowed, eye brows drawn, watching. A young man pulled her forward. “Say, Abbey, what do you mean keeping Judy shut up! Don’t let her pull that “I-want-to-be-alone” stuff on you. She’s the friendliest hoppers. Still, I never heard it argued that big crops were a curse or that semi-famine was a blessing. A Novel Plan. The other day an acquaintance of mina suggested to me a novel plan f° r agriculture’s benefit. I mustn’t identify him too closely. In the first place, he was sarcastic; he didn’t mean what he said. Second ly, he was insulting to the New Deal’s so-called “philosophy of To quote him inevitably would involve him in trouble with his superiors. Anyway, he’s a bug specialist—an entomologist in the agriculture de partment. HENDERSON, (N. £.) DAILY DISPATCH SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1938 girl in the east. Remember the time ait the Sigma Nu dance, Judy ...?”’ The inner circle closed around Judy. Thfe young people who be longed to society as it appeared in the blue book and the social register lined up with Judy. The others, not: in it themselves, and closer friends of Abbey’s, made her cohort. Into the midst of the gaiety, a tall, dark young man came. Hi® eyes were lazy, amused, a trifle cynical. He had a small black mustache, a disarming smile, dark hair, a stubborn chin. j “What is it?” he asked. “Judy!” Two of the young men told Mm. “In person! Judy Rog ers!” They turned to Judy. “It's Count Phfflippe.” The count bowed deeply. “And who, may I ask, is Judy? Probably I should know but I must confess —” He shook his head dubiously. “I’m secretary to Miss Boland,” Judy told Mm, watching his sur prise. “She’s a daughter of Malcolm Rogers of the Street,” somebody added. “Oh, yes, yes, of course.” His eyes narrowed artd ais expression said that he remembered the story. “Your mother is abroad, is she not ? I met her last year, and she men tioned a daughter.” “Phillippe, we’re late.” Abbey’® icy tones ended the conversation. The merrymakers went through the great door into the waiting cars. Judy went up the steps alone. She wished that she had stayed out of doors half an hour longer.; This meeting could have been’ avoided. She knew’ instinctively; Abbey resented it. She knew, also,; that Abbey was going to desperate; measures to enhance her social; prestige in the eyes of the count, j She must have pulled *some pretty, fine strings to get two or three of those people to come to her dinner.!' It seemed rather absurd and foo?-j ish, this fine-point technique of the. social game. Once it had been im-j portant. No, she told herself, it| hadn’t. She had yielded to it be-! cause it was part of her life. Grate-! fully she realized that she pre ferred, really preferred, to be on the outside accomplishing some thing. She slipped into cream satin pa jamas, threw the windows wide,] and climbed into bed. She was half* asleep when the telephone at her bed rang. She picked it up. She! had noted a minute switchboard ini the lower hall which the butler op-: erated. Who could be wanting her? “Judy?” The cheerful, confident; tones belonged to Ronald Birrell. 1 “How are you doing?” “Oh, fine! I’m unpacked, and I’ve got a view of the Sound, and an open' wood fire. Why didn’t you come to the party tonight?” “I wasn’t invited,” he answered ruefully. “Neither was I.” She couldn’t resist that. “But I am included in the week-; end festivities. I’m coming out to-; morrow, night.” She was glad, Judy realized. (To Be Continued > This chap’s proposition is that we ought to encourage pestiferous in sects —to make the most of the ones we have already, and to import new kinds, even as the Japanese beetle is a comparatively recent immigrant. It’s a fantastic motion, certainly. All the same, about half a decade past, the idea was boosted in Dixie that a monument ought to be erected somewhere in the southland to the boll weevil, as a restraint upon cot ton overproduction. Need I remark that that was a josh also? Still,, as my entomological friend observes, bugs are a lot more effec tive than any amount of un-plantings and plowing-under, and it’s hard to slaughter little pigs as fast as hog cholera kills them automatically. , Moreover, bugs and germs are im partial. This Isn’t true of un-plantings and Swiss Planes in Maneuvers v Wher* the tiny intensive menenw plowings-under. A land-owner can tfn-planft his own fend or ploW It fender and he Indem nified f6r doing SO. A tenant farmer, however, hhs no land of fils oWn, not to plant on or to plow under.- He can’t very well rent land not to plant on, Or to plant On and then plow under. It sounds mixey, but it’s equally sound economically. Had Shot At it Brides, I thfhk a lot of our farmers are slightly cuckoo. I’m not much of a farmer but I ran a farm once—in South America. I had a cow, which gave all the milk I needed. I had pigs, and ate ofte oc casionally. T had chickens which laid eggs for me, and, beheaded nOw and then, were good eating. I raised My §wn vegetables. In short, I set my own table. If necessary I burned corn for fuel. I wore no clothes to speak of. I didn’t need much cash money ex cept for my primitive wants —like to bacco and alcohol. If I’d been enter prising probably I could have sup plied those tod. But a North American farmer plants nothing but Wheat or corn or cottoft or tobacco. He’s dependent on condensed milk, canned fruit and vegetables, meat froM a butcher shop and Miscellany from a grocery. He can’t 6at raw wheat or cotton. He isn’t a farmer. He’s a Manufac turer of basic stdff. It isn’t an agricultural problem. High Ffrfertch States men Go To LcWdon (Continued froM Page One.) and British statesmen has been pre dicted several days in an effort to prepare a joint approach to Chancel lor Adolf Hitler through Prime Min ister Chamberlain next week at God esberg, Germany. The joint consultations Ware pro jected as the British cabinet Met in its second session today to work out the government’s policy in the Pra gue-Berlin quarrel, which threatened to send Europe into the trenches. The invitiation to Daladier and Bon net was believed by observers to fore shadow decisive Anglo-French action in the face of Hitler’s aggressive stand against the Czechoslovak gov ernment in its dispute with the Sude ten German minority. The cabinet session was the fourth this' week and closely followed a two hour morning meeting, at which the fate of Czechoslovakia and the mo mentous conversations between Prime Minister Chamberlain and Chancellor Hitler were considered. Their first meeting broke up at 1:30 p. m., with no announcement of Britain’s attitude. Viscount Runciman, the British me diator in Prague, sat through part of the morning session and then went to Buckingham Palace to lunch with Kibg George. Trucks Will Take Places Mail Trains (Continued from Page One.) of prospective customers ran from the box office far out onto Fayetteville Street, Way back near the end stod His Excellency, frock coat anl all, taking his chance and turn just like any one else. It’s doubtful that he /htM NuMSKUU- j • >— vs 'TAVC^’ ! DEAR. NOAH-DOES A DOS HAVE. TO HAVE i Tides TO BE. A. G 668 Watch —do® t VERSON MO«pjfcfjk>M qvcm». DteAR NCiAH-MF A Burglar. BROKE in i. YOUR- BASEMENT? WDULC the: ccau chute *? U«EJ>mtK