Thursday, March 29, 1934
A4artj Imlaxjlaqk*-
ELEVENTH INSTALLMENT
"Something terrible must have
happened!" cried Angie, with a flash.
"I—l know it!'
The major nodded, looking past
her out of the window.
"Theres King Haddon coming in
here," he exclaimed. "Go let him
in, Angie; I'm going to finish my
breakfast Haddon or no Haddon!
You can tell him so—if you've a
mind to."
Angie, flushed and angry, hur
ried out of the room, glad to escape
those shrewd old eyes.
Haddon would not wait in the li
brary.
"Where's the major? At break
fast? I'll go right in—if you don't
mind?" and he went, in spite of An
gie's protests.
"Hello! Still at breakfast?" he
said as his eye fell on the old man's
engrossed attitude.
The major started up, half rising
from the table, but Haddon stopped
him.
"Sit down, Lomax, I don't want to
starve you," he laughed. "I can
wait—Angie didn't want to let me
in here anyway."
"I said I wouldn't see you until I'd
finished. What's the matter at this
hour anyway? I haven't robbed the
bank."
Kingdon Haddon laughed. "Come
in, Angie," he said as the girl tried
to pass quickly through the room to
the kitchen, "I haven't come to talk
secrets and your uncle's crusty—l
need protection."
Angie stopped, smiling and flushed,
and leaned on a chair looking at
him. She liked Kingdon Haddon but
she was afraid of his wife; she could
not have explained her fear of her,
but it existed. Haddon was sitting
on the edge of an empty serving
table.
"I came in to ask you a question,
Lomax," he said irrelevently. "You
"Snow about such things. How much
is Gordon's place worth now? 1
mean the house and grounds, in
cluding the river lot next yours."
Major Lomax pushed his chair
back, felt in his pocket for his old
pipe and began to fill it carefully.
"Near as I can figure—about six
or feven thousand. The house needs
repairs. Why?" he added, "What's
hit him?"
Haddon looked absently out of the
window. "How should I know? Fam
ily troubles, I reckon. The bank
holds the mortgage. Helena doesn't
want me to touch it. I don't know
what to say about it yet."
Major Lomax rose and began to
tramp up and down.
"Where's Gordon going to take
his wife?" he asked sharply, "she's
rooted there—and so is he, for that
matter."
"Perhaps the young people think
it's old-fashioned," suggested Had-
Better To Be
INSURED
Than To Wish It Done
Insurance Dept.
THE BANK OF ELKIN
James S. Hall, Manager
Why Children Need
a Liquid Laxative
The temporary relief children get
from unwise dosing with harsh
cathartics may cause bowel strain,
and even set up irritation in the
kidneys. A properly prepared liquid
laxative brings a perfect movement.
There is no discomfort at the time
and no weakness after. You don't
have to give the child "a double
dose" a day or two later.
Can constipation be safely relieved
in children? 4 Yes I" say medical men.
"Yes!" say many mothers who have
followed this sensible medical advice:
1. Select a good liquid laxative. 2.
Give the dose you find suited to the
system. 3. Gradually reduce the dose
until the bowels are moving regularly
without aid.
An approved liquid laxative (one
that is widely used for children) is
Dr. Caldwell s Syrup Pepsin. The
mild laxative action of this excellent
preparation is the best form of help
for children —and grown-ups, too.
The dose can be regulated for any
age or need.
Your druggist has Dr Caldwell's
Syrup Pepsin. Member N. R. A.
don, "or Mrs. Gordon's tired of the
housekeeping and wants an apart
ment—my wife does."
"Shucks!" the major sank down
into his chair again, strumming on
the table with his fingers. "You
know better, Haddon! There's some
trouble. I'm sorry for Will Gordon.
He's a good man, and she's a good
woman. She'll take it hard."
...The banker nodded, glancing
thoughtfully across at Angie's pale
face and pleading brown eyes.
"I saw Miss Gordon on Monday—
in Washington," he remarked
thoughtfully.
"In Washington?" Angie started,
"why, I didn't know she'd been
away!"
Haddon nodded grimly, consider
ing her pretty flush and her round,
soft eyes critically.
"She was there all right. A de- i
cided beauty, too. I hadn't noticed
it so much before. How's the boy
turning out, Lomax?"
"Roddy?" The major twisted his
old mouth into a queer expression.
"Sowing wild oats, Haddon, I reck
on. He's in New York, Greenough
Trust Company, gets twenty-five dol
lars a week—or did six months ago,
I haven't heard that he's increased
in value," he added sarcastically.
Haddon was observing Angie, saw
the girl's wince of pain and the red
going up to her forehead. "In love
with the boy—too bad!" he thought.
"Family troubles drain a man's
pocket sometimes," he remarked sen- I
tentiously.
Angie fired up, her brown eyes
glowing with almost the wine tint of
Roddy's. She was one of those gen
tle obstinate creatures who fight
to the last ditch for love.
"They haven't got any family
troubles, Mr. Haddon," she said hot
ly. "They're fond of Nancy and
very proud of her; she's lovely, I've
known her all my life—and—Roddy
is doing well. Mr. Gordon told me
so himself."
Haddon listened with his lazy
good-humored smile. "I wish I had
a friend like you," he said.
Angie blushed crimson. "I'd feel
very mean not to stand up for my
friends. Anyone would I should
think!"
Major Lomax looked around at her
with a grim smile. "My dear, there
are a mighty lot of Judases in the
world," he remarked dryly.
Haddon assented, buttoning up
his loose spring overcoat, coughing
a little as he did it.
Major Lomax glanced up at Had
don without rising. "Going right over
to see Gordon?" he asked shortly.
Haddon, half way to the door,
turned. "Oh, I shall send for him
to come to my office—when he gets
to the bank today."
"You needn't —I've bought it my
self."
"By Jove! You're quick at a bar
gain," Haddon exclaimed after a
moment, "it was only just put in the
market."
Lomax nodded. "Took it over the
telephone before you came in," he
said grimly.
"I concede the honors of war!" he
said ironically, making for the door.
♦ » ♦
Mrs. Gordon opened the old worn
pate timidly, and approached the
house with a hesitating, reluctant
step. She was trying to realize that
the place which she had called home
ever since Roddy was a baby, was no
longer hers. She had just been,
down to the bank to sign the papers, l
making over the house to Major Lo- !
max, and her hand had termbled
so that she had to apologize for her
signature. She went into the house
feeling a little faint and giddy. She
did not know there was anyone in
the library; she went straight in and
sank weakly into a chair, staring
blankly at the sunshine in the old
soulh window.
" fn my Father's house are many'
mansions—' " she whispered tremu- i
lously, unaware that she spoke aloud.
Nancy rose suddenly from the cor
ner opposite. Her mother had not
even seen her and the girl had been
silenced by her first glimpse of Mrs.
Gordon's face.
"Mama, what is it?" she cried,
"tell me—even if I have done some
thing something dreadful. I'm
not an outsider. I—you and papa
don't tell me anything! What is it?
Mama, you're wretched! Is it about
Roddy?"
Mrs. Gordon looked at her blankly,
absorbed in her own troubles, "Your
father's just sold the house," she
said weakly.
"Oh!" Nancy gave a sharp little
cry of pain,' rising to her feet. "I
tried so hard to save you both from
this, Mama. I did it all to prevent
this, —and it's been useless—use
less!" she groaned.
Mrs. Gordon nooded her head sad
ly. "It wasn't any use, Nancy. You
know how your father feels. He's
THE ELKIN TRIBUNE. ELKIN. NORTH CAROLINA
: paid back seven thousand already."
"To Richard?"
i Mrs. Gordon raised her eyes reluc
tantly to her daughter's haggard
face. "Yes, dear. He—your father
would have it so. That leaves eight
more to pay, and he —"
Nancy rose and stood quite still
and straight, her white face set.
"Who bought the house?"
"Major Lomax."
Nancy's blue eyes widened. "He
gave four thousand cash," her moth
er went on mechanically, "and there
is three still on the 'mortgage. He—
—" she hesitated and then added,
more cheerfully: "He's been kind,
dear, he urged Papa not to sell the
; furniture. He said it wouldn't bring
enough to make it worth while, and
| —he wants us to keep the house—
to rent it from him."
"On father's salary? Why Mama,
there'll be one pinch after another!
He—he hasn't sold anything else, has
he?" she added fearfully.
Her mother sighed. "He's selling
all his securities except his life in
surance. He hopes to net about two
I thousand more. That will be nine
| paid. But, oh, Nancy, I don't know
| where in the world he's going to get
| the other six thousand from!"
Nancy sank down on the lounge.
"Mama I never thought of it in that
way," she faltered, "I had only the
one thought to save Roddy from
prison.
"Oh, Nancy, I don't see how you
could do it! When I was your age
Mrs. Gordon stopped with her
mouth open, for they both heard
Amanda admitting a visitor.
Nancy listened, straining her ears.
"It's Mrs. Haddon!" Nancy cried,
springing up. "You see her, Mother,
I—l will not!"
Mrs. Gordon looked aghast. She
had never known Mrs. Kingdon Had
don well and she did not like her.
"She's come to see you, Nancy, I
II
Nancy pushed her shaking hands.
"Go out there and talk to her —in
the other room. Don't let her come
in here!"
Mrs. Gordon, reluctant and em
barrassed, allowed herself to be
pushed. Nancy thrust her through
the portieres, drew them behind her,
and went back to her lounge. She
meant to go upstairs but she actual
ly felt faint and ill.
Bit by bit she became aware of
voices. Now the words took shape
and became sentences. It was Hel
ena's voice, her full, soft, drawling
voice.
"He's taking care of King; you
know my husband clings to a doc
tor!" she laughed softly. "He and
Richard Morgan are great friends
now; I'm glad of it for I was afraid
he wouldn't like Richard. Men are
such queer creatures. As a boy,
Richard was so much in love with
me he offered to fight King for try
ing to marry me!"
She paused and Mrs. Gordon
mumbled something, an indistinct
sentence or two, evidently bewilder
ed. Nancy sat up straight nOw ar.d
listened, although she knew that
Helena wanted her to listen.
"I cared for him too, of course—
who wouldn't? But my father —you
remember him, Mrs. Gordon?"
"I—l think so, yes, I do." Mrs.
Gordon's tone showed confusion.
He really insisted that I should
marry Kingdon. I—well, I broke my
engagement and—" she laughed soft
ly again, regretfully, "dear Mrs.
Gordon, Richard felt it so much that
I'm afraid sometimes—he'll never
marry now. I really wish he would,
it's so lonely over there for him
since his mother's death."
Mrs. Gordon evidently did not rise
to the occasion for Nancy only heard
a murmur. There were a few words
more and then Helena's voice rose
again, keyed to carry far, as her
listener knew.
"I was so sorry that Kingdon did
not buy your house when Mr. Gor
don offered it. It's quite a lovely
old place. You must hate to give it
up so suddenly, Mrs. Gordon?"
"Major Lomax wants us to stay
on—to rent it from him," explained
Mrs. Gordon, her voice breaking. ."I
do hate to leave it!"
"I should think you would! And
your son, Mrs. Gordon. What do
you hear from him?" she let her
voice rest a moment and then, slow
ly drawling, "is he doing well?"
Nancy knew, without seeing it, the
crimson flush that went up over her
mother's face.
"Roddy's always doing well. He's
doing splendidly now."
"I'm so glad to hear it! Kingdon
was asking about him yesterday. He
knows someone in the trust com
pany, I think a Mr. Beaver, a cousin
of Major Lomax.
Nancy started, trembling with ap
prehension. She remembered Roddy's
description of old Beaver with his
nose to the ground. Did this wom
an know?
CONTINUED NEVT WEEK
DEATH IIELD ACCIDENT
A verdict that Yates Stroup, 22,
Mars Hill boxer, who was fatally in
jured Saturday night in a boxing
bout at the Y. M. C. A. at Ashe
ville," came to his death from a
blow received in a boxing match,
the same thing being an unavoidable
accident," was returned Sunday by
a coroner's jury.
1 PROGRAM 1 Lyric Theatre
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A U L The surging saga of a great American)
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LORJA STUART Joe C.
I ROGER PRYOR N
w»t* Brown
fWkk | jJf MARIAN MARSH WWW Mt
MBHBP" Shirley Grey, Ondow Stevens,
> LwlMtow^MtrMKennedy, IH
Lachman. Story by Harry Saubcr.
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