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rmjEj ,by! PTHEi SUN | W.t I i \®‘tr \" irfln 1 nmmnr CHAPTER XI—Continued —lft— "There’s a telephone in the of fice,” Jim continued. "You’ll find it easily. I left the door open and there’s a light Call a doctor. The nearest one. Ask information.” “Okay, buddy.” The boy released the brake with a Jerk and the girl, leaning out of the window for an in terested view of the disaster, fell back into the seat Jim waited for help to come, go ing at intervals to look at Dolly, wiping the blood from the wound above her temple, speaking to her gently, watching with pity and a mounting feeling of alarm her still face, white under the rouge, bend ing to hear her faint breathing. tfhe coupe returned after what seemed to Jim an eternity of wait ing. The boy got out; the girl fol lowed. Jim was scarcely aware of her. “Did you get a doctor?” he asked the boy. “The state troopers are on their way and an ambulance from the hospital at Chestertown.” The boy was obviously proud of his efficiency. The girl’s eyes were two round disks in a round white face. Jim swore grimly under his breath. He didn’t want the police mixing into this—not, at any rate, until he had talked to Tommy, until he had gotten in touch with Mr. Vaughn. “Why didn’t you call out the ma rines?” he asked caustically. The girl giggled in nervous appre ciation. “Shut up, Gladys,” the boy said Irritably. “1 ought to have taken you home. You told me to ask In formation,” he said to Jim. “I told her it was a pretty bad accident and she 'phoned the police.” "All right. Thanks,” Jim said briefly, and realizing that they in tended ' to see the excitement through, he added. “Have a ciga rette.” Another eternity of waiting passed, an eternity made more dis mal than the preceding one by the boy’s eager questions about the ac cident, the girl’s identification,^! Dolly, her awed and nervous com ments, Jim’s growing anxiety for Dolly, the fact that Tommy did not appear. He wished he had gone for his own car and taken Dolly to the. village. That might have been dangerous, though. He had no idea how badly she was hurt. He’d have to get in touch with Mr. Vaughn. Where was Tommy? The police car finally arrived, convoying the ambulance from the hospital at Chestertown. “ ’Evening, Sergeant McCready,” the boy in the checked cap greeted the trooper with swaggering famili arity. “You made pretty good time.” "Good-evening,” the tall young man in the uniform returned, scarcely glancing at the boy. “Who’s hurt?” he asked address ing Jim. “She’s in the car.” Jim led the way. Sergeant McCready followed, accompanied by his companion, a stocky older man. The ambulance driver and an interne came up bear ing a stretcher. The boy and the girl with the round white face pressed forward. Jim watched the interne with strained intensity as he bent over Dolly, felt her pulse, examined the cut above her temple. “Is she badly hurt?” He asked' the question in a low shaken voice. “I can’t tell without an examina tion,” the interne said. Jim movea iorwara to aeip me Interne place Dolly on the stretcher. Lifting her gently, his throat felt tight. “You can give me the name of tier family, 1 suppose,” the interne said. Jim supplied the information. She looked so small and so still on the stretcher. He felt as though he had deserted her when the ambulance bore her away. Sergeant McCready turned to Jim. "Does this car belong to you?" he asked. i “No,” Jim replied. “Who does it belong to?” “It belongs to Miss Cecily Vaughn, Officer. T. H. Vaughn. ‘Meadowbrook.’ ” "I thought so,” the sergeant’s Companion cut in. "I’ve seen this car plenty of times on the road.” “Does Miss Vaughn know you were driving her qp?” The question startled Jim. The sergeqaft assumed with such casual certainty that he was responsible ' for the accident. It had not occurred to him that he might be suspected. “I was not driving the car,” he said eveply. “Who was?!' i Jim hesitated for a moment "No?” It was the sergeant’! com panion who spoke. His voice was unpleasantly edged with sarcasm. “Well, buddy, what’s your story?” Jim told it briefly. He sketched his position in Mr. Vaughn’s em ploy, told of being awakened, ol running across the fields, at finding Dolly alone in the disabled car. He knew, before either of the officers spoke that they did not believe him. His momentary hesitation, circum stantial evidence was all against him. “That’s not an entirely convinc ing story,” the sergeant said when Jim had finished. “It’s as full of holes as a sieve,” his companion remarked. He turned to the boy and the girl who were watching and listening with wide eyed interest “You’re riding along the road and you find this felloe here with the car and a girl who’s out cold. Did you see anybody else?” “No, sir.” The boy stepped for ward eagerly. "It happened like that We’re driving along and we stop and he asks me to go down to his place and call a doctor. When I told Information there’d been an accident she put in a call for you. I didn’t see anyone else.” “He might be telling the truth, though,” the girl onered, glancing at Jim. “There was a light on in his place. He might have left like he said, when somebody knocked at the door.” The sergeant took the names and addresses of the witnesses—Frank Wilson and Gladys Smith—and sent them reluctantly on their way. “We’ll take you over to head quarters,” he said to Jim, leading the way to the police car. “How long will you keep me there?” Jim asked. “That depends. We can arrange a preliminary hearing tomorrow. Can you get bail?” he asked, not unkindly. Bail! Good Lord! He was under arrest! “I think so,” he said. “It will be necessary for me to get in touch with someone at ‘Meadowbrook.* " “You can call from headquar ters,” the sergant said. “Miss Vaughn’s car?” Jim asked. “We’ll send a man out here to take care of it Let’s get going, Kelly.” Jim liked the sergeant He had a clean - cut intelligent appearance. His manner was neither bullying nor inflated with self-importance. Jim squeezed himself into the police coupe with the two men and re signed himself to the unpleasant as pects of the immediate future. Chestertown was a sizable bor ough eight or nine miles from Glen dale. Jim’s mind was occupied with thoughts and conjectures. It was Tommy, of course. But where had he gone? There was some explanation. He, Jim, would have to keep the kid out of the mess until he could get in touch with Mr. Vaughn. He fell responsible. He shouldn’t have let Tommy believe that Dolly might make trouble with the moon-calf, puppy-love letters the boy had writ ten her. He’d probably taken her out tonight in an attempt to get them. Dolly had looked so small and so still on the stretcher. Was it possible that Dolly was going to die ... ? When he had gone inside the high way patrol station with the officers, Jinn asked il he might make a tele phone call. Jim gave the operator MacPher son’s number. After an interval ol insistent whirring, he heard Mac Pherson’s voice at the other end ol the wire. Feeling grateful that Mrs. MacPherson had not answered the call, Jim, sketched his predica ment, asked MacPherson to go up to the house and make sure that ev ery member of the family was there and come at once to the troopers’ headquarters at Chestertown. Mac Pherson’s voice, controlled, calmly efficient, reassured Jim. There was no cause for alarm, he told himself. The following hour was unpleas ant enough. The sergeant and his associate asked a wearying number of questions. Jim knew that they did. not believe his story. Why should they? he thought The evi dence was all against him. He had to keep Tommy out of it Ob well, it was only for a time When the hands of the clock had crept around past half past three, Jim heard in the early morning stillness the sound of a car stop ping in front of the house. A mo ment later, Cecily came into the room, followed by MacPherson. She had not changed her clothes; obvi ously she had not‘gone to bed. She still wore the filmy floating dress and the short Jacket of brilliant brocade buttoned snugly at her waist Was it only this evening that he had seen her walking across the side lawn at “Meadowbrook," wait ins tor her escort to take her to Marjory Patton’s party? It seemed an eternity to Jim. "Jiml" Cecily cried softly, walk* ins toward him. “What have you been doing, Jim?” Her voice was steady, her color was high, her hair was blown into flying tendrils giv ing her an attractively hoydenlsh appearance. ‘Tm under arrest," he said, with a half smile, for Cecily and Mae* Pherson. “Tell us more of the matter, lad," MacPherson said quietly. His ex pression was grave and concerned. Jim told the story again. “But that’s absurd.” Cecily turned to the tall young trooper standing beside the desk. “Mr. Fielding couldn’t have done a thing like that. Sergeant McCready. It’s utterly impossible. There must be some mistake.” The darling! Jim thought, touched and elated by her defense of him, loving her spirit and her gallantry. “It is your car, isn't it Miss Vaughn?” Sergeant McCready asked. “I suppose it is," Cecily replied. "At least my car isn’t in the ga rage. Mr. Fielding is familiar with it” Sergeant McCready’s face was impassive. “Did you give anyone permission tr use the car last night?” he asked. •No," she answered promptly. “But I know Mr. Fielding didn’t take it One of the men on the place must have decided to go on a spree.” “Is everyone at home?" asked Jim. “Everyone is there,” MacPher son replied. "We looked into their rooms,” Cecily continued. “They were all asleep, Susan, Tommy, Jerry, Miss The Sergeant Took the Names and Addresses of the Witnesses. Parker, the maids. I was just get ting home from the party when MacPherson came up to the house. And how you're going home with us, Jim.” “We'll have to hold Fielding,” the tall young sergeant said. Cecily turned swiftly. “Hold him? Why?” MacPherson glanced at Jim. “I’m afraid that bail can’t be arranged tonight,” he said. "I am not a prop erty owner and Miss Cecily is a minor." “But you know us, Sergeant Me Cready,” Cecily appealed to the trooper. “I can assure you that Father would want to do everything possible for Mr. Fielding. I’ll make myself personally responsible. Isn’t that enough?” “I’m afraid not,” Sergeant Mc Cready replied with a half-smile. “In the matter of speeding or skipping a light we do, occasionally, make an exception. But in a case like this we can’t," the sergeant continued. “A girl has been hurt—how badly we don’t yet know." "And you admit you didn’t give him permission to drive your car,” Officer -telly added. "But he wasn’t driving the car," Cecily said heatedly. “He has told you exactly what happened.” "It was a good story,” officer Kelly observed laconically. “I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous!” Cecily was angry. "You a netter go nome wun mac Pherson,” Jim said gently. “It’a almost morning. I don’t mind stay* ing here. There will be a hearing some time tomorrow.” “Will they let you go then?" she asked Jim. The sergeant answered the ques tion. "If bail is furnished and the mag istrate will sign his release.” “But he’s innocent!” Cecily cried. "If that is true,” Sergeant Me Cready said soothingly, "you’ve nothing to worry about. It may take a little time. We can’t have a final hearing until we know defi nitely how badly the girl is hurt That’s all I can tell you. Miss Vaughn.” “Then there’s nothing I can do?” She looked at Jim, her spirits droop ing a little. "You can go home and get some sleep.” “Sleep!” Her chin lifted. ‘Tm going home and call Father. Don’t Worry, Jim.” “Pm not worrying." He smiled. "Good-night Thank you for com ing. Good-night MacPherson." “Good-night, lad.” MacPherson pressed Jim’s hand. “We’ll be com ing back tomorrow." "We certainly will,” Cecily said with emphasis. “Good-night. Good night. Jim.” Jim’s eyes followed her as she walked through die door. It was almost worth being under arrest to have her defend him so spiritedly. Be seated himself in a hard oak chair, resenting his detention less than he had before Cecily and Mac Pherson came, thinking, with a cer tain degree of serenity, of the or deal-before him. Silence filled the room for an In terval. Sergeant McCready, at die desk, wrote on a long sheet of pa per with a scratching pen. Officer Kelly dozed behind die sports sec tion of a newspaper. Jim lit a cig arette. The hands of the round faced dock pointed to quarter of five. CHAPTER XII "You get to bed now, Jamie," Mrs. MacPherson said, as Jim fin ished a heartening mid-afternoon lunch In the kitchen at the cottage. "Not just yet, Bessie.” Jim pushed back his chair and stood wearily erect “You must be ready to drop. No sleep last night and all those ques tions this morning. It was down right bad manners the way that judge or whatever he was talked to you." "Official routine,” Jim said, smil ing to lighten Mrs. MacPherson’s concern. “I’m going to bed pretty soon. Right now I’ve something to do." Mrs. MacPherson sighed. Jim went , out of the cottage and down the orchard path. He had to find Tommy before he could sleep. Tom my had not been present at the hearing this morning. Cecily had been there, accompanied by Jere my Clyde. The MacPhersons, too, had been present, Dolly’s father and stepmother, her brother, Joey, the one who sang, more closely resem bling Dolly than any of her family, the same flax-blue eyes and impu dent charm. Seeing Joey in the mag istrate's office this morning had giv en Jim a bad moment or two. The hearing had been less of an ordeal than he had anticipated. Ser geant McCready presented a report from the hospital. Dolly’s condition was much the same. She had re gained partial consciousness, to ward morning, only to slip back into unconsciousness again, me uociur in charge of the case would not, as yet, make a definite statement The inference seemed to be. Sergeant McCready stated, that the Dolly— Dorothy Quinn, how strange that sounded!—was in a serious condi tion as a result of a fractured skull. Following the hearing, Jim was detained in the magistrate’s office until Mr. Vaughn’s lawyer came out from the city and signed the bail bond, acting on authority from Mr. Vaughn who had made the arrange ments by long-distance. Mr. Vaughn was returning at once. Cecily had told Jim that at the close of the hearing. Jeremy Clyde had been sympathetic. He had even seemed to be distressed about his predica ment, Jim thought, recalling Jere my’s white and shaken look during the brief public interview he’d had with Cecily and her guest. Mr. Vaughn would arrive at “Meadowbrook” some time about noon tomorrow. The matter would be cleared up speedily then. But Jim wanted to talk to Tommy. Susan was sitting on the steps of the side veranda, a disconsolate little figure, her chin resting on her knees. She sprang up when she caught sight of Jim, ran to meet him, flung herself at him impetu ously. “What’s all this?” Jim asked holding her off, lobking down into the wide hazel eyes upturned to him. “Will they put you in jail?” Her lips trembled; her eyes filled with tears. “Of course not,” Jim said cheer fully. “What gave you that idea?” “Nora said they would and so did Rose.” Tears spilled down over her cheeks. She held tightly to Jim’s arm. “Neither Nora nor Rose know ev erything. Stop crying, silly. Your eyes will be red for the wedding. People will think you have hay fever.” “I don’t want to go to the wed ding." She pressed closer to him. “I want to stay here with you.” “Oh, come now,” Jim says coax ingly. “They can’t have the wed ding without you. Think how dis appointed the bride and groom will be and all the people.” *Tm afraid, while I'm gone, they’ll come and take you away.” “Nonsense!” I’ll be here when you get back." “Truly?” she asked. “Certainly. I’m going to the cot tage and sleep for a day and a hall Will you bring me some wedding cake?” She nodded. “Did they put hand cuffs on you,” she asked, “like in the movies?" “No. They treated me very po litely. Where is Tommy?” “He’s out on the front lawn writ ing a letter. He told me to go away so I think it’s to a girl. I don’t care if they do put you in jail," she cried vehemently. “I'll like you just the same, x do like you aw fully, Jim.” . (TO BE CONTINUED) 11 First Educational Endowment The bequeathing of 250 acres ol land, an adjacent salt marsh, and eight cows comprised the first edu cational endowment in America. This was left by Benjamin Symmes to found a free school in Elizabeth County, Va. Mr. Symmes died in 1634. Cambridge University* The 8enate House, Cambridge. Prepared by National Geographic Society, Washington, D. C.—WNU Service. versity life in the United States and that of ancient Cam bridge. These differences are plain in discipline, in daily life, in the relations between faculty and un dergraduates (never "students" at Cambridge), and in certain cus toms peculiar to this venerable seat of learning. There is little about the dingy rail road station at Cambridge to sug gest that somewhere thereabouts stands a great university town. A policeman of whom you ask your way to "The University” of fers no help; he cannot, simply be cause there are so many colleges here, each in itself a little univer sity. However, after driving into town along a wide thoroughfare which your taxi man tells you had been in ancient times a highway used by Roman soldiers, you finally arrive at St. John’s college which you are to enter. Because John Harvard, principal founder of the famous American center of learning which bears his name, was educated at Cambridge, this university holds a special in terest for people in the United States. John Harvard entered Emmanuel college in 1627. In an old leather book there you see his signature, and a notation that he paid a ten shilling matriculation fee. Now a tablet is set up in the chapel at Emmanuel to his mem ory; and last year Cambridge in England observed with sympathetic interest the movement in Cam bridge, Massachusetts, to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the found ing of Harvard college. Each Cambridge college is a sep arate entity. Each has its own chap el, lecture rooms and assembly hall, ANY American college men, old and young, find odd contrasts between uni out most oi tne space is aevotea to residential quarters. This independence has been char acteristic ol Cambridge from its earliest days. It dates from the foundations established by religious orders, such as the Dominicans and the Carmelites, most of which be long to the first part of the Thir teenth century. It continued with the foundation of the colleges, the first of which was Peterhouse, es tablished in 1284. The majority of the others followed in the Four teenth, Fifteenth, and Sixteenth cen turies, though Selwyn was founded as recently as 1882. Finally Admitted Women. Cambridge long held out against the admission of women students, and, though it was obliged at last to surrender and welcome the two girls’ colleges, Newham and Gir ton, more than sixty years ago, it still, unlike Oxford, does not allow women to take actual degrees. The “undergraduettes” attend lec tures, both university and college, with the undergraduates, and take the same “honors” examinations (they are not allowed to take the easier "pass” examinations), but if successful their reward is merely a “title to a degree." Every college has its own stall of tutors and its own endowments which, together with the fees from its student members, provide for its upkeep. In many cases the col leges have acquired much landed property. From the beginning it is Im pressed on the student that the loy alty of the individual is first to his college. It is by no means un common for the members of a fam ily to send their sons to one partic ular college, generation after gen eration. But in the background there remains the Alma Mater, the uni versity itself. To the initiated it is your college that you mention first; to the stranger, if asked, you announce yourself as a Cambridge man. The university, like a college, is a corporate body with its own en dowments supplemented by contri butions from the colleges and the government It also has its own lec- j ture halls and research laborato ries and it alone appoints the pro fessors, who are the elite among the “dons," or faculty members. While the ultimate governing au thority is the senate, which consists of those who have taken the degree of master of arts, the executive au thority is vested in the chancellor, elected by the senate, who is now always a prominent national figure. In practice, however, his duties are performed by the resident vice chancellor, who is invariably the head of one of the colleges. Gowns Are Important. This division of the university’s life into colleges is seen in the dif ferences in the gowns, which all undergraduates must possess. These are curiously abbreviated garments, a survival of the clerks' uniform of the Middle ages; but the forms of each college have distinctive fea tures, such as the three small velvet chevrons on the sleeves of those of St John’s. Normally the gowns are black, but those of Caius (pronounced “Keys”) are blue with black fac ings, those of Trinity a darker blue. They, and their accompanying square mortar-board caps, are often in the most decrepit state, since a tattered gown or a crushed cap is regarded as a sign of seniority; hence, "freshers,” as the first-year undergraduates are called, fre quently indulge in an orgy of near destruction to acquire this outward mark of seniority. This procedure can prove expensive. It may in volve the purchase of an entire new outfit to secure the approval of out raged authority. Gowns are worn when attending lectures, or when dining in college hall, which is the one occasion when the members of a college meet to gether, a certain number of nights each week, whether they wish to or not. Gowns must also be worn on the streets after dusk, and woe betide the unfortunate undergraduate who encounters a proctor when not in this garb. It is an equally heinous sin if he be found smoking in the streets, even when he is properly attired. These are two of the of fenses against the dignity of the university for which the proctors, who have charge of university dis cipline, are on the lookout A proctor, to the undergraduate, is an impressive and fear-inspiring being not only because of the moral weight of the authority behind him but also because he is always sup ported by two “bulldogs” or “bull ers.” These robust college porters, in spite of silk hats and formal black suits which they are obliged to wear, are often surprisingly agile in their pursuit of a delinquent un dergraduate. Process of Discipline. But when a capture is effected, proper formalities must be ob served. “Sir," says the buffer, polite but puffing, “the proctor would like to speak to you for a moment." And when you are brought before the majesty of authority, the con* versation is equally courteous. “Sir, I regret to see that you are not properly dressed; I should be glad if you would call on me in the morning." Your name is noted in a book, and when in a spirit of due re pentance the visit is made the next day, you are fined. If you are a bachelor of arts the fine is larger, for surely years of descretion, ac companied by the right to wear a longer gown and a proper tassel on the cap, must be expected to bring a proper respect for the laws of the university. Offenses committed on Sunday also involve a double penalty. No offender escapes. It is on record that King George VI smoked what was probably the most expensive cigarette of his life dur ing his undergraduate days at Cam bridge. Friendly • rivalry among the col leges is shown in the wide variety of sports jackets, or “blazers.” They appear in all colors and combina tions of colors, and may denote not only membership in some particular college but also some atnieuc achievement, such as membership in the cricket eleven or the Rugby football team. Most coveted is the pale blue blazer which only those who have represented the university in ath letics are entitled to wear. For the remainder of their lives these for tunate ones will be remembered as Cambridge “blues.” There are “half blues” for the less arduous sports, such as shooting, or even chess! “Blazers” owe their very name to Cambridge, for this was the term quite naturally applied to the scar let coats which the Lady Margaret Boat club, of St. John’s college, adopted as its uniform. Sports in general hold a high place in life at Cambridge. Rugby and association football—known as “rugger” and “soccer”—are pop ular in the winter, while in sum mer cricket and tennis take their turn. But the sport of sports at Cambridge is rowing. Thermometer in Shade, Sun A thermometer shows a higher reading in the sun than in the shade because It absorbs solar radiation. A thermometer in the shade gives more nearly the true temperature of the air, bmt is exposed to radia tion. from surrounding, objects. Most thermometers used b&sfnather bu reaus are sheltered and protected from radiation, while permitting the air to circulate freely about theny , Patten 5815 » be used and repeated throughout. You’ll be overjoyed to find squares so easy! In pattern' you will find instructions charts for making the shown; an illustration of them i of the stitches used; material re quirements. To obtain this pattern send cents in stamps or coins (c preferred) to The Sewing Household Arts Dept., 299 1 Fourteenth St., New York, N._ Please write pattern number, your name and address plainly. Icebox Rolls. 1 cake yeast 1 cup lukewarm milk % cup shortening 1 rounded tablespoon sugar 1 cup mashed potatoes 3 eggs, well beaten 1 teaspoon salt Enough flour to make stiff dough. Dissolve yeast, sugar and salt in warm milk, add shortening and eggs and potatoes. Mix well, then add flour last. Put in icebox and about one hour before baking make into rolls. This dough will keep in icebox for two or three days. ©—WNU Service. Supporting Royalty The funds which England sup plies its royal family do not com* from the pockets of the taxpayers, but from the hereditary revenues of the “Crown Lands,” which have been collected and controlled by the government since 1760. Today less than half of this income is required for the king’s civil list. The remainder — more than $3,000,000—is added to the income of the country.—Collier’s Weekly. Give some thought to the Laxative you fate Constipation is not to be trifled with. When you need a laxatlvet yon need a good one. Black-Draught is purely vegeta ble, reliable. It does not upset the Btomach but acts on the lower bowel, relieving constipation. When you need a laxative take purely vegetable BLACK-DRAUGHT A GOOD LAXATIVE CLASSIFIED DEPARTMENT HOUSEHOLD 8ENSATION—Cedar Chests at Sl.SO for every home. Write for Information at once FRITZ SPINDLES 48*8 McPherson St. - - St. Leals. Me. OPPORTUNITY WANTED—Reliable man In each town and city to establish a local advertising din* tributing agency. Small charge for train ing. Details Free. National Edacatlenal Service, 25 Coe Place, Buffalo, N. T. WNU—4 25—37 Homes Men make houses, women make homes.
The Wallace Enterprise (Wallace, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
June 24, 1937, edition 1
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