The Western news. [volume], July 06, 1933, Page Page Three, Image 3

About The Western news. [volume] (Libby, Mont.) 1933-current

Image provided by: Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

                
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Oil Cynthia
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■By WORMit K1IGH1
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C. oyrlfht by tb* Bobb»-M«rrtIl Co.
WNU Servie»
CHAPTER XI—Continued
—9—
"Geoff's a dear," said Miss Nona
complacently. "I'll confess to you,
Eunice, I hoped at first he and Cyn
thia would fall In love with each
other. But they got off on the wrong
foot somehow, and It's been all I could
do to keep the peace between them
sometimes."
Her friend gave her a sharp glance.
She knew that her son's heart was
given to this small blue-eyed girl
who treated him with a casual sort
of friendliness. She discovered with
in herself an unsuspected jealousy of
Cynthia. Absorbed In her husband as
she had been, there was always the
consciousness of the boy's adoration
of his mother. Unknown to herself
she had valued that adoration, count
ed on it. Now that the book was
done, the last service she could render
her husband was completed, she had
Intended to open her heart to her
only »on.
A*d now It was too late ! Geoff had
only the remnants of his solicitude,
Ms attention, to give to his mother
where once she had had the full meas
ure. If Cynthia said something to
him in a little confidential aside at
breakfast, Geoff went off whistling.
If she was preoccupied and silent, he
departed for the laboratories as gloom
ily as though he had Just heard of
the death of his best friend.
"A salutary lesson to mothers who
put their children second in their
hearts," Mrs. Ensloe told herself,
cocking her eyebrow's In the whimsical
way Miss Nona remembered,
who will no^ when she may, when she
will she shall have nay*—and that ap
plies to mothers as well ns to sweet
hearts, apparently."
She let the subject drop for the
time being, but Cynthia soon discov
ered that Geoff's mother was conduct
ing an active—no less active because
It mo ved so quietly that none but
those two knew of it—campaign in
Geoff's behalf.
The girl early learned that she had
a skilled opponent. Mrs. Engine's
quiet comments which stabbed Cyn
thia's complacency, the wordless but
effective manner she had of indicating
the difficult position which had been
Geoff's In this household, above all
and harder to bear than anything else,
her air of pity for her goddaughter be
cause «f her blindness toward Geoff's
real character, kept Cynthia awake
for many hours, aroused in her a live-;
ly If antagonistic Interest in the
young man which his mother viewed
with silent satisfaction over her own
tactics.
'She
CHAPTER XII
Changes.
One morning the Captain failed to
appear at breakfast, and Miss Nona,
going anxiously to hts room to ascer
tain the reason, came down with a
troubled face.
"He says he's not 111, just tired,"
she reported. "I think I'll call Doctor
Blgham, just to be on the safe side."
"Call me after he's been here and
tell me what he says," Cynthia asked.
It was Mrs. Ensloe who gave the re
quested report.
"I'm afraid your grandfather Is
pretty Ill, Cynthia," she said. "It's his
heart, the doctor says."
"Seriously ill, Mrs. Ensloe?"
'Tm afraid so, my dear. Doctor
Blgham wants a nurse—''
"Oh, he must be 111! IS he In pain?"
"No. But the doctor seems to think
—there's a dropsical condition
could hear Cynthia's gasp at the other
end of the line. "There's no Imme
diate danger. No need for you to
come home."
But Cynthia did come home at once.
She knew how much Miss Nona would
need support at this time. The nurse
had arrived by the time Cynthia came.
Save for her presence in the house, It
did not seem like an Illness. The Cap
tain lay serenely on his high pillows,
smiled at his daughter, had a joking
word for Geoff and Cynthia.
As on a previous occasion Doctor
Blgham drew Geoff aside.
'"Look here! The old man's go
ing—"
"What!" said Geoff, astounded.
"Yes. No possible doubt of It.
He'll slip away In his sleep, I hope.
It's the rest of the family I'm worried
about Miss Nona Is going to take It
awfully hard—"
"And Cynthia !"
"And Cynthia, of course. But after
all, It's Miss Nona who will feel It
most. I'll be here as much as I can,
but I've my practice to think of. If
the Captain should go In the night I
want you to caU me Immediately,"
Day after day went by, and there
was no change In the patient. Miss
Nona and Mrs. Ensloe cared for him
In the daytime, the nurse at night.
Cynthia came and went as usual
from the shop. Cary came In each
evening to sit with his grandfather,
and Flossie proved to be of unex
pected value in helping with the nurs
ing
She
They were all at dinner one evening,
Flossie and Cary, too. Suddenly the
nurse's voice was heard calling from
ipetalra.
"Mrs. Aylesbury I Mr. Ensloe I"
They raced up the stairs, Cary with
his arm about his mother, Geoff
stretching out his hand to Cynthia.
The Captain was gone. He lay serene
ly on his pillows, so little changed by
death that his daughter could not be
lieve he had spoken to her for the
last time.
Miss Nona drooped sadly after the
funeral. At last Doctor Blgham called
Mrs. Ensloe aside for a talk, at the
conclusion of which she announced
briskly that she was returning to New
York and taking her friend with her.
"You've been promising me a visit
for twenty-five years, Nona," she said.
"Now you're going to pay it."
"But Cynthia?" Miss Nona asked.
It was plain that the plan lured her.
She needed a change and she had
always loved being with Eunice.
"What could I do with Cynthia and
Tenny? They can't stay here alone
with Geoff unless they have a chap
eron."
For a time It semed as though that
obstacle could not be overcome. It
was Doctor Blgham who found the
solution.
"Look here," he said one evening
when he had dropped In for a friendly
call. "Why on earth do you folks keep
this big house? I happen to know
that au apartment house company
would be glad to buy It—house, gar
den and all. Let Cynthia and Tenny
take an apartment for themselves for
the rest of the winter."
Cary seized on the Idea with avid
ity. "Cynthia could pay off all those
old bills that have been worrying
her, and Miss Nona would have a tidy
sum left The doctor's scheme sounds
like good sense to me, Miss Nona !"
It needed a great deal of persuasion
to convince the legal owner of the
house of the wisdom of such a course.
She had been born here, she had been
married here, both of her children
had opened their eyes in her bedroom
upstairs. Her husband, her motber
nnd her father had died In this house.
She wanted only to be allowed to
Spend her few remaining days—
"Few nothing," was Cary's derisive
comment. "When you get to New
York and spruce up with a lot of new
clothes you'll look like a slxteen-year
old. Besides, think of Cynthia! It'll
put her squarely on her feet for the
first time since she left college."
Cynthia herself opposed the plan
violently. She honestly believed that
her mother's health, never robust,
would be seriously affected If she left
the old house. That she herself would
benefit by the sale only strengthened
her opposition. At the same time she
had a feeling of balloons tugging at
her heart. To be free of those harass
ing debts!
"Geoff could move Into that nice
quiet hotel near the laboratory," Mrs.
Ensloe said brightly. "It's only four
months till he'll be leaving Denver
anyway." She slid her glance toward
Cynthia's face as she spoke and was
cheered to see the startled expression
which dawned on It.
Flossie, too, pushed the sale. She
felt that when the last link was cut
between Cary and his home she would
be surer of him.
'Our first wife"
gave signs of being in earnest about
her present flirtation.
"You're all against me," Miss Nona
said mournfully. "There's only one
thing I ask, let me get away with
Eunice before a book is packed or a
room disturbed. I want to remember
my home as It was, not all torn up
and dlsm^tled."
So Cynthia and Geoff, with Cary,
saw the two women off to New York.
"Where are you?" Geoff demanded
one afternoon, coming home early that
he might help with the work.
A faint halloo from the attic In
formed him of Cynthia's whereabouts.
He found her sitting on a three-legged
stool before an open trunk, poring
over a gray-leaved kodak book.
My father gave It to me on my
Look—
eighth birthday," she said,
here he Is! I used a whole roll of
films on him before I learned to focus.
And here's Miss Nona, and here's
Cary in his first long trousers, and
here's the Captain—''
He took It from her and turned Its
pages with eager Interest. Here were
dozens of Cynthlas: Cynthia In
pleated skirt and white sweater, lead
ing an English bulldog on a leash;
Cynthia in riding costume astride a
pony; Cynthia with Cary, his arm
thrown protectively about her shoul
ders; Cynthia In her graduating frock,
all frills and with an armful of roses:
Cynthia, Cynthia, Cynthia—repeated
over a range of an entire decade.
"If I only knew what to do with all
these things," she mourned,
a trunk full of the Captain's wedding
clothes, striped trousers, huge satin
tie, high silk hat and qll.
piles of Leslie's Weekly go back to
the Spanish American war. I hate to
burn them or sell them to the rag
man. Here's the saddle I had for my
Shetland pony—his name was Carna
tion Perfume because I thought that
was the only name nice enough for
him.
'Here's
These
Cary called him Tarnation.
That box over there Is full of things
Dad and Ml» Nona brought from the
World's fair at Chicago; spun glass
and shells from Bermuda and a blown
ostrich egg—aU sorts of trash that
have memories attached to them."
"What doesn't?" Geoff asked sensi
bly. "If I were you I'd pack one box
with useless souvenirs and throw the
rest away."
The work proceeded slowly despite
the number of willing hands. Tenny
was In her glory, dragging out old
silk dresses with bustles and ruffled
trains, rescuing Cynthia's biggest doll
from Cary's devastating hand, scat
tering the books Cynthia had sorted,
generally behaving, as Geoff told her
good-naturedly, ns though she were
six pairs of twins and a single.
*
*
It was their last night In the old
Cary house. The rooms were stripped
and bare. Only enough furniture re
mained for their actual needs. Geoffs
belongings had already been sent to
the hotel where he was to stay during
the remainder of his time In Denver.
Cynthia had found and furnished from
their own beautiful old pieces a five
room apartment which was not too far
from Tenny'a school.
"Look here, Marguerite," Geoff had
said that morning, "this Is my last
day here and I'm going to run the
housekeeping again, at least as far as
dinner Is concerned. Just disregard
any orders Miss Cynthia may give
you, and you and I'll plap a meal that
Is a meal."
So tonight, to Cynthia's surprise,
they sat down to delicately broiled
S(
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<r
■
n
r
4 è
m
î
i
w
There Were Too Many Girls Who
Called Messages to Geoff Over the
Shoulders of Their Partners.
chicken, to artichokes and white cher
ries In aspic, to pink rosebud Ices and
cake.
"What on earth?" she demanded.
"So that my last meal here might
be as much like my first as possible."
he explained. "I wasn't sure about
the details but Marguerite remem
bered."
"That was the day Hadji was
killed," Cynthia recalled soberly.
"That was the day you started hat
ing me," said Geoff.
"Do you hate him, Cynthia? Oh.
why? I love Geoff!"
"That's right, Tenny. You keep on
setting Cynthia a good example and
maybe she'll follow It."
"At least," Cynthia told him softly,
"I've got past the hating point. I'll
even admit this: I'm going to miss
you terribly after today. Cary, I sup
post you and Flossie—"
"We're going to take some things
over to our apartment," Cary inter
rupted Importantly,
mine has set her heart on hoarding all
sorts of my youthful possessions. I'll
have to see the janitor about storing
them."
'This girl of
Flossie smiled.
'Our first wife" had
Intimated In a telephone conversation
with Flossie that day that after next
month no more alimony would be ex
pected.
Tenny was a long time getting to
sleep that night. It was thrilling, In
the first place, to go to bed In a room
which contained a bed and nothing
else; not a rug, not a chair, not a
picture on the walls. Excitement over
the next day's move contributed to
her wakefulness. But finally the white
lids drooped and Tenny, her hand
tucked beneath her cheek, was wrapped
In slumber.
Geoff came down from a final trip
to the attic and found Cynthia In the
old parlor. She had not turned on
the lights but the shades were up and
moonlight streamed in from the win
dows. Gfeoff saw that she was crying
as he crossed the room to her.
"Why, Cynthia! Why, my dear!"
"Yes, I know," she said brokenly.
"But it's parting with all I know of
permanency and security and—and
home! No other place will ever be
the same to me. I understand now
how Miss Nona felt."
"Cynthia," Geoff said gently, "will
yon let me make you another home,
dear?"
There was a startled silence and
then she said: "Are yon asking me
to marry yon, Geoff?"
"Yee, my darling!"
"Geoff ... Tm sorry , , . I—I
can't"
"You don't love me, Cynthia?"
"No." She shook her head and the
movement .dislodged the bright drops
which brimmed her eyes. "I'm fond
of you—truly I am." She laughed a
little forlornly. "That's more than I
ever thought I'd be able to say,
Geoff! I like you better than any
man 1 know, Geoff, but It Isn't enough !
I told you once—"
"I know," he said. "But It's a great
deal—-that you feel that way about
me. Thank you, Cynthia!"
He bent his head to kiss the hands
he held and quite simply she offered
him her lips. Instantly she was
swept Into his arms, held In an em
brace that smothered her. She strug
gled to free herself, realized the fu
tility and relaxed In his arms.
'Tm sorry, Cynthia," he said, re
leasing her. "No, I'm d—d If I am!
I have that to remember, anyhow 1"
"I'm not angry, Geoff, I'd give
—more, If I could.'' She slipped quietly
from the room and Geoff stood before
the window for a long time, staring
out at the moonlit garden.
The next morning all was bustle
and confusion.- Cynthia found, to her
own annoyance, that It was she In
stead of Geoff who flushed and avert
ed her eyes when they met at the
breakfast table. Geoff was his usual
cheerful kindly self. The scene in the
parlor might never have occurred to
judge from his matter-of-fact "Good
morning !"
Somehow she resented his self-con
trot. She became very businesslike.
"See that the men are careful with
that book marked 'Fragile,' Caryl
Marguerite, are you sure you have"
the kitchen things nil In one packing
box? Geoff, here's a book of yours I
found In Miss Nona's room,"
"I'm coming around to take you two
girls out to dinner tonight," he said
easily.
"Geoff, we can't possibly—"
"1 know It. You can't possibly eat
the right kind of meal in all ^jhnt dis
order. That's why I'm calling for you
at six sharp. Tenny, will you see that
Cynthia has her hat-o n?"
The movers were out of the house.
Nothing remained hut to lock the
doors and go. Cynthia was startled to
hear Geoff's light steps running down
the front stairs. She had thought he
had driven away before the last
wagon.
"Give me that," he said, holding out
his hand for Hie key. "Hop In my car
—It's parked pretty far down the
block on account of all the wagons—
and wait for me there. No need for
you to watchMhe curtain go down."
A girl's perversity made her allude
to the subject she had determined to
avoid. 'Tm so sorry about last night,"
she said and then could have bitten
her tongue with chagrin at her own
tactlessness.
Again Geoff did the unexpected. He
put his hands on her shoulders, bent
his head to look Into her eyes. "Cyn
thia, something tells me that you're
going to love me , . . love me the
way you said you'd have to love the
man you marry. Sweet, I want you
to promise me something. Promise
that if—that when you feel that way
toward me, you'll let me know !"
A flash of her old hostility returned,
"You're very sure of yourself, Geoff
Ensloe 1 And sure of me, too, aren't
you? I suppose you base your belief
on the fact that you've always been
what your mother described as 'popu
lar with girls' !"
He gave the slender shoulders he
held a little shake. "I suppose on our
way up the aisle you'll stop to say
something hateful to me," he told her.
"Never mind! I never could stand
those sickly sweet girls with lovely
dispositions!"
CHAPTER XIII
Flossie Gives Advice.
After the excitement of ^moving and
adjusting herself In the new apart
ment Cynthia fell Into the routine she
had dreaded. Valentine day, with its
snurt of trade, passed and only an
occasional customer Invaded the quiet
of the shop. Elsie took frequent
afternoons off now and offered to re
lieve Cynthia In turn; but there was
no particular place she desired to go.
"Get some new clothes," Elsie ad
vised. "That's always Interesting."
March was ushered in with a bliz
zard that raged all day. Tenny was
not allowed to go to school and moped
abont the apartment. Marguerite had
**nenrology" In her face and was
cross. Cynthia tramped to and from
the shop, the mink collar of her coat
turned up against the stinging wind
and sleet, her feet cold *ln their
galoshes. Life was drab and unin
teresting.
It gained no color from the fact
that Geoff was being much sought In a
social way since he left the Cary
house. The hotel In which he lived
was known as "The Bachelors' Hive"
and was run In conjunction with a
club which gave exclusive and rather
amusing parties. Echoes of Geoff's
participation In them reached Cynthia
now and them
Once two girls came In looking for
a particular kind of Benares brass
work which could ha obtained only at
you-4-.ested.
thin?"
the Odds and Ends. They were al
most too deeply occupied In chatter
about a dance they had attended the
night before to give heed to their pur
chases,
"I noticed you kept the new man
pretty well to yourself," one accused
the other vivaciously. "Rather a pig,
weren't you?"
"You keep away from my Geoff,"
the other answered. "He's a duck
and a dear, and I don't care who
hears me say so! Did you know he's
going back to New York in June to be
vice president—vice president, my
dearl—of that Ensloe company that
Dad's trying to get Dick Into?"
"He tell you?"
"Not! What he doesn't say about
himself would fill many large libra
ries."
'What does he talk about then? I
notice he's able to keep you luter
"Oh—me," was the demure answer.
"I could listen for hours to Lis flow
of language on that subject."
Cynthia was astonished at the quick
anger she felt. Geoff—what was Geoff
Ensloe to her but the son of her moth
er's friend, of her own godmother?
Why should she resent the fact that
he had spent last evening—last eve
ning when she had darned Tenny's
stockings and washed her own hair
and been In bed by ten !—dancing
with this feather-headed little thing
who called him her Geoff In such a
tone of complacency !
Cynthia told herself coldly that she
didn't resent it; she was just sorry
that Geoff's taste In friends was so
poor.
v ''<Wlien he came to see her the next
evening she wore, for a reason best
known to herself, the black chiffon
with the tiny pink ruffles.
"Going somewhere, Cynthia? Or la
all that grandeur for me?"
"I felt like dressing up a bit," she
answered composedly.
His eyes brightened. "What about
going out and dancing a bit?" he in
quired. "There's a party on at the
club—semi-formal. Come on, Cynthia,
do!'
she objected.
"Marguerite sleeps next to the
kitchen, doesn't she? She could look
after the child If she woke."
So Cynthia went Into the bedroom
for her evening coat and a Inst peep
Into the mirror. She was a little pale
—tired-looking. A touch of rouge and
lipstick remedied that.
"Tenny
But afterward she wished she hada't
The music was good, the floor
gone.
was perfect, there were enough friends
of her own there to keep her from
feeling that Geoff was "stuck"; but
just the same she didn't enjoy It.
There were too many girls who called
messages to Geoff over the shoulders
of their partners.
Going home she was so silent that
Geoff turned to ask her a question,
"You didn't enjoy the dance, Cyn
"Geoff, I'll tell you something," she
burst out. "I'm a dog-ln-the-rannger
girl. I've Just found it out. I don't
want you myself but It gripes me to
have all those girls who didn't know
you existed before Christmas Geoffle
dearlng you now !"
He flung back his head and laughed.
"Cynthia, you give me hope. If I
could Just feel that you were the least
bit jealous—'' o
'Tm not 1" she said hotly. "Jealousy
Impllef love and I don't love you a
bit.
"A/e you so sure of that, Cynthia?
Suppose I try staying away from yon
for a week or two and see If you miss
me.'
"Stay away a year If you like," sh«
replied coldly. "It won't make a bit
of difference to me."
It was distinctly unfair of him to
take her at her word. Very likely
though be was glad of an excuse to
stay away.
Cynthia worked herself up Into as
finely morbid and resentful a state as
a girl on the verge of falling In love
ever Indulged In. For that she woi
falling In love with Geoff she did not
doubt. She missed him abominably
«'hen he did not come or telephone
during the week following. Things
that he had said—foolish things,
strangely wise and thoughtful things
—came back to haunt her. She began
to see him In every man she passed on
the street, In her masculine customers.
This one carried his head like Geoff,
that one had the same clean-cut Jaw.
She would not admit that it was
pride which fought against Geoff. She
had resented hfs coming to live with
them In the first place; resented It be
cause It put her In a humiliating posi
tion in regard to his board. It had
been necessary at the time to ask
Geoff to pay his share of the house
hold expenses. She had put a bold
front on It, but her cheeks burned yet
as she remembered that conversation.
Then came her Illness and Geoff's
discovery of the hazardous manner In
which they lived. She hated his
knowing about Cary's alimony. She
hated his lending the boy that hun
dred dollars.
She hated his remembering how
nearly she had married Ben Sutton for
his money.
(TO BK CONTINUï D.)
OUR
CHILDREN
86
By ANGELO PATRI
THE UNTRUTHFUL ONES
f ITTLB children have some dlffl
cully In keeping fact and fantasy
apart. To them they arc very close.
They look about alike to the eyes o Î
childhood because those eyes have
not functioned in the world of reality.
It Is not hard to know that sort of
untruth and to set It right The diffi
cult sort Is that which appears or
rather continues to appear on through
adolescence.
When rn adolescent tells you any
kind of a story to head you In a di
rection that renders him safe, when
he lies to you In cold deliberation, yon
have the right to fear for his condi
tion. He needs immediate attention.
Many times these adolescent chil
dren are In the grip of sex urges that
they know nothing about. The little
Instruction they have received Is not
enough to carry them through the ter
rific onrush of feeling, sensation,
whatever you choose to term It, that
besets them,
maintain themselves In any degree of
comfort they make mistakes, then He
out of them as best they can because
they are afraid to tell the truth. There
Is no use In telling them to tell you
the truth and yon won't blame them.
They are ashamed, afraid, Inarticulate.
When you find yourself In such a
fix as this, waste no time. Qo to the
specialist. Find the one who knows
adolescent children. Try to find a spe
cialist who Is serving In a hospital or
clinic where such young people are
treate^Tel l#m or her the storj and
put your afflicted child under treat
ment Lies are Indications of a patho
logical condition. All the scolding In
the world won't help them. You need
the skilled psychiatrist neurologist
physician.
Sometimes fear drives children Into
telling lies. That sort of He Is as
easily detected as the other. Try to
find what sort of fear la troubling the
child and do your best to remove It
you cannot find the fear and you
see that the child Is suffering from It
take him to the specialist and have
him treated for It There Is no time
to be lost when adolescent children
suffer from such Ills, Sympathy Is all
very well but what ts needed Is skilled
and prompt treatment
Little children are easily handled as
a usual thing. Even among them we
find the psycopathic Har. You will know
him If he comes your way. His sto
ries are not Imaginative fairy tales,
not the defense gesture of helpless
childhood, but the tales of fear, dis
tress. oppression and outrageous prow
ess. Take that child to the doctor.
There Is no cause for alarm when
a little child strays from facts. Set
him right by saying: That Is the fairy
story. Tell me the real one. But when
nntruthfulness continues on Into ado
lescence, call the specialist.
In their endeavor to
HAVE AN APPLE
:if'M NOT,coralng tomorry."
I 1 added up the last column
with great deliberation. 1 could see
Don In the mirror on the edge of my
desk but he couldn't see my face.
That ts fair enough because he has
many other advantages, among them
the recklessness of youth.
"So?" sold l. leaving my columns
with seeming reluctance. "Have an
apple."
Don looked at me suspiciously but I
continued to smile at the basket of
apples.
I turned again to the columns an4
Don turned to the basket, took a
tempting ruddy apple and bit Into It,
Now a boy with a mouthful of Juicy
apple simply can't scowl It can't be
done. So he crunched contentedly
enough and 1 ran my pencil up and
down, down and up, until the last
bell rang.
"There. Give me your card. No
need to bother your father with it
every night Come In and get It In
the morning. It will be here on my
desk signed and ready."
"AH right Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon, Don. Take anoth
er apple. That's right Fill op your
pockets with them."
Don Is a man In size and a child in
everything else. He wants to be like
the other fellows but he Is thirteen
and the fellows his size are eighteen.
He has been put out of a couple of
schools and he has to stay In this one
because there Is no other. He can do
sqme work well enough but certain
other work like spelling, writing a
paragraph from dictation, making a
neat mechanical drawing are out
Somehow, some way we must manage
to hold him and teach him at the
same time. It was plain he had come
down to the office In a tearing rage.
Lucky I had the apples.
Apples are tine for boys anyway.
They AH In the empty places that
send up such queer feelings along
shout three-thirty. They are good for
a lad's teeth. Doctor Tom says they
clean them nicely. Doctor Tom ought
to know because he used to eat them
In my office along^bout three o'clock.
But that was when he wasnTa doctor.
Just a lopsided gangling thing who
annoyed the teachers and his mother
and me to desperation. Twas the ap
ples that saved him. I'll tell Felice
to send down some more. We bad a
good crop this year. Tm going to
need them,
e. B»ll Syndicat». — WND Swvtm,
i