The Western news. [volume], August 03, 1933, Page Page Two, Image 2

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

Image provided by: Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

                
TANGLED WIVES
By Peggy Shane
Copyright by Peggy Shane.
WNU Service
SYNOPSIS
A pretty young woman finds her
•elf In a taxicab in New York with a
tho addresses her en
"an
strange man
dearlngly and speaks of
shock." When he leaves her for a mo
ment at a drug store she drives on,
for she fears him.
Btltmore, still wondering who she Is.
Her memory is gone. From her ex
pensive clothing she concludes she is
married to a wealthy man. She meets
a young woman who speaks of her
desire to go to Reno tor a divorce,
if she can get the money. The wom
an vanishes with the nameless girl's
awful
She stops at the
purse, and J900.
CHAPTER II—Continued
— 3 —
The woman turned and scrutinized
the girl for a moment slowly,
face was broad and friendly, her eyes
shrewd but kindly. The long gaze was
one of appraisement Then she said.
"Ah Doris! How beautiful you are,
Doris! 1 am glad you are here! 1
she flung her two fat arms around the
girl's soft fox collar and slender throat,
and pressed a firm, wet cheek against
hers.
Doris! So that was her name. She
hardly felt the embrace, nor won
dered at the tears. Doris! She was
grateful that she had found a friend.
The woman talked on. Out of the
Jumelé of words, a sentence suddenly
disclosed Itself: "And so now with
your husband on the seas we will have
to console ourselves together until he
coiries back to us!'
breathlessly—her husband on the seas!
It seemed too good to be true.
"Oh, she la frightened," said the
woman fondly, addressing nobody, as
seemed to be one of her habits. "And
no wonder. So young. And such ex
citement, Come, we will get In the
car."
The bellboy still stood beside the
luggage. The fat little woman turned
to Doris, "He would not believe I was
Mrs. Du Val. He wanted to guard the
luggage well." She shook her head
"Louis will carry out the luggage."
Doris then noticed that a liveried
chauffeur was standing a few feet
away. He came forward and picked
up Doris' bags. Watching everything,
on the alert for some clue that would
unravel more of her past to her, Doris
followed.
A limousine stood at the curb. Do
cilely Doris hopped In after the little
Her
And
She listened
woman. was a
her heart. Undoubtedly she had known
this woman, and perhaps It would soon
come back to her when and where.
At least she would learn her own
name.
"Put Mrs. Du Val's bags In front,"
said her hostess fussily. Doris stared.
Mrs. Du Val! The older woman had
been speaking of her to the chauffeur.
So she was Mrs, Du Val. Du Val. D. V.
She did not feel quite satisfied.
The baggage was quickly adjusted
and the car started through the traffic
laden New York streets. "Ah, Rocky
Is seasick by now, n'est-ce pas?" said
little Mrs. Du Val. "He cannot stand
traveling, poor fellow." She tucked a
robe anxiously around Doris. "But she
mustn't catch cold at such a time,"
she went on. She clucked in her
throat like a worried old hen. "You
feel warm? We have a long ride, you
know."
Doris did not know. But she smiled
gratefully. Rocky? Who was Rocky?
And why mustn't she catch cold at
such a time? She wondered where
they could be going.
Her mind was going around and
around In a circle. Her husband was
named Rocky Du Val. He had sailed
for France! That much she gathered.
Then the man she had been with In
the taxicab had not been her hus
band. Unless they had been on their
way to the boat. They had Just been
married and were going to spend their
In and she had
caped from him. That seemed very
clear.
Then why had her mother-in-law ex
pected to meet her at the Riltmore?
No, that theory couldn't he right.
Doubtless It was all simple enofigh
and would come to her In a flash. The
main thing was not to let anybody
know she did not remember, lest they
think she had gone crazy. She felt
perfectly sure she was not crazy, hut
she didn't think she could convince
anybody else.
The car went steadily forward. "We
will get home before dark," said Mrs.
Du Val, In her French accents.
Doris longed to ask questions:
Where were they going? But her
tongue was tied. Of course she was
supposed to know where they were go
ing. Just a few such questions as that
and Mrs. Du'Val would begin to think
she was queer. Then there would be
doctors, hospitals, maybe an asylum.
She closed her lips tightly. No, she
would tell no one. And certainly one
of these days she would wake up re
membering everything.
She told Mrs. Du Val, however,
about the loss of her hag. The little
French woman was so Incensed that
«he all but turned the car straight
hock to town. "But the police will get
her. Oh. Site la a bad one. She is
veree had. But I thought you hud no
money? Rocky said he was giving
you nothing, and I should give you
"all? Where did you get It?"
Doris flushed. Where did she get
It? She wished that she knew. "He
gave it to me at the last moment," she
said, hating to lie and yet not knowing
what else to do. Well, perhaps he did.
Certainly she
she said to herself,
didn't know that he didn't.
How ever she decided to be as mum_
as an oyster after this experience.
Even the most Innocent story might
trip her up with some question about
her past that she couldn't answer.
"Ah but Oscar will be crazy about
you," said Mrs. Du Val fondly. "Rocky
was so naughty, wasn't he, not to tell
us he was married. At first Oscar was
ooh so mad. He walked up an' down.
He said he would give Rocky nothing.
Nothing. But soon 1 calmed him down
because 1 know my Rocky. 1 knew
the girl he would pick. And now when
he sees you Osg§r too will be so happy.
Ah It will he like thing our own love
over! Such happiness!" The small
eyes filled with tears of sentiment.
The stout little hand covered hers.
Doris too was filled with a rush of
emotion.
"And Oscar shall do a beautiful
figure of you for Rocky," went on Mrs.
Du Val happily. "Your figure Is Just
what my Oscar loves best to model.
He . . .''
Rut Doris was no longer listening.
Something had clicked In her brain.
Oscar. Who was Oscar? Mrs. Du
Val's husband undoubtedly. But Os
car Du Val was a famous French
sculptor. And Mrs. Du Val wasspeak
■ittg^of his modeling her,
Oscar Du Val. She hoped It might
he the first ray of light breaking Into
her past But no more followed. Why
did she remember Oscar Du Vftlig
name and not the name of her hus
band Rocky?
Mrs. Du Val leaned near her and
patted her hand. "Ah Doris, now a
thousand doubts are gone forever from
my heart."
Doris looked Inquiringly into her
face. "Doubts?"
"Ah yes. Rocky Is a good boy. 1
knew It. Many times I told Oscar.
But when he stayed away from home
so much—when his life In New York
seemed to absorb hlm, I will confess to
you, sometimes I was afraid. Not that
I ever let Oscar know. You will not
give my secret away?"
Behind the round glasses the eyes
of the little French woman were full
of friendliness. More than that, they
were alive with love. Rocky's mother
liked her. Her heart filled with grati
tude. She clung to Mrs. Du VaJ's
hand
"You are being very sweet to me."
The moment of sentiment passed.
Mrs. Du Val gave a little cluck and
settled back In her corner, "No, no,
you are my own daughter now, n'est-ce
wanted, a daughter."
Doris felt a pang of misgiving. If
she could only know what all this
meant. Could that man In the cab be
Rocky? And If not. If he were her
husband then Mrs. Du Val would not
he her mother-in-law. Perhaps she
was not being honest. Perhaps she
ought to tell Mrs. Du Val all about ft.
She turned impulsively.
"Mrs. Du Val, I have something to
tell you."
"Oh, hut yon must not cal! me Mrs.
Du Val. Non. non jamais. C'est mau
vais. Call me mother."
Doris smiled.
'All right. But—!
really ought to tell you—"
Mrs. Du Val's round little body bent
at the waist. "I know, dear child.
There la no need to tell me. Do not
excite yourself."
"You know?"
. "Yea, yea. Rocky has told me over
the telephone. We must take good
care of you. Oh oui. Very good care
of you. And now already I can see
you have had too much excitement for
one day. Roeky would scold me for
letting you talk so much, for talking to
you like a magpie. It Is not good."
Doris hit her Up. Was It possible
that she had been with Rocky, and
lost her memory then, and that he
knew about It? It was too confusing.
And much ns she liked Mrs. Du Val the
prospect of being taken care of was
not alluring. But for her loss of mem
ory she felt strong and well. She was
not even tired.
As they rode along Doris learned
several things by Innuendo and direct
information: that Rocky was named
for Rockwell St. Gardens, the famous
artist : that Oscar Du Val lived In Con
necticut In the country, and had been
there for twenty years: that Doris was
to stay with her husband's family un
til Rocky returned from abroad. She
decided that, after all, she must have
remembered something subconsciously
else how would she have known that
she must go to the Riltmore to meet
Mrs. Dn Val?
The car turned at last Into the Du
Val driveway. To the right on a hill
side lay the studios of Oscar Du Val.
Doris caught a glimpse of his famous
"Dying Indian," a piece of sculpture
of which she had often seen pictures.
The way led up a long curving road
toward a big yellow Colonial house
with white pillars over the porch. Way
off to the left there were many out
buildings and sheds which Mrs. Du
Val said were the farm buildings,
A tall handsome man was standing
on the porch. He had white hair and
piercing black eyes. He was watching
the car anxiously. He waved with a
violent, unAmerlcan cordiality,
"Ah, Oscar will be so happy," said
Mrs, Du Val, ns the car came to a
stop before the house.
Oscar Du Val sprang down the stairs
with the energy of a boy and opened
the door before the chauffeur could
move. A warm smile on his lips
leaped Into his eyes.
"Ah. Doris!"
He helped her out of the car, and
surveyed her ecstatically at arm's
length.
Then he folded her close to him,
kissed her on the cheek and sought the
eyes of his beaming wife.
"Adoree," he said, "you were right."
"Our Rocky Is no fool?"
"Ah yes, our Rocky is no fool, after
all."
Doris smiled shyly as Oscar Du Val
released her. "You are so nice to roe.
But how can you tell so quickly T"
"Bah," said Du Val, "always 1 know
Instantly about people."
"After he sees them, he knows," said
his wife with a slight overtone of sar
casm. "Before that, he Is not so sure.
He believes that our Rocky has not
the good sense to choose himself a
nice girl. He Is sure that our Rocky—"
Du Val put his palms together in
an attitude that was half prayerful,
and half playful. "Ah Doris, you must
forgive me. You are going to forgive
me nil those things which I have said
to Rocky about you. I did not know
you were such a girl. How could I
know? And you tfo must admit that
you have been wrong. To tell us
nothing—"
"There he goes," scolded Mrs Du
Val, "Before our little Doris can step
Into the house he Is already reproach
ing her."
"No, no," said Du Val. "Come we
will go In. Where Is your luggage?"
Louis, the chauffeur, was taking
down the bags with their Initials D. V.
A little maid in a black dress with a
white apron came out of the house and
picked up the hat box. Doris felt full
of happiness. Surely she had come
home. These kind people were ready
to shower her with love. "Come
Doris," said Mrs. Du Val Importantly.
"At such a time, you must get plenty,
of rest I will show you to your room."
They went upstairs. Louis came In
carrying her bags, and a maid Estelle
hovered ready to unpack them. Mrs.
Du Val sent her away with a brisk
clap of her competent little hands.
"She Is too tired now. And she wishes
to unpack her own things. She Is like
me, n'est-ce pas?" She looked at
Doris. "You wish to superintend your
own unpacking?"
"Oh yes. oh yes," said Doris eagerly.
She was hardly able to wait to see If
the Inside of the bags might not give
her some clue. "And I'm not in the
least tired. I can do It now.''
"Oh no. At such a time In a wom
an's life she must rest." Mrs. Du Val
looked at her with some mysterious
light In her eyes that she could not
understand. "You have had a tiresome
trip. But look ! Look what I have
got for your room. As a special sur
prise."
"Where? What?"
"Don't you see? On the dressing
t able?" -
In a silver frame the face of—a
young man smiled with an air of
youthful seriousness.
"Our Rocky !" said Mrs. Du Val ten
derly.
Instantly Doris loved his face. She
seized the picture and gazed at it
hungrily.
So this was Rocky. Rocky, her hus
band.
She gave a long sigh of relief. For
the young serious eyes that stared
hack from the picture weren't the
same as the dark strange unhappy
eyes that had looked at her from the
tense face of the man In the cab.
Mrs. Du Val was briskly opening
windows. A faint breeze brought In
the scent of blooming lilacs. "Main
tenant," said Mrs. Du Val. "you will
nap, n'est-ce pas? You will have time
for a nice little sleep before dinner."
"Oh no, I must unpack."
She was eager to explore the con
tents of her bags. Surely they would
tell her something about herself, some
thing about Rocky.
"Non, non. Later, oui. Then Estelle
will help you." o
Protesting was useless. Mrs. Du
Val's fat Jeweled hand was on the
eiderdown blanket that lay on the
canopied Colonial bed. She drew off
the gay patchwork counterpane quick
ly, and folded U neatly. "You like this
little bed? I had It put in here for
you and Rocky. This Is Rocky's old
room—but the bed Is not the same.
Come now," said Mrs. Du Val. Doris
was forced to hop Into bed obediently.
rid of her solicitous mother-in-law.
"You must not get out of bed, now,"
warned Mrs. Du Val. She kissed
Doris, tucked the covers firmly around
her, then left the room on tip-toe as If
Doris were already sleeping,
As the door closed Doris threw back
the cover* eagerly. In a moment she
was fumbling with the fastening of
the smallest bag. To her Joy It was
not locked.
Kneeling on the thick carpet she
was looking Inside her own "over
night" bag. examining a row of bottles
with cloisonne lavender tops. Cleans
ing creams, night cream, astringent
lotion, powder—she touched them won
derlngly—a round pink bar of soap,
toilet water, hath salts; tooth brush
marked with her monogram, tooth
paste, nail file, manicure scissors; two
silver-backed brushes, a comb. They
were utterly strange to her. Could
these things possibly belong to her?
She studied the monogram carefully.
The D was there, and the V. But she
could not be sure what the third letter
was.
There was nothing else except some
neatly folded pajamas In orchid shade«.
She sighed, examining the bag care
fully for any small slip of paper that
might tell her something. Rut there
was nothing.
She opened the suitcase next. It
contained two jersey dresses, a linen
suit, a leather Jacket In bright blue,
two cotton sport dresses, and an
nlng gown with a little coat to go with
It "Like the wardrobe of a girl who
expects to be gone on a very short
trip," she decided, "or else has sent
on her trunks."
eve
(TCI BE CONT"NU*D.V
|
ROADSIDE
MARKETING
By T. J. Delohery
GOLD under your gate
HERE is an old story about a man
wandering the world over In search
of the pot of gold at the end of a
rainbow, who, upon returning home
tired, weary and discouraged, found
the gold under his doorstep.
This fable applies in fact to thou
sands of fanners, farm women and
children who have taken far shots at
unseen markets away over the hills,
and upon falling to get profitable
prices, discovered even better markets
at their door or within easy distance.
Good roads, the automobile, parcel
post, express, city markets and the de
sire of the consumer for fresh, quality
food have not only shortened the
route to market for thousands of tons
of products of the farm, home and
garden, but have brought millions of
extra dollars to thousands of farms.
Approximately a million farm people
sell $200,000,000 worth of produce of
the farm, home, garden, forests and
wild rural districts direct to the con
sumer. In some cases this market pro
vides the entire farm Income. In oth
ers It greatly supplements the money
brought In by the major farming ac
tivity, even though in no way related.
There seems to be no end to what
consumers will buy from farmers. And
by the same token there are very few
farms on which something to sell can
not be raised.
Roadside marketing Is the largest of
the direct selling outlets. Stands lo
cated on malm-traveled highways do
not have to hunt up customers. Hun
dreds and thousands pass daily; but
It Is up to the farmer to make them
stop. It Is being done by thousands
of farm folks la all parts of the coun
T
try.
In Michigan, on a 16-mlle section of
highway, more than half the 39 farm«
on the road sold direct to the consum
er. These producers, according to a
comparison of returns when produce
is sold direct and marketed through
regular channels, got 60 cents of the
consumer's dollar. The farmers who
sold on the terminal outlets received
but 19.4 cents. The difference, de
spite a higher labor charge for road
side markets, came in the elimination
of transportation and other charges
for getting food from the farm to con
sumer.
Figures show the cost of distributing
food at the end of 1932 was 47 per
cent higher than before the war while
the farm price of food was 43 per cent
lower than the same period.
Surveys of roadside marketing have
been made in many states for the in
formation of farm folks who want to
market all or part of their produce
In this way. In Ohio, for Instance,
1,700 odd markets were located on
2,800 miles of state road. The aver
age business of each stand was slight
ly over $1,700. ranging fppp several
hundred dollars to many thousand, de
pending upon products handled and
length of the selling season.
In addition to roadside markets, an
other profitable local outlet Is the town
retailers. The consumer demand for
home-grown products is good, so sur
veys have Indicated. And this Is not
patriotism entirely. City people realize
that the nearer the source of supply,
the fresher the food.
Mrs. K. I* Slmerson, living several
miles outside of the village of Lin
wood, North Carolina, supplies retail
stores in six cities with fruit, vege
tables. chickens, eggs, milk and but
termilk to the tune of $2,500 a year.
All of this food Is produced in her gar
den and home without any extra help.
When a Waterloo (Iowa) grocer
asked W. S. Brown to bring In more
of the kind of eggs be had been de
llverlng, he said they had made a de
elded hit wltji his customers and that
he could use many more than Brown
was supplying. So Brown called to
gether 30 of his neighbors who were
working with the extension specialist
In poultry, and they formed an asso
ciation.
Each farmer graded and packed his
own eggs In cartons which bore the
association name. On the bottom of
each box a number was stamped as
a means of Identification In event of
complaints. None were made be
cause of the good handling and fre
quent deliveries of the eggs which
brought a premium of 5 cents a dozen
to the farmers.
J. P, Nelson of Stillwater, Minn., Is
a dairyman who likes to play golf.
Dairying Is a Job which allows little
or no time for play ; but Nelson,
thanks to a change In marketing, not
only plays golf when he wants to but
increased his milk Income by 25 per
cent Whipping cream, sold to local
retailers, is the answer.
Elmer L. Rhodes of Abilene, Kan.,
finds selling to retailers permits a bet
ter distribution of labor In the pro
duction of crops he sells over his road
side market and In growing other
things for sale later In the year. Early
crops, too small for roadside market
ing and ready before customers start
coming to the roadside market, find
good prices In town. Stores pay him
twice as much for early asparagus ns
he can command when the roadside
stand Is open and production Is gen
eral. Sweet corn and tomatoes, too,
are sold to stores In large amounts so
as to give Rhodes time to cultivate
other crops which need intensive at
tention at that time. Liier, when the
roadside season Is open, the same
I retailers buy potatoes and horse
radish put up In half-pint bottles.
©. 1131, Weat.rR Nurnp.po, Union.
Divided on Way
to Brew Coffee
Cooks Not in Accord as to
Proper Formula._
In the old days when coffee was
exitenslve and hard to get, cooks
kept their methods of brewing it a
deep dark secret Coffee brewers
fell Into two schools: The boiling
point advocates, and the below boil
ing point advocates. The boiling
point group was composed of those
who drank coffee for the stimulation
Includes
Imparts. This method,
the old-fashioned boiling J tqrqiulaa
where the water is kept n non ling ft
few seconds or minutes after the ad
it
dltlon of the coffee, which It
Is set on the back of the stove to
steep for fifteen minutes or so. This
procedure gives a stronger flavor and
extracts a larger amount of caffeln.
The below boiling point advocates
were composed of those who drank
coffee chiefly for its aroma and fla
vor. Taste and smell are more close
ly connected than the average per
son suspects. You easily can prove
It for yourself by holding your nose
when you eat or drink. The only fla
vors you can taste without the help
of your nose are sour, sweet, bitter
and salt. Every other flavor Is. not
tasted, but smelled. Try holding your
nose when you drink a cup of cof
fee, and you will be surprised to find
that you can taste nothing, unless,
of course, you use sugar. Then you
can taste the sweet, but not the cof
fee flavor. Now release your nose
and see how quickly you recognize
the taste of coffee.
The below boiling point method
gives a liquid with more of the nat
ural aroma and flavor of the roasted
coffee bean. These cooks bring the
water to a full boil, but take It off
the fire a moment or two to stop Its
bubbling before the coffee Is added.
The beverage Is then kept hot until
It has acquired the right flavor, but
It Is not allowed to come to the boll
Coffee made by either method had to
be cleared with a dash of cold water
or the addition of egg shells.
Today the best coffee cooks have
turned their backs on old-fashioned
methods because of the difficulty of
extracting Just the proper amount of
flavor from the elusive bean. Again
they divide Into schools: The perco
lator advocates and the drip coffee
advocates. The former make their
coffee by a device that passes the
water up a central tube to descend
through the coffee, the main body of
which never comes to a boll. The
drip coffee lovers use the French
method of pouring boiling water
through finely ground coffee placed
in a receptacle lined with filter pa
per.
Some people insist that coffee mak
ing Is a lost art. Since It has become
Inexpensive and easy to get, people
take coffee drinking for granted In
stead of making it a rite. Whatever
the truth may be, coffee has survived
its critics, outlived Its restrictions,
and holds an enviable re-cord of long
popularity.—Exchange.
Still, It's m Good Idea
Keeping out of trouble is as often
an accident as planned.
in?
CL
y^is one of natures greatest
^ spiffs. ''Preserve its soft texture:
with. a. soap that contains the
1 choicest products of nature. v
%>/ Cuticura Soap'd
YES. ..THERE'S A
DODGE TRUCK FOR
EVERY HAULING
NEED//
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Dean Freer'» Account
Never to Be "Closed
I»
Bamlln H. Freer, once dean of
Cornell college, started an ''account"
years ago.
Rev. Otis Moore recalled that "ac
count" with the appointment of W.
Frank Persons, formerly of Renwlck,
Iowa, to direct President Roosevelt's
reforestation army of 250,000 Jobless
men, we read in a Tipton, Iowa, dis
patch to the Des Moines Register.
When Mr. Freer was dean, a young
man by the name of Edward T. De
vine was graduated, and started look
ing for a teaching Job. He was a
brilliant scholar, but very youthful
In appearance. School boards thought
him too young to teach.
Finally he told Dean Freer of his
difficulty. The dean boarded a train
and stopped at several towns | until
he finally landed young Devine g job.
Young Devine was grateful. \
"What," he asked, "can I do to
show my gratitude for your help?"
"Edward," the dean replied, "when
you get a chance to help some other
young fellow, do It and charge It to
my account"
When Frank Persona graduated
from college he went to see Edward
Devine, then secretary of the organ
ized charities of New York city,
about a Job.
Devine finally found him ft posi
tion, and Persons tried to express his
gratitude.
Devine told him the story of Dean
Freer and said :
_ "-Frank, this Is on Dean Freer'« ac
count When you get a chance to '
help some young man get a Job,
charge it to my account."
Later Persons himself became sec
retary of New York charities, accord
ing to Rev. Mr. Moore. Now he Is
helping 250,000 men find Jobs, and
charging a part, perhaps, to Dean
Freer's account
STONE-AGE STUNT
f
re
V
cc
Æ
Rocky—That's a fine hammer you
have there.
Stony-—Yep! It's mate out of a
couple of my wife's first biscuits,
Poetics
Palmist—Don't worry ! the dark
clouds will soon roll by, the sun will
come peeping through, and—
Client—'Ere, miss, I came 'ere for
a 'and-rcadln'—not the weather fore
cast!
Pile Torture Ended
or no pay. Standard, tl size treatment sent
postpaid on FREE TRIAL. If satisfied send
tl. Otherwise report cancels charge. Write
NKSOR PHARMACAL CO.
Cahnebm, Ohio. U. S. A.
WNU— X
30—33