Evening star. [volume], June 24, 1928, Page 6, Image 88

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
6
THE WEDDING GUESTS
They Resolved to Be Game, Though Their Hearts Ached.
big stiff!" said Mr. Ste
•• I phen Parrott, with fervor.
He said it to himself. There
A wasn't any one else he could
say it to. He was acting a
part, and he was. if you asked him. a
pretty good actor, too. He was acting
a part, and he was dressed for it. All
dressed up. he was. in a cutaway and
grav striped trousers and a flower in
his ' buttonhole and the right sort of
collar. The perfect wedding guest, in
decd. was Mr. Parrott, wearing just
what the theater programs say the j
well dressed man should wear on such j
occasions. All except the face. But j
you can't buy a face, even for a wed- j
ding.
There was music in the air. People j
were dancing. Mr Parrott didn't feel i
like dancing He felt all sunk, if you
really asked him. and he didn't mind j
admitting it—to himself. Not to any i
one else, though. He'd grinned so
much that his lips were sore. He ;
wanted to get away, by himself. But
he couldn't. Not till the show was over j
and Bet tv and Ferris had gone. He j
was going to see this wedding through. ;
But he couldn't stand seeing people,
and knowing what they thought, and
having girls be nice to him.
He kept on wandering about. He ,
wanted to be by himself. And he re
membered a room that ought, he
thought, to be empty. He'd known
this house pretty well once. He gravi- ]
tated toward it and the door was |
shut, sure enough, and he opened it. j
and went in. And Trudy Ware was ,
lying on the couch, face down, bawl- j
ing He said something under his j
breath and started to back out. And
then he changed his mind and closed
the door and stood and looked at her.
He didn’t care about Trudy. He could
be himself with her.
‘‘Hello!’’ he said, morosely. "What’s
the matter with you?"
Not that he didn't know. He knew ;
perfectly well. And she knew he did. j
which was why. he supposed, she just I
looked to see who it was and then
buried her head in the pillows again -
and went on crying. But it made him |
unreasonably furious to come upon her j
so, erving her silly eyes out. It looked
—oh.'he didn't know—a girl oughtn't s
to do it. that was all. It wasn’t done. ,
Even so. disgusted and angry though •
he was. it made him feel better to see j
her. too. He went over and stood be- J
side her. and he took out a clean
handkerchief he had and held it out .
to her. j '
"Here!" he said. "Better take this”)
She gulped. But she took it and ! \
Used it. . »
"Th—thanks.'* she said, and kept
right on crying.
■Oh. what's the use. Trudy?" he
said, after a minute. "It's done now.
Nothing we can do about it. Best
thing we can do is forget it."
Shq didn't say anything. She tried
to. but a sob swallowed her words.
"Crring vour eyes out about that
fellow," said Steve, scornfully. "Look
at me! Haven't you got any pride?
Think I’d let any one see how I felt?
When he asked me to be an usher I
said I would. Like a shot. And I
ushed all right, didn't I?”
"I’ve got just as much pride as you
have. Steve Parrott!" said Trudy.
"Wasn't I a bridesmaid? And I might
just as well take poison and be done
with it as wear yellow, with my com
plexion! That's why Betty had us
wear yellow.”
“You're cuckoo!” he said. "How do
you get that way. Trudy? You
looked swell—you still do, all except
vour eves. What are you kicking
about, anyway? You're darned lucky,
if you ask me. That’s the sort of
chap who comes to a bad end, that
fellow Perriss,”
"Oh, listen to who's talking!” said
Trudy. “After the way you’ve gone
around, because a mercenary little
creature like Betty jilted you! And.
anvway. if you'd had gumption, you’d
have seen what was going on, and ,
stopped it.” | (
"Is that ao?” said Bfeve. "Is that ,
so? I saw what was going on. all j
right. But what could I do? I
couldn't stay out here all day and <
watch them, could I? I have to eat, ,
don’t I?”
He went to the door and opened tt ,
and stood in it, as if he didn’t quite
know what he wanted to do. He <
didn't, either. Sounds of distant rev- ]
elry came to them. j
"Shut that door!” said Trudy furl- ,
ously. :
“Oh. an right!” he said, and did.
"But I mean—oughtn't we to get back.
Trudy? They’ll think "
"Go on, then!” said Trudy. “I don’t j i
care what they think. I hate them i
all."
And she buried her head In the pil- ■
lows again. <
** * *
CTEVE stood and looked down at her.
Poor kid! She looked sort of cute, ,
he thought, all cuddled up that way.
She'd get over this, of course. But
she didn't know it now; that didn't i
make it any easier. And anyway per- I ■
haps she wouldn't. She’d always been a
queer one. Funny. He d never thought j
about her very much before, really.;
He'd known her all his life; they’d , .
lived next door to each other when i
they were kids. He’d known her too j
we!! to think much about her prob
ably. ,
"Trudy.” he said, and sat down be
side her on the couch. “Hey—Trudy!"
She didn't pay any attention to him.
So he shook her shoulder gently. But
she shrugged his hand away. "Here! '
Snap out of it!”
She sat up and turned toward him.
"Go away!" she said. "Leave me
alone. Steve!”
“Nothing hke it," he said. "Trudy,
be your age! Some one’s liable to come
in here any minute! Come on. Listen |
to reason for a minute, will you?”
‘ Reason!" she said, and laughed hys- !
terically. He shied away from her. j
Gosh—if she was going to have hys- J
ter.es! Betty’d done that, once, in
ink very room They'd sat in it a :
lot, once, he and Betty
“I know,” he said. "That’s all right, i
too But you want to think this out, i
Trudy. This chap Ferriss. now—l mean
a led that'll do the snake-m-the-grass i
stuff the way he did s pretty sure to i
end up beating his wife or something i
You’re pretty well out of it, if you I
ask me ”
“X don’t care anything about Jim
Ferriss.” said Trudy “I hate him. Any
man who’d let any one like Betty pull
the wool over his eyes ”
They glared at each other for a mm- j
ute, and then Trudy laughed
’’l—l'm sorry. Steve ” she said “I—j
I didn’t mean to be horrid to you.” But j
the tears started again in her eyes ;
“But—-oil, Steve ”
She slumped again, but this time he j
pui his arm about her, patting tier,'
clumsily, while she wept into the white >
edging of his waistcoat and his superb I
cravat,
J know. Trudy.” he said “Gosh, it’s
a tough break, all right f mean you ;
can’t Just stop caring about people be- j
cause they do you dirt . I -I'm glad
there’s someone I can talk to, though. ■
I mean -I'm sorry - oh you know what
I mean ”
“Don’t I?” said Trudy. 'Oh Steve,
that’s the worst part of it. Having to j
v auh yourself all the t ime, m people
won’t know and knowing they do know, i
anyway I—l thought I d dte when |
Betty threw her bouquet downstairs and
It came straight at me so I had to catch
H to keep it from hitting me ir. the face
and they all laughed about its meaning
f’d be the next bride That—that's
why I had to sneak off in here I—l
Just couldn't b*ar it Steve And she
did it on purpose, too -she aimed it
straight at me— —”
Oh Trudy I don’t know I guess
she didn’t do th*» ” said Steve He vast
troubled. "She wouldn't have done a
thins hke that
‘Oh. wouldn't she’ 'Jhats all you
luivw about her She always did fool
! you. She never cared about you—
i every one knew that but you ”
She stopped abruptly.
"Oh. I’m sorrv—l truly am, Steve,"
she said. "I needn't be beastly to you.
just because I "
“That's all right." he said. It was
hard to divert Steve's mind, once it set
out upon a track of thought. “Gosh—
I don't know—it might be so. at that,
about the bouquet. She's the only girl
I ever knew who could throw straight.”
"Oh. Steve.” Trudy laughed at him.
| “It didn't matter, really ”
“No." he said. “But that was a dirty ■
I trick, if she really did that. I guess ;
i maybe she did. too."
| Thev sat still, then, for a while. And
though neither of them really noticed it
j his arm was still about her and she
still leaned against him. Steve sighed
! deeply.
| "In a book, you know." Steve said,
presently, “a chap always goes away
■ wften something like this happens to
: him —to China or South America, or
| some place. Or else he goes to Africa
and hunts big game. That's what I’d '
; like to do. all right." He laughed bit- j
j terlv. "A swell chance. All the trav- j
\ cling I'll be doing'll be on the P 06 every |
! morning as usual. And the nearest I’ll j
1 get to China will be New Haven, the j
day of the Harvard game.”
** * *
L|E winced as he said that, and he
* * felt the simultaneous quiver that
passed through Trudy. They looked at
one another wretchedly.
"On. Heavens." he said. "Betty was
going with me. We were going to drive j
up. And now "
“Don't,” said Trudy, sharply. “I-
Jim and I were going too.”
Steve got up abruptly.
"Trudy.” he said, "look here. You
and I—l mean—we’re the only ones
either of us knows we won’t have to
throw a bluff with, aren't we? Why
why don't we sort of stick around to
gether? I mean—let’s you and Igo to
that game and have a swell time. And
—vou weren't going to dance at the
club tonight, either, were you? Well
let’s go. Let s show ’em.”
Trudy sat and looked at him. Then
she laughed excitedly
"All right.” she said. ‘T will, Steve.
I—l'd love to. I—l couldn't bear do
ing anything with any one else, but I'd i
love to with you.” •
“That's great,” he said. "Trudy— j
you're a peach. I mean—l don’t know ;
—l've known you ever since I can re- j
member, and all that, but today—l j
don't know—you're different, somehow.
You're a corker. You're a good sport,
Trudy. You'd never have done a thing
like—<>h. you know what I mean ”
“You’re not so bad yourself, you
IT MADE HIM UNREASONABLY
FURIOUS TO COME UPON HER
SO. CRYING HER SILLY EYES
OUT.
■ * f t I
know,” she said. “I suppose we’ve both
of us grown up a lot lately, Steve. I
always thought you were just a kid.
before.”
• I like that,” he said, indignantly.
"I’m 24. I'm two years older than you
are Trudy Ware.”
“Oh. but a woman’s always older than
a man the same age.” she said.
"I don’t know about that." he said,
“You’ve changed a lot, anyway. Gosh—
love's a queer thing, isn’t it. You’re
alwavs falling in love with people you
don’t like half as well as people you’d
never even think of falling in love
with.”
“You and me both," said Trudy.
“Isn't it the truth? Why, I can remem
ber ”
She didn’t finish.
“Th’at’s funny,” said Steve. “I say,
Trudy—were you thinking about the
other times you’d been in love, too? I
was, I mean—well—the times I thought
I was in love. I wasn’t, really, I guess.
Not like this. I guess I never will be
again.”
Trudy shook her head.
“I won’t either,” she said. “I can feel
that.” But then she raised her head.
•'l’m not gaing into a nunnery, though.”
“Whv should you?" said Bteve. He
sighed, a long, deep sigh. “I don’t
know —I suppose I’ll get married, even,
maybe.”
“So shall I.” said Trudy. “If I meet ;
some one I like, and he understands :
how it is with me. and that I'll never j
be able to give him anything but liking j
and a calm, quiet affection.”
‘•Yes," said Steve “That's just what j
I mean, too. Well have to tell who- J
ever it turns out to be, though, won't we,
Trudy’ I mean—lt wouldn't be square
not to would It? And it would be pret
ty hard on them if they cared a lot.
and v?e —couldn’t.”
“Maybe we’ll each find eome one who j
has suffered the same way we have, =
said Trudy. “After all, I suppose you j
and I aren’t the only people in the ,
world who’ve been jilted.”
“No," said Steve.
Trudy went to the mirror, then, and .
began doing what she could about her j
locks, and Steve r. at down and watched j
her. She felt a lot better, he could see,
and he did, too. It. certainly was great.,;
having her to talk to. He’d been going
around all day as If he were tickled to j
death, and it had been pretty thlck_!
Trudy was—well, she was sweet. He’d
; tell any one that l This thing had j
softened her a lot. j
Trudy fixed up her face and her hair, j
not, to be sure, to her own satisfaction, j
but as well as she could. And when j
she asked Bteve if she'd do, he Just j
laughed at her.
“You'll knock 'em dead!” he said
Gosh, Trudy, you re better looking than j
i Betty ever was!”
| “Steve!” she said. “Don’t be idiotic! j
Betty’s a beauty, and I look like the j
wreck of the Hesperus today!”
“You do not!” he said, stoutly. “You j
‘ look great. You wait and see. 1 should j
; think anybody’d be in love with you!" j
She took a chance, anyway, and went i
back to the wedding, what then- was 1
left of it. with Steve close beside her
They did go to the dance at the club, I
i the night of the wedding, together Th ?y j
went off for ages, too. to talk. And they |
drove to New Haven for the liar- j
vard game, and it got so, before long,
| that they were doing everything to- j
gether, and, naturally, there was talk
i What it came to. mostly, was that it
J was about time for those two to find out
j what every one else had known for ages
j —that they were In love with each
other.
They heard the talk, of course, and
laughed at it. together.
“It just shows you how careful you
ought to be about believing anything
! you hear,” said Trudy
“Yes,” said Bteve “But- Trudy
! look here 1 mean you know how we
j talked that day at the wedding About
l -meeting some one else and explaining
j and everything’ Well, l mean to say -
j w«—* you end 1 we wouldn’t have to
! explain. would we? Brc-uiv* we know
j-‘heady And 1 mean—Trudy- J don’t
love you, of course, and 1 know you
THE SUNDAY STAK. WASHINGTON, P. 0- .TrST! 24, 1328—PABT 7.
don’t, love me. because that's all over,
for both of us. but I like you better
than any one I've ever known ”
"I like you. too. Steve,” said Trudy.
“I like you ever so much."
"Os course,” Steve went on. "I'm not
making enough to get married on, quite
yet. That—l guess that was one reason.
Betty ” He stopped and started over
again. “But I'm going to get another
raise. New Year's, and—well —l guess—
if you'd like to try ”
“I don't care how much money you’re
making!" said Trudy. “Don’t you dare
Ito talk as if I were like—as if that
; would make any difference!"
i “Well, I know—but I had to tell you.
I mean. I think we ought to wait tiil
we could do things right—have a car
of our own, and a maid, so you wouldn’t
have to do anything. But—'Trudy—as
long as every one thinks we are—why
shouldn't we be engaged?"
She looked at him for a long time.
Then she nodded, quickly.
—“Will you. Trudy?” he said. “Will
you? Oh, that’s great!"
Shyly he went to her and took her in
his arms, and gently, tenderly, kissed
j her. But. as for her. all in a moment,
i in a storm of tears, she clung to him
| and kissed him.
j “I—oh. I ought to be ashamed!" she
j said. "Because—l don't really love you,
j Steve. Not the way ”
"I know.” he said steadily. "But,
j Trudy—that’s just it. I—l don’t love
you that way, either ” He hesitated.
"You know. That’s just what we said.
I’ll never love any one else that way.”
“Oh. Steve!” she said. "That's what
j you think! But—oh. I don't care! I
do love you. too—l'm going to make you
happy—l'll never hurt you "
** * *
'T'HEY went along, anyway, having a
1 pretty good time together and win
ning all sorts of praise from their fam
ilies. because they were so sensible about
being willing to wait until Steve was
established, and weren't crazy to get
married right away, like most young
people.
And then, one night early in the
Summer, a Saturday night, when there !
was to be a dance at the club. Steve !
went around first and had dinner with
the Wares. And he happened to men
tion. casually, that Combe was back
“That, fellow Combe's home.” he said
| “He came out on the same train with
me. Gosh—he's a big brute! Black as
; your boot, too—he's been in the tropics.” j
He wasn’t looking at Trudy as he i
spoke; he probably wouldn't have no-j
ticed anything, even had he been look- !
ing right at her.
ljkljklhgkgkj
Nations Fighting for Air Records
(Continued from First Page.)
practical speed limit.. When a modem
pilot flies an old-fashioned ’jenny’ 80
miles an hour he gets Impatient over
the sluggishness. You see, it’s nothing
more than crawling.
“Commercial flyers say they must at
tain at least 200 miles an hour before
passenger airplane service can be made
cheap and successful. So there still is
a demand for more speed.
“The objection I see to flying, say. at
500 miles an hour is the powerful shocks
and violent treatment delivered to pas
sengers by the plane.
“When I came third in a recent Pu
litzer Trophy race I was battered to a
black and blue pulp. Every time my
plane hit an air pocket or strong cur- j
rent, or when I swept around a comer, ;
mv ship punished me. The fact I was :
strapped to my seat and could hardly !
move did not ease the pain. Even up- j
holstery will not relieve a high-speed
plane from delivering shocks to passen
gers. Plying straight one does not feel
the bumps nearly so much as when
banking or making a turn. In a race
It’s dangerous to round off comers too
sharply. In the Pulitzer race we had
to make 12 turns around a triangular
course.”
According to Lieut. A. J. Williams,
another Navy racer, planes capable of
500 miles an hour will be built and
flyprs will have no difficulty in han
dling them—at least in straightaway
flights. “It is only in turns and banks
that the brain is starved of blood.” the
aviator says. “But there are ways and
ways, as every racing pilot knows, of
making high-speed turns without ill
I effects.
I “Since I began flying in 1922 I have
I seen the maximum figure on speed indi
! cators increase from 170 to 200, 220 to
! 250. then to 300-~on my own plane the
| high mark is 302—after that comes a
; wide gap. . . ,
| "We will not need a new school of
| super-trained pilots for the new era,
j The same men who fly our racing ships
I today will do, providing mat day comes
before they are riding around in old
men’s wheel chairs. All they need Is
i the training that, comes with experi
| ence, common sense, sharpened antici
pation for the problems of the impend
| ing moment, alertness to see, hear and
| feel a tight fix, to form a decision and
have mental and muscular co-ordination
! that will execute It.
i “In making a sharp turn at high
! speed a pilot feels gripped by some ter
i rifle force. Specks dance before his
| eys. His vision dims and everything Is
i a blur. I confess on one occasion my
] brain registered not a thing during
J those moments Mechanically I con
! trolled the ship in a straightaway course
I and the nausea passed off.
| “It was in my first Important race
! and I didn’t dare tell my mates, for fear
i they might think 1 was trying to spring
something new Later I asked ques
j lions and discovered other racing pilots
j had had the same experience. I
learned, however, not to take curves 100
i sharply,
“That Incident provoked considerable
comment among laymen and was large
! ty responsible for the fallacy that ter
rific speeds have a dangerous effect on
the brain; that the body and brain can
not stand much greater velocities than
reached today.”
** * *
TTHE year 1919 will stand as a great
1 turning point. In aeronautic history.
Then, for the first time, the Atlantic
was crossed by an airplane. American
i naval flyers, led by Lieut, Comdr, A. C.
1 load, reached Europe byway of the
Azores Islands.
1 June 4, 1919, Hir John Alcoek and
| Blr Arthur Whitten-Brown won the
] London Dally Mali’s $50,000 prize by
! making the first non-stop flight across
i the Atlantic. Starting from St. John's,
“Combe?" said Mr. Ware. “He must
have been away three or four years!
Strange life he leads.”
And he sighed a little.
“I think it's disgraceful!" said Mrs.
Ware. “He has no sense of responsibil
ity. There's that house of his. stand
ing empty all the time, with half a doz
en servants eating their heads off, just
so it can be ready for him when he
chooses to drop in! They say he never
even lets them know he’s coming—
everything's got to be just so all the
time."
“I guess he can afford it." said Stove.
“He's pretty rich, isn’t he?”
"He probably hasn’t any idea how
rich he is.” said Mr. Ware. “Where’s
he been this time?"
"Mongolia," said Trudy, unexpectedly.
“He’s been exploring a lot of country
back there they don’t know anything
about. He doesn't just waste his time,
you know, Mother, when he goes off."
“I don't know what you call it,"'said
Mrs. Ware.
“He's a pretty good scientist, I im
agine,” said Mr. Ware, mildly. “He be
longs to a lot of societies, here and
abroad, and he writes."
"I don't know anything about that,”
said Mrs. Ware. “But a man in his
position ought to marry and have
children. A man with hik wealth owes
something to the community.”
“I don't really know him." said
Steve. “I was just a kid when he was
around here last. You didn’t know
him either, did you. Trudy?”
"Yes—l did—a little." she said. “I
went to the party they had for him the
night before he went away. It was the
first big party I ever went to. He's a
strange person. He wouldn’t remember
me. though, I expect."
“He has a bad reputation.” said Mrs.
Ware, with pursed lips. “Some people,
I understand, say he has charm. I think
he's just a savage."
The talk went on like" that. Steve
didn't pay much attention, really; he
wasn't interested In Combe. He was
i thinking about something else, anyway;
! something about which he and Trudy
( talked as they drove over to the club.
! He had a chance, he thought, to buy a
pieee of land on which, later, they might
S - IHUH
Newfoundland, Alcock, an Englishman,
and Brown, an American by birth,
landed 16 hours and 12 minutes later
at Cllfden, Ireland, averaging 118 miles
an hour, a speed which never has been
broken by any transatlantic flyer.
Aviation has developed much sinc<! the
Alcock-BroWn attempt, but their feat is
as remarkable and heroic today as it*
was then. In fact, their record looms I
brighter in the light of recent failures
of costly and improved planes.
One of the huge difficulties besetting
long-distance flyers is the heavy load of
fuel. Much more gas is carried these
days than in the earlier flights. An
ordinary' transatlantic flight calls for
enough fuel to carry the plane from 4"
to 55 hours. Even such a supply mat
I be found to be inadequate, inasmuch as
high winds and unfavorable weather
mav reduce the speed of a plane almost
to that of a baby carriage.
In September, 1926, • Capt, Rene
Fonck, French ace. crashed to earth in
his overloaded plane and was killed in
the flames. Last April 26, Comdr.
Davis and Lieut. Wooster of the United
I States Navy, also crashed in an over
loaded plane.
When Old Glory left Maine on a
non-stop flight to Rome, it ran along
the beach for two miles before it could
rise. It carried a load heavier than any
single-motored monoplane had ever
tried to lift before.
Marchese di Pinedo started from Tre
passey. Newfoundland. May 23, 1927, on
a 1,500-mile flight to the Azores. He dis
carded his 400-pound radio set in lieu
of an equal weight of fuel. But high
winds cut his speed to less than 60
miles an hour. Fortunately he sighted
a schooner and his seaplane was taken
in tow. Again the wind demon demon
strated its domination. A flying plane
can’t enlist the aid of wind like a ship’s
sail. A sailing ship navigates in a sea
of water, a plane navigates in a sea of
air.
How rare is good weather over the
North Atlantic wastes? Ask a trans
atlantic flyer and he will tell you. "Jolly
seldom.” Behind his statement are re
ports furnished him by the United
States Weather Bureau. The comments
of the New York meteorological office
after the Lindbergh-Chamberlin flights
are the last word on North Atlantic cli
mate. The bureau had been receiving
radio weather reports twice daily from
10 steamships and mail reports from 500
scattered vessels. The meteorologist
reported:
“There really have been only three
times since April 20, 1927, w hen a trans
atlantic flight could have been safe.
First, on the day Chamberlin and
Acosta began their record-breaking en
durance flight over Manhattan, If
they had taken off for Europe they
would have reached it without any trou
ble. The second day was on May 20
when Lindbergh and the Spirit of St.
Louis hopped for Paris and the third
day when Chamberlin and Levine be
gan their flight to Germany.”
Lindbergh had better wenthor than
he had expected, Relying on his earth
inductor compass, he guided his ship
to a point on the Irish coast, just
threp miles from the spot he had mark
ed on his map.
Chamberlin and Levine had dlffi,-
culty with their earth inductor compass
and were forced to take a simple compass
course until they found their bearing
by passing over the 8. S. Mauretania,
near Ireland.
** * *
INURING 1927 the Atlantic was
crossed four times by non-stop
flights and 12 lives were lost in un
successful attempts. The transpacific
flight weis completed four times also,
and 10 lives lost
The Pacific fleet organized a search
ing party for victims of the Dole rare,
and, according to the report of Ad
miral R. H Jackson, the flagship Hol
land, 1 light cruiser, 23 destroyers, i
TRUDY SCREAMED. BUT STEVE SLIPPED O#T OF COMBE'S GRASP AND FACED HIM READY TO FIGHT.
build, and he wanted to get her ideas
about it.
“It's that at Hillcrest and
Cameron, you know,” he said. “It's a
peach of a location and it’s a darned
good buv at the price—a corking invest
ment. But it’d take all the cash I’ve
got and some I'd have to borrow and
it's mean waiting a year before we could
start building and get married. It’s up
to you, old thing.”
"Not me,” said Trudy. “Whatever
you say goes about anything like that.
Steve. I’m for anything that looks good
to you."
** * *
CTEVE danced the first dance with
Trudy, of course, when they got to
the club. And then he and some other
men got together in the locker room
and got to talking, and it was all of
an hour and a half before the con
sciences of some of them drove them
back to the floor. Steve wasn't worried;
he never got any lectures from Trudy.
He got back, as it happened, just as
Combe cut in on Bill Thorpe, who was
dancing with Trudy at the moment,
And something about the way Combe
did it rasped him. And then—Trudy—
he didn't like the w-av she smiled as
she vielded herself to Combe and went
off with him. She oughtn't—oh. it
sounded silly, he knew, but she oughtn’t
to look so pleased. Not with a chap
they'd talked about the way they had
about Combe at dinner.
And he wanted to dance with her
himself, anyway. He thought of cut
ting in. But he wouldn't do that; he
never did. unless she wanted to get
away from a man she didn’t like, and
signaled him. So he resigned himself
to wait till the beginning of the next
dance. But then, when he went to look
for her. he couldn't find her. She and
Combe had disappeared, somewhere. ■
and thev didn't come back for three ;
dances. Why in the world did Trudy
want to go off with a fellow like that?
He decided to ask her.
But he didn’t, when his chance
came. Because Trudy, when he found
her again, was all white and trembly.
He hadn’t seen her look like that since
the day of Betty's wedding. She was |
shaken: when they danced she lost the j
beat two or three times—Trudy, the !
aircraft carriers, 23 submarines and 3
tenders scanned 350,000 square miles
of Pacific waste and steamed a total
of 153,235 miles. Seaplanes flew 9,000
miles. More than 3.751,050 gallons of
fuel were consumed in this search.
In answer to Old Glory's SOS,
four large vessels wandered from their
, courses. They were the Transylvania,
i Carmania, Lapland and California.
Fourteen ship lookouts searched the
seas with binoculars and sea glasses.
It cost navigation companies something
like $20,000 to conduct this search.
An outstanding enthusiast over long
distance flying is Sir Alan Cobham.
w'ho himself holds many notable rec
ords. among them a 28.000-mile round
l trip journey between England and Aus
tralia.
Sir Alan observes that aviation en
gines on blocks have been run continu
ously for 100 hours, equivalent to one
third the distance around the world.
He believes there is actually less wear
and tear on a machine in motion than
when standing idle on the ground.
In Sir Alan's opinion. an ideal trip
would be an around-the-world flight
in an air yacht. Such a journey would
cost four persons only $200,000. one
half the amount for the machine and
the rest for food and fuel.
"We have learned much from long
distance flights.” Sir Alan said recent
ly. "I should not, for instance, under
take one without a metal body and
floats. I’ve found that wooden pon
toons leak badly. On a month’s air
water Journey a wooden hull absorbs as
much as 300 pounds of water.
“On my recent trip from Australia
the heat was unbearable There was a
stiff wind but it was so blisteringly hot
that it seared the skin like a white-hot
flame.
"When air reaches blood heat the
wind seems much hotter, and The faster
one travels against this wind the more
difficult it is to resist its effect. I'd
rather fly through freezing air than
that kind of heat.
"Os all the record flights yet to be
made, a round-the-world cruise along
a practical, every-day route would be
the sterling test for aviation. It Ivould
mean flying about 30,000 miles in all
kinds of weather, through fog. hail,
rain, snow and windstorm. Yet I be
lieve it can be done in a large flying
boat, operating as an independent unit j
and relying on certified land stations
for supplies of food and fuel."
** * *
A MONO long-distance flights that
have added glory to aviation is one
made by the R-34, a British dirigible
commanded by Maj. G. H. Scott of the
British air forces. Starting from East
Fortune. Scotland, the huge bug
reached Mtneola, long island. 108 ,
hours later, with all but a few gallons
of fuel spent, The distance covered
was 3,130 miles. The return to Pul- ,
ham. England, was made in 75 hours.
In October, 1924. the ZR-3, now the
Los Angeles, crossed the Atlantic from
Frledrlchshafen, Germany, to the Lake- ;
1 hurst Naval Station in New Jersey. The
flight was 5.066 miles long and took
slightly more than 81 hours to complete.
But the ZR-3's commander claimed to
have had enough fuel to go as far as
1 Chicago.
The French dirigible Dlxmude flew
fiom Marseille to tiie edge of the Sa
hara Desert in 1923, covering 4,500
miles in 118 hours and 41 minutes.
In 1924 a fleet of United States Armv
1 planes flew around the world, covering
• 26,103 miles in 175 days. They crossed
the North Atlantic in two hops, from
Iceland to Greenland and Greenland
to Labrador.
Iri 1925 Pinedo flew from Rome to
Japan and back, some 34,000 miles He
followed this trip with a flight from
Rome to Africa and the two Americas j
Near the end of 1025 Sir Alan Cob- j
I ham became the hero of his native i
most perfect dancer he'd ever known.
And finally she just stopped.
“Do you mind if we don’t go on.
Steve?” she said. “I —I’m tired. And
please—l'd like to go home. You can
come back, if you want to —it's awfully
early. But ”
He was scared. This wasn’t like
Trudy a bit. And he thought she must
be ill. But she only laughed when he
said so, and said she wap perfectly all
right. And she did seem to feel better
when they were in the car driving
! home. And. when they got to her
house, she didn’t get out of the car.
“I don’t want to go in right away.”
she said. “Turn off your lights and
let's just sit here in the car for a
while.”
So he did. and she sat very close to
him and drew his arm about her and
kissed him. It wasn't like her at all.
"I'm so glad I’ve got you!” she said.
"Well, that's the way I feel about
you. too." he said, and his arm tight
ened about her.
** * *
'T'HEN the next night, when he went
* around to Trudy's after dinner
Combe was there sitting on the porch
with her. Trudy jumped up quickly
when she saw him and kissed him. and
that was <ynny: she never did things
like that, as a rule.
"I don't think you know Mr. Combe,
do you, Steve?" she said. “This is
Steve Parrott, my fiance—*—”
Combe got up and grunted, and held
out his hand, and Steve realized, just
too late, that Combe was one of those
men who don't feel they're really shak
ing hands with you unless they break
j a couple of small bones when they do
I it. And then Combe sat down and
went on with what he had been say
i ing.
“That was before the war, of course.”
| he said. “It was just chance, running
I into another crowd that way in country-.
We were both after elephants, of
course. But he was extremely decent
about it. and we got to be very good
friends. I found a letter, when I got
back to London after the armistice—
he wanted me to take a Job on his staff.
But I'd been with Smuts before I went
j to Mesopotamia ”
1 “Arthur's talking about the Grand
; Australia by flying from London to
Cape Town. South Africa, and back,
covering 18,130 miles in 170 hours. He
bettered this record later by completing
% round-trip between London and Mel
bourne, Australia, 26,000 miles, in 320
hours.
The American good-will flyers fol
lowed with a 20.000-mile tour of South
American countries.
May 9. 1926. Comdr. Byrd startled the
world by flying the first plane over the
North Pole. He returned to his base
in 15 hours and 50 minutes after cov
ering 1,600 miles.
Just three days later the Amundsen-
Ellsworth-Nobile expedition added an
other chapter to the record book by
crossing the Pole in the dirigible Norge.
Following the flight there ensued a
squabble as to which of these men was
in command of the expedition. Nobile
contending Amundsen and Ellsworth 1
wpre merely passengers and they, on
the other hand, declaring that the j
Italian was employed merely as a navi
gator. The fracas resolved itself into a
series of polemics from both camps and j
the breach between explorer and navi- .
gator widened.
Nobile and Italy, however, wanted
North Pole honors for their exclusive
possession and organized the expedition
of the Italia, whose crew* is Italian from
the cabin boy up to the commander, j
Operating from her base, the ship Citta
di Milano, the Italian sallied twice into
j the Arctic wartes, passing over the Pole
once and not returning the second time, j
To the honor of Amundsen it may j
be said that he offered himself volun- i
tarily to the project of searching for |
the lost Italia, forgetting the hard feel- j
ing and differences between himself and ’
Nobile.
Aeronautical exploration in Arctic re
gions was carried on successfully by
Capt. George H Wilkins on April 15,
1928. He left Fairbanks, Alaska, in his
lockheed plane and made for Spitz
t>ergen. where he remained on a tiny
island for five days during a severe
storm. Capt, Wilkins crossed the polar
area most difficult of navigation, and
in a non-stop flight of 2,200 miles
reached his target He sighted no
land, but, for a distance of 120 miles
between Greenland and the Pole, he
was forced to fly through fog which
impaired his aerial observations.
** * *
| COMMANDER BYRD’S South Polar
flight is the record-breaking feat
that is awaited with expectancy.
For the first time the east-west I
J transatlantic journey was made in an j
j airplane, by an Irishman and two Ger-
I mans, Maj. Fitmnauvice, Capt Koehl
j and Baum von Huenefeid. The ship
Bremen was piloted down a long run
j way on t iie outskirts of Dublin and by
I splendid handling Capt. Koehl was able
I to lift her out of the way of trees and
( grazing animals. The Bremen probably
traveled 2,800 miles before she found a
! resting piaee on Greenly Island, near
the Belle Isle Straits. There was dis
. Acuity in getting away from the island,
but it was finally managed.
I The record of thv' Bremen may not
remain for long Other Europeans are
! girding themselves for the same flight.
A grip on a flight record is hard to
i hold. At one time the French felt *»-
i cure with an endurance record of
, Drouhin, 45 hours in the air. On
April 14, 1927, Chamberlin and Acosta
j took honors by remaining aloft more
I than 51 hours, shortly afterward the
! record went to Germany. George Halde
man recovered It for America and now
. it is back in Italy, all in a space of a
i few months On June 4. press dis
j patches reported, the record is being
! claimed bv two Belgians, who staved
| aloft for 60 hours and 17 minutes, but
| their claims mav b' dtsoua’ifled he
j cause they refueled then engine seven
I times by a 30-foot hose attached U> an-
I other moving plana.
Duke Nicholas of Russia. Steve.” said
Trudy. ‘‘They hunted together in
Africa.”
“Gee!” said Steve. “I certainly would
have liked to know him! Was he as
tall as he looked in his pictures, Mr.
Combe?”
“You’re always running into people
in queer places that way," Combe went
|on to Trudy. “I never met Roosevelt
! while he was in Washington—l was
j pretty young then, of course. And I
I finally met him in Nairobi, of all places.
I And I got to know Kipling on a P. &
O. liner, coming back from India. And
I remember another time, in Tahiti ”
His voice fell away; Steve, who'd
dropped into a chair some little dis
tance away, couldn't make out the
words, except occasionally. He could
just hear the low, growling voice. And,
for a while, he didn't mind particularly
j being left out of the talk. Combe was
a pretty big man, and a much older
man.
But gradually he began to feel that
there was something deliberate about
it. Anger began to stir in Steve, slow
ly. What was this man Combe doing?
j He was—hang it. he was just making
i love to Trudy! And he knew he and
t Trudy were engaged—she'd made that
plain enough when he came. He got up
and moved over toward the other two.
and Trudy looked up and .smiled at
him. But Comb*' got up abruptly and
leaned down to Trudy, and the way he
shook hands with her was like an
embrace.
“Good night!” he said. And he
didn't so much as nod to Steve as he
went.
“Trudy!" Steve said, when they were
a!one>. “What's the idea? What goes
on here?”
"I—oh. Steve. I don't know!” said
Trudy. “I don’t know what to say—l
don’t know what to do ”
"I do!” said Steve. "You tell that
„chap where he gets off—or else I will!
Tell him to take the air—tell him to
take all the air there is!"
Trudy laughed wretchedly.
"Oh. Steve.” she said, “life isn't as
simple and easy as all that! I wish it
was. He—he thinks he's in love with
me. He says he's going to marry me.”
Steve stared at her.
"He does, does he?” he said. "But—
but—Trudy, how does he get that way?"
"It's so mixed up!” she said. "I don't
know how to make you understand.
Steve. But I’ve got to try.”
** * *
UE just looked at her. waiting. He
II couldn't get this at all. It was a
mile over his head.
"You remember the way we talked,
that day at the wedding"—he nodded—
"about having been in love before—
having thought we were in love? I
meant Arthur Combe. Steve. I was
crazy’ about him until I met Jim."
“Gosh—l didn't know that!” said
Steve. “I didn't know you knew him.
even. Didn't you say last night you
just met him at a party, the night be
fore he went away?"
“Yes. I did. He'd asked them to
have me. I never dreamed he'd noticed
me. I had a crush on him—every girl
I knew did. I think. And then, that
night—he made love to me. Steve. It
! was the first time any one had ever
| really kissed me. Steve —I mean, so
j that—oh, you know what I mean If
1 he'd asked me to marry him the next
j morning and go off with him. I'd have
: done it. But he didn't. H® just told
I me I was to stay home, and grow up.
j and wait for him—and he .was coming
back for me. And "
I "Sounds like him. all right!” said
j Steve. “Gosh—who does he think he
j is. anyway?"
! “And then he went off. the next day."
I said Trudy. “And I couldn't stand any
i of the men I met who—well, liked me.
; until Jim came along. He was like
j Arthur, a little, you know. And—well, i
you know what happened. Steve. I was
crnrv about him. too. just the same way
I'd been about Arthur. And I forgot all
| about Arthur. I hadn't thought about
; him for weeks, till we were talking, the
! day Jim was married You know . And
then—well, then, you and I—it's been
sweet, Steve—l've loved it. being en
gaged to you. You know I have It's ‘
been so calm and peaceful. I'd almost j
forgotten about Jim. too. and I hadn't
thought about Arthur at all, And then,
last night "
She stopped.
"Oh. I can't talk about it, Stew!”
she cried. “I—l'm so ashamed! He
just—-I don’t know—he just swept me i
away. He kissed me, and I let him—l
wanted him to '*
Trudy! Thts was Trudy. Stew knew,
who was saying these things. But i*
couldn't be. It was. though.
"I didn't think I was like that!" sh
j said. "I—oh. Steve. I hated myself, but
I couldn't stop —I couldn’t stop him! I
tried to —I told him about you. But he
just laughed. He knew* I—l wanted
him to keep on
"Here!" Stew got up: he cried out !
| in a voice Trudy had never heard from j
I him before. There was anger in it. and
! bitterness and misery. "Here—l can't
i stand this!"
He walked quickly to the end of the
porch. She was sitting down and the
tears were running down her cheeks j
"I —l’m sorry. Trudy." he said “I
mean look hero it’s all right. You —1
you can't help it You needn't rare j
about me. If—if you love this chap -if
you want to marry him
"I don't!" Trudy wailed “Steve. I
don’t. I want to marry you! You’re
more fun than any one I’ve ever known. I
He—he scares me to death And l don’t i
believe he’s ever really laughed tn his
life, except when he was killing some- I
thing!”
Steve wanted to shout,
“And I'm afraid of him!" said Tiudy
“He’s terrible. Steve I don’t know what i
he it do. He—he told me I must tell
you and make you clear out he said he
was going to watch me I feel as if he
were around this minuto"
’He? What can he do?" said Steve,
contemptuously "Gosh, this ain’t Af
rica or Mongolia, or wherever he hangs
out!"
“I know but, Steve---I'm afraid I
wish you’d go. Tomorrow when it s
light we can think what to do
She was up. fairly pushing h!m down
the steps, going along with him. cling
ing to htm.
"listen i||> ell right. X tell you.
1 ; Trudy," said Steve. They were moving
I down the path tow-ard his car.
“I know’," she said, shivering. “But I
1 1 want you to go now, Steve—l'm afraid,
. I tell you ”
He stopped. He stood looking at her
j And suddenly he caught her in his
arms.
“Trudy!” he cried. “Oh. Trudy—l
love you!” I’ve known it ever since
last night—l've known I never really
loved any one but you! I—when you
; were off. outside. I was so jealous that
I—l didn’t know it. but that was what
> was the matter with me "
“Steve!” she cried. "Oh. Steve!”
And suddenly they were kissing each
I other.
“Trudy!” he said. “Oh. Trudy—what
fools we’ve been! I—l guess I’ve been
I jealous all the time—jealous of Fer
; “I know! I know!” she cried. “I—oh.
I've hated Betty—l could have killed
her! I nearly died last night when you
talked about waiting another year, as if
you didn’t care a bit—and—and—what
happened—l’d never have wanted any
one else to kiss me if you ”
A great hand fell on Steve's shoulder
and he was wrenched away from Trudy.
Combe was there, between them,
glaring.
"That's enough!" he said. “Go in
the house, Trudy. I'll settle with this
; boy."
“You will, will you?” said Steve.
! Trudy screamed. But Steve slipped out
of Combe’s grasp and faced him, his
i fists doubled up, ready to fight. He was
another person, fiery, dominant.
"Get out!” he said to Combe. “Right
now—quick, before I knock your head
i off!”
Just for a moment Combe hesitated.
! Then he grinned evilly.
‘Til yield to that argument—tonight,”
he said. “But this isn't all."
Steve didn't say anything. He just
stood. And Combe, with a laugh, turned
away. Trudy stood there, her breath
coming in quick, short gasps.
j “He—he's gone " she said. “But—
, he'll come back. Steve. And—he’ll hav*
a pistol—he'll hurt you ”
“Not in a million years!" said Stev.
“His bluff's called! But I'm not taking
any chances, anyway—and I'm not
waiting any longer, either. Get in that
car!”
“Steve! What—where are we going '"
“Over into Connecticut —Stamford—
Norwalk—wherever we can get a license
! and get married! It's easy over there—l
went along with Pete and Janet las:
Spring, when they eloped. Come on!”
"I—l—All right!” said Trudy. “Oh.
Steve —let's go!"
No. There wasn't any sentimental, ro
: mantic nonsense about those two' Some
one said that, on the 8:0® in the morn
ing. when there was some surprise, be
cause Steve wasn't on the train.
“Probably had some business to at
tend to," said one. “He’ll catch the nex
i train,"
iCopjrrifht. IOCS >
Concerning Coral.
I OOK at your atlas. Start at the
Equator and proceed north until
j you reach the Tropic of Cancer, and
1 then south until you reach the Tropic
of Capricorn. You will have described
i a belt in which, with few exception',
all the coral of the world is to be found
This is accounted for by the fact tha’
all reef-butlding corals insist on dwe!!-
j ing in water the temperature of which,
even in Winter, does not fall below ®8
degrees Fahrenheit. Anything colder
than this is too much for their deli
cate organism and they sicken and d:»
and so reef-building is confined to this
] imaginary belt.
Coral is formed bv millions of genera
i Uons of tiny, jellylike sea creatures called
polyps, meaning many-footed A polyp.
! if one can imagine so small a thing
as a single specimen thereof, is nothing
more than a little sac or stomach, sur
rounded by a fringe of arms or ten
t tacles. These wave about and gather
food, as eating is about the only action
j the creature ever divulges. Polyps ab
sorb a limelike substance from the
i water, with which thev manage ro
: build a little shell. From this shell
1 new polyps sprout out like buds on a
1 plant Each new polyp remains firmly
; attached to the parent stem, so that
I in time—and a polyp has more tin*.-'
than anything else—curious, planthkr
shapes are formed down in the warm
waters of the sea. As the creatures
i die. the tiny shells remain So a pier
! nf coral is made of millions and mil
lions of empty dwellings of millions
and millions of dead-and-gone polyp;
which have left behind this monumetr
to their memory.
Another fact that has been learned
about them Is that they must not only
have water of a certain temperature
j hi which to live, but the water mu;?
i not be more than 150 feet deep, as the'
j cannot live and thrive below that deprt*
| So when the submerged top of some
mountain gets to within ISO feet of the
surface, the polyps come and ake pos
i session, and from the mountain top as
a foundation, begin building upward
Or. to be more exact, they ancho
| themselves to the rocks and form shcl'.*
; around them As they die and leave
j their shells vacant, new polyps sprout
j out of the mass, and so the work gw'
on It is slow work, too The tune n
| took to build the Pyramids ts probably
j as a second to a century, compared with
the ages required for some coral growths
jto reach the surface When the for
j mation reaches the surface all growth
i erases, as the polyps cannot exist out
lof water. Then the waves gradual!'
I break off the parts above water, and
] the.se fragments, by constant attrition
: are worn down until they become pul
j vert red sand. Soon the winds and the
waters bring seeds from distant shores
and these germinate, and In time then
la a fairy island away off by Hselt
fringed with whispering palms and
other tropical growth.
Fewer Celebration!.
from the Bo*tan Transcriiw
"Bandy w getting married on Febru
ary 39 “
’ What's his idea of choosing that
particular date?”
"He has a thrifty eye on future anni
versary expense* * *ueafc'