Evening star. [volume], November 11, 1934, Page 13, Image 85

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

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
' nothing of the cheek for $100 that
rested in the pocket of the fatherly
looking gentleman.
The doctor examined the girl's eyea,
and the next day gave his verdict. "It
can be done. It will mean a delicate
operation, a very delicate one and costly
I am afraid. There is only one man who
can—and will—do it. He is on the West
Coast just now. He will not come East
for a regular case, but for something
"fcpecial. But it will prove very costly."
"How much?" asked Joe softly.
Joe had considerable trouble persuad
ing Lucy to agree to the operation. She
questioned him, demanded information,
details. Joe lied like a hero about the
cost, the name of the doctor who would
perform the operation, the time it would
take to do it, and the seriousness of her
case.
Twelve days later Lucy was wheeled
down the long corridor, Joe walking by
her side. An odd pair they made; the
little mouse-colored man and the fair
t haired angel in white. On Lucy's third
finger was Joe's ring, purchased that
day.
Lucy's final words were: "Joe! Prom
ise me! When they remove the band
apes from my eyes you Will bf Standing
b(side my bed! Promise me!" Joe prom
ised. "I want to see you first," finished
Lucy.
For three hours Joe walked the hall
way. Finally they brought her out. Joe
wrung his hands as he looked down into
the white drawn face of his fair-haired
angel. The great man from the West
Coast nodded his head. "I believe it
will be a success."
Several days later the bandages were
to be removed and then, and only then,
could the doctor be sure that the opera
' tion was a success. Lucy reminded Joe
of his promise. It haunted him, kept
him awake nights, followed him during
the days. How could he stand up before
a girl like Lucy! The first thing for her
to see1
The promise haunted Joe so that the
day the bandages were to be removed
he paid a visit to a theatrical booking
agency. When he emerged an hour or
so later he had with him a young man,
clean cut, well dressed, good looking. The
young man had been hired for the day.
His duties would be light. He was to
stand beside a hospital bed for an hour,
* and hold the hand of a girl. That was
all. Just hold her hand, and let her
look at him.
\ a/HEN the time came for the removal
of the bandages, there were five
people in the room. The doctor from the
- West Coast, the head of the hospital, the
nurse, the young man from the thea
trical agency, and another man—a
mouse-colored man who crouched be
hind a screen.
The room was dim with drawn cur
tains, only one small light burned in the
solitary socket. The doctor whipped off
the bandages. There was silence for a
moment. Joe strained to see. Lucy
waited a long moment, and then slowly
' opened her eyes. She cried out with
pain and shut her eyes tight, her hands
flying to cover them. Once more
she opened them at the suggestion of
the West Coast doctor. This time she
turned her head and gazed full into the
face of the young man at the head of
her bed.
'•Joe! I can see! Joe!"
No one in the room moved. The young
man by the side of Lucy's bed squeezed
her hand gently. Behind the screen,
Joe lowered his head into his arms.
"Oh, God in heaven!" he prayed.
The doctor placed the bandages care
fully over the girl's eyes again.
k λΑΝΥ people wondered what had be
come of Joe Starke. No one knew
his whereabouts. Joe himself cared little
where he went or what he did. He
took a room in a cheap boarding house
near the water front.
He was finding it increasingly difficult
to walk. His chest was giving him more
trouble than usual. His one good lung,
which had been under a heavy strain,
was giving him trouble.
He sat in his cheap little room near
the river, and looked at his bank book.
Fifteen dollars!
It was a month and a half since the
day he had crouched behind the screen
in the hospital room. A month of living
hell on earth for Joe Starke. He did
not read the newspapers. There might
have been something in them, probably
an advertisement, that he would not
want to read.
There was no money now to go to the
mountains. But somehow as he thought
of that little white face on the pillow he
did not mind.
Four days later as darkness fell over
the city, Joe went for a walk down to
City Wharf. There were only a few
people around. A few children playing,
a policeman, a girl and a dog, two truck
drivers. That was all. He walked back
a few paces, hesitated a moment, and
then, bending his head down and shut
ting his eyes tight he hurled himself at
the end of the wharf. For a long moment
he was held suspended in the air, then
he shot down, down, down. His feet hit
the water. It was cold, bitterly cold.
For a second he knew fear, stark fear
that seemed to grip him in bands of
steel, then his head went below the
surface.
How long had he been under the
water? An hour? No, it could not have
be*n more than a brief second. He had
stopped sinking and had started to go
up when suddenly he realized what he
had done. He was trying to commit sui
cide. He was trying to kill himself.
With that Joe started to struggle. As
he struggled he sank deeper. An over
powering desire to get to the top of the
water, to take one more deep breath of
air smote him. He struggled harder.
Feet threshing, arms pounding the water
Joe struggled to the top. His lungs were
bursting, there were spots before his
close-shut eyes, his body seemed like
liquid fire.
He was conscious of a voice far in
the distance shouting his name. There
came a splash in the water near him,
then Joe started sinking again. He
didn't want to sink. The air was good.
Strike out! That was it! Strike out.
Cold, wet hands gripped him by the
hair. The hands of Death! Now an
other pair of hands gripped him hard.
Death had two pair of hands! Joe found
himself crying, as he struggled again'
them. Suddenly a hard, stinging bio
smashed into his face. Joe weakened
then struggled again. Again the blc.
landed in his face, on his chin. Jot
fainted.
When he slowly and painfully opent
his eyes he was lying on the dock, an
a dog with a wet warm tongue was lick
ing his face. It was a Sealyham put
Joe felt his head pillowed on somethi;
soft. He looked up—into the face of hi
fair-haired angel. The lovely hair Wu
wet and clinging to her face. Her dre.1
was wet and soggy.
Joe s eyes roamed around. Standin
near him was a uniformed police office..
The latter also was wet. Slowiy reaso .
came back to Joe, and with reason cam
the voice of the vision upon whose kne
his head was pillowed.
The vision kissed hiir. and cried ovt-r
him. .
"Joe! Joe! Why did you try to d
that? I saw you from the head of the
wharf."
Joe tried to think. "You—knew me:"
he managed lo gasp. "You—knew--what
— I locked like?" It did not seem pos
sible.
The vision nooded. ' Yes, you silly
goose. Certainly I knew what you looked
like. Do you think I would have let you
make love to me without asking people,
my landlady, what you looked like? Oh.
Joe! Why did you spend all that money
on my operation? The doctor told m*
about it—and you, Joe! It was wonder
ful of you, but you .shouldn't have don
it. When I saw that young man stand.n'
beside the bed, Joe, I knew it wasn't you.
I called to you, thinking vou had for
gotten your promise, Joe."
For a long moment Joe lay still. Stv
had asked what he looked like. Funn; '
He had never thought of her doing tha*.
"And Joe!" cried the vision. The "doc
tor told the papers about what you had
done, and they have taken up a sub
scription to see you to the mountains. I
can see. Joe! See! I can go around alor.
in the evenings without glasses, and
soon I'll be able to go out in the sun
without them."
She bent down and kissed him a^ain.
Joe marveled.
' But—I—I " he sputtered.
She laid a hand on hio lips softly,
caressing.
"Shh!" she murmured. "You're a sick
man. You took care of me—now it's my
turn to take care of you. for a long time,
I thought I had lost you. I advertised in
the papers, but you did not answer
them. I thank God that I came down
here for a walk today. The pup saw
you—recognized you—first, Joe—and
then I saw you. tow."
(Copjrisht. lf>34.)
ANOTHER CHINESE GAME
Continued From Second Parr.
Ο
—Drawing by Stuart Hay.
' ItÉT l£A£
"Smiling triumphantly, he rose to receive the trophy.'
had to tic. then was to hold that lead. I pro
cettied cautiously and my two-button advan
tage seemed still intact at the end ol the game.
BUT to my amezeir.ent. when the hostages
were counted it was discovered that Mr.
Oddleigh had 83 buttons to my 79. Instead
Of winning by two points. I had lost by four!
It was inexplicable. I sat stunned as Mrs.
Chudwell bore down upon us with a cute little
loving cup (suitable for boric acid solution·,
the winner's trophy. Smiling triumphantly,
Mr. Oddleigh rose to receive it. Almost before
he was out of his chair, however, the smile
froze on his face. He clutched himself fran
tically about the midriff and then about the
knees—but too late. His trousers were already
around his ankles.
A murmur of indignation swept over the
spectators as the horrid truth dawned upon
them. He had used his suspender buttons—all
six of them—to augment his winnings! He
had cheated at Go. And as Mrs. Chudwell
turned away tactfully and handed the loving
cup to me, Mr. Oddleigh. blushing like an
underdone beefsteak, gathered up his trousers
and tottered out of the clubhouse, disgraced
for life—or at least until the next assessment
is due.
TTiUs I became the Go champion of East
Teabone. although strictly speaking I have
never yet won a game except by default, old
age or nervous exhaustion.
Go-Moku is similar to Go. but it is played
on a smaller board, and doesn't take so long.
The obiect of the game is to get five adjoin
ing stones or buttons in a row. either horizon
tally. vertically or diagonally. Proficient play
ers can whiz through a Go-Moku contest in
eight hours.
But my favorite is a variant of this game.
ca!kd Go-Kuku. The method of plr.y is the
same as in Go-Moku. but instead of black and
white stones, the contestants use jiggers of
rye and glasses of soda water. For example,
the first player, whom we shall call East Wind,
starts the game by placing a jigger of rye on
any square on the board. The second player,
, whom we shall call Probable Showers, places
a glass of soda alongside it. Then East Wind
plunks down another Jigger, Probable Showers
counters with another soda glass, ana so on.
A S SOON as whisky is completely »ur
rounded by soda, or soda by whisky, it is
said to be "taken." In fact, it is taken. This
is what the Chinese call Wu-Pi. The empty
glasses are then removed from the board and
play is suspended until they can be refilled.
If ior any reason they cannot be refilled, one
of the players immediately calls. "Chetk!"—
whereupon the referee (referred to in Chinese
as H&i-Yu) produces a slip of paper covered
with quaint Oriental hieroglyphics. He places
this paper face down on the board, and the
players then reach for it. An exciting tussle
ensues, and the one who has presence of mind
to let go of it first is declared the winner. In
case neither player succeeds in relinquishing
possession of it. the game is a draw. That
is known as Go-Dutch.
But no matter what version of Go you take
up. you cannot long resist its soporific spell.
Playing it hour after hour, you unconsciously
acquire that gentle, vegetative philosophy
which has made Chine, what It Is today.
Other parlor games may come and go. but
It is my opinion that this ancient Oriental
pastime will be with us for many a year. What
with all the old mah-jong sets, diavolo spools,
pogo slicks and other outmoded sporting par
aphernalia. there isn't room for it in the atuc.
Go is here to stay.
Biliousness and
sour stomach
cleared up!
• I hare bad to take a daily laxative for
years - nostrums that weakened and maybe
Eurt me, but I didn't know any other way
cut. Then I heard about FEEN-A-MINT
nnd tried it. There wasn't any irritation or
binding afterwards. I could hardly believe
it. I felt «well — no weakness, no exhaus
tion. And so whenever I've needed a laxa
tive I've kept right on with FEEN-A
M1NT. No biliousness, no sour stomach. n<*
worrying about constipation. It'» easy and
pleasant to take ami the results are all you
claim. X recommend FEEN-A-MINT to any
one needing a thoronjjh but pleasant lax
ative. I only wish I'd found it years ago.
Cive» easier relief becatue you chew it
That is typical of letters that fill our filee.
FEEN-A-MINT doe· ^ive more thorough,
easier relief because you chetm it. Chewini
spreads the laxative evenly throcprh the sys
tem gives a more thorough evacuation with
out violence. Try it yourself next time.
15.000.000 men and women have chosen
FEEN-A-MINT as their laxative. 16 and 25#
at your druggist's.
FEEN-A-MINT
THE CHEWIN6-CUM LAXATIVE