The Wyandotte herald., February 17, 1939, Image 6

About The Wyandotte herald. (Wyandotte, Mich.) 1879-1943

Image provided by: Central Michigan University, Clark Historical Library

                
Dietitian’, / ]
Is Most Imp
| Menus for Patiei
For Careful Plan
By EDITH M. 1
1 1 IFE expectancy
materially in the 1
Many things have c ,n
this. Among them ai .*
tation, better control ' /
cable diseases and L
standing of the place i 6
protective factor again> m
Recently, 1 read the b ► at
the great Malibran, a farm....
6inger, who died at the age Tu ao.
Her death was hastened doubt by
the medical treatment to wh ’h she
was subjected after a colla se on
the stage. As was customs* y less
than a hundred years ago, s e was
bled and thus deprived of nu ients.
Today the theories of treatment are
generally the direct opposite t this.
It is now possible for the loctor
to call in a dietitian to assj ,t him
in home treatment. Dietitii as, as
you know, of course, are nc ? diag
nosticians and work only ur?-er di
rections of a physician. Rec' ntly a
dietitian was of great aid to f friend
of mine in helping her with tl tech
nique of giving insulin and pr haring
the weighed diet necessary '"or the
diabetic. She has also been o Assist
ance to a mother whose child en are
allergic to certain foods must
be completely avoided, althot $h the
daily diet must be adequate i» every
respect. Dietary treatment i * some
instances is now as as
good nursing.
Baked Potatoes With Ch< se.
6 large baked potatoes
% pound cheese, grat I or
strained
cup hot milk
2 teaspoons salt
H teaspoon paprika
Cut potatoes in half len thwise
and scoop out the centers. Mash
thoroughly. Add cheese to h t milk
and beat with egg beate . until
smooth. Mix with the potatc is, add
seasoning and whip until lit ht and
creamy. Refill the potato sh ’Us, re
turn to a hot oven and bas * until
brown on top. . *.
Baked Oysters Casino
-3 dozen oysters in the hs f shell
Lemon juice i
Minced green pepper
Bacon
Pepper, salt
Wash and open oysters. Ot i* each
oyster put a few drops o lemon
juice, one teaspoon of finely- ninced
green pepper and a square o bacon.
Sprinkle with pepper and s; k. Set
in a hot oven (450 degrees ’ahren
heit) for 10 or 12 minutes c under
the broiler for five minutes Shal
low, fireproof dishes with • le half
shells imbedded in rock i ilt are
excellent for this purpose.
Corn Sticks.
% cup butter
W cup sugar
* eggs
1 cup milk
2 cups flour <.
1 cup com meal
4 teaspoons baking powde *
IV4 teaspoons salt ' k
Cream butter; add suf r and
beaten eggs. Stir in milk a eroate
ly with the mixed and si ed dry
ingredients. Beat well a d pour
into greased iron corn sti< c pans.
Bake in a hot oven (400 legrees
Fahrenheit) for about 20 rat ltes.
Baked Oranges.
4'seedless oranges
cup white com syrup l
2 cups sugar
2 cu>s water >
Grate oranges slightly i i break
the oil cells in the rind. ~ook in
boiling water 30 to 40 mini es until
tender. Drain and cut inti halves.
Mix corn syrun. sugar ar water
together and cook five minu s. Pour
this syrup over oranger, which
have been placed in a c tserole.
Cover and bake at 350 degrees
Fahrenheit hours. If u ed as a
salad mix cream cheese w h some
©f the syrup and spread it over
chilled orange sections. I ace the
©ranges on a salad green ad deco-'
rate with slices of avocado >ear.
Broiled Grapefruit
Cut grapefruit in half, c isswise,
remove center core and 1© ten sec
tions. Place in a pan and tprinkle
each half with two tablet oons of
brown sugar and dot with one-half
tablespoon butter. Add < * table
spoon wine, if desired. £ troll 15
minutes under a very low hme.
Potato Croquettes
2 cups hot riced potatoes
2 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon salt
>4 teaspoon celery salt
Paprika
1 teaspoon onion juice
Yolk 1 egg
Bread crumbs .
1 egg (diluted with wa\er for dip
ping . ; l
1 tablespoon finely chopr- d pars
ley * *•?
Mix the ingredients in t m order
given and beat thoroughly. Shape,
dip in crumbs, egg, anc crumbs
agajn, fry one minute in !eep fat
(335 degrees Fahrenheit) i id drain
on brown paper.
Coffee Jelly.
2 tablespoons gelatin
4 cup cold water -* \
3 cups clear, strong col ee
*4 cup sugar
Salt
Soak the gelatin in the e Id water
five minutea and dissolve t the hot
coffee, add sugar and salt; uir until
dissolved.' Turn into a nr.-Id; ehUl
until eet. Serve with*, whipped
cream.
a Belt Svadicste.--W W m Vie*.
Household Hints
By BETTY WELLS
E’RE informal folks,” writes
Jean P., “and we lead a jolly
life with lots of hurry-up snack par
ties and excursions on the spur of
'he moment. So we’ve chosen ma
le furniture because it seems to
»it us best. Now the problem is to
lan our home on a small allotv
.ice. We have purchased so far a
, easy chair and settee with a
l laple frame and green plaid cush
■Ons, a cricket chair in a green
lalico pattern with maple arms and
legs, a secretary and a maple lamp.
I'd like a color scheme for walls,
lamp shades, rugs.
“I’m also furnishing the bedroom
and dining room, and they should
blend with the living room since
all open together. I have a walnut
We’re informal folks.
table (inherited from my grand
mother), an unpainted stand for the
radio and another odd piece to
paint. I have beautiful china and
silver from my family.
“I have to do all this on a very
small budget and am too inexperi
enced to do it alone. If I had a
plan I could carry it through. I
want the effect to be comfortable
and not crowded.”
Why not have the walls of the liv
ing room and dining room in pale
green with lightish green plain rugs
throughout. The bedroom walls Fd
have in white, but I’d like to see
the light green rug here too—have
white sheer curtains in all the rooms
with draperies for living room and
dining room of terracotta chintz in
a colonial sprig design. In the liv
ing room introduce accents of terra
cotta in lamps and accessories and
add notes of beige in extra cushions.
In the bedroom have garden flow
ered chintz for spread and draper
ies.
In the dining room, play up your
beautiful silver and china. Have
open shelves—maybe your husband
could build them and paint them to
match the walls. Since you have
the walnut table to begin, Fd add
walnut chairs of simple Nineteenth
century lines with beige seats. Lat
er perhaps you can add an open
shelf cupboard of walnut. Paint the
odd pieces in green the color of the
rugs.
So much soft light greens in the
room will create a very restful un
crowded effect. And keeping your
rugs the same will make it mnch
easier to fit them into another larg
er place later.
• • •
A Small Calaaial House.
“We’re building a small colonial
house,” writes Mary L., “and I.
would appreciate your advice on the
color schbme for my livfejrrbom. 1
ha*e a sofa in brown
fringe, a club chair In brown cre
tonne with an orange and white de
sign in it, a rug in light rust.
“The fireplace will ba paneled
and painted off-white and the other
walls papered. Do you think yellow
paper would be effective? Should the
other woodwork be painted white
We re baildimg!
like the fireplace wall? What col*
ors would you use for another chair?
The only window in the living room
will be a large bay. I favor wide
ruffled white curtains, but maybe
you have a better suggestion.
“The dining alcove will be wain
scoted in aft-white panels. Snould 1
use the same paper as in the living
room? Would a nark paper be more
distinctive here, and if so, what
color?”
I’d like yellow a lot for the three
walls of your living room, but 1
believe I'd have all the woodwork
white. I agree with you about white
ruft!ed curtains fer the bay window,
but maybe side draperies and a val
ance of soft turquoise might add a
nice finish. The extra chair could
be in turquoise too. And you might
repeat the turquoise in the acces
sories.
Personally I’d use the same yel
low wall paper in the dining alcove.
And yet, since you mention it, a
cork paper could be as dramatic as
everything in a room 1 like this. Rust
cr brown to repeat important tones
in the living rrem ... in that
case, why not have a turquoise rug
in the alcove. Or else have
quoise walls »in the dining alcove
and continue the rust rug here.
• By Bttt* WKr service.
Without
Interruption,
By H. H. WILUNSOIt
© Associated Newspapers.
WNU Service
JOHNNY POWERS is a wise guy.
A good enough chap, but a wise
guy. You can’t tell him much, be
cause he knows just about every
thing. You start to tell him a story
when Johnny’s around, and when
you're half way through he’ll grin
and say, “Yeaji, I’ve heard this
one.” And then he’ll spring the
point. Very annoying.
Johnny doesn’t think much of old
Enoch Stewart. Enoch *is an octo
genarian and likes to reminisce. I
| enjoy hearing him, because he has
a way of telling a story that grips
you.
Johnny Powers sits around twid
dling his thumbs while old Enoch un
folds a tale in his slow way, and
suddenly he’ll jump up and say,
“Ha! I get it. So and so married
so and so. Nothing clever about
that!”
You can see the hurt look and the
6low anger gleaming in old Enoch’s
eyes. You feel sorry for the old
boy, and you’d like to punch John
ny in the nose. The best you can do
about it is to keep Johnny away
when old Enoch is yarning.
We’ve been pretty successful
about doing this; everyone was sur
prised the night he dropped in on us
last week. But Johnny didn’t seem
to notice that anything was wrong.
“Go on,” he said to old Enoch.
“Go on with your yarn, old timer.”
“I was just telling the boys about
an experience I had last winter.
Maybe it’s the kind of story you
wouldn’t be interested in.”
“Uh huh,” said Johnny indulgent
ly, “uh huh. Go ahead.”
“Well,” said Old Enoch, “it was
kind of amusing. One of those
brisk January days, cold and invigo
rating. I was walking along out in
the country and I come to a bunch
of children who were skating, and
stopped to watch them. I tell you
it was a pretty picture.
“Well, after a while along comes
an old man, near as old as I be,
with a pair of skates over his shoul
der. He stood watching the young
sters for a while, then sat down
and put on his skates and started
out. He was a good one, knew how
to skate all right. But he wanted
to show off, wanted to show them
kids how good he was and maybe
teach ’em a thing or two.”
Old Enoch paused to chuckle, and
Johnny, grinning said, “And I sup
pose he went sprawling first shot
out of the box?”
Enoch looked mildly surprised
and a trifle hurt. “Why, yes,” he
said. “Yes. That’s exactly what
happened. First thing you knew
the old boy hit a hole and tumbled
into it head over heels. 'lt was fun
ny, but at the same time I felt
sorry for the old boy.”
“Hope he didn’t drown,” I said,
looking sidewise at Johnny.
“Of course he didn't,” Johnny
said. He stood up. “The*young
sters got. a rope or a log or some
thing and pulled him out and the old
man went home, a sorry looking fig
ure, his dignity having suffered be
cause he'd had to let the children
save him. Pretty good story, but
old.” Johnny laughed tolerantly.
Old Enoch tugg# at hu' imma
tadhes. “You’re pretty smart, John
ny. The old boy didn't gfct himseff
drowned. Nope. Fact is he'dldn'T
even get wet!”
The grin vanished from Johnny's
face. He stared, and the rest of us
were silent, waiting.
“Now wait a minute,” said John
ny. J “Let me get this straight. The
old man was skating and he fell into
a hole, and didn't even get wet?”
“Yeah,” said old Enoch, and his
eyes began to twinkle. “That’s it,
Johnny. That’s right.”
Johnny looked around. He saw us
watching him, and he must have
sensed the way we felt, because he
flushed a little. “Now wait a min
ute,” he said. “There’s something
wrong here. Something screwy
about that yarn.”
“No such a thing,” said Enoch.
“It’s a true story, every word. And
if you’d listened closely you’d see
what I mean.” a*
“All right,” he said. “All right.
What’s the point?”
Enoch chuckled. “You’re smart,
Johnny. You ought to be able to
figure it. You’ve figured out plenty
of ’em before.”
The color mounted in Johnny’s
cheeks. “It’s a set-up,” he blazed
angrily. “I tell you that yarn’s cock
eyed! What’s the point, anyhow?”
Enoch tugged at his moustaches.
For the first time I saw him laugh.
Real loud and hearty. He was en
joying this moment. It sort of paid
him back for previous humiliations.
He laughed, and Jobnny grew White,
and Enoch said. “Why, Shucks,
Johnriy, that’s easy. Th«
point is that the children. and the
old man were roller skating. Get
it?”
Which Johnny did, and that's why
old Enoch from then on has been
able to tell hik stories without in
terference or interruptions. •
Body Shipped * Bop Cask
In the Cape May Historical mu
seum k\ New Jersey there Is a ship
model with this history:. “The brig
antine’J. B. Kirby, sailed.by Ggpt.
Hiram Godfrey in Hi#* whs died pf
yellow fever in Cienfuegp, Cuba.
-Hit body was brought heme fe a
cath of rum to pass quarantine, by
the mats, Mr: Beading.”
Coll It Even
a
•y KAIL GKdYSOIf
• Associated papers.
WNU pen /*. . «. I
r. *
C HORTLY after tt *• death of his
Uncle Moe, youn* Kilburn Blake
was advised that he’nad been men
tioned in thfe old ge ltleman’s will.
“ —To my nephew, Kilburn Blake, I
bequeath my Wimple automobile
»» % «• O
The news did- not set Kilburn's
heart a-flutter. with palpitations of
fondness. The Wimple automobile,
to be sure, was a beautiful specimen
I of machinery. £ut tit cost of own
| ing and operating one was prohibi
i tive, unless a man’s yearly stipend
was in the five-figure class Which
Kilburn’s wasn’t. Indeed, on S3O a
week one would no More think of
buying a Wimple than investing in a
* $15,000 house. * * .
Kilburn’s first thought was to of
fer the Winfple as down payment on
a smaller and less expensive car.
Investigation, however, revealed
that the trade-in va ,e of Wimples
was next to nil, due h their lack of
resale value.
It was all rather disheartening.
Here he was *ti.di vit!i a piece of
machinery he couiuii't use and for
which he was paying garage rent
and taxes. Why not have the thing
stolen and collect the insurance?
Well, why not? A noble thought. The
premium was paid for six months in
advance; the SBOO for which the car
was insured would buy a new and
smaller machine, wUh money to
spare.
Kilburn had all kinds of faith in
human nature—so he droVe the
Wimple up town the next day and
left it parked in a vacant lot with
the key in ignition. When he
came for it that night—it was still
there.
The following evening, Kilburn
took his girl to‘the movies, and left
the Wimple, key in lock, cn the
adjacent side street. Hopefully he
returned to the spot after the per
formance —and not only found that
the automobile jwas present and in
tact' but a ticket tucked under the
windshield wiper, informed him that
the side street had parking laws
and he’d better show up at the po
lice station. As soon as he was able
to buy gasoline again, he dpove the
vehicle into that section of the city
known as the slums, the underworld,
the tough district. Parking it be
fore a pool room ha strolled away
with hopeful nonchalance.
Refusing however, to permit him
self 1 6 become too optimistic, fie
remained away from- the locale until
after midnight. He had read some*
where that crime addicts worked
* better in the wee. small hours. Re
turning to the pool fbom at 3 a. m,
he discovered to big 'disgust that
nothing had happened to his legacy.
A fortnight later tijtburn drove to
the neighboring town of Ridgefield
to attend a party. At 12:30 it
curred to him to go Some, but upon
I attempting to put ts r plan into exe
cution, he met with j n ob«tacle,TTfo
Wimple, which he'. had parked iq
front of his friend's Y juse, was miss
ing.
At first, Kilburn sq elated. Con
cern, however, follo wed. There re
.mained the matter ofjggtting bgckjq
up. and his friend’s House was dark.
There remained but a single alter
native and Kilburn vas forced to
take if. He t located a taxi stand
and negotiated for he necessary
transportation for a consideration of
$7.00. Before leaving; however, he
apprised the local r*bce of the loss
of his car, and duriif} the ride home
he ravjved-his spirit* by thinking of
the SBOO insurance nonoy he would
receive. * * 1
The next morning be notified the
insurance company «»f the theft, and
wept Jovially to word. That night
the Ridgefield policr called and ad
vised him that th y had lscated
what was left of the Wimple.
“How do you mean, what's left of
it?” Kilburn asked.
. . • r |* -
“Someone took it, for a joy rid#
and ran into a stone wall. It’s pret
ty badly demolished.*
“Oh,” said Kilbur*/ and hung up.
After a moment’s i thought he
searched the classified jsect>on of the
telephone directory and presently
called a number.
“Is this the Ridgefield junk yard?”
he asked.
“Yes.”
“My car was abashed up last
night on Brant streak. How much’ll
you give me for, itrv junk?”
“Oi!” So it vas , Mir car? Veil,
Oi’ll tell you. That ?pr is on my
land already.. It w£ cost you sl9
for leaving it there.”
Kilburn said something under his
breath. , Ataud„“J*ow, wgit, w.mj**.
- ute! Da I understand that whoever,
it was smashed up my car choee
your property on whies to do the
smashing? And you’re trying to
charge me for storage?”
“Veil, Oi’ll tell you. , Ve’Jl call it
I even. I’D take the car an’ charge
you not one penny. Ve’ll call it
even. 0 _ .1 w
Indignation and* aitfer welled up
within Kilburn’s breast. But pres
ently H subsided and was replaced
by a profound sense of relief, and
i well being. His mind' flashed back,
mentally totalling the itejn* -of ex
pense caused by his ownership of
the Wimple. He sighed, i
“Call it avail.” ha said. *
Griddle Cokes
Win
By JL W. PEACH
C McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
. WNU Service
DOB looked at her with troubled
eyes. “Well, it’s come, Ellen.”
He twirled a letter in his hand.
She smiled at his gloomy face.
“What has?”
He shook the letter. “Remember,
1 told you—when you marry me,
you take Dad in the bargain; and
believe me, he is a fearful old
crab.”
“Why, dear, what a way to talk
of your father!” she said a bit
shocked.
“But that’s what he is! I love
him in spite of it, but I hate to tan
gle you up with him. He wants me
to bring you out to the house, prob
ably to decide whether you will
make a fit wife for me or not. It’s
none of his business, but it’s very
much his way. Now, will you go?”
“Why, of course, I’D go,” she said
laughing.
Ellen in the days following before
their departure had her moments of
serious doubt and worry. Suppose
Bob’s father should take a dislike
to her? The real reason for Bob’s
worry was his fear that the father
he really loved would not care for
the girl he loved.
“Well, there’s nothing to do but
go and be myself,” Ellen advised
herself.
It was a pleasant trip to the old
village where Mr. Oakes had made
his home, and Ellen, in spite of a
bit of fear that broke through her
happiness, enjoyed the journey.
When, hours later and a little
weary, she came to the house set
back far from the village street,
it did look a bit dark and forbidding.
“Joyous place, isn’t it? While
mother was alive she made him
have it painted, but now—nothing
doing!” Bob said.
When they reached the door, it
opened, and Ellen caught her
breath, for the gray-headed man
who appeared in it was bigger than
Bob, and she had often felt that Bob
was big enough.
“Well, here you are! Come in!”
Mr. Oakes said shortly in a heavy
voice.
Bob introduced her, and she
looked far up into cold, command
ing eyes in which there was no
light of cordiality. Ellen shivered
inside.
Then a quaint, kindly old lady
advanced, and Ellen met “Ma” Bur
ton as Bob called her.
Then began a series of discoveries
for Ellen. The house was in fear
ful shape—dusty in every corner;
and the supper that night was ill
prepared.
“Well, can you stand it?” Bob
asked her later, when he had lured
her out into the quiet village for a
stroll.
“I am not afraid of your father,
but what a looking house!”
He chuckled. “Right, but ‘Ma’
is easy-going. It didn’t look that
way when mother was alive. He’s
growing old, you know, and—well,
maybe something went out of him
when mother died.”
“Mrs. Burton toki me while w*<
were gossiping that one of bar mis
ters was very ill- Can’t you arrange
it so she can get away and give me
a chance at that house?”
He drew a long breath, his quick
mind sensing her plan. “She’ll go
if I have to abduct her!”
How Bob wprked it Ellen did not
know, but the next day, not without
some misgivings, she took charge.
Bob enticed'him father away ta visit
■MO* property belonging to
him, and,Ellen “pitched in.” . ..
It was dusk before Bob and him
father returned, but by that time
she had the . principal rooms in
shape and supper prepared—with a
bountiful supply of griddle-cakes
which *“Ms” hod said Mr. Oaken
loved but which she did not hove tho
knock of Risking to suit him.
She hesrd them in the living room*
then some one went into the library,
tb«i»to l th,den on what was, sht
imagieed, a Jpur'of igapr rfoii*
“POoh! Why be so nervous?’’she
warned herself, j “If it d«opn’tseaop
like, borne to him, it does to mo;
and, the old bouse needed it.” .
When she called thpm ta supper,
Mr. Oakes entered first, his strong
old face shewing no emotion and
Bob, behind her,. Ipoked anxious
though he, wfohed at. her.
griddle-cakes appeared.
Mr. Oakes eyed them sourly ap. if
with memories of grid#fo£a|s*'et
the post. He tried pne deubtfoHy,
then another, end the scowl went—
ns did the cakes. ~
The climax came s* quickly *
took Ellen’s breath. Mr.. Oakes lift
ed bis gray, head, and be was smit
ing.. “Now, you young follow. Jot’s
talk things, over. When are you
going to be married?”
Lay ■stint Pesdnet of Matnre J
* hotfoot' product mL notuee is
lava. When ejected from a volcano
or a fissure of the earth’s surface,
its temperature it estimated to be
between 1200 and 3,0» degrees F."
This molten rock is sometimes so
hot, observes a writer in Collier’s
Weekly, after cooling for a year,
that a steak can be fried on it.
■— Cm«I» k Ma*..
Cacaip about X par cent
* i L** U 2S*?* b *
eurtfbnt th* Mitt, an* waptai* the
curds to . remove sabs and sugar.
Th£ residue is pressed to fore* the,
wafer out, is dried and then ground.
to whet, looks like erearay white
bread crumbs.
Petty Quarrel
o
By a. h. wnnmoi
• Associated Ifswapapera.
WNU Service.
I EFFREY found the newspaper |y-
J ing as usual beside his plate, and
he picked it up, scanned the head
lines and read a lead paragraph or
two in three of the front page sto
ries. But nothing of what was writ
ten there registered on his mind. His
thoughts were too occupied, his spir
its too low to concentrate and enjoy
his usual morning routine.
Jeffrey’s eyes were heavy with
lack of sleep.
With a definite gesture he laid
aside the newspaper.
For the hundredth time he went
over the scene again. He saw once
more Susan, his wife; saw her
standing in their bedroom. Rage,
uncontrollahle, held her in its grip.
“It’s the end, Jeffrey! Absolutely
the end! I’m leaving—for good this
time. I’m—”
“But, Sue, can’t we talk it over?
Can’t we settle the thing without
making a mess of our lives?”
“No!”
“Then there’s more to it than you
pretend.” She was silent, and he
went on accusingly: “There’s some
one else. Another man—”
“Jeffrey Gordan, you’re a fool!”
He watched her in bitter silence
as she flung things into her suitcase.
He caught the gleam of costly dia
monds, necklaces, brooches, brace
lets. Sight of them sickened him. It
was so easy to remember that there
were no costly jewels, and no quar
rels before prosperity smiled ea
them. There had been nothing but
happiness then.
It was all very funny and very
tragic. Because both he and Susan
had wanted money, were forever
planning all the things they could 1
do when eventually it came, as they
were sure it would. Perhaps it was
the planning that had kept them free
of trouble. He hoped it had been
more than that.
Jeffrey couldn’t tell how or when
the trouble had started. It just had,;
that’s all. Petty quarrels that often
resulted in angry outbursts. There
were days when no word was spoken
between them.
“I’m going,” said Susan. “Now!***
And she slammed shut her suitcase
and looked at Jeffrey with flaßiing
eyes.
“Very well,” Jeffrey’s voice was,
like ice. “But remember this: IF
you leave this house, in your pres
ent condition, don’t ever return.”
Her taunting laugh came back to
him. Then there was silence, and
Jeffrey was alone.
He stood there for some time, a
little dazed and bewildered, con
scious of an aching pain inside of
him, thinking vaguely that Susan
had gone, that she bad, actually,
stopped loving him. This wasn!t ope
of their petty quartets. It was big
ger, had been prompted by aoaaa
thing far more serious. Hk thoughts
flashed to dark and handsome Julian
Brocke, who had professed friend
ship for them both . . .
Jeffrey ate his breakfast—alloCJt
—and picked up the nr Tin nap >r
again. He must force himseqjn.
read, to get his mind pa other things.
And so he waded through two whole
columns on the first papa and taaaoA
the sheet in search mt inujfWiag
more. Almost instantly his apt foil
on a headline near the top. Hbreqd,
and suddenly felt his heart pounding,
wildly: “Society Woman Held Ur
end Robbed. Mrs. Jeffrey Gqedap,
was held up early last night on the
lonely Sleepy Hollow, road bp. bye
masked gunmen while driving* jab*
the city and robbed of several Hum*
sand dollars’ worth of jewelry* Mss.
Gordon was en route in bar mother’s
for e short visit, and was carrying
the gems in a small box. fltafega*
ly enough, when she reported t)»
robbery to local police, she showed
great anxiety over the. loss of a ring
which she admitted was
valueless,,, being ,an imitation ..bet
which she prized more than afl tb%
'ether gems.- She*wss wearing, fo*
cfog at thn time of the hold-up pud
asked that special endeavors bo
made . . .”
• o •
Jeffrey was impatient because th*
operator couldn’t complete bin con
nection in less than record tinge.
But presently Sue’s voice cam* to
him over the wire. , ~,
\ “Darling, I read about your being
held up. If there—”
“Jeffrey, please, ceme and get am.
Jeffrey, they—they took my ring—**,
“Yes, darling, I know. And I’jn
glad.”
“But, Jeffrey, it—it was the ape.
you gave me. When they tore it
from my finger, I— l realized how
much it meant—and how much yen
meant, and how silly it all was.”
Jeffrey's voice was a little husky
when he answered. “I know, sweet,
| , know.” He 'paused, swallowed.
“I've called the police station.
They’ve recovered everything. Even
the other jewelry. Wait there, dar
ing, I’D be over to get you.”
* •' • * >t t • •
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pdapd., Guos bqgan so compete with
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thp replacement was slow. A* fcftg
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tig Poles uoed'mounted aqebera iw
b*gi* agqinit
an til t quarter enhwe ssa mMU
wis viw smv one s^ueSi