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Full text of "McCall's v057 n10 [1930-07]
"
See other formats
MS CALLS
Be ents
ihn eR EVES NO
ty Mrs. Charles Sabin, Mrs. Booth Tarkington
Zona Gale, Evangeline Booth, Katharine Cornell
Florence P Kahn —- and others
BE on your guard aga
insects, you mothers w
protect your children.
The United States Publi
Health Service says: “If we
wish to save the lives of the
thousands of babies who die
from summer complaint every ©
year, the very first step is the
eradication of flies.’’ This dis- EIA ,
ease kills more than one-fifth & s (= cb
of all the children who die a
under five years of age.
Do flies carry typhoid fever? The Medical Association of
Georgia says: ‘Fully 95 percent of typhoid in rural districts
must be laid to the common house fly.”’
Insects are not only a nuisance and unclean to have around
the house, they are also a real danger. If you will always spray
Flit you can keep your kitchen free of flies and roaches, your
bedrooms free of humming, sleep-destroying mosquitoes, your
\
wh 0 Stan ds
between her
and
ISEASE
closets free of moths, your whole
house free of all insects.
It’s so easy, too! Just use the
handy Flit sprayer, spray the clean-
smelling, non-staining vapor around
—and you and your family will be
safe and comfortable. Use it all year
‘round! It’s good housekeeping.
Outdoors on the porch—on your
car—on picnics—on camping trips
—if you willspray Flit youwillkeep
bothersome insects away.
Be sure you get Flit—in the yellow can with the black band
trademarked with the famous Flit Soldier. You want Flit
because it kills quicker, because it is guaranteed to kill insects
or money back, because it is perfectly harmless to use. If there’s
any insect-killer as good as Flit, the world doesn’t know it. It
buys more Flit than any other insect-killer made! Get your can
of Flit and the handy Flit sprayer—today!
© 1930 Stanco, Inc.
SELLING
THE WORLDS LARGEST
IN SECT- KILLER
MecCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
And many a young looking woman of forty
praises salines for the beauty they bring her!
HY do some women age more rapidly than
others? The creams they use? The skill with
which they use them?
Very probably not! For nearly all women today
are skilled in the use of beauty aids—but, sad to
relate, not all women pay half enough attention to
the day by day state of their well-being.
The women who are eternally young in spirits
and appearance are those who care for themselves
not only from without, but from within. They keep
3 : ngina)
themselves internally clean. And, to this end, they Effervescent
use the saline laxative whose complexion-im- | al Saline Combination
. aoe + . ‘| CAREFULLY BLENDED.
proving qualities are internationally famous—Sal | Wiad Annet
7 LAXATIVES | |
Hepatica. | CANE E J
-To keep the body young and healthy, the saline . i SF
method is approved by physicians everywhere. Š :
Across the sea, women who value their beauty visit
regularly the wonderful saline springs and spas,
and, on their doctors’ advice, drink daily of these
health-giving waters. When the course is completed
their complexions are freshened—their health im-
ane eee Sal Hepatica
some are 4O
but some are eternal /
proved—their joy of life immeasurably increased.
Sal Hepatica is the American equivalent of the
European spas. By clearing your bloodstream, it
helps your complexion. It gets at the source by
eliminating poisons and acidity. That is why it is
so good for headaches, colds, rheumatism, auto-
intoxication, etc.
Sal Hepatica, taken before breakfast, is prompt in its
action. Rarely, indeed, does it fail to work within
30 minutes.
Get a bottle today. Whenever constipation
threatens your complexion with blemishes and
“broken out” spots, take Sal Hepatica. And send
now the coupon for free booklet, “To Clarice in
quest of her youth,” describing in detail how Sal
Hepatica clears the skin and helps relieve many
common family ills.
* x * ¥
Bristou-Myers Co., Dept. F70,71 West St., New York,N.Y.
Kindly send me the free booklet, “To Clarice in quest of
heryouth,”whichexplains the many benefits of Sal Hepatica.
Name
Street.
City. State
McCALL’S
MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Allan Snody
MECALL MIRRORS
UMMER, 1925. Two huge Navy planes,
engines wide open, roared down the stretch
and sailed into the vast blue reaches of the
Pacific, bound for Hawaii. They failed. And in the
air failure is a tragic thing. Days passed and a de-
spairing world surrendered hope. Their gas was
gone—a tailspin—perhaps a faulty motor? But
then, as if a wave had suddenly broken through its
crest and revealed its quarry, the P N-3 was
sighted with all hands safe on board, after five
days of relentless pitch-
ing and rolling in the
wash of the Pacific. Its
commander, Allan
Snody, and his compan-
ion, Commander
Rogers of the P N-l,
rescued several days
later, were decorated
for their courage. And
this drama of near
tragedy forms the set-
ting of Red, White and
Green, the first story
from the pen of the
survivor, Allan Snody.
LIVER LA
FARGE knows
more about Indians
than one of their chief-
tains, for he has studied
them as other men
study gems, mining or
art. After Harvard,
young Mr. La Farge
—for he is only 29—
made four thrilling ex-
peditions into the Nav-
ajo country of our own
West and twice pene-
trated Middle America,
jogging twelve thou-
sand miles across
McCALL’S MAGAZIN E— July, 3930, Volume LVII, Number 10, $1.00
Office: 230 Park Avenue,
Atlanta, Ga.; 819 Broadway, Kansas City, Mo. ;
John C Sterling, Vice President.
70
TRUTH IN ADVERTISING—McCall’s
reported immediately to The McCall Company.—ABOUT YOUR SUBSCRIPTION
subscription blank within ten days, so you wil
notice; also kindly clip your name and address
scribed.—Copyright, 1930, by The. McCall Company,
larch 3, 1879. Published monthly by T
FULY
Cover
FICTION
Red, White And Green..
Charlie Buys A Present For His Girl..
Reita Lambert
M'sieu Sweetheart—II......... n...
His Private Practice...
Royal Brown
WH Wind — V1... cccsssesiesrineresvacsonsgsren
Bitter Sweet.............,...-+ na
Katharine Newlin Burt
The Fifth Horseman (Conclusion)...
Robert W. Chambers
ARTICLES
In Miniature: Alice Delafield Chapin
Mary Margaret McBride
Sons Of The Desert.
Oli
iver La Farge
A Word To The Bride...
Isabel Leighton and
The Duchess di Sermoneta
Prohibition? Yes—No—(Symposium)
‘Dorothy Dunbar Bromley
What’s Going On In The, World ........
A review of the month’s activities
by Viola Paradise, Deems Taylor,
Robert B. Sherwood, Heywood
Broun, Rev. Joseph Fort Newton
My Husband Backed My Career........
A Business Woman
h Offices: 208-212 S,
. Y. Branc!
Bond St., Toronto,
Oliver La Farge
Mexico and Guatemala on horseback. ‘These were
not flying trips; each lasted for months, giving the
man who set the literary world nodding its head over
Laughing Boy time enough to know these stran-
gers and write of them as the Sons of the Desert.
CONTENTS x:
Royal Brown
eteen-Thirty
Design Painted for McCall’s by Neysa McMein
22
36
Per Year, Canadian postage none; e,
Jefferson St., Chicago, Ill.; 609 Mission St., San Francisco, Cal.; 80 Boylston $
n.; 204 Great Portland St., London W. 1, England. William B. Warner, President and Treasurer,
I's will not knowingly insert advertisements from other than reliable firms. Any advertisement found to be otherwise should be
nped your subscription expires with this copy. Use the enclosed
ms are stopped promptly at expiration unless renewed, Should you change your address, please give four weeks’
‘it to us with your request. Give your old address as well as your new address, and, if possible, the date you sub-
in the United States and Great Britain, Entered as Second-class matter November 27, 1925, at the Post Office at i
S. A. Send all remittances to our Publication Office, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio.
I not miss the next number. All subscript
from the last copy received and forward it
he McCall Company. Printed at Dayton, Ohio, U.
Travel Manners............... * . 50
Emily Post
That Boy You Like........... s . 63
Marian Kentley Wood
For The Sake Of His Future....... ..101
Charles Gilmore Kerley, M. D.
I Become A Landlord... ........ 01
Helen Starr Henifin
Vacation Hobbies For Toor Child......117
04
Rita 8. Halle
POETRY
Cape Cod Cottage................ Rr th ad
Blspeth ©
Prayer For Independence Day . 40
Margaret Widdemer
BEAUTY
Hands Around The Clock 54
Hildegard.
CooKERY
Nandwichet onning aes TR
Sarah Field Splint and Dorothy Kirk
ext Winter's
Kirk
Today’s Bargains But
Luxuries.
foreign postag
If your magazine wrapper is stamped “EXPIRES,
HoMEMAKING
A Home Away From Home... 6
Mary Davis Gillies
GARDENING
Midsummer Gardening. 123
Romaine B. Ware
SERVICE AND
ENTERTAINMENT
Celebrating The Fourth ..... i 114
Vera Harrison
Animals In The Garage?.. 125
FASHIONS
The Holiday Mode a 83
By Eleanor O° Malley
Tailored Simplicity In Frocks That
LA ER aly ny » &
Traveling Clothes Take F
ness Outdoors...
Fagoted Frocks Are New 94
By Elisabeth May Blondet
Katharine Newlin and Struthers Burt.
met in Oxford, England, and following their mar-
riage two years later, homesteaded in an iso-
is left six months in which to browse around the
south shore of Massachusetts with his wife, of
whom he says, “I’m still learning about women
from her.” And it’s a wise husband who knows his
subject well enough to write His Private Practice.
HERE is scarcely a reader of American fic- FoS though married applies equally to
tion who has not read more than one of Mr.
Brown’s exhilarating stories—written for the most
part during six months of the year. Thus the author
They
lated quarter of
Wyoming. But the
country around Jack-
son Hole soon blos-
somed into a paradise
of dude ranches and
the Burts’ ranch was
one of these. Living
there the year round
they wrote stories and
won their separate
fame. Now they own
a smaller private ranch
and winter at South-
ern Pines, N. C.
F YOU failed to
see the curtain rise
last month on M’sieu
Sweetheart, Nell Ship-
man’s drama of the
North, it is not too
late to introduce your-
self, in this issue, to
the most sweeping and
completely enthralling
story of the snow
country ever written
—and by a woman
who has lived in the
fastness of the ice-
bound wilderness, and
knows the heart of its
romance,
73 cents. Publication Office: McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio. Executive
St., Boston, Mass.; Spring and Baker Sts.,
rancis Hutter, Secretary,
Dayton, Ohio, under the Act of
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
O more fear of perspiration odor! No more
summer dresses ruined by perspiration stains!
Odorono keeps your underarm dry and sweet
throughout the hottest days. It is so simple to use
and so sure. A physician made it for his own use
and today thousands of fastidious women depend
on it. The clear antiseptic liquid leaves no greas-
iness to rub off on delicate dresses, no stickiness
on the underarm. Just use it this easy way:
1. Par On. After your bath or after washing
the underarm with clear water and drying, pat on
Odorono with your fingers or a bit of cotton. Just
pat—don’t rub. Omit use for 24 hours after shav-
ing or a depilatory.
2. Ler Dry. Then let the Odorono dry thor-
oughly before any clothing touches the underarm.
Any slight tingling will soon pass —just smooth
over with cold cream or dust with talcum. If using
Odorono Mild, let dry at least fifteen minutes.
If using Odorono Regular Strength, let stay on
and dry overnight.
complete
protection
just tree simple gestures
and. ODORONO Keeps you safe prom perspiration odor
3. Rinse Orr. If you are putting on a dress,
wipe the underarm thoroughly with a damp cloth
when the Odorono is quite dry. If using at night,
rinse off next morning.
Why there are Two Odoronos
The familiar ruby colored Odorono Regular
Strength is for use twice a week on normal skins.
The Odorono Mild is made especially for sensitive
skins and for frequent use — every day or every
other day — and for emergency use any time you
want. At toilet-goods counters 35¢, 60¢, and $1.00.
ODORODO
ends perspiration
annoyance and odor
Odorono Regular Strength
(ruby colored), used
twice a week on normal
skins. The colorless
Odorono Mild is made
especially for sensitive
skins and for fre-
quent use.
MAIL COUPON
below with 10¢ for
Underarm Toilette Set
NEW 10¢ OFFER: Mail coupon and 10¢ for samples
of Odorono Regular Strength, Odorono Mild and
Crême Odorono. (In Canada, address P. O. Box 2054,
Montreal.)
THE ODORONO COMPANY, Inc., Dept. MO-7
191 Hudson Street, New York, N, Y.
Fn
HEN a baby really needs a
friend, he will be lucky if
fate puts him in the way of
Alice Chapin who has chosen to de-
vote her life to the sick, neglected
babies of the world. Mrs. Henry Dwight Cha-
pin is founder of the Alice Chapin Adoption
Nursery which has given homes and adoring
parents in every part of the United States to
two thousand little waifs and, equally impor-
tant, has furnished a new heart interest for over two
thousand childless homes.
The story of the nursery is Mrs. Chapin’s own story
for the past twenty years. To it, during that period,
she has dedicated her thoughts, money, time and home,
but most of all a great and unselfish love that never
has counted the cost of what she has given.
The first episode of this extraordinary “love story”
of hers occurred in the summer ef 1910 when a wisp
of a girl baby, wasted to skin and bones, blue eyes
sunken, tiny hands like claws, was picked up by a
passer-by from under a bench in Central Park, New
York City. The little thing had evidently rolled off
the bench to the ground. Her mouth’ was full of grass
and she was bruised and too weak to cry or even
to move. The baby was taken to the children’s ward of
the Post Graduate Hospital where Mrs. Chapin’s hus-
band, Dr. Henry Dwight Chapin, well-known children’s
specialist, tended her. In spite of all that he could do,
the forlorn scrap seemed to have no inclination to take
hold of life again.
TE doctor could not get this baby out of his mind.
That night, he spoke of her to his wife. Next day
Mrs. Chapin visited the baby. She was already a famil-
iar figure at the Post Graduate where she was accus-
tomed to play fairy godmother to the children’s ward
through kindergarten classes for all who were well
enough; but one glance at this baby told her that some-
thing very special was needed here. Instinctively, she
knew what that “something” was—a mother. She lifted
the tiny wasted body from its crib.
“This baby is going home with us,” she said to Dr.
Chapin.
When, together, the two had tenderly nursed little
Polly back to life and health, they decided to adopt
her. But just then a woman came along, who Mrs.
Chapin explains, “needed her even more than we did.”
By Mary Margaret McBride
So the good doctor and his wife gave up the little
girl they had learned to love and threw themselves more
energetically than ever into their work at the hospital
—Dr. Chapin as physician and Mrs. Chapin as volun-
teer kindergarten teacher.
But somehow, with Polly gone, their home seemed
disturbingly quiet, even sad; and Mrs. Chapin fretted
because she wanted something that was harder to do
than conducting kindergarten classes.
Finally she took home two more forlorn little speci-
mens. This time she made the third floor of the house
into a nursery and installed the thin, ailing babies there.
Dr. Chapin gave them medical care, but in addition,
they needed love and constant, careful nursing, so Mrs.
Chapin withdrew from everything else that she might
look after them herself.
It is her theory that no baby is too tiny to miss its
mother, and that in institutions, however efficient or
kindly in spirit, growth of mind and body is retarded
by the lack of individual affection.
When the two new inhabitants of the nursery had
been set on the road to sturdy health, Mrs. Chapin
turned them, too, over to eager foster mothers, who,
she had satisfied herself, would continue to cherish
them. So it went for five years. The nursery had always
two occupants, but never the same two for long. As
soon as a baby grew well and strong, somebody who
“needed” it appeared. Finally Mrs. Chapin accepted
the situation. She realized that nursing neglected little
waifs from unattractiveness into such charm as would
win permanent fathers and mothers, was a work that
few other women would care to undertake.
“Tt seemed to be meant,” she said, “that I was not
to have a baby for my own. The strangest things hap-
pened. Whenever I decided to keep a baby, somebody
invariably appeared who wanted that very one so
badly that it would have been worse than selfish for
me not to yield.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Donor of
happiness to
two thou-
sand child-
less homes
imiature — Slice Delatield Chapin
‘Who lives an eternal love story
“Finally I decided that these things
happened because I was to be kept
for the other task, and so I am con-
tent. After all, we have had so many
children in our lives that it would be
wrong to repine because we have had none of
our very own, wouldn’t it?”
Mrs. Chapin had already begun to dream
of a work beyond the limit of the quarters
afforded by her third floor, when her sister
died and it was necessary for the bereaved children to
occupy the nursery to the exclusion of the babies.
And then one day, just when Alice Chapin was be-
ginning to worry, she met a certain Mrs. Peter Grimm
at luncheon and Mrs. Grimm said, “I’d like to give you
$1,800 for your nursery.”
It was like a miracle. Mrs. Chapin was so happy she
cried. With that gift and four babies, the Alice Chapin
Adoption Nursery was formally started. The Children’s
Aid Society loaned an apartment for headquarters and
a nurse and one maid were engaged.
Although there were now too many babies for her to
look after all their wants herself, Mrs. Chapin saw to
it that they still had their daily quota of loving, per-
sonal attention. Only so, she insisted, could they be
made ready for the homes which were waiting for them.
dBase is why the walls of the rooms in which the
babies live are softly tinted pink and blue and the
cribs and chests decorated with nursery pictures as they
should be in any baby’s home. It is the reason, too, that
Dr. and Mrs. Chapin, when they visit the nursery in
fresh white robes, pick the children up and fondle them.
Eight children at a time, recommended by social
workers and organizations are cared for in the present
Nursery, a beautiful house located in the mellow old
Chelsea district of New York City. A board of devoted
women give their services to raise money for the Nurs-
ery by means of benefits, rummage sales and a shop at
headquarters where everything a baby can need is sold.
Gifts pour in, too, from persons who know what is being
done.
And every mail brings to Mrs. Chapin a heart-stirring
appeal from somebody—usually a woman—who wants
to know how to go about adopting a baby.
The best Mrs. Chapin can do is to advise the appli-
cant to put herself on the waiting list of a reputable
child-adoption organization. [Turn to page 45]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
“I warn against the irritation produced by
many ordinary soaps...use only Palmolive”
says Pes sl of Vienna and Budapest
Aristocracy of many
nations for over one
hundred years have
turned to the famous
house of Pessl for
advice on skin care.
i O skin can remain beautiful,” says the fa-
mous Pessl, of Vienna and Budapest, “if i
it is not regularly cleansed with soap and water.
But to say ‘Use any soap’ is dangerous. You should
be particular in choosing a soap for your face.
“Only a pure soap—a soap made of fine, sooth-
ing cosmetic oils—will do. That is why I recom-
mend only Palmolive.”
Pessl, international authority
To Pessl’s shop, across from the Opera House
in Vienna, come women whose names are famous
in society, the world of opera and the stage. And
he advises them all to use this twice-a-day home
beauty treatment which takes so little time and
produces such gratifying results.
Massage a bland lather of Palmolive Soap and
warm water gently into the skin, letting the lather
get deep into every tiny pore. Then rinse away
soap, dirt, make-up with warm water, finally with
cold. And you'll find that your skin is wonder-
“Palmolive Soap is made of fine vegetable
oils. Itis safe forthe mostdelicate skin. I warn
my clients against the irritation pes
by ordinary soaps. Those who use Palmolive
show the best results after our own beauty
treatments.” 7 p2
KÄRNTNERSTRASSE 28, VIENNA
Pessl’s salon, across
from the famous
Opera House in
rage bears the
seals of many royal
houses he res arya
as beauty adviser.
PALMOLIVE RADIO HOUR — Broadcast every
Wednesday night—from 8:30 to 9:30 p. m., Eastern time;
7:30 to 8:30 p. m., Central time; 6:30 to 7:30 p. m., Moun-
tain time; 5:30 to 6:30 p. m., Pacific Coast time—over
WEAF and 39 stations associated with The National
Broadcasting Company.
Herr Pessl supervising a facial treatment in his Viennese
salon. This distinguished consultant on beauty care finds
Palmolive best for all home treatments.
fully soft, smooth, protected against the many
abuses of modern life.
Beware of irritation
So many soaps may irritate while they cleanse.
They may roughen the texture of the skin and
spoil its delicate coloring. Palmolive is made
of vegetable oils. Its color, its odor, its very
feeling is that of nature’s great cosmetic oils. It
cleanses both safely and easily.
Herr Pessl is one of a great international group
of beauty specialists who have discovered the facts
about Palmolive for themselves and who now tell
their patrons to use this soap in preference to any
other. Today, there are over 19,800 such experts.
Think of that! Thousands and thousands of those
who are trained to know, proclaim Palmolive
best after repeated experiments.
You will like Palmolive. You will be using it
soon for the bath, too, since it costs even less
than quite ordinary soaps. Follow Pessl’s advice.
Begin this very day.
5200
Retail
Price
6 McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
(Vow ( Wonderful Gace Puder Captiva les
Beautiful (Women
ON LONGER... WILL NOT ENLARGE | THE PORES.
pa
NO PASTY OR FLAKY LOOK...DOES NOT SMART THE SKIN.
MADE BY A NEW FRENCH PROCESS. ..FAMOUS FOR ITS PURITY.
kir before were so many distinctive qualities known in
a single face powder. Beautiful women everywhere pro-
natural skin. Do not let your pores get large or your skin
rough and aged. Use Mello-glo and look younger.
claim its marvelous difference. All colors in Mello-glo pass the Its great popularity has bred many imitations, but there are
United States Government's rigid test, just as do the colors in no substitutes. No face powder was ever made like it — Mello-
Miss DorotHy FLoop,
10 Maple St., Brooklyn, N. Y.,
famous Ziegfeld Beauty, is one of
the food you eat. It is sifted and sifted through a fine silk mesh
—mixed and remixed to give perfect uniformity. The special
shade blends with your complexion and reproduces the tint of
youth on the skin.
glo alone has the secret formula and this new process. Get
Mello-glo only, and keep your complexion young.
Mello-glo is a square gold box of loveliness for one dollar,
at any toilet goods counter.
the many beautiful women who
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face powder, because it stays on
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Mello-glo Facial-Tone Powder comes to you as the last word Companions of this new wonderful Face Powder forming
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and keeps’ the flesh firm. 1
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McCALL’S MAGAZINE
JULY 1930
The homes of the half-wild Navajos are tucked away in crannies and little canyons
we
vr
Photo by John Kabel
SONS OF THE DESERT
"HO are the thirty thousand
mysterious Americans dwelling
silently and in peace in the arid regions
of Arizona? And how do they live?
The author of “Laughing Boy” here paints a
picture of the Navajos as gloriously colorful
as a sunset on their blazing hills, as intrin-
sically Indian as a peace pipe smoked sol-
emnly at sundown.
of the corrugated iron building is simply a fireless
cooker. It has in its favor that it shuts out the
blinding, vibrant light, and that only a fraction of the
constantly drifting sand gets into it. The trader yawns,
bored, and goes to the door to see if it is any cooler in
the sun. As soon as he makes a little money he will
build himself a nice, cool stone-and-’dobe trading post
with a thick roof, and his wife will be able to move the
stove indoors.
From where he leans now, rolling himself a smoke, he
can survey most of his territory, tremendous spaces
interrupted by violent, straight-sided hills of red and
orange rock, deceptively green, washed-out areas of
greasewood and sagebrush and totally worthless tumble-
weed, the startling, green-black finger of a volcanic
core, thirty miles away, which in that clear air seems
to dominate the very doorway. Onė would think he could
see everything for a radius of ten miles, yet within that
radius dwell some two hundred families, and there is
not a sign of a habitation. Tucked away in crannies and
Unite. the remorseless Arizona sun, the interior
By Olver La Farge
Author of the Pulitzer Prize Novel
little canyons, or. invisible against backgrounds from the
very material of which they are made, are the homes of
his customers, the half-wild Navajos; one-sided lean-
tos of brush, well-built evergreen bowers, cool, airy,
and romantic, and solid-domed structures of sturdy logs,
plastered generously with local mud.
They are pretty good dry-farmers, raising corn, beans,
and melons chiefly, not quite enough to feed them-
selves. Their scrawny horses pick up a living where you
would think a goat would starve; their flocks of sheep
live where you would think a Gila monster would have
trouble. To the animals, everything not actually mineral
is nourishment.
The poverty of the desert dictates the people’s move-
ments. In the spring and summer, they go to where
there is dampness enough in the soil for planting. In
the autumn, they move to the high mountains and
gather piñon nuts. In the winter, they must go wherever
there will still be feed for the all-important sheep. From
the sheep comes purchasing power, and hence the differ-
ence between semi-starvation and comfort.
So vast is the country, so weak in comparison is
man, that from the trader’s door one can seesonly un-
touched desert, not a mark upon it. To a man with a
family to support, this may be a melancholy view.
It is alleviated by the sight of an approaching Indian,
singing to his pony’s lope. He ties his pony to the rack,
and proceeds without loss of time to borrow a smoke
from the trader. He is the local jeweler; with hand-
made dies from old files, a piece of railroad track for
an anvil, a primitive bellows originally designed
by the Moors, and a Moorish technique acquired
by his wild forebears from Spanish slaves, he
turns out silver and turquoise objects sensitively
beautiful, utterly barbaric and Navajo.
The silver buttons on his yellow velveteen shirt, the
heavy silver and thick turquoise around his neck, the
wide silver belt, are testimonials to his skill. His long
hair is knotted behind, and bound with a deep blue
head-band; his face is Indian, deep-lined, acquiline,
strong. He steps silently in red buckskin moccasins. He
wears ragged blue jeans over old-fashioned leggins and
breech-clout, and a plaid waistcoat on which he has put
silver buttons. The trader is used to all this, it does not
even occur to him that he once thought such combina-
tions odd. Glad to be occupied, he leans across the
counter, for an hour’s patience to make a trade involv-
ing a fifty cent profit.
T Navajo came into the Southwest possessed of
just two things—a progressive, inquiring mind and a
great aptitude for war. These Indians proceeded to take
unto themselves their neighbors’ sheep, wives, and
property, the art of weaving, silversmithing (from the
Mexicans), agriculture, religious forms, and so on.
Whatever they took over, they adapted and in many
cases improved. To them the advent of the Americans
merely enriched the field for their taking ways. The re-
sult was conflict, which after twenty years of intermit-
tent warfare ended when Kit Carson gave them one
final, decisive, and thorough licking.
There seems to be a natural transition from the acqui-
sition of something for nothing by warfare, to the acqui-
sition of it for as little as possible by close bargaining.
The Navajos love to trade, they love [Turn to page 53]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Isabel Leighton
The Duchess di Sermoneta
A WORD TO THE BR
On the right age to marry
From Isabel Leighton
so ardently that “marriages are
made in heaven,” you will, no
doubt, concede that the secret of a
successful one lies in its contempla-
tion here on earth. And since I’m con-
vinced that it takes a deal of working
out, whether you start early or late,
I would much rather make what lit-
erary folks call the maiden voyage on
the sea of matrimony at an age which
leaves enough time in which either to
undo my mistake if I’ve made one or
enjoy my happiness should I be one
of the world’s blest.
If I were certain that to marry in
middle life would insure me against
the errors of a more youthful mating
I should perhaps favor the later union,
but at least one or two of the more
mature must have made some fairly
conspicuous mistakes to have inspired
“there’s no fool like an old fool,” a
bromide one can’t avoid hearing every now and again.
There are all sorts of obvious arguments in favor of
early marriage. I know that I have been told by more
than one serious thinker that nothing is as conducive to
ultimate connubial happiness as growing up one with the
other; that a life spent in attaining maturity with a mate
takes on almost the quality of habit, a word that makes
the sophisticate shudder, but not me! For habit is merely
repetition and what greater source of unending delight
than the frequent recurrence of a pleasant experience?
Then you must have heard, as I have, that there are
few ties that hold people together like the memory of
early struggles, of privations endured side by side, of
To you may believe ever
Isabel Leighton, actress and author, who
married at seventeen, says: “I've always
hugged the incorrigibly romantic notion to
me that love comes but once.
tions are devoid of a quality that is ineffably
sweet — illusion.”
But Vittoria, Duchess di Sermoneta, a bril-
liant figure in international society, believes
that, “Under the influence of first love men and
women gamble with all their years of living.
And oh, so often it is a losing game!”
the disappointments that are an integral part of youth
mutually shared. If this contention is based on anything
other than sentiment it is true principally for the reason
that when one is young trouble does not leave an in-
delible impression and as the years pass all that is left
of the experience is the romance that has been fabricated
out of one’s woe, a picture that is sweet to look upon. On
the other hand, if a beginning with a mate is made late
in life and worries come as they frequently do, they
arrive at a time when one’s resilience is impaired, when
the capacity for coping with devastating trouble has
long since been reached and care seems not the glamor-
ous thing into which youth [Turn to page 56]
Later attrac-
From The
Duchess di Sermoneta
had said goodbye as sweet-
hearts. In the crowded room, en-
gulfed by conversation which ran like
a stream over their heads, they gazed
at each other silently. In two minds
was the same wonder: “What,”
thought she, “did I see in him?”
“Why,” mused he, “did I once love
her?”
He had grown a little stout, and the
lines about his eyes gave him a harder,
crueler appearance than that of the
man she had known.
She was an_insignificant-looking
woman, and she did not know how to
dress, he discovered, although he had
not noticed such details a decade ago.
How hard it was, in the light of the
experience of those ten years they had
spent apart from each other, to re-
capture the exultant madness of their romance! How
difficult to recollect that they once had believed life
could not be sweet unless their roads crossed again!
Supposing they had not parted, had not turned their
backs on the fiery emotion of their early youth, but had
walked down the road together those ten years?
The faint traces of smiles touched the corners of
their lips, as mutely they offered up their gratitude to
the destiny that had kept them apart.
For the chasm of unknown years between the meet-
ings of these two people had brought home to them a
fundamental truth: a woman of thirty and a man of
thirty-three are two different human [Turn to page 102]
‘T=. met ten years after they
McCALI’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
LD-World charm is mirrored by this
modern Armstrong Floor, a rich Em-
bossed effect, De Luxe 16011. Fine crafts-
manship is reflected, too, in the way this
floor is laid —trimly tailored aad cemented
over lnoleum lining felt.
TROLL down a street in Seville
ý and you'll be literally bathed in
a rainbow of warm, brilliant colors.
If you dared peep back of the grilled
windows that temptingly lean out
and beckon, you’d be delighted
with the way this natural inheritance
of color has been brought right into
the homes, where brightly hued fur-
nishings and floors capture the sun’s
good cheer.
Perhaps our own homes need
more of this same happy color treat-
ment. Certainly the suggestion of
relieving the drab monotony of the
floors we live with is one we might
well consider. Particularly when to-
day it is so simple to transform those
floors, to put their worn, splintery
surfaces completely out of sight and
out of mind under a smart, fashion-
able floor of modern Armstrong's
Linoleum.
If your home happens to be
Spanish, the promise of this pleas-
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trated. If your rooms reflect the English,
the Colonial, even the modern mode, you
will discover equally correct designs and
colors in the many new Armstrong Floors
now showing at good department, furni-
ture, and linoleum stores near your home.
A rmstrong 5
And isn’t it nice to discover, too, that
whether the floor you select is gay or
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the Accolac-Processed surface is so easy
to keep spick-and-span. Dirt wipes right
inoleum flo ors
for every room in the house
PLAIN SOUOINLATD ORM BOSSED © SSJ ASP BS
rom homes of :
SUNNY SPAIN
omes this
c
bright floor beauty
Embossed Inlaid Design
“ARABESQ +06 PRINTED I
up, for this surface is spot-proof.
Light waxing and polishing keep it
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occasionally with Armstrong’s Lino-
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“New Ideas in Home Decoration”
tells you more of this modern floor story.
It is packed with picture-proof of how
Armstrong Floors dress up different types
ofrooms. May wesend you this latest book
by Hazel Dell Brown, decorator? Plus an
offer of the author's free service in plan-
ning rooms that are different? Just send
10¢ with your letter to cover mailing.
Address your request to
Armstrong Cork Company, Armstrongs
Floor Division, 331 Lincoln
Ave., Lancaster, Pennsylvania, Product
iid ARMSTRONG’S QUAKER RUGS
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Extra- quick /
ready-prepared for dishes
Chipso Granules
--a new form
of Chipso --
wash dishes a
new speedy
I, 2,3 way
I always thought I was pretty quick at get-
ting my dishes washed up and put away—it
isn't a job I like to linger over.
But I had a surprise the first time I tried
those new Chipso Granules. Without hurry-
ing (and chipping my thin French china,
which I am very “‘choice of’, as one of my
neighbors says), I got those.dishes washed
with a speed that almost took my breath
away.
I can’t tell you all the scientific facts that
make these new Chipso Granules the quick-
est dishwashing soap I ever used. I don’t
understand scientific processes very well
anyway. But the secret seems to be—Chipso
Granules are *‘ready-prepared’’ (like bouil-
lon cubes or instant coffee).
These tiny little soap particles which
look almost like a powder, aren’t a powder.
They’re compact, ready-to-work Chipso
suds in steam-dried form. You just add hot
water and put in your dishes. Actually,
there isn’t much more to it than that. Here
is my new method in 3 brief steps:
1. Add hot water to a tablespoonful of Granules and
put dishes into the richest, foamiest suds you
ever saw.
2. After a moment's soaking, these rich suds have
cleared away grease and stickiness. A swish or
two with a mop and dishes are clean.
3. A hot rinse and you're through! No wiping
needed unless you wish. No dishtowels to wash.
Dishes dry themselves with an extra sparkle.
When you try these new Chipso Granules,
I think you'll find that you can save about
ten minutes from each dishwashing. And
you'll find too that you don’t pay for- this
extra time-saving. Chipso Granules are
economical to use. There's no waste in
these compact steam-dried suds. The big
25¢ package will do all your dishes for a
month. And anything as thrifty as that al-
ways sounds like good news to me.
Ruth Turner
And for easier washdays ... the famous Chipso Flakes
© 1930, P. & G. Co.
fapa,
Chipso-Now in 2 Form
After having experimented with every soap on the
market (or so it seems-to me) I have discovered
why Chipso’s famous thin flakes give so much
more practical help than any soap I've ever tried
on washday. It’s the Chipso suds.
There are other soaps you know which give a
nice-looking fluffy suds. But these don’t “‘stand
up”... When you put in your clothes—down come
the suds. Such soaps, I’ve always found, aren't
rich enough to do real work.
But Chipso suds last and Jast. There doesn’t.
seem to be any way of wearing out their rich, dirt-
loosening energy, They work quickly and safely,
removing soil with much less help from me or my
washing machine.
s- flakes and
These suds wont fall down --- theyre rich and lasting
Even before I had my electric washer, I never
really did hard rubbing on a Chipso washday. A
short Chipso soaking loosened the dirt. Chipso
goes farther too. Personally I can always get four
or five fairly large washes out of a 25¢ box of
Chipso Flakes. RT
TA
Granules
z
ME CALLS 1930
“I could give you more help if they’d give me men”
RED, WHITE AND GREEN
S courage the greater when ac-
companied by brave words and
sounding trumpets or when it
spends ttself, unwatched, in the
wrench and roll of the vast Atlan-
tic? Here 1s a magnificent story
of two unsung heroes of the World
War told by one of their commanders.
HE young Naval Air officer from the States was
very proud and earnest as he turned over his cre-
dentials and said: “Sir, I have the honor to report
to you for duty in compliance with these orders of the
Secretary of the Navy.” x
On the other side of the big flat-topped desk sat the
Commanding Officer of the U. S. Naval Air Station.
With little bloodshot eyes he glared at the papers
handed to him. His scowling, wrinkled face, even his
shrunken figure bespoke his bitter resentment.
“Well, Ensign Frederick Avery Jackson, what do you
know about the United States Navy that they make
you an officer in it?”
“I—I—” began Mr. Jackson.
“Pipe down! You're just like the rest of ‘em. They—”
Mr. Jackson made a fresh and stronger start: “I—”
“Don’t interrupt me!” shouted the Captain. It gave
him some relief from his raw and jumping nerves.
“Maybe you can tell me who convinced the Navy De-
partment that human clothes-racks are poison to Ger-
man submarines?”
“T—” answered Mr. Jackson, leaving a somewhat
erroneous impression as the second and following words
of his explanation were promptly and thoroughly
drowned by the Captain’s impatient bellow:
By Allan Snody
Illustrated hy CLAYTON KNIGHT
“Pipe down I say!” Then with a shrug
of virtuous resignation he continued, “Well,
I've done all I can; if the enemy makes
an undertaker’s paradise out of this God-
forsaken outfit of boy scouts, the Depart-
ment can’t say I didn’t warn them.”
With trembling hands he lit another
cigarette—nearer the middle than the end.
“Sir, I—” persisted Mr. Jackson.
“Ive heard enough from you, young man. Tell my
aide to assign you quarters; then report to the Senior
Squadron Commander and request him to put you
where you'll do the least damage.”
A bewildered Mr. Jackson found himself outside the
Commanding Officer’s office, still very erect, very red
in the face, and looking younger than ever.
The Captain’s aide received him with a friendly smile.
“Not a very cheerful welcome to the war zone, I
take it, Jackson,” he remarked understandingly.
“ ‘Cheerful’ isn’t the word I would use to describe
the Captain’s monologue, sir,” replied Mr. Jackson.
“I know,” said the aide. “The Skipper isn’t feeling
any too fit today. He had an unusually long session at
the Club last night with some of his British friends.”
12
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
“But why take it out on me, sir?” asked the young
officer. “Today is the first time we’ve ever seen or
heard of one another. He seemed to think I had some-
thing to do with formulating the worst features of the
Naval policy. And he considers me unfit for service
because I haven’t a long white beard, a Civil War ser-
vice medal, and the training one gets carousing around
the world on a ship at the Government’s expense.”
“Try to forget it, Jackson,” counseled the aide.
“You can be of use to us for we're short of observers
right now. We have a tough job here, in more ways
than one as you'll soon find out.”
(GUIDED by a sailor-orderly, Ensign Jackson splashed
through the muddy streets of the hastily constructed
Air Station to his little room in the Officers’ Quarters.
After dismissing the sailor, he sat down wearily in the
less uncomfortable of the two chairs in the drab room.
There was an unaccustomed sensation of heaviness at
the pit of his stomach.
“Damn it all,” he muttered to himself, “I wish I
could get used to these hard guys who live on salt water
and sea-weed. Even though his disposition has fer-
mented in the service of his country, it’s goin’ to take
a lot of imagination to respect the Head Knocker of
this madhouse.”
Then with hands grown strangely gentle, he took
from an inside pocket of his blouse a worn letter that
looked anything but official. He knew every word in it
but it still served to thrill and comfort him. It had be-
come his escape from the grim realities of this new life
of war. A tender little smile curved Jackson’s lips as he
read the letter through again.
The severe details of the
room faded away, the drone
of the engines from the han-
gars melted into soothing
music; all the entranced officer saw at that moment was
a radiant face from which great dark eyes gazed dream-
ily, even promisingly . . . .
“Glad to have you with us, Jackson,” greeted the
Senior Squadron Commander cordially. “I knew your
brother well at Yale. Until further notice you will be
Ensign Foster’s second pilot and observer on the day-
light anti-submarine patrol. Look him up for instruc-
tions. May you have many happy landings with us.”
Jackson found his new pilot on the flying beach tink-
ering with the engine of a disreputable looking twin-
float seaplane. Foster’s pale, serious face was streaked
with grease. To Jackson he appeared very tired.
“Im Jackson, assigned to you as observer,” an-
nounced the trim young officer just arrived from the
States. ‘
Foster climbed down from the engine. They shook
hands gravely.
In considerable detail Foster explained the current
submarine situation, their operations against these un-
der-sea craft, the escorting of convoys, weather condi-
tions in the locality, and a score of other matters
pertinent to their mission,
Jackson had been glancing idly over the seaplane as
Foster talked. The smile left his lips when he saw the
trade mark on the propeller.
“Have you been using that make of propeller on
your patrol flights?” asked the observer.
Like two lunatics the men yelled and whirled their arms at
“Why, yes,” answered Foster. “Is there anything the
matter with it?”
“Perhaps it’s all right,” replied Jackson slowly. “At
all Naval Air Stations in the United States that par-
ticular make of prop has been condemned as unsafe.
Some are perfectly good, but a huge order got by the
inspectors that fall apart at the least provocation. Tn-
ferior glue, or worse. Funny you haven’t been notified
over here.”
“They're the only kind we have here for these planes
so I guess the Old Man is keeping the sad news a
secret,” Foster replied.
T WAS dark and cold when Ensign Jackson was
awakened. He hurried into his chilled clothes and
rushed shivering to the warmer messroom. Over a score
of youthful and mighty appetites belonging to members
of the early morning patrol were taxing the speed and
strength of the mess-boys and cooks. It wouldn’t have
been difficult to believe that they were a group of ham-
mer-throwers preparing for a heavy day at the Olympic
Games.
When Jackson and Foster reached the hangars, they
found the engine of their seaplane roaring and splutter-
ing in chorus with about twenty others. Gunner’s mates
were busy attaching two long, sleek, treacherous bombs
to the racks beneath the lower wings of each plane. Big
flood lights struggled feebly to combat the chilling,
misty gloom. Messengers rushed around distributing
JULY 1930
McCALL'S
MAGAZINE
the frightened bird which slowly began his dreaded flight
copies of the latest weather report; the Squadron Com-
mander gave his final verbal instructions based upon
current Naval Intelligence information relative to
Allied and enemy shipping.
Then the signal for getting under way was given.
The pilots taxied their frail craft out into the narrow
sheltered inlet off the Air Station. A murky day was
breaking in the east as the squadron leader took off.
He circled the little harbor once to insure that his en-
gine was running properly before he headed for the open
sea. A*minute later he disappeared in the gray mist.
poau, the heavily loaded plane manned by Jack-
son and Foster bounced shudderingly into flight. With
muscles tensed to combat the rough air, the pilot made
the dangerously low turn near the beach. For the next
five minutes his duties as navigator fully occupied the
observer. But after he had worked out the drift angle
of the plane and their ground speed, and informed the
pilot of the corrected compass course by note, Jaçk=' .
son’s whole attention was devoted to searching the-sea*
within range of his binoculars: oil slicks, unfamiliar
ships and boats, sticks that might be periscopes, lone
sea-gulls to learn if they swam free on the waves or
ornamentally disguised the tops of unfriendly peri-
scopes, dark shadows ‘under the surface that could be
submarines—anything suspicious.
An hour passed without incident; a lonely hour with
nothing but the unfriendly sky and water to keep them
company. And as they sped
farther from the protecting
land, the wind freshened un-
til the sea was flecked with
white. They were spanning the sea lanes now—those
lines of communication so essential to Allied supremacy.
The search thus far had revealed but four English
trawlers in the wide path covered by Jackson’s in-
quisitive eyes.
As the morning wore on, the hampering mist dis-
persed although the cloud ceiling still remained low: a
colossal dark-gray blanket over the earth. Only strong
self-control prevented the silent menace of the churned
and broken ocean from turning the airmen’s endless
awe of an angry sea into demoralizing dread.
They were half an hour on the “home leg” of their
patrol when Foster noticed a disturbing increase in the
engine’s vibrations. With anxious eyes he scanned the
power-plant dials on the instrument board. As yet they
registered normal temperatures and pressures. The pilot
recalled what Jackson had told him of the propeller
whirling and glistening so few feet in front of him.
The vibration became heavier and sharper. In ten
minutes the small chart table in Jackson’s cockpit
‘shook so that he could no longer write on it without
risking the accusation of trembling fear. The chance
of a serious crack-up was too great to land voluntarily.
They had no choice of action: they had to keep going,
hoping for the best. But the suspense of waiting for
something to happen was maddening. Both men knew
in their sinking hearts that the structure of their sea-
plane couldn’t withstand such fearful racking for long.
And not a ship in sight.
13
Suddenly there was a rending crash! The splintered
propeller flew off in a hundred fragments. Now un-
leashed, the engine raced itself to pieces before the
stunned pilot could reach the switch. It was like an
explosion of shrapnel: broken bits of motor shot out,
ripped through the wings, leaving a fabric sieve. A
cylinder grazed Jackson’s helmet. Terrific convulsions
threatened to shake the plane apart. Then from the
crumpled tanks and radiator came a flood of gasoline,
oil, and boiling water. A choking scream burst from
the blinded pilot.
“The bombs! Take ’er!”
ee oil-blackened Jackson yanked fiercely at the
bomb release-toggle, grabbed the control wheel, and
jammed his feet on the rudder bar.
The abrupt silence after the hours of motor thunder
was oppressive and ominous . . . . The controls felt loose
and useless in Jackson’s hands, as if the cables to the
rudder and elevators had been severed . . . . Then like a
muffled clap of thunder the heavy bombs exploded
beneath the waves. A huge [Turn to page 96]
14
Three Scotch terriers
promote a four
wheel romance and
CHARLIE BUYS A PRESENT
FOR HIS GIRL
cby Rerta Lambert
Ilusivared hy
JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG
JAWES NOWTEGmERY TAGE
“Right down in front.
You can’t miss her—black with gold trim’
suitcase strap another notch and
licked a label marked casrn, which
Mr. Carp had just filled in. It was the
twenty-first label Mr. Carp ‘had filled in
and Charlie had licked. At the fourteenth,
the poignancy of his regret at parting with
his friends had begun to abate and his
thoughts reverted to Connie.
“You know, Mr. Carp, next Wednesday’s
my girl’s birthday,” he said.
(C iesse TWEEDY tightened the
>
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
“Yeah?” Mr. Carp said. “Let’s see, by Wednesday
we'll be about off Newfoundland.”
Charlie sighed. “I sure will miss you. You know I
been in New York six months and I haven’t been able
to save enough to buy her a decent birthday present.”
Mr. Carp finished another label. “That goes on the
big wardrobe trunk, Charlie. New York’s a hard nut to
crack, Charlie—takes time.”
“Yeah.” Charlie licked the label. “They said they’d
put me in the sales department as soon as I got
acquainted with their stuff. Guess it takes me longer to
get acquainted than most guys. I wanted to get her one
of those cute watches that don’t look like one—like a
watch.”
“Now for the tags,” Mr. Carp said. “Certainly was
good of you to come out and help us with these last
minute chores, old man.”
“Tickled to death to do it. Don’t know how I'll get
along without these week-ends with you and Mrs. Carp.
A hall room’s lonesome. Connie said to tell you—”
But another voice drowned out what Connie had
said—the voice of Mrs. Carp coming back from the
telephone. “Well, I knew it!” she said. “I just krew
something like this would happen at the last minute!”
Her husband looked up. “What’s happened now,
Emmy?”
“T always said you couldn’t trust a man with those
close-set eyes. We might have known he’d go back on
his word.”
Mr. Carp looked at Charlie and Charlie said,
promptly, “I hope it’s nothing serious, Mrs. Carp.”
“Tf it isn’t serious to find yourself saddled with an
old car the last minute before sailing for a trip around
the world and no garage, and who wants to pay a year’s
storage on an antique, and besides, Mr. Carp has been
promising for years to get a new one—”
you mean to say he isn’t going to buy it!” bellowed
Mr. Carp.
“He says he’s afraid it burns too much gas and a lot
of dribble about upkeep. I never did trust—”
“Oh, for gosh sake, Emmy,” Mr. Carp appealed to
his guest across the troubled sea of gaping trunks and
bags— “Think of passing up a buy like that, Charlie.
A Rameau Eight for two hundred and fifty. Know how
much she cost new? Twenty-eight hundred, that’s what.”
“New!” his wife said. .
“And she’s as good as new right now,” and Mr. Carp
looked out through the screen door to where the Rameau
Eight was parked in the drive, blocking his view of the
newly clipped hedge and the prim suburban street be-
yond. “And after you polishing her all up so fine,
Charlie.”
“Oh, I just gave her a wash,” Charlie said modestly
and wagged his red head. “Sure is too bad—say!”
Though Charlie was given to monosyllables, this one
was pitched in a tone that fixed the attention of his
friends. “Say, there’s a fellow in our office—Bree, his
name is—been talking about getting a car, asking us to
keep an eye out for a good buy. Maybe he’d—”
“Maybe nothing!” shouted Mr. Carp. “You call him
up. Tell him you've got his car and—but I don’t have
to tell you what to say. You’ve driven her. You know.
Got his number? If not toll line’ll give it to you.”
Charlie was a little startled at having a nebulous sup-
position assume such urgent substance. But the pleased
and eager light in the eyes of his host and hostess was
flattering. And nothing flattering had happened to
Charlie since Connie had kissed him goodbye and prom-
ised to wait for him.
“I don’t know if he'll be in town on a Sunday, but
if you want I can—”
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
“You give him a ring. If he’s
there, tell him to come along
out. Tell him we're sailing to-
morrow or he’d never get a
chance like it. And listen, Char-
lie. If you can get three hundred,
the other fifty’s yours, see?”
Mr. Bree was in town and his
voice registered enthusiastic in-
terest in the Rameau Eight.
“But I can’t come out, Charlie.
Got a heavy date. If you can
drive the bus in to the office
tomorrow—”
“The very thing!” Mr. Carp
exulted. “You can- drive us in
to the boat—it’ll save us ten
dollars taxi fare. We’ll get an
early start so you won't be late
at the office.”
“The three hundred didn’t
scare him a bit,” Charlie said.
“But gosh, I hate to—after all
you folks have done for me—”
“Now, now, none of that,”
Mr. Carp cried cheerily. “You
just deposit the two-fifty to my
account and the other fifty’s
your commission. It’ll buy that
girl of yours a birthday present.”
Charlie was sorry to say
goodbye to: the Carps. He would
miss them. Even more would he
miss the pretty suburban house,
which a natural genius for mak-
ing himself useful, had rendered
so homelike and familiar. But
a steamship pier a couple of
hours before sailing time, is not
the place to indulge vain re-
grets. Having presented Mrs.
Carp with the five-pound box
of candy he had bought on the strength of his
unexpected commission, he made his way back
to West Street and the waiting Rameau. As he
went, he reflected that the orphaned car would
doubtless be feeling pretty lonely too. But the
Rameau wasn’t lonely. Standing where Mr.
Carp had parked her, conveniently near the
pier’s entrance, she was the center of an animated group
that now greeted Charlie’s appearance with touching
cordiality.
“Here’s the guy!”
“That your hearse, kid? Well, get a tractor and haul
her outa the way.”
“Oughta run a box car like that on tracks, son.”
“How much fer a room’n’bath, mister?” a young
gamin wanted to know as Charlie clambered in.
=|}
& HE piloted his craft through the choppy sea of West
Street traffic, Charlie was forced to admit that the
Rameau did seem a little large. In town. Not that large
cars were lacking.among the miscellaneous fleet flowing
up town. It was just that, compared to her dapper-
bodied city cousins, the Rameau was large in the wrong
places. And her gears, adjusted to the needs of a pru-
dent country gentleman, protested at traffic lights.
At Twenty-eighth Street, it was clear
that something was wrong and Charlie
was delighted to find it a simple matter
of gas. Not so simple as it might have
been before he had paid for Mrs. Carp’s
candy, but of course you couldn’t expect
to sell a car with an empty tank.
“Better fill ’er up,” the gas dispenser
advised and, when he had filled ’er up—
“There, that oughta take ’er as far as
Grant’s Tomb—or almost.”
It took her as far as East Forty-first
Street and the office, certainly, but not
until Charlie’s fellow workers had been
at their desks for half an hour.
“Gosh, the traffic was fierce,” Charlie
told his friend, Mr. Bree, and mopped
his face. “But I got her up here all right.
Run down and look her over.”
“Drove her in, did you?” and Mr.
Bree looked interested. “Where’d you park her?”
“Right down in front. You can’t miss her—black with
gold trim.”
Mr. Bree said “Righto!” and Charlie sneaked over to
his desk as inconspicuously as his uncompromisingly
red head and six-feet-odd would permit. He was ab-
sorbed in sharpening his third pencil when Mr, Bree re-
turned. Charlie looked up.
“Find her all right?”
“You said I couldn’t miss her, Charlie,” Mr, Bree re-
minded him. “And you said true.”
sam
|
“Some bus, isn’t she?”
“Some!” Mr. Bree agreed. “But
look here, Charlie. I want a pleas-
ure car. Yeah. I’m not a collector.”
“Huh?” Charlie said, vaguely sensing something un-
complimentary in the words. “She’s worth three hun-
dred—every cent of it.”
“Why, boy, sure she is. She’s priceless. But what you
ought to do is be generous, see. You oughta give her to
the museum, Charlie.”
He turned away but Charlie hooked him with a long
arm. “You mean to say you don’t want to buy her?”
Mr. Bree turned back. “You mean to say you ex-
pected me to—or anybody else, for that matter?”
Charlie gulped. “Sure. You said you'd always wanted
a Rameau.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want the earliest specimen.”
Charlie fumbled for his handkerchief. “But, listen,
you’ve got to—somebody’s got to buy her. The Carps
sailed this morning and J can’t keep her—in a hall room.
Besides, I’ve got to sell her anyway. I promised. Be-
sides, my girl’s birthday’s next Wed-
nesday.”
“What’s that got to do with Big
Bertha?”
“Its my only chance to get her a
present. I mean, out of my commis-
sion.”
“Commission!” Mr. Bree echoed. “If
you can sell that accommodation special
for the price of your commission, you
better take it quick and go into hiding.”
Charlie’s black gaze was still on his
receding back, when Jimmie, the office
boy, blocked his view.
“Say, Charlie, is that your bus down
front—the tall one with the bustle?”
Charlie glared at him. “Not that I care,
but the cop was wondering out loud as
I came along—out real loud, he was.”
Charlie left the office with the brisk
air of one bent on urgent enterprises. Once in the cor-
ridor, he did not wait for the elevator, but went loping
down the stairs three at a time. And it was obvious
that he was expected in East Forty-first Street. The re-
ception committee gathered around the Rameau Eight,
was headed by a portly gentleman in blue and brass.
While its other members were less impressive, sartori-
ally, they wore the bright and eager look of an audience
just before the curtain goes up. The policeman greeted
Charlie with the immemorial greeting of policemen—
“Say, who do you think you are?”
S “I tell you I'm going to ride with this young man; he—’
15
?
a
“Think this street’s a Fresh Air Home for feeble
busses? Can’t you read or ain’t you got that far in
school?” This drew a hand from the audience and the
policeman waited for the applause to subside before he
said sadly—‘“It ain’t as if it was a normal bus, but to
go and park a stylish stout like that—”
“T didn’t. I mean, I only—”
“All right, I believe you. But get her out o’ here.
Quick, see? And don’t never say they ain’t any soft
boiled cops left.”
Charlie made a pass at his upstanding hair. “I—my
hat—”
“Get her out, see—toot sweet, as we say in Harlem,
Hop it, now!”
Charlie hopped. Aided by the advice and suggestions
of his impromptu audience, he got the Rameau under
way. He went west because the Rameau happened to
be headed west. He went north and east, blindly trailing
the car ahead of him until, at Madison and Fifty-ninth,
a tired voice behind him demanded—‘Hey, where d’yuh
think you’re going—or ain’t you?”
T WAS another one of those questions to which,
Charlie knew, no answer was expected. But all the
same he wished he had one. For where was he going, at
ten-thirty on a Monday morning in a car that didn’t be-
long to him, while his hat and his job waited for him in
East Forty-first Street!
But there seemed nothing to do but go. His rear was
harried by honks urging him forward, his front beset
by lights and whistles drawing him on. His straining
eyes were desperate when they sighted the mecca of a
garage and he nosed his charge grudgingly up the run-
way. A soiled young man came running and Charlie
demanded—
“Can I park my car here?” The soiled young man
nodded.
“How much?”
“Depends on how long. One-fifty a day, twenty-five
cents an hour. How long you want to leave her?”
Charlie looked into his pocket with the eye of bitter
memory. He thought of the five-pound box of candy.
He thought of the gas he had bought. He thought of
Connie.
“Wel-l, not long. She’s for sale.” The soiled young
man raised his brows mutely and took a stroll around
the Rameau. “Know anyone who'd like to buy her?”
The soiled young man brought up at his starting
point and looked at Charlie. “Nope. All our customers
are normal.”
“What?” [Turn to page 38]
16
YES/
Ella A. Boole
Natl. Pres., W.C.T.U.
Evangeline Booth
Com. in Chief of the Salvation Army in the U.S.
Carrie Chapman Catt
Dr. Mary Woolley
Pres. Mount Holyoke College
Jane Addams
Director, Hull House, Chicago
Zona Gale
Authoress
Carrie Chapman Catt Ella A. Boole
with special vividness a day when my curiosity
emboldened me to pass right by a saloon. There
was one on the street which led to the schoolhouse
and my mother had always told me tò walk on the
other side of the street. But the frosted glass win-
dows and the swinging doors under which you could
see men’s feet shuffling, held a horrid fascination for
me. That day, just as I had got safely by, I saw three
men come out, two of them supporting a third whose
legs kept folding up and whose eyes looked like the
crazy man’s next door. He was yelling and talking
about God in a way I had never heard the minister
talk about Him. With a childish sense of caution I
took to my heels, and that ended my youthful ex-
cursions into the underworld.
It was on account of that saloon and the thousands
of other saloons like it spotting our cities, towns, and
villages that the 18th Amendment was passed, making
illegal the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intox-
icating beverages. It was thought then that the coming
of Prohibition would prove the greatest boon this coun-
try had ever known, and that in short we would live
happily ever after.
Now, ten years later, there are many who do believe
that Prohibition has proved a great boon, even though
the law has not been strictly enforced. But there are
others, and there are public-spirited women among
them, who are firmly convinced that Prohibition has
brought in its train a series of new calamities. They point
to the increased amount of drinking among young people,
to the criminal operations of bootleggers, and to the
general atmosphere of lawlessness. They, tco, believe
in temperance. They, too, abhor the saloon. But they
] OOKING far back into my childhood I remember
PRO
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
H
oflt heart, people believe
or else they feel it should
effective one. ” In this
leading women discuss the
differ with the defenders of the 18th Amendment as to
the best method for bringing seal temperance to pass.
Since there is this wide gulf of opinion between the
Prohibitionists on the one side, and those who would
reform Prohibition on the other, and since women are
so vitally interested in the whole subject, I conceived
the idea of setting down in an article the views of a
dozen representative American women.. And that is
what I have done, with the hope that you and I, after
weighing their opinions pro and con, shall better be
able to decide where we ourselves stand.
I SUPPOSE there is no one more intensely interested
in Prohibition that Mrs. Ella A. Boole who is National
President of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union.
Twenty-five years ago, while she was spending her
honeymoon at a series of religious camp-meetings, she
became inspired to work for the temperance cause.
Now as National President of the W. C. T. U. she speaks
for a membership of 600,000 women who have sworn
to aid in the strict enforcement of the 18th Amendment.
They are firmly convinced that the use of alcoholic
beverages, like the use of drugs, is habit-forming and
degrading to the physical and moral welfare of the
human race.
“Women rose up against the liquor traffic,” Mrs.
Boole exclaimed feelingly, “because they were hurt by
Evangeline Booth Jane Addams
it more than by anything else. Before Prohibition it
was not an uncommon thing for a man to spend half
his weekly wages at the corner saloon and then go home
and beat up his wife. What a difference today! Now
laboring men are spending their money on keeping
their children in school, on buying them better cloth-
ing, and on automobiles to take their families riding in.”
Then she told me of a town in northern New York
where there used to be two saloons on the corner oppo-
site a large factory. Today there are no saloons and in-
stead there are one hundred automobiles parked in
those corner lots.
Unfortunately there are still many people who are
disobeying the law and encouraging bootleggers, Mrs.
Boole admits. But she and her followers are convinced
By Dorothy
that the majority of the people want Prohibition and
that it is only a matter of time before the liquor traffic
will be done away with.
Numbered among the women who once upon a time
believed in Prohibition but who are now strongly op-
posed to the 18th Amendment is Mrs. Charles H.
Sabin, the chairman of the Women’s Organization for
Prohibiticn Reform. For six years a member of the Re-
publican National Committee, she finally became so out-
raged by the hypocrisy of the drinking drys—who
voted for enforcement measures in public and drank
their cocktails in private—that she resigned her posi-
tion so as to be free to work for a change in the present
dry law.
“Tt was plain to me that the present law was not being
enforced,’ Mrs. Sabin declared. “Arrests for drunk-
enness were still being made by the thousands, there
were a total of 466,806 arrests in 385 cities alone in
1927. And what was still worse, boys and girls who
would never have been allowed in saloons were drink-
ing together in speakeasies.
“Soon I discovered that any number of other women
were just as disappointed as I in the way the 18th Amend-
ment was working. In fact when the news was printed in
the papers that a group of us had formed the Women’s
Organization for Prohibiticn Reform, a flood of letters
came to me from mothers and grandmothers all over
the country. I heard from women of the coal mining
towns of Pennsylvania, the farm districts of North
Dakota, from women in Indiana, Ohio, Utah, Kansas,
Nebraska, Iowa, Colorado, and California. One wom-
an from Kansas told me of garages back of public
schools where the students stored their liquor. Worst
of all, she said that an institution for delinquent boys
in her home town which -formerly had 300 inmates
today has 1,200, and this with no perceptible increase
in the population.
“The letters have kept coming and we now have a
membership of 65,000 piled up in the short space of
nine months. At the present time women are joining
at the rate of 3,000 a week. x
“I should like to say ovér and over again,” Mrs.
Sabin concluded, “that we don’t want the saloon back.
Never! But neither do we want to go on under present
conditions. As a country we must profit from our
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
ON?
either in the present law
be changed for a
more
searching resumé twelve
future
Dunbar Br omli ey
experiences in the past, and find a system for con-
trolling liquor traffic that will really work. In Great
Britain, where the government does not prohibit, but
regulates the sale of liquor, Winston Churchill tells us
that drunkenness decreased and the number of criminal
convictions has been cut in half. He adds that they
have actually had to shut down some of their prisons.
Only contrast conditions in this country where our
President has recently asked for a five-million dollar
appropriation for new federal penitentiaries. Obviously,
temperance has done more for Great Britain than Pro-
hibition has done for the United States.”
Wanting to discover what the effects of Prohibition
have been on the poor people of the country, I sought
out Miss Evangeline Booth, the Commander in Chief
of the Salvation Army in the United States.
“We in the Salvation Army are convinced that Pro-
hibition has been an immense benefit to the life, the
health, and the material prosperity of our citizens of
every class. We have reason to know, of course, that the
law should be more strictly enforced, but we strongly
suspect that evasion has been greatly exaggerated. From
every one of the great cities, and especially the wet cities,
our reports prove conclusively that there is far less
drinking than there used to be, and that the worst evils
of drink have been greatly lessened.”
PREN the Commander became very serious. “Never
forget, my child, that liquor is a masculine indul-
gence. Where it is legalized, it reduces women to an
economic inferiority. It is to me unthinkable that the
American woman, having achieved her emancipation
from this curse, will return to the bondage of beer and
the humiliation of the old Saturday night.”
She would like to make a great appeal for Prohibi-
tion, she declared, in the name of womanhood, in
the name of children, in the name of the future of the
race. “I would pray to those who are strong enough
not to be hurt by liquor, to forego it for the sake of
their weaker brothers!” She believes that conditions
among all classes have been improved by Prohibition,
and yet so thoughtful a woman as Mrs. Booth Tark-
ington wires from Indianapolis, “I am against the 18th
Amendment because I believe it cannot be enforced
and because it finances crime.”
Mrs. Booth Tarkington
Mrs. Charles Fiske
of ‘Prohibition
Speaking for the far west Mrs. Florence P.
Kahn, Representative to Congress from a
crowded distriet.in San Francisco, told me that
conditions among the poor there “appear to be
about the same as they were before Prohibi-
tion.” She added that the Community Chest
has as much to do as ever and people have to
give as much to charity as in the past.
As an official of the United States: govern-
ment Mrs. Kahn expressed herself as heartily
ashamed of the wave of lawlessness which has
passed over the land. “People used to say, ‘Don't
monkey with Uncle Sam. You might “fix” a local
police judge, but you can’t get away with Uncle Sam.’
Today people have no more respect for a federal judge
than for a police judge. Prohibition has undermined
our whole standard of justice and respect for law.
“But worst of all,” she went on, “it is undermining *
the health and morale of young people. In all my school
and college days, and in seven years of teaching in
public schools, I can’t ever remember seeing or hearing
of a girl’s drinking. Boys who were known to drink
were ostracized by the girls. If at a party the word
went round that some boy had been drinking, no girl
would dance with him or let him walk home with her.
`~ College boys sometimes went on ‘beer busts,’ but such
a thing as a college girl drinking was never heard of.
Florence P. Kahn
Virginia Gildersleeve
“Now young people of both sexes accept the Prohi-
bition law as a ‘dare.’ You see them in hotel lobbies,
with their flushed faces. Many of them are imitating
their elders and more-than a few of them, I happen to
know, come from homes where there was no drinking
before Prohibition.”
To correct the present state of affairs and remove
liquor from its all important position in people’s con-
sciousness, Mrs. Kahn believes that we should have
a Federal law which would allow the states to carry
out their own ideas on Prohibition, but which would
control interstate traffic in intoxicants.
“Tt is absurd,” she wound up, “to talk about the re-
turn of the open saloon, The saloon is as much out
of the picture as the horse-drawn carriage.”
17
a
Florence P. Kahn
Congresswoman from California
Mrs. Charles H. Sabin
Chm. Women’s Organization for Prohibition Reform
Mrs. Charles Fiske
Wife of Bishop Fiske of Central New York
Virginia Gildersleeve
Dean of Barnard College of Columbia Univ.
Mrs. Booth Tarkington
Katharine Cornell
Actress
Mrs. Charles H. Sabin
Katharine Cornell
Disagreeing with Mrs, Kahn as to the prevalence
of drinking among young college people, Miss Mary
E. Woolley, President of Mount Holyoke College,
thinks that “the college men who drink today are
featured in exclusion of the many who have never
indulged in that practice, although,” she adds, “I am
of course not in a position to speak from the inside
with regard to the colleges for men.
“As far as the colleges for women are concerned,”
she said, “I imagine that the conditions at Mount
Holyoke do not vary greatly from those in the other
institutions. Here it seldom happens that a case of
drinking is brought to the attention of the authorities.
A few cases, it is true, during the last few years, have
had to be severely disciplined.
“Generally speaking,” President Woolley concluded,
“the enforcement of the law would be a simpler prop-
osition if all respectable citizens supported it by
their own conduct and if the government appointed
as enforcement officials honest men who could not be
bought.”
Yet another outstanding woman educator, Miss Vir-
ginia Gildersleeve, Dean of Barnard College of Colum-
bia University, considers that “the present attempt at
Prohibition has served to demeralize the whole coun-
try.”
In a speech which she delivered not long ago before
the general assembly of students she declared, “When
the Prohibition Amendment and the Volstead Act were
enacted, I personally was inclined to welcome them as
a heroic experiment. Had they really prohibited I think
I should have continued to approve them; but in this
part of the country, at least, they do not prohibit.
Public opinion does not support them. [Turn to page 34]
18
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
MSIEU SWEETHEART
A sweeping romance of the Far North
written by “The Girl From God's Country”
O= an expanse of frozen
wastes, seared by blizzards,
Neeka LaRonde stomped on snow-
shoes. Soon the freedom of the
forest would be hers again—the
animals, the flowers, and waters,
loosed from icy prisons. Sun every-
where, and at night the moon
sailing in silver over the pines. “Let’s fin’ ol’ Jules’ trap-
line!” Neeka cried now in her exuberance to
Giekie, her great powder-gray malamute.
Jules Cartier was Neeka’s natural enemy, for he trapped
the beloved animals who were her friends. So now, when
he caught her springing his snares, his fury flamed. But
Giekie defended his mistress and, swinging home again,
they crossed Le Bois Noir where, buried under a thick,
gleaming coverlet of snow, Neeka found.
—Nell Shipman
Jllusirared hy FRANK HOFFMAN
Daisy Dell, the dance-hall girl, all ivory and white and
gold, delicately scented, fragile, yet with the strength
of fine-spun wires—Daisy Dell who had braved the
cruelty of the frozen north to bring gayety, however
empty, to its isolated sons.
Daisy was all but dead. The blinding snow had drifted
over her and the battered dog-team with which she had
come to the Far North, guided by
Kippewa, her half-breed Indian driver.
The frozen wastes alone knew what had happened to
Kippewa, for Daisy kept her secret of the map, for
instance, that she had taken from a dying derelict,
Rufus Whipple, taken with the promise that she would
carry it to his dead partner’s daughter, one Neeka
LaRonde of Neepawa. Not once, in the days following
Daisy’s rescue and adoption, did Neeka dream that the
map of her father’s gold mine was locked in the covetous
heart of her “Snowbird.” She was happy if only because
Daisy seemed content to revel in the long evenings
spent with her and
Miscou, Neeka’s half-brother, an intense, silent Indian
who was Daisy’s devoted slave. The Factor and Mrs.
McDonald, gentle Scotch folk in charge of the trading
post, who loved Neeka and had watched over her since
her white father left five years before, wondered mildly
at Daisy’s impromptu début.
1930
JULY
McCALIVS MAGAZINE
“Look into her eyes, m’sieu, then tell me if you could kill her”
Robert Carlyle, corporal in the Mounted Police, came to
their cabin when he ended his three-months hunt in the
barren lands, bringing with him his criminal quarry.
There Carlyle first saw Neeka’s pure lustrous beauty
and desired her. “Pity she is a breed girl,” he thought.
Part IT
EEKA sang a gay chanson as she turned the
N breakfast hotcakes. Sunshine streamed through
the window of the lean-to kitchen, and the door
was open to the soft spring air; air holding a trace of
snow—a frosted rim on the glass of morning nectar.
Three puddles of batter on the smoking iron, greased
by a hunk of bacon rind; Neeka, the turner in her hand,
her hand on her hip, watched the rise of the cakes.
There is a psychological moment for their turning. So
many bubbles must lift and break in the frying batter.
On no account must the tender cake be poked and even
a tiny raising of one edge, to see if the underside is
browned, is forbidden. At exactly the right moment
Neeka would insert the turner beneath each round,
twist her lithe wrist and flop the flap-jack; its done
side gleaming, golden-brown.
The black coffeepot, its iron spout plugged to hold
the pungent aroma, stood ready at the back of the
stove, flanked by a platter of thick, home-cured bacon.
Daisy’s cup and plate were tastefully arranged upon a
make-shift tray, garnished this morning with a sprig
of pussy willow picked at dawn from a bush by the
stream in Le Bois Noir. “She will be glad for that sign
of spring,” said the young cook, balancing back and
forth on her moccasined feet, eyes intent upon the
griddle. .“By gar, they look good! Td like for that
Mounty to hav’ some! Las’ night he look at my sour-
dough lantern. ‘I see you is sourdough,’ he say. Maybe
he wouldn’t like these sourdough cake!”
“Sourdough” was another innovation brought over
the Divide from ‘Alaska by Jacques LaRonde. Pros-
pecting, he had learned to carry his flour in a muslin
bag, already mixed with sufficient water to form a stiff
lump. The dough, souring, became the yeasty basis for
bread, biscuits, and hotcakes. An earthenware crock
kept Neeka’s supply of bubbling sourdough ready and
to a generous portion of this she added sugar, milk to
thin, salted and sifted flour to thicken and, at the last
moment, a teaspoon of baking soda dissolved in hot
19
water and stirred into the batter, stirred hard and fast
so that the creamy mixture bubbled in the bowl.
Such were Neeka’s sourdough hotcakes and Daisy sat
up in bed, eager-mouthed for her breakfast. “Ah, lazy
bones, but you do look most beautiful in this new sun-
shine,” cried Neeka, standing admiringly at the foot of
the rustic bed—fruit of Miscou’s home carpentering.
“The sun come straight to the gol’ in your hair and
make nes’ there!”
“Don’t be silly, Neeka, and don’t put so much sugar
in my coffee!” snapped Daisy, without any gold in her
voice. :
“Oh, I sorry. I tak-heem bac’.” Neeka flew from the
bedroom and Daisy linked plump arms about her knees.
She was very comfortable. The rustic bed, with its posts
of natural birch, was soft and springy for all its home-
made mattress of corn husks and make-shift rope
“springs.” The sheets were coarse but clean, the pillows
of eider down and a lustrous wolfskin robe covered the
girl. “Soft, I'll say,” she commented inwardly, reaching
beneath the pillow for cigarettes and papers. She nimbly
rolled a cigarette and, when Neeka returned with a fresh
cup of coffee, sent her back to the kitchen for a match.
O THE credit of the ex-dance-hall girl, let it be said
that her first thought upon reviving and finding herself
in Neeka’s care was to tell the girl about herself. Then
the old money sense, that still, small voice warning her
treasure was near, kept her quiet. Why spoil things, yet?
Summer would be time enough to start Neeka and her
brother upon their journey North. Let them take care
of her for a while longer. It was nice to be petted, waited
upon, treated as if she were a young queen. There was
something nice, too, in being absolutely decent.
20
Miscou was violently in love with her. Really in love,
eager to own her for life, marry her. He was an Indian
but, when LaRonde’s mine was ‘found, he’d be a very
rich Indian. And there are always avenues for escape,
particularly for discontented and wealthy wives.
One thing only bothered the girl. The packet Rufus
Whipple had carried and which was now hidden in the
lining of her tin trunk, was addressed—“to my daughter,
Neeka LaRonde.” There was no mention of Miscou and
yet he was the elder. But he was a stepchild. What if
the old man had left everything to Neeka? No use in
marrying the Indian boy then! She determined to open
the packet at the first opportune moment and see what
it contained. Until now there had been no chance, for
Neeka was always running in with this or that, and
Miscou dogged her footsteps. i
“Las’ night I meet someone so golden in the hairs as
you,” remarked Neeka, coming to remove the breakfast
tray. Daisy asked who it was: “A policeman,” said
Neeka, stooping to tuck the fur robe about Daisy and
failing to note the quick shadow which crossed the girl’s
face. “What is he doing here?” Daisy demanded, a lit-
tle fiercely.
A Mounty! What if she were recognized, branded!
Already the McDonalds were none too certain of her
status, doubted her made-up story. Only Neeka and the
innocent villagers of Neepawa really accepted her tale
as true. “Where is he from?” she asked.
NEES admitted that she did not know. “But he hav’
made prisoner of a man, a bad man, he say, an’ he
is taking him out to Edmonton. Oh, Daisy, it mak’ me
seek down here inside!” Neeka placed expressive hands
upon the region of her stomach. “For they will hang
that man in Edmonton!” ee
“Well, he probably has it coming to him,” Daisy
chipped in, coolly. “But what is this fellow’s name?”
“Ro-bart Car-lyle. He is
beautiful. So tall an’ strong.
Wit’ long yellow hair in curls!”
Daisy exhibited twin rows of
fine white teeth in a wide laugh.
“He must be a fine looking
piece of cheese!”
Neeka was shocked. “Oh, no,
not cheese! His hair is lak’
honey, all spun out. It is lak’
yours, Daisy, pure gol’.”
“T mean, fancy a Mounty
with long yellow curls!”
“But he hav’ been four
months in the wilderness catch-
ing this mans. He hav’ no scis-
sors. Las’ night he pull at that
beautiful hair and scowl and
say, ‘I hope you hav’ barbers
here!’ I could cry! I do not
wish heem to cut that hair!”
“Well, I guess TIl have to
hustle over to the Post and see
this long-haired angel-child
before the naughty barber crops
his curls. Where is he stoppin’,
with the Factor?”
“Qui, oui, an’ I tol’ heem of
you already. So he know about
you.”
“Oh, he does, does he? Say,
you must have had quite a gab-
fest with this policeman!”
“No, not so much. He help
me wit’ the animals, that is all.”
“Well, a bird in the hand is
worth two at the Post. I guess
Tl do some shopping.” The
girl flung back her covers and
jumped from bed. The sun
gleamed upon the white of her
bare shoulders and Neeka, as
always, was entrapped by the
sheer glitter of this dazzling
creature. Daisy snapped at her,
petulantly: “Don’t stand there,
gaping! Go heat me some water,
and say, did you iron that white
shirt-waist for me? Well, do it,
there’s a good kid!”
It were best, Daisy thought,
to beard this golden-haired lion
in his den. Should he hail from
Las Pas and recognize her, or
have heard of her by reputa-
tion, better she find out at once
and, if possible, clip his claws.
In the freshly-ironed blouse,
with its high, lace collar, her
black skirt, tightly belted about
her tfim waist and flaring from silk-clad ankles, with a
sealskin cap atop her blonde curls, and these pulled rather
primly to the nape of her neck, and with a minimum of
rice powder on her nose and no rouge, Daisy went forth
into the spring morning, to conquer or be caught. She
came home triumphant, threw her toque into the air and
kicked it smartly before it fell below the level of her eyes.
“Your yellow-haired cop is a lamb!” she informed Neeka.
“T got him dated for a feed tonight. Do you suppose you
can cook something really fit to eat? I brought home
the stuff for a cocktail. Miscou, I'll show you how to
make ’em so’s they’d grow hair on a billiard ball!” With
a gladsome crackle of taffeta petticoat, she disappeared
into her bedroom.
“What’s a cocktail?” Neeka wondered. Miscou did
not know. Sullen alarm brooded in his black eyes. “Who
is this man?” he demanded. “I saw him, this morning,
taking food to his prisoner. What does he do in Nee-
pawa? Why doesn’t he go on with the man he has
caught? Why: does he come to our cabin?”
“I think because Daisy invite heem,” Neeka replied,
a little sadly and yet with a feeling of joy in her heart
for would she not see the man again? Even if he came
as Daisy’s guest and on her account only? After all,
that was quite natural since Daisy was beautiful and,
like the Mounty, from that outside world.
That evening when Carlyle arrived, barbered, shaved,
his ragged red uniform coat pressed and darned, the
cabin, pussy willow decorated dinner table, pretty girls
and even the darkly-scowling Indian brother, were a
revelation. Neeka had only a shy greeting for him be-
fore her culinary arrangements whisked her to the
kitchen, but Daisy shook’ hands prettily, waved him to
a comfortable chair and bade Miscou get the ice for the
cocktail shaker. Then she sat opposite her guest, chatting
gayly, knees crossed and white lace petticoat spraying
about her dainty feet.
Neeka was a throned queen of her forests
McCALL'S MAGAZINE JULY *1930
“I say, this is a bit of all right !”? affirmed the Mounty,
occupied with the vision ‘she made. “How jolly you
look! And what was that*yéuisaid to the lad? ‘Ice for
cocktails?’ I think I’m dreaming!” .
She laughed. “Promise yousjvon’t make fun of us? I
thought you might be hungry for something a little bit
like home. I get that way myself, so I know the feeling.”
She cast him a look which read: “Of course we under-
stand that for people of our class life in this primitive
wilderness is frightful!” He nodded, amused. Secretly,
he could not quite place this girl who had come tripping
into the Post that morning, demure under her black
toque and dainty as to skirt and shoe. The Factor intro-
duced her, at the request of his guest, but, though the
pair chatted, fenced and laughed together, Carlyle was
not quite certain of her. She minced her words a bit too
primly and seemed to be guarding her tongue against
slips. Also, there was a certain hardness about her;
hardness or commonness, he was not sure which, but
the woman was white. She was good to look at, she could
chatter with him, entertainingly. He had not seen a
white girl in four months and in less than four minutes
he was launched upon a fairly fast flirtation and had
been invited to the LaRonde cabin for supper.
HE DID not realize the sigh of relief with which Daisy
greeted his statement that he knew no one in Las
»Pas and had never been north or east of Alberta in the
brief térm of his service, except upon this trek he was
just completing. “I was shipped straight from London to
Calgary,” he explained. “This is the first time I have
been out of Alberta.”
“Oh, I think the work you brave men do in the
Mounted Police is just wonderful! And I love your
red coats! They are so inspiring!”
‘And now, in the warm cabin, Daisy considered that
scarlet tunic as its wearer faced her in the lamplight,
his blond, cropped head bent
forward, a smile on his lips and
that flirtatious look in his gray-
blue eyes which seemed to in-
vite whatever might come: love,
trouble, a gay good time—or a
quick finish. “He’s a good-look-
in’ kid,” she thought. “I wish I
didn’t have to play up so darn
goody-goody!” s i
Miscou brought in the make-
shift shaker, the hoarded lake
ice and the bottles of gin and
vermouth. “Don’t laugh at us,”
Daisy warned Carlyle, “remem-
ber where you are!”
The shaker was a Mason jar
with a wire strainer fastened
across the top and, to an accom-
paniment of pretty squeals
from Daisy, they mixed the
drink. Miscou stood by, low-
ering; stupid with misunder-
standing and jealous dread.
When his cocktail was poured
he downed it at a gulp and de-
manded more. “I say, should
he have it? You know they—”
Carlyle foolishly began, but
Daisy hushed him. “Of course
he can,” she said. “Miscou is
twenty-one and, well, if he isn’t
white, he’s the best red you've
ever known, Corporal Carlyle!”
“I’m sure of that!” said the
Mounty, but he was bothered.
After all he was nothing more
than a sort of “Bobby” to these
natives and it struck him that
he should not stand by and
watch one of them “lap up”
liquor. But the Daisy-girl kept
up a running fire of chatter, the
cocktail, delightfully iced, slid
warmly beneath his red jacket
and very shortly, Neeka, flushed
to a delicious rose, brought on
the supper.
To Neeka’s astonishment,
Carlyle insisted upon helping
with the washing up and Daisy,
tying an infinitesimal wisp of
white lawn about her waist,
joined him. It was the first
time she had set foot in the
lean-to kitchen to do more than
scold, but Bob need not know
that. Nor did he realize the
shock his domestic proclivities
- caused Neeka. In Neepawa men
did not wipe [Turn to page 58]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
1930
“I would
not have you
marry for
money for
anything.
Only—”’
S PRIVATE PRACTICE
M i } ” à ó : Ce
"You'll make money, she said. And you ll marry it,” he challenged.
They were both right and wrong as you will find in
this enchanting miracle of love and science
MERGENCY calls are a part of the routine
of the medical profession but they are not,
as a rule, a common occurrence with that
branch which specializes in ear and nose. T. De-
witt Tucker, M.D. so specialized; though as it
happened, they were almost exclusively Syrian,
Hungarian, Czechoslovak and, occasionally, Chi-
nese ears and noses.
They were the sort of patient that a very young
specialist exercises his skill on until, by the grace of
God and his own careful efforts he begins to get paying
patients of his own.
This problem was in the young doctor’s mind, when,
of a February afternoon, the emergency call came. He
had been standing at his window surveying it—the
problem of paying patients, that is—with his pipe be-
tween his teeth, his hands in his pockets, and his close-
cropped hair ruffled.
The day was February at its best. The sun shone
brilliantly, its reflection flung back at him from windows
across the way. At one of these, her hair a bright
aureole—there was much more than a glint of red in it
—a girl in an orchid negligee had sat, up to a moment
before, polishing her nails and sunning herself like a
lazy, luxurious little kitten.
The girl and an older woman, obviously her mother,
were careless about the curtains. Especially the -girl.
Not that that made any difference to Tommy.
By oye! Brown
Illustrated hy LOREN WILFORD
“She never wears much of anything even when she
is dressed,” would have been his comment.
The girl was young and lovely to look upon and
therefore privileged to wear audacious evening frocks.
She also had a straight and charming nose which Tommy
had seen her powder. Frequently.
Tommy, for all he wasn’t the least bit interested,
could have written a book about her. “She’s.in society—
on a shoestring,” he might have informed anyone really
interested. “Has very little money—I’ll bet half her
clothes aren't paid for—but she hopes to bag a man
with enough money so she can lie around and loaf the
rest of her life. That’s her highest ideal!”
To that he could have added her name—Nancy
Thorpe. But even that did not prove that his interest.
was involved.
“Saw her picture in the ‘Transcript’,” he would have
explained. “The rest of it is as plain as any nose on any,
face I’ve ever seen—and I see a lot of noses in my
business.” $
“But she’s pretty,” he admitted; and qualified
it instantly with, “and like most pretty girls she
thinks all she has to do is to look pretty and life
will do something pretty for her.”
This was one of his pet theories. He was, after
all, only twenty-eight and besides, a man» who
takes up medicine as a profession can’t afford to
give hostages to fortune. Not until he has either
the ear of the world or its nose. It had, in fact, been
some time since Tommy had had much of anything to
do with a pretty girl. He was living on a shoestring
himself and pretty girls and shoestrings don’t go to-
gether.
Which is why, probably, Tommy preferred to believe
that pretty girls were both spoilt and brainless.
Nancy, who chose to believe herself neither, had her
own philosophy on that point.
“Cleopatra,” she had once written in an English com-
position, “was certainly cleverer than Mark Antony and
probably as clever as Caesar. She proved it by never
letting either suspect it.” That had been at sixteen..
Nor had she changed her viewpoint at twenty. “All
that any man requires of a girl is enough brains to ad-
mire the majesty of his,” was the way she might have
put it now.
She would have meant men in general and not Tommy
in particular. She was not even aware of that young
man’s existence and his conclusions [Turn to page 109}
WHAT'S GOING ON
The Star Revival
A REVIEW OF MOTION PICTURES
BY ROBERT E. SHERWOOD
OR a time, during the great sound upheaval in Holly-
wood, it seemed that the glorified film star was
about to become a thing of the past, that the day was
coming at last when the movie producers might learn not
to stake everything on a few “names” which filled the
electric signs but which could not, for any length of time,
fill the theaters. This prospective change was welcomed,
for the star system had been the major flaw in that costly
jewel, the cinema. The producers believed that the stars’
reputations would be sufficient to cover the multitudes
of sins in the pictures in which they appeared. “Put
Gloria Swanson’s name in front of the theater,” they
said, “and the customers will flock in, even if there isn’t
any real entertainment going on inside.”
The talking picture apparatus ruined some of the stars,
and undermined the popularity of many others. Con-
sequently, there were those of us who believed that
a great reform had been brought about. Subsequent
developments have proved us to be over-optimistic.
For while the old stars are fading, the film producers
are frantically at work burnishing up new stars to
take their places. They are snatching artists and non-
artists from grand opera, from the Broadway stage,
from vaudeville and night club shows and converting
them, with one stroke of the magic pen, into motion
picture stars. The old system is back in force, and
worse than ever. One doesn’t go to see a picture called
The Rogue Song; indeed one doesn’t care whether The
Rogue Song is good or bad; one goes to hear Lawrence
Tibbett.
One well may argue that this system is perfectly
satisfactory, and that neither I nor anyone else has
the right to protest against it, as long as the customers
continue to pay to hear Lawrence Tibbett and are
sufficiently pleased by his baritone solos. For, excellent
as Mr. Tibbett may be, he is in a fair way to be
ruined, as Theda Bara and Francis X. Bushman and
Thomas Meighan and Norma Talmadge and countless
others have been ruined, by over-emphasis. It was
this same factor that was ruining the screen itself,
when talking pictures came along to revive the pub-
lic’s waning interest and to refill the emptying thea-
ters. What happened to silent films is more than
likely to happen to talking ones. The movie moguls
have already glutted the public with the incompa-
rable Al Jolson; and they are in a fair way to do the
same thing with Maurice Chevalier, Marilyn Miller,
George Arliss, Dennis King, John McCormack, and all
the other new stars.
Mr. McCormack has made a highly auspicious début
on the vocal screen, his first picture, Song o’ My Heart,
being a simple, unpretentious, unaffected and therefore
pleasantly affecting little romance. The star appears in
his own guise, and sings his songs in his own heart-
stirring manner, and makes no attempt whatever to act
—which is proof of his extraordinary good judgment
and good taste.
Thus, Song o’ My Heart may be recommended with
virtually no qualifications . . . But—what of Mr. Mc-
Cormack’s next picture? It will, of course, be a some-
what faded copy of Song o’ My Heart, and the next one
after that will be still more faded, and so on until, after
three or four such repetitious offerings, the value of John
McCormack as a box-office attraction has been ex-
hausted. Needless to say, Mr. McCormack himself
won't suffer from this experience; he does not depend
on his screen career, and probably takes little interest
in it. The real sufferer in the long run will be the motion
picture industry.
Every star picture must be a “vehicle,” and it is a
curious fact about vehicles on the stage and screen that
they never get anywhere. They are designed for one
particular purpose, and when that specialized purpose
has been accomplished, they are fit only for the scrap-
heap. From their construction nothing of lasting value
has been learned; no progress, scientific or artistic, has
been made. Almost all the important advances in film
production have been achieved in starless pictures; for
instance, The Birth of a Nation, The Four Horsemen of
the Apocalypse, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, The Cov-
ered Wagon, The Big Parade and in the sound era, The
Broadway Melody, and Hallelujah.
A glimpse at a list of current all-talking, all-singing,
all-dancing or all-everything attractions will suggest to
you the present trend:
Al Jolson in Mammy; Dennis King in The Vagabond
King; Paul Whiteman in
The King of Jazz; Eddie
Cantor in Whoopee;
John Barrymore in Gen-
eral Crack and The Man
from Blankley’s; Harry
Richman in Puttin’ on
the Ritz; Lawrence Tib-
bett in The Rogue Song;
Jack Oakie in The Sap
from Syracuse; George
Arliss in Disraeli and The
Green Goddess; Maurice
Chevalier in The Love
Parade and The Big
Pond; Fannie Brice in
Be Yourself ; Alice White
in Playing Around and
Show Girl in Hollywood ;
Nancy Carrol in Honey;
and John Boles in Cap-
tain of the Guard.
»
“The Sunday School
Class? —a scene from
the outstanding play of
the season—““The
Green Pastures” by
Marc Connelly
John McCormack,
Irish tenor, with
Maureen O’ Sullivan
and Tommy Clifford,
his young protegés in
“Song è? My Heart”
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
N THE
God Walks
She Si tage
A REVIEW OF THE THEATER
BY HEYWOOD BROUN
alive have aroused such a flood of favorable com-
ment as The Green Pastures by Marc Connelly.
The piece is founded on a book by Roark Bradford
called OP? Man Adam and His Chillun and although
there is no record of complaint upon the part of the
author, many volunteer defenders have rushed forward
to cry out that it is unjust to give so much of the credit
to the man who merely did the dramatization.
But this is a point ill-founded in fact. It rests upon a
misconception of the inevitable relationship between
the narrative form and the dramatic. I mean that no
book was ever so suitable for the theater that it could
walk right out from between covers to tread the boards.
A vast amount of skillful carpentry, at the very least, is
required to make a story serve as a play.
And Mr. Connelly has done a great deal more than
cabinet work. A vital change in spirit has occurred. Mr.
Bradford was chiefly intent upon bringing out the humor
which lies in the retelling of Bible stories in the terms
of a naive Negro’s mind. This Marc Connelly has pre-
served, but he has added an infinite grain of pathos. And
it is this heartbreaking quality which serves to make
The Green Pastures notable among the season’s offer-
Fits plays within the time of any theatergoer now
ings. Much has been made of the fact that the play is
an absolute novelty. Nothing like it has ever been seen
in the New York theater before. To the dramatic critic
jaded by hundreds of first nights there may be some-
thing exciting in getting off the beaten track; but to the
general public which goes to shows less frequently, in-
novation is not necessarily engrossing. Quite rightfully
the average spectator is more interested in the question,
“Is it good?” rather than, “Is it novel?”
“There is nothing experimental in The Green Pas-
tures. It stands on its own merits wholly aside from the
fact that it represents a pioneering spirit. Of course, it
is interesting to find that the great white public of
Broadway will manifest enthusiasm about a play deal-
ing with Negro life and acted by a cast composed
wholly of Negroes. For years it was a reproach against
public taste that the vast and rich literary field of Negro
life was practically closed to native dramatists. At least
it was shut save for farcical [Turn to page 48]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
WORLD THIS MONT
She Modern View of Prayer
THE SERMON OF THE MONTH
DR, JOHN HAYNES HOLMES
R. HOLMES is min-
D ister of the Com-
munity Church of
New York, soon to become
a skyscraper church, as be-
fits that amazing city. As editor, as preacher, as the
author of many books—the latest being Palestine, Its
Present Conditions and Problems, he has won for him-
self a unique place in American religious life. In the
sermon here reviewed he deals with the deepest experi-
ence of religion, treating it, after the manner of our
time, from its human side; and if many would go much
further, all will go with him as far as he goes.
REVIEWED By
REV. JOSEPH FORT NEWTON
“Prayer is not a philosophy,” says Dr.
Holmes; “it is a practice. It is not a theory,
but an experience. In other words, it is
psychological, not theological. It is older
than any theories, and has outlived a thou-
sand theologies. It is a part of the best life
of man in every generation. There are lives
in which prayer has [Turn to page 48]
The Hamilton College Choir
WORDS AND MUSIC
By DEEMS TAYLOR
on She Lyening,
By She Moonh ght
HE morning’s mail recently brought the program
| of a forthcoming concert by the glee club of my
Alma Mater, New York University. It included:
Hark, Jolly Shepherds, by Thomas Morley; a Wassail
Song arranged by Vaughn-Williams; four choruses from
Patience; and the chorale and finale from Die Meister-
singer.
Now the sight of that program was, in a manner of
speaking, as the sound of a gong to an old fire-horse; for
I sang on that glee club for four years, never mind how
many years ago. I still remember some of our repertoire.
There was, of course, Bullard’s Winter Song; you know
—“Oh, hee-yer by the fi-yer we defy frost and storm”—
or is it snow? I wonder if glee clubs still sing it.
And there was a number called Grand Opera up to
Date, of which I remember only that it was a not too
subtle burlesque, dealing with a fire in an apart-
ment house, the words of the tenants’ finale being
sung to the tune of the soldiers’ chorus from
Faust. And there was our serious number, entitled,
if memory serves, For She’s Sleeping by the Sil-
very Rio Grande. Here the basses wrought anti-
phonal marvels against the upper voices—basses:
“For she’s sleeping”, very low and solemn, and
slightly off the pitch; tenors, very high and ditto:
“For she’s sleeping”; everybody: “For she’s sleep-
ing’—etc. Very effective.
And then, of course, the campus medley: Ok,
that little old red shawl—I’ve been working on
the railroad—Way down yonder in the cornfield—
Who on earth writes that stuff, do you suppose? And
the march finale, fiercely patriotic in character, with the
banjo and mandolin clubs assisting. We had a grand
time, and took some famous trips, and never got within
shouting distance of real music.
This ultimate fact assailed me forcibly as I gazed,
slightly awe-struck, upon the 1930 program. Old English
ballads; Morley, Arnold Bax, Arthur Sullivan, Wagner
—great Scott! Was this a college glee club? Even the Old
Grad Quartette, which might have been counted on to
expound the simple atrocities of an elder day (it did
offer a morceau called Honey, Dat’s All), had weakened
to the extent of singing a group of Negro spirituals.
The significant thing about such a program is that it
is typical. The present-day college glee club tends, on
the average, to be less and less [Turn to page 56]
23
Roark Bradford
Dr. John Haynes Holmes
TURNING OVER
NEW LEAVES
WITH VIOLA PARADISE
Bon Voyage
HIPS crowd the summer seas, trains streak blithely
across continents, down to the shore, up to the
hills, out to the lake. The vacation season at last,
with its problem: What books to send, or to take along?
There’s an embarrassment of riches, for literally
thousands have been published in the last few months.
Would you like something gay, which can be read
either at a stretch or in chinks of time between diver-
sions? Roark Bradford’s Ol’ King David an’ the Philis-
tine Boys provides delicious and by no means irreverent
humor in twenty-five Bible stories in Negro dialect.
These catch the Negro’s happy knack of reducing every-
thing to terms of his own experiences. Mr. Bradford’s
previous book, Ol’ Man Adam an’ his Chillun inspired
Marc Connelly to write The Green Pastures, easily the
best play of the year, and now available in book form
for the benefit of those who can’t get to see it, or who,
having seen it, want to mull over it in black and white.
The State of Oklahoma is the hero of Edna Ferber’s
gusty Cimarron, and its history her theme. So vivid is
its background that the characters are almost incidental,
though Yancy Cravat, nicknamed “Cimarron,” the rest-
less, fearless, quick-on-the-trigger idealist, runs away
with the first part of the tale. He dashes in on the land
tush of 1889, loses his claim through a kind act, goes
back for his wife Sabra and young Cimarron, takes them
to the scarcely born town of Osage, sets up a news-
paper, and holds the spotlight, until a new restlessness
snatches him away to seek new ventures, leaving his
wife to edit the paper and maintain the family. Okla-
homa has made of Sabra an ambitious, able, sturdy
pioneer woman. And though Yancy reappears—indeed,
he makes spectacular entrances and exits to the last
page—it is Sabra who, from that day down to the
present, co-stars with Oklahoma. Cimarron is, in my
opinion, Miss Ferber’s most enjoyable novel. Her eagle
eye is as photographic as ever, and her sense of pace
has increased.
The Great Meadow by Elizabeth Madox Roberts is
also about pioneers. A small band follows Boone’s
trail, and thus Kentucky is settled. Struggle with the
soil, war with Indians, hardship, bloodshed, scalpings—
all these you'll find in this worth-while novel. And you
can read them with your own hair flat on your scalp,
and a normal pulse. For Miss Roberts presents her
material with the effect of pageantry, which you watch
through the glass of time and hear from afar.
That Thornton Wilder’s slim volume, The Woman of
Andros is a best-seller, is an [Turn to page 80]
ARY”—Jacqueline, her face pale, spoke
M softly to the woman who lay, pink and
white and gold, among her pillows;
“Mary, I’m not going to marry Kit. I’ve told
him—it’s all over. I’d rather not talk about it.
Only, if he should marry Sue—I think—I'd
die . . . ” “Sue?” her sister queried sharply; “why
should he marry Sue?” “Because they are coming back
—together...”
Their dream was over, Jacqueline realized, for al-
ways there would be Mary to care for . . . and Joel,
Mary’s none-too-successful husband. So she carried on,
as she had done these five years past, hoping and long-
ing for the day when Yolanda, Mary’s very modern
daughter, would be able to shoulder the burden she had
borne so bravely.
Then Paula Gilman’s warning had come: “Kit isn’t
getting a square deal. He deserves something better
than long years alone in a foreign country. And it’s plain
to be seen he’s in love with Sue.” “No, no!” Jacque-
line’s heart cried. “Kit will love me always!” But
nevertheless, she sent back her treasured sapphire and
released Kit from their engagement.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
rid Wind
‘Do the generations of today and yesterday
weigh love and duty in the same scales?
Dreary weeks passed with no word. Was she, who
still loved Kit so dearly, to lose even his friendship?
Part VI
OEY’S kitten had grown up! Yolanda’s school days
were over! And Kit was coming home! It had
sounded very simple put into short sentences like
that; but it had not been simple in the three years
since Jacqueline talked to the celebrated author at the
“It can’t go on like this
—crumbs from the
hing’s table”
Gilman dinner. She had been happy then, and
she had been happy since, but as she looked
back it was a happiness so near the edge of.
despair, that her heart seemed to stop beating
when she thought of it.
For in all that time Kit had not written.
Each Christmas he had sent her a gay and gorgeous box
from India, packed with loveliness—sheer silken things,
delicate embroideries, bits of beaten gold and silver set
with uncut stones, porcelain, bronze and ivory—and in
each box had been an envelope and with a sheet of
paper on which was written a line in Kit’s strong script,
“My heart is like a singing bird... .” and all the other
lines he had marked for her so long ago in the little
poetry-filled book that had been his mother’s.
She had hoped he might write a letter, and
a thousand times she had put pen to paper to
beg him for a word; but she stopped there.
Kit must be free. He must not feel himself
tied. He had said he would wait until she
called him back; but she had not called until
two months ago when she had written that in
October Yolanda would be home again, and
small Joey would be sent to a prep school.
And if he was still of the same mind .. . ?
The answer to that had been a cable. “I
have never had but one mind about you. Let-
ter follows.”
There had been other letters, and now it
was June, and tonight she was to meet Kit
on the bluff where the wild wind blew.
No one knew he was back again. Jacque-
line felt that she and her lover must see each
other and talk before the world was told. She
had questioned, “Suppose he should find me
changed .. . ?” She had looked in her mir-
ror and the mirror had said to her, “Perhaps
when he sees you, he won’t want you.” And
she had flung back at the mirror, “Love like
oursiseternal. Ithas nothing todo with looks.”
ETeven as she said it,she had wondered if
the mirror might not be wise. Men were
not like women. They wanted youth, and
beauty. There was Joel, for example, whose
eyes followed Mary’s pretty night nurse,
Miss Ogden. But Kit wasn’t like that. Kit
had an almost super-fastidiousness where
women were concerned. “A man lacks taste
who likes them all,” he had said; “he looks
only on the surface. The great lovers have
been those men who have chosen once and
have stayed steadfast. I know that modern
psychology would make philanderers of us
all, but we're not.”
So all these years he had been steadfast.
“Kit, oh my Kit,” she was saying, as she
stood looking out from the sun room of the
new house, watching for Stuart Carleton’s
yacht which was to sail in at six with Yo-
landa and her crowd.
The sun room was very gorgeous. Joel’s
prosperity in the last three years had been
amazing; and when he bought the new house
he had insisted on new furnishings, and so set
about the sun room were lacquered tables in
leaf green, and chairs in Chinese basket work, and the
cushions were green and red and sea-blue, and the cur-
tains matched them. And tonight the tables were laid
for an informal supper with gay English porcelain which
repeated the colors in the chintzes.
And in the midst of it all, Jacqueline moved about
in her sober brown dress like a wren in a flower garden.
Her hair was braided as she had worn it ten years ago.
Brown was not becoming and she wondered why she
had bought that dress. There was money enough now
for anything she wanted, and Joel was generous. Per-
haps it was because she had not cared how she looked,
since Kit was not there to see.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Illustrated
by
C. D. MITCHELL
A voice from the threshold was
saying, “I’m going now, Miss
Griffith. I let Miss Ogden in. Mrs.
Hutchins is sleeping. I am glad the house is quiet. The
noise excites her.”
It was the day nurse, Miss Meeker. Jacqueline was
aware that Miss Meeker did not approve of Yolanda
and her crowd. They had made the day uproarious with
their radio and their dancing; and the day was Sunday.
Jacqueline didn’t approve either of Sunday dancing,
but then, what could one do? Joel had said, “Just so
you keep it from Mary.”
Everything had been kept from Mary in these later
years. She was no worse; but her nights were wake-
ful and there were sometimes paroxysms of pain, and
Joel had decided that two nurses were necessary. He
could afford it, and he had liked the wide gesture with
which he told Jacqueline, “You’ve done enough, old
girl.” He had also taken on a cook and a housemaid;
and old Hannah, too rheumatic now for active service,
had retired to her pleasant cottage near the Cause-
way, and came every week to do the mending.
“T am sorry about the noise,” Jacqueline told Miss
Meeker; “I'll speak to Yolanda; she wouldn’t want
to disturb her mother.”
Miss Meeker shrugged her white linen shoulders
“Young people are thoughtless.”
That were thoughtless, Jacqueline had to admit that.
And she had to admit, too, that Yolanda’s pres-
ence in the house had not brought the rapturous re-
sults her aunt had anticipated. When Yolanda was at
school, her aunt had written: “It will be a wonderful
thing to have you here, darling. You can bring into
your father’s life all the youth and joy he has missed.”
And Yolanda had written back, “You pamper Dad too
much. Gracious Peter, Aunt Jack, men have it all their
own way anyhow. Let Dad find *his own joy. I’m no
ministering angel, but I’ll do my best.”
Miss Meeker had joined Jacqueline, and was look-
ing out over the harbor. “They’re coming now,” she
said; “isn’t that Stuart Carleton’s boat?”
It was a lovely boat with its great sails lifting it
lightly over the water. And presently there stood on the
pier a colorful crowd of young people, the late sun
shining full upon them.
Yolanda played up to
their admtration with a
regal air of remoteness
“They are all coming up here to supper,” Jacqueline
remarked.
“T hope they won’t wake Mrs. Hutchins.”
“TIl tell Yolanda,” Jacqueline said again.
She was at the door to meet them, and warned Yo-
landa, “Your mother is asleep.”
“But Aunt Jack, this isn’t Mother’s nap time.”
“She couldn’t sleep this morning.”
“Our noise? Oh, well, don’t worry. In a way she
loves it.”
Jacqueline knew that it was true. Mary delighted in
the break in her monotonous routine. Yolanda’s coming
and going, Yolanda’s clothes, Yolanda’s lovers! “It’s
a new world,” Mary would say to Jacqueline.
Miss Meeker felt that the excitement was not good
for Mary. Miss Ogden, the night nurse was not so sure.
Joel and Jacqueline with their instinct of protection
were inclined to agree with Miss Meeker. Yet it would
be marvelous, Jacqueline admitted, if Yolanda’s pres-
ence should bring about a happier state of affairs in
the sick-room.
“Ts supper ready?” Yolanda was asking; “were sim-
ply ravenous.” À
“Marta will bring it in at once.”
“Tell her to hurry a bit, won’t you? We're going to
have another sail by moonlight. It will be a heavenly
night on the water.”
Marta was the housemaid. It was the cook’s after-
noon off, but she had made the sandwiches and had left
them in the refrigerator, and there were cold lobster
and mayonnaise, and crisp round pilot wafers, and pale
dry ginger ale. And presently Jacqueline and Marta
were rushing back and forth with the sandwiches piled
high on silver plates, and the lobster pink and plentiful
on a willow-pattern platter, and with cubes of ice in
crystal bowls, and gold-sealed bottles on a lacquer tray.
All the while her aunt went rushing back and forth,
Yolanda danced with Stuart. Jacqueline, hot and tired
and in a sudden mood of rebellion, wondered why Yo-
landa was not rushing. But Yolanda never rushed. It
was not her technique to seem ever in a hurry. She took
even her pleasures languidly, and the contrast between
her vivid beauty and the effect of inertness seemed to
constitute a charm in the eyes of the young men who
followed after her.
The fact of Yolanda’s beauty was inescapable. There
had been the promise of it in earlier days, but now her
coloring was more positive—the blue and gold and
white of eyes and hair and skin. She was, indeed, Jac-
queline often told herself, the type of which Malory had
written and Chaucer. Had she let herself go, Yolanda
would have shown the buoyant spirits of those women
of an earlier age. But she did not let herself go, and the
result was, perhaps, even more provocative.
Ee. JACQUELINE the poise and self-confidence of her
niece seemed incredible. She herself had never been
like that. She had never had the sense of rightness of her
own point of view. She had simply muddled along try-
ing to do the best she could for everybody. Perhaps Yo-
landa’s way was better, to take all you could get and let
the rest go.
And that, too, had been Sue’s philosophy.
Poor Sue! She had come back three years ago with
her head in the air, and not once in all the years since
then had she spoken of Kit to Jacqueline. Yet the Gil-
mans knew that the engagement was broken and that
Jacqueline did not hear from Kit. Jacqueline felt they
rather pitied her. Why, she did not know, unless Paula
had given the impression that Kit had thrown Jacque-
line over for love of Sue, and that Sue had then refused
to marry him. [Turn to page 127]
26
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
She was now past seventeen and pretty enough with those eyes and lips of hers to be an enchantress
TTER SWEET
He coveted her blinding youth and piped the lover's
tune he knew so well. Could the lure of his gleaming
enchantment drown the memory of that
other love that blossomed on a strange
white night not long ago?
WEET fruit may grow from very
black and bitter soil: and from the
sorrowful ground of Rossiter’s fail-
ure, acid resignation and disgrace his
child grew up, straight, white and merry
as a young birch tree. When Rossiter had
served out his sentence he came to
live—or rather to hide, for all the man’s self-assurance
had left him and he had the heart of a hunted hare—
in the corner of what once had been his boastful Con-
necticut estate. Here in a wet, wooded hollow, stood a
farm-shanty which he had minded in his braggart days
to tear down and burn. Now, he drew into it his cowed
and crippled spirit and made it the roof of his despair.
Building and man had a wary, warped appearance curi-
ously in keeping. You would have fancied the creature
like other crustaceans in one piece with his shell.
By Katharine Newlin Burt
Illustrated hy WALTER EVERETT
Rossiter hired a dilapidated old woman to serve him
for little better and far less cheerful wages than a
song. Having no business to mind, the man made a
coil of small household matters and ran fast to miserli-
ness in his habits, as the devotee of detail is prone to
run. He would send little Sue to market until he found
her bashful in economy, largesse being the native and
showy gesture of her youth; so, not willing to be seen,
he forced old Hetty to hobble across a stile and two
broad, stony fields tri-weekly with a basket which might
have come back better filled for the
needs of two adults and a growing girl.
Sue economized, therefore, in growth,
kept light and not very tall, using the
scant fuel for pretty red blood and a
decorative strange shining of her eyes.
All about their wooded corner the land
had fallen into the hands of Rossiter’s chief creditor,
John Curtin, a man whom his dishonesty had all but
mortally injured, but who had outlived and outweathered
it and enriched himself fourfold thereafter, an accident
provocative of malice in a fallen man. In jail Rossiter
had learned the last letter of envy: it was the word for
which his eyes peered and which had shaped his lip.
Sue did not like to look at her father. At his table
she kept her eyes down, he counting her forkfuls and
grudging her a second helping, rarely ever speaking and
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
having forgotten the trick of a smile. They had no joy
in each other, not even a smothered natural loving.
Sue was in the more comfortable habit of taking
her, little lunch out into the woods. There -was the
happy place! It held a stream, a brook of. living water;
careless and wild and gentle as Susan Rossiter. It ran
clear and cold and in one spot she had cupped a spring,
dammed it up cleverly against the big roots of a fir
tree. Here she had her playground . . . she made her-
self tree house and ground house, being by turns,
squirrel and mouse. Later, she fashioned a charming
town of pebbles, bits of wood and clay.
BENG so ignorant, so lonely, and so childish, Sue, in
her ’teens, had made very little break with her baby-
hood. Her: town lacked a clock tower, she gravely dis-
covered, and was at work fashioning it, when, right
above her head, a bobolink gave voice.
She slid over to the spring, set her hands against its
bottom and, when the water stilled, she bent down to
drink. She paused to look at her own face lying there
in the water, all its shapes and colors very faintly
shaken. She had a fancy to drink with her lips against
the painted lips. But before the fatal.meeting of those
two soft lonely young mouths, Sue’s spring gave her a
thrilling shock of fear. The brown face of a faun rose
from the bottom, a queer, sly laughing face, showing a
glitter of teeth and golden eyes. Sue’s heart stood still.
The two faces lay in the embrace of her wet silver arms
while you might draw six breaths. Then stiffly she rose
to her knees and looked about and up.
At full sight of her the young fellow standing behind
her—his blue shirt open at the throat, waders and fish-
ing tackle explaining his intentions—lost his bold mis-
chief and fell into bashfulness. The gorgeous paint of
youth’s confusion blazoned his whole face and neck,
his eyes slid from her.
“Im sorry . . . I didn’t mean to scare you so. I
thought . . . your short skirt and your hair hanging
down... that you were a child . . . a little girl . .’.”
Sue was too wild for shyness. “Oh,” she said, “I am
not very grown-up.” She glanced at the tree house, the
wreckage of her town. She blushed and: smiled with a
quaint head-wagging, confiding, gay, ashamed. ‘You
can see for yourself how I play still when I’m alone.”
“You've built those yourself. Gosh! I didn’t know a
girl could. Nobody helped, you? That looks like an In-
dian wikiup. You’ve brought out your lunch, haven’t
you? I wish you'd let me stay and eat with you. I've got
two or three little brook trout here, a frying pan, a
coffee pot and some sliced bacon—lots for two. We can
build a fire. Will you? Or am I just... fresh? If you
say so, I'll go away. Are you still scared?”
She said carelessly, “I’m not a bit scared. It was your
face down there in the water that startled me. I hadn’t
heard a sound. It seemed to come up from the bottom.
Who are you, anyhow?”
“Im Roger Curtin, John Curtin’s son.” He jerked
his head up and back toward the hill which ran down
abruptly from the edge of his father’s property. “Who
are you?”
“Im Paul Rossiter’s daughter.”
It came from her with a soft slow pride. Paul him-
self had told her his story as caustically as an enemy,
giving her the facts of his crime and the world’s judg-
ment and adding neither self-justification, hope -nor
comfort. ‘Roger smiled quickly. He was not too young
to use the smile as a screen for startled recognition
What an ass he was to insult her, question her!
The boy’s eyes were angry now and kind.
27
“May I come and see you? I’m home for six months
and it’s darned lonely.”
“You may meet me here if you like, Roger; you
can’t come to the house.”
“Why not?”
“Because my father doesn’t like people.”
Roger whistled softly once. “Oh .. . I beg your par-
don. All right. I'll meet you here. What’s your name?”
“Sue.”
“Do you.come_out here often with your lunch?”
“Every clear day and most wet ones. I get into my
wikiup, you see. There’s room for two, if we make
ourselves small.”
“Let’s make ourselves small on rainy days, then,”
said Roger, amused.
Being hardly across the threshold of the nursery,
Sue and Roger, meeting in secret—for neither of them
was entirely sure of parental favor—feeling no dread
of public opinion as to their dignity, enjoyed, that
summer, a gorgeous second childhood. The brook’s
course, in fact, was no more reasonable and no less care-
free than the swift brawling and merry course of their
affection, until a day of exploration.
T WAS Sue’s desire to follow down their stream and
know its adventures. Before twilight they came out on
the widening water of Charles Derringer’s lake from
which the outlet slid through a narrow channel under
a bridge to plunge suddenly into the midst of dirty
brick factory buildings where it was tattered by wheels
and swept about into a dye-stained whirlpool. Sue from
the bridge looked down and longed to weep. She was
tired and the love she bore her swift-moving brook was
shocked at this dingy slavery it suffered. “I wish we’d
never come,” she said, hitting the name-scarred railing
“He'll marry Averil Wende.. .
that artist woman who paints pictures all over the place”
28
with her fist. “Why couldn’t they let my stream go
free? Look, Roger, all the miles it’s run to tumble
into an ugly trap like this.”
Roger, thoughtful, amused, and looking down into
the inky whirlpool, spoke loud above the grinding of
machinery which shook the planks under their feet,
“It'll run clear again, child.”
“Never clean again. Look at the filthy stuff they’ve
poured into it.”
She leaned far over to point. Roger plucked her back.
“Don’t lean over like that,” he said sharply; “you'll
fall. Come on home, we've miles to make and it’s
nearly dark now, I tell you.”
“Who owns that mill?’: she asked sullenly half a
silent hour later as they trudged a dusty, glimmering
road between high banks.
“Charles Derringer. He inherited it from his father `
who died a month ago. They say he’s being divorced
from his wife.”
“I don’t wonder. His wife couldn’t love a man who
lets that happen to my stream.” t
“Silly. He’s attractive, though pretty old... .
Thirty-five, I guess. He'll marry Averil Wende .. .
that artist woman who paints pictures all over the
place. You must have seen her, tall, big woman, lots
of color, ties scarfs round her head.”
Sue stopped and stared. “You mean,” she asked in
a shocked voice, “he’s chosen anothèr wife before this
one has let him go?”
Roger’s laugh shot out of him. “Yes, baby. That’s
been done before. In fact, it’s just his ‘choosing’ of the
Wende woman that made his wife want to chuck him
... I heard father talking about it. He knows them
all . . . wife, and Derringer, and Miss Wende.”
“How horrid: Derringer is just like his factory. He
makes everything black. I hate him.”
“You hate so easily, Sue,” said Roger half-sadly,
watching her as she flung herself along with her head
high; “some day you'll probably hate me.”
She stopped short, drew close to him, laid her hand
upon him and said in a grave voice and swift, “You
know I love you, Roger.”
Instantly like a
stranger into a familiar
room, came silence. All
the droning voices of
a summer night, in-
sects, the frogs’ croak-
ing, confused and
indeterminate stirrings,
became part of their
minds, to return on
other such summer
nights with the smell
of woods, of tangled
roadside flowers, ever-
living, ever-following
hounds of memory.
SUES hand fell from
the boy’s stiff arm.
They moved forward
with one consent and
presently Roger whis-
tled loud as a morning
bird and kept up a
shrill frenzy until she
left him. Fireflies
lighted him home and
little spark-like flashes
of emotion went as
silently, as meaningless
in and out of the
thundery August dark-
ness of his mind.
For Sue, after that
speech of hers there
followed a week of
bewildered pain, a con-
fused sense of un-
deserved neglect . . .
then at her breakfast
place she found a letter
It was an invita-
tion to Roger’s birth-
day dinner-dance and
the mere reading of it
turned her white with
excitement and fear.
She lifted her eyes to
her father and he i
leaned over and twitched the paper from her hand.
“Curtin’s son!” He crumpled the invitation savagely.
His eyes rested for a minute on his flushed and tremu-
lous little girl. Perhaps he saw her beauty and recognized
her growth because for an instant his lids were pried
apart by a sort of wonder. Then, “Don’t pay any at-
tention to it, Sue,” he said; “it must be a mistake.”
That tore the fabric of her dream, pride came up like
a spear into her heart. “Of course I won’t,” she said
rather loudly, and, for the first time, she felt pity for
that man and ran away to hide her tears.
Roger did not come, but there came the night of his
birthday celebration and with it such a serene full moon
as paints a young heart white and still and silver. It
tempted Sue. She could hear down in her hollow the
woeful sweet singing of violins . . . She stepped away
from her father’s house and went in her white thin gown
and her falling hair through the strange rustling woods
across the polished ebony of her brook to the very edge
of Curtin’s garden.
HE stole from shade to shade ... . louder music,
laughter—oh, what a terrifying brave noise that
was! A long French window opened and she saw that
Roger was out and alone in her lonely night. Had he
felt that she was there-among his flowers? He moved in a
vague seeking fashion and stood just above her at the
top of the first steps. Then he cried out: “Sue!” The
broad white moon showed what had come into his face.
A heart of gun-powder had been touched by the spark
of her unexpected presence. He flung hiinself down to
her but before he could take her, as he meant to, and
kiss her with all the force of his fiery impulse, she felt
an overwhelming fear, a delight that was very danger-
ous, and with an eérie little cry she ran. So they went
storming like white water down the terraces, the length
of the garden. Sue’s hair flying, her eyes turned iback-
ward like those of a nymph pursued, running with a
wild, light grace wonderful to see.
She made a turn, so that for a second she was out of
Roger’s sight and ran against what she fancied to be a
solid box-hedge until it enveloped her in ‘astonishing
hard arms and as she looked up with a leap of fear,
pressed upon her mouth a vehement, most amazing kiss.
When Roger came round the hedge, Sue stood back
where she had leapt, her eyes stretched wide, her two
hands, palms outward, laid against her lips.
“Mr. Derringer!” said Roger, loudly, sharply, with
the roughness of his jealousy.
$i
“You hate so easily, Sue. Some day you'll probably hate me”
“I’m sorry,” laughed the man, stepping away from
the wall, where he had been sitting. “Moonlight and
nymph running straight into my arms... I do apolo-
gize . . .” Then, in an aside—“Roger . . . you're the
loser. I stole your sweets . . . Who is she?”
Sue stepped back like some quaint apparition still
with her eyes on Charles and her hands against her
McCALL'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
mouth and was blotted out magically by the shadow
a her trees. They could just hear the rustling of her
ight.
Passion suddenly aroused and cut abruptly off from
affection just at the magic moment when they would
have joined hands in ecstasy . . . . Perhaps there is no
predicament so bewildering, so dangerous to the igno-
rance of girlhood. Sue did not close her eyes that strange
white night. She sat near her window under the eaves
while Charles Derringer’s kiss fulfilled its purposes.
There was some wildness in the girl; but it was shame
to her to know that she fiercely liked the eyes and lips
and arms that had stolen Roger’s “sweets.”
In the ground house next morning she found a letter,
weighted by a stone.
“My darling dearest Sue,
This is an awfully hard letter to write. If only you
hadn’t run away right after what happened, I could have
saved you a lot of useless misery and feeling ashamed, as
I know you do, being the girl you are .. . as if anything
I, or any other fool man, did, could really hurt the mind
and soul of you. Please forgive me. I’d cut out my heart
to save you from looking again the way you looked last
night when you ran away. Sue .. . I do love you. I stayed
away as long as I could because I never felt such a queer
strong heady feeling and I was afraid of what I might do
and say, though I didn’t then know just what it would be.
After being so careful, how could I have behaved like such
a sudden passionate devil to you? It was all my fault—
what happened.. Sue, darling, somehow, I will make it all
right . . . . If only I could marry you!
Roger.”
Sue sat in the ground house for hours with the letter
in her lap. Then she crumpled it up tight in her hand
and went back to the house, upstairs to her room. She
would try to answer Roger’s letter. He had become
strange and a little unreal to her but that would pass,
because she loved him. The letter dropped out of her
hand on the stairs and when she got to her table she
missed it but wouldn't stop to go back for it until she
had written what was
in her mind.
Downstairs in the
hall her father picked
up and read the crum-
pled letter.
From under minds
dark, mean and secret,
turned over by a chance
discovery, run little
scuttling, many-leg-
ged thoughts to find
some darker shelter.
Envy of Curtin, hatred
of his son, suspicion
of this unguessed inti-
macy, a swift desire to
avenge himself on fate,
to be at once rid of a
troubling daughter and
an instrument of her
good fortune, to pull
down Curtin’s pride
and make the boy who
dared to hurt and
frighten his girl, pay
and pay and pay...
He put on his hat and
went up to the house
of his neighbor.
(OGER’S father, hav-
ing read the letter,
sat still, a little bent
forward and deeply
flushed. He had the
worldly-wise man’s
wariness of vipers. Lit-
tle Paul Rossiter was
dangerous; had always
carried poison in his
hood; hadall but
ruined him before. It
wouldn’t be hard, and
m ost astonishingly
pleasant, to break up
the man’s dirty little
wriggling body, but
that wouldnt save
Roger from disastrous disgrace, even if—if—What was
this girl like, anyway? They had been meeting, the two;
Roger had been making love. The secrecy in itself was
damning’. . .
“Tl see Roger today. I'll let you know the result
of my conversation with him, Rossiter. There’s nothing
in this letter to convict either of [Turn to page 124]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
“DIU never see him again—the man
I love better than the whole world’
S JOSEPHINE told her story, simply, without
A resentment, it was to him as though she had told
him in detail every squalid incident of her entire
childhood. It cast a pallid flare over everything, illu-
mined every abyss.
The pulse in her temple was beating against his palm,
heavily but regularly. Her face no longer quivered; only
the soft motion of her lips in recital brushed his sup-
porting hand.
When she had ended, he told her quietly that she was
absolutely guiltless—and innocent; besides, that since
her father had come to her rescue against Holden, and
since he obviously had not stopped even to lay a hand
upon her as she lay in bed, how could the episode be
used against her? It only served to show against what
tremendous odds she had fought—and won!
Into the dark, cool air there came a breath of lilacs
and the faint taste of sea-salt from an unseen ocean.
Seafield was standing on his hill-top, searching the
night with troubled gaze that had better been directed
to inward search. He presently came back to her and
stood beside her silently. She looked up, dumbly await-
ing criticism of some kind.
He said, trying to knot his tie in the dark: “Concern-
ing you and me, only the plain truth is going to clear
the air. I’m nearly forty; you are nineteen; I’m married
—as far as the legal aspect of the affair is concerned.
And the reason I am still married is that I have been
blackmailed ever since my wedding day. You see I know
what blackmail is. Nobody ever will understand why I
remain married. I never before have said this much to
a living soul—that the case is utterly hopeless until
death intervenes and adjusts the matter.
“What you’ve said to me had this effect—that is has
had no effect whatever on my affection for you, unless,
indeed, your candor and courage in discussing openly
anything that might be misinterpreted to me as a short-
coming in you have stirred in me a deeper feeling. Be-
tween you and me it remains as it was. I want it to
remain so. Do you?”
She nodded.
After a moment he extended his hands and helped
her to rise. His coat was damp. He shook it out and she
fluffed out her filmy skirts.
29
FTH HORSEMAN
chy Robert W (hambers
Ilustrated hy HUBERT MATHIEU
Together they descended the hill. As they crossed the
lawn they could see the orange-tinted Chinese lanterns
festooned around the pool, hear voices and splashing,
Tony’s laughter, the mirth-sharpened treble of Florrie.
Seafield had no desire for sleep. Josephine also dis-
claimed any. She drifted over to the piano, tinkled a
little, rose and drifted toward him, where he was seated
on the window ledge.
“T feel a thousand years younger,” she said, seating
herself in the opposite corner.
He smiled: “Vacuum cleaning renovates the soul’s
abode. Mine needs it too, but it can’t be done; although
that sly beast, Age, is already in the house.”
“To me,” she said, “you are no more than my own
age—except in mind.”
“That’s odd.”
“Ts it? Why?”
“Yes, it is, Josephine, because you always call me
Mr. Seafield. You wouldn’t unless you revered my age.”
He laughed, but she turned troubled and shy, sitting
there with lowered head.
“What should I call you?” she ventured, lifting her
eyes.
“Do you know my name?”
“Stede.”
“Does it come easily to you?”
“Yes. I’ve wanted to.”
“Ts that all you’ve wanted of me?”
Not comprehending, she hesitated, then lost color.
After a moment’s silence he slid to the floor and came
over to her. It was a flower-like face he kissed, but a
flushed one when her hands tightened on the lapels of
the dinner jacket; clung convulsively.
.When their lips parted she put her arms around his
neck and sat so, gazing into his face with a sort of
virginal curiosity. All her real ignorance of men was in
her eyes—the curiosity of the novice, naive speculation,
the candor of a mind immaculate.
Toward the end of July, Lester began to cast his
people for The Fifth Horseman.
Already the play had been ripped to pieces, reassem-
bled, a, new third act written.
NE hot afternoon, about three o’clock, Seafield came
out of the Chelsea Theater, got into a taxi and
drove to the Charter Club for a late lunch. But he was
too tired to bother with more than tea and toast—
scarcely tasted that and was leaving the club when
Delancy Brook’s coupé pulled up and Brook hailed him,
asking him which way he was bound.
“Back to the theater,” replied Seafield.
“Are you rehearsing?”
“Trying to.”
“You look tired. Step in.”
The chauffeur jumped out and opened the coupé
door; Seafield entered.
“Chelsea Theater,” said Brook to the man. And, to
Seafield: “You look very tired, Stede. You ought to go
to the country.”
“Tm going.”
“Where?”
“To Brook Hollow.”
“Oh,” shrugged Brook, who understood what that
pilgrimage meant—an hour in the cemetery, ten minutes
at the mill, and the afternoon train back.
“How does the play look to you?” he inquired.
“Like the deuce.”
“To Lester, also?”
“T believe he has faith in it.”
There was a pause. Then Brook said in a low voice,
“You can’t afford to have this play go wrong.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” returned Seafield,
forcing a smile.
“Tt will go wrong if your mind is pre-occupied with
trouble.” Brook laid a friendly hand on Seafield’s arm
as the latter remained silent. [Turn to page 30]
30
[Continued from page 29] Brook’s placid face became
slightly pink. He looked hard at Seafield, hesitated; then
for the first time in their long intimacy, he meddled with
his friend’s personal business. He said, deliberately:
“Up to this moment, Stede, your marital mistake has
ruined your career. I’ve had to stand by and look on
without a word. I can’t hold my tongue any longer.
What is Mrs. Seafield to you?”
“Nothing,” said Seafield, reddening.
“Then divorce her.”
“T can’t.”
“You mean that she'll fight pro-
ceedings?”
“She will.”
“In heaven’s name, why?”
“She wants her allowance.”
“But,” said Brook impatiently, “you
can win out. You have every ground—”
“Yes, every ground and then some.
No; I can’t face it; I never shall. For,
if I could bring myself to face it, never
again could I go into the Brook Hol-
low cemetery. I will not subject the
names of my dead father and mother
to infamy. I’ve never told this to a
living soul, Brook, but you see my only
brother is also involved. One least
rumor of fact—one breath of truth—
and nobody would ever forget the
name of Seafield. To me it would mean
destruction.”
There was nothing more to say on
the subject.
“Im sorry,” muttered Brook, “—
meant it in proper spitit—friendship
of years.”
“I know. Thanks. Kind of you, old
fellow. But it can’t be done.”
AST later the coupé stopped
before the Chelsea Theater.
“Thanks so much,” said Seafield.
“Will you come in?”
“No, I’m going on out to Long
Island. Come out Sunday, Stede—so
long!”
At the stage door Seafield was
handed a strip of paper. On it was writ-
ten: “Please call up your residence.”
It was signed, “Annie Cassidy.”
Seafield stepped into the wings and
caught Lester’s eye. “May I use your
private wire, Ed? I'll be back in a few
seconds.”
“Certainly. But don’t chew on it.
We're waiting.”
With a pleasant nod to the young
man in the box office, he opened the
door that led through it into Lester’s
private office beyond.
Here on the desk, he found the
telephone and called his house number.
Annie Cassidy answered.
“What’s the matter, Annie?” he in-
quired.
“Ts it yourself, Mr. Seafield, sir?”
“No other. What’s up?”
Annie’s voice was indignant. “Two
women, sir, called at two o’clock. And
when I sez to them, ‘the master’s out,’
the two o’ them sat down on me—”
“On you!”
“On the hall seat, sir. And there
they sit and look at me like a pair o
back-fence cats—”
“Two ladies to see you,” he said.
He turned and walked back to the box office, the
young man following.
Two women were standing near, conversing in whis-
pers. They looked at him in stealthy silence. He paid
them no attention, but went on through the box office
into Lester’s private room.
“Send them in here, Harry,” he said to the young man.
“Tf I ring, don’t answer; just call up Mulberry Street
and report that I’m in trouble.”
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Seafield remained mute, looking at the two women.
Cleo continued to smile. Mrs. Weems went on: “I
guess you remember how you signed the register.”
“And we have your supper check and breakfast
check,” added Cleo.
A silence, then Hattie: “I guess,” she said, “you don’t
want Brook Hollow should hear how a rich mill owner
carries on with one of his mill hands. It would make an
awful scandal.”
Seafield’s gaze seemed so remote that Cleo became a
little disconcerted and whispered to
Mrs. Weems: “He’s a fly guy, Hattie.
You wanta watch him good.”
“T got his number. He’s figurin’ in
Cape Cod Cottage
By ELSPETH
Decoration by Thomas Fogarty
Here is the windy bill, all yellowed over
With goldenrod and other weeds as bright;
The rutty road where wild birds run to cover
Their wings half-lifted, hastening their flight;
Here is the sky, as fragile as blue glass is;
And clouds like white-caps on a frothy sea.
Tawny and high the thickly-flowered grass is,
Oh, but the wind is delicate and free!
Here is the house, too, huddled on the hilly
Slope to the ocean, tumbling to the wild,
As if it cried, “TU get there, willy-nilly’;
Impatient and determined as a child.
Beauty and happiness upon a sunny slope;
Beneath a slanting roof, a sheltered hope.
minimums. Wait till I hand him an-
other,” whispered Hattie. And aloud:
“You better be a good fella and talk
vo us, Mr. Seafield,” she said.
He glanced at her, absently. “What
about?”
Cleo, reassured, laughed. “Jack, of
course,” she said mirthfully.
“Money?”
“Thats Jack’s middle name, I
guess,” returned Cleo, still laughing.
He said, bored. “There’s a dicta-
phone in this room—for your informa-
tion.”
Hattie’s eyes blazed and she stood
up: “Lay off that stuff!” she said ven-
omously. “We know where you get off.
And you're there, Mr. Seafield.”
He laid his hand on the push button:
“Perhaps,” he said, “you'd better tell
your troubles to the police—”
“You won't call the police!”
torted Hattie.
He looked at her curiously, his finger
hovering over the button.
She laughed at him: “You want us
to spill it out to your wife?”
“No use. We’ve been separated for
nineteen years.”
“Yeah? Why?” leered Hattie.
The shock of it turned his face a
grayish hue. He looked blindly into
approaching destruction—saw it im-
pending in the woman’s leering eyes;
thought of killing her—and saw, in-
stantly, she had interpreted the thought
and was frightened.
“Yes,” he said in a low voice, “that’s
it. That’s the one thing you can’t get
away with. You know, now. And no
matter where you go, or how long it
takes, I'll follow you and find you.
And that is what will happen to you.
Because I shall have nothing more to
lose.”
Suddenly Hattie’s nerve gave way:
“What about the electric chair!” she
screamed.
Seafield rose; the two women became
dumb with terror and shrank away.
But he merely opened the door.
“Harry,” he said pleasantly, “kindly
show these people out.”
Te-
JESTER, breakfasting at the Strat-
ford Club, cast oblique and somber
glances at Tony Speedwith, who was
limiting his refreshment to one bran
biscuit, washed down with orange juice.
“Some party, Ed,” he repeated dole-
fully. “Such a headache!”
“Are they there yet?”
“They are—the two o’ them—”
“What do they want?”
“To see you, sir—the bold things—”
“What are their names?”
“I have their cards—one minute—Miss Cleo Avery
. . . Mrs. Hattie Weems—And no address.”
Seafield hesitated; then, grimly: “I’m rehearsing at
the Chelsea Theater. Send them down to the box office.”
Coming out, he said to the young man in the box
office: “IIl be out front, or on the stage, if anybody
inquires, Harry.” And he continued on into the dark
body of the house.
“All right, Ed,” he called, as he descended the inclined
aisle, toward the orchestra pit.
“Everybody!” shouted the stage director.
All chatter and furtive skylarking ceased in the wings;
figures detached themselves from luminous shadows
along the fire-wall, and came forward or faded into the
deeper shadow.
For a half hour the grilling rehearsal continued.
Out front the young man from the box office leaned
over Seafield.
He seated himself at the desk; adjusted a concealed
switch. The dictaphone was ready.
They came in; looked at Seafield furtively. The door
closed behind them. As Seafield said nothing, they seated
themselves.
It was evident that his silence was making them un-
easy. Mrs. Weems spoke first, naming herself and her
companion with a certain covert defiance in her voice.
He merely inspected them.
The sound of her own voice, however, encouraged
Hattie Weems. She said, more boldly: “I and Miss
Avery don’t want to make no trouble for you and Josie
Moreland, Mr. Seafield.”
“That’s why we came to see you private,” added Cleo
Avery with an ingratiating smile. “You don’t want any
publicity.”
They waited. No reply. Then Hattie said: “I and
Miss Avery was to Weather-Vane Inn again.”
“Shut up, old fellow!” interrupted
Lester, wrathfully. “Do you think it
will buck me up to hear about your
morning-after miseries? And Seafield,
too, with a face like death, and sure-
fire sob-stuff from Clarel if I dare call her down! And
the rehearsals getting worse every day. I’ve my own
troubles; shut up about yours.”
Tony buttered his muffin. “What’s Seafield so deathly
about?” he inquired.
“Probably that perennial domestic mess of his. I don’t
know.”
“Did you ever hear that Seafield had a brother?” in-
quired Tony, curiously.
“Where did you-hear of him?” returned Lester,
startled.
“In the morning paper—”
“What!”
“He’s dead. The paper said: ‘Suddenly—Donald Sea-
field, elder son of the late Alexander and Elspeth Cam-
eron Seafield, of Brook Hollow, New York. Aged
forty-seven’.”
“When?” demanded Lester. [Turn to page 118]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
15 VEGETABLES IN
CAMPBELL’S VEGETABLE SOUP
a
21 choices fo ihal onchor dish
so needed with cold summer meals!
Your choice . . . Order any of these
Campbell’s Soups from your grocer
Asparagus Mock Turtle
Bean Mulligatawny 4
Beef Mutton {
Bouillon Ox Tail
Celery Pea
Chicken Pepper Pot
Chicken-Gumbo Printanier
(Okra) Tomato
Clam Chowder Vegetable
Consommé Vegetable-Beef
Julienne Vermicelli-Tomato
Look FOR THE
RED-AND-WHITE LABEL
“I want a meal! I want a meal!”
My tummy seems to cry.
“You'll have your meal
And one that’s real,
In Campbell’s,” I reply.
A hot dish with the cold meal is clear soups; soups just right for D
splendidly wholesome. Soup is the the children’s diet. So convenient
VEGETABLE i ideal choice — so invigorating, so in summer! And Campbell’s
O) U beneficial to digestion. Campbell’s Vegetable Soup is one of the
hca aeii ay offer you 21 selections—already greatest favorites because it’s a
CAMDEN, Nid USA cooked. Meat soups; strictly meal in itself—on your table in
vegetable soups; hearty soups; next to no time. 12 cents a can,
McCALIYS MAGAZINE JULY 1930
p, memories that bles and burn...
Sometimes, when lights are low, they come back to comfort and at the same
time sadden her--those memories of long ago, when she was a slip of a girl in
love with a dark-eyed Nashville boy. They were the happiest moments of her
life—those days of courtship. Though she had never married, no one could take
from her the knowledge that she had been loved passionately, devotedly; those
frayed and yellowed letters of his still told her so. How happy and ambitious
they had been for their future together. And then, like a stab, came their part-
ing . . . the broken engagement . . . the sorrow and the shock of it. She could
find no explanation for it then, and now, in the soft twilight of life when she
can think calmly, it is still a mystery to her.
Ate you sure about yourself?
How often some trivial gesture, habit or fault al-
ters thecourse ofhuman affairs. Onevery side you
hear of engagements broken for trifling causes.
Of marriages that ride into the divorce court on
the strange complaint ‘‘incompatibility.”’
Ifyouhave evercome face to face witharealcase
of halitosis (unpleasant breath) you can under-
stand how it might well be an obstacle to pleas-
ant business, professional, and social relations.
The insidious thing about halitosis is that
you never know when you have it. It does not
announce itself to the victim. Important to re-
member also, is the fact that few people escape
it entirely. Thrt is because every day ia any
normal mouth, conditions capable of causing
halitosis are likely to arise.
Common causes are: Stomach derangements
due to excesses of eating or drinking, fermenting
food particles in the mouth, defective or decay-
ing teeth, pyorrhea, catarrh, and infections of
the nose, mouth or throat.
The pleasant way to put your breath beyond
LISTERINE
ends halitosis
suspicion, is torinse the mouth with full strength
Listerine, the safe antiseptic. Every morning.
Every night. And between times before meeting
others.
Being antiseptic, Listerine checks food fermen-
tation. Being also a remarkable germicide,* it
attacks infection from which odors spring
Finally, being a deodorant, it destroys the odors
themselves, leaving both mouth and breath fresh,
sweet, and clean. Lambert Pharmacal Company,
St. Louis, Mo., U.S. A.
*Though safe to use in any body cavity, full strength Listerine
kills even the resistant Staphylococcus Aureus (pus) and Bac:!!us
Typhosus (typhoid) germs in counts ranging to 200,000,000
in 15 seconds, (Fastest time science has accurately recorded.)
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
33
Golden-brown chicken waiting for the carving knife, crisp salad, fresh fruit, and a fluffy coconut cake—of course the picnic will be a success
CNIC MEALS
HESE are the days when someone is sure to sug-
gest, “Let’s have a picnic! Let’s take the car—
and lots of good things to eat—and spend the day
outdoors.”
Often an impromptu picnic is more fun than one
which has been planned days in advance. So let me urge
you to have an Emergency Picnic-Shelf during the
motoring season, and to keep it well-stocked with canned
foods, bettled drinks, packaged cheese, crackers, cookies,
relishes, nuts, and dried fruits.
Every picnic should be a holiday for the whole family.
There must be plenty of wholesome food to satisfy
out of door appetites, but let everybody share in the
work of preparing it. Older children—and guests of
all ages—really like to make and wrap sandwiches, and
if the meal is cooked over a camp fire, there is usually
one man at least who delights in proving his ability
as a cook.
Your picnic equipment can be as elaborate or as
simple as you wish. The seasoned motorist will fare
forth with a frying pan, coffee pot, and camp stove;
the affluent motorist will have one of the sumptuously
fitted hampers with extra storage containers for hot
and cold food; but you and I
may decide to make our own ham-
per out of a cheap suit case, which
we'll divide into compartments
with stift cardboard. By tacking
tape on the sides and cover, we
shall have a place for holding
plates, cups and saucers, knives,
forks, and spoons. A tightly-
covered pail, half filled with
chopped ice, will keep salads, des-
serts, and drinks cold until we’re
ready to serve them.
When you have a child in the
party too small to eat the regular
meal, give him a basket or box of
his own—and let him carry it
himself. Fill it with a small bottle
of orange juice; dainty sandwiches
made of jelly, cream cheese, let-
tuce or watercress; dates or figs;
cookies; fruit; and milk in a
vacuum container.
Picnic meals should be simple,
and they should include plenty of
fresh fruit, and a crisp green veg-
etable—lettuce, celery, scallions,
radishes, cucumbers, or cabbage.
In the next column I am suggest-
ing menus for two kinds of
picnics; the first is for a pack-
and-carry luncheon; the second
for a camp fire meal. These menus,
and the recipes which follow,
were planned to do away with
a lot of “beforehand” work.
By SARAH FIELD SPLINT
Director, McCall’s Department of
Foodssand Household Management
(1)
Whole Roast Chicken
Buttered Rolls Strawberry Jam
Fruit or Vegetable Salad
Coconut Cake*
Coffee Ginger Ale
(2)
Tomato Savory*
Hashed Brown Potatoes
Buttered Finger Rolls
Chocolate Squares*
Coffee
Pickles
Fresh Fruit
Dill Pickles
Lettuce Sandwiches
Watermelon
There’s conventent equipment for every kind of picnic—and every size income
Open Sandwich Roll
% doz, finger rolls 3 hard cooked eggs, chopped
1 cup cooked ham, ground 14 cup chopped pickle
1 small green pepper Mayonnaise
Split finger rolls in halves lengthwise. Spread with
softened butter. Mix ham, eggs, chopped pepper and
pickle together. Moisten with mayonnaise and season
more, if necessary. Spread the ham mixture on the
halves and garnish with slices of stuffed olives. Wrap
each half separately in waxed paper.
Stuffed Eggs
Put eggs into boiling water and keep hot for 20 min-
utes. Cool. Remove shells and cut in halves lengthwise.
Remove the yolks and mash with a fork. Moisten with
mayonnaise dressing and mix to a smooth paste. Sea-
son to taste. Fill egg whites with this mixture and
sprinkle with paprika.
For variety, add to the egg yolk mixture finely-chopped
celery, parsley, watercress or cooked spinach; sardine,
lobster, or anchovy paste; or deviled ham, tongue or
chicken,
Tomato Savory
1 large onion, chopped
2 tablespoons fat
1 can kidney beans
1 can tomatoes
1 can corned beef
Brown onion in the fat and add
kidney beans and tomatoes. Bring
to boiling point and simmer for
5 minutes. Add corned beef and
heat thoroughly. Season to taste
with salt, pepper and a very little
sugar. ’
Chocolate Squares
2 squares (oz.) unsweetened
chocolate
% cup shortening
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
% cup flour
1 cup walnuts, chopped
% teaspoon vanilla
Few grains salt
Cut chocolate in small pieces
and melt over hot water. Cream
shortening and sugar together and
add chocolate. Add well-beaten
eggs and beat thoroughly. Add
flour, vanilla, nuts, and salt and
mix well. Pour into a greased
square cake pan. Bake in a mod-
erate oven (350° F.) 30 minutes.
Turn out of pan and cut in squares
while hot. [Turn to page 113]
34
“During the ten years that preceded
enactment of the Prohibition law,” Miss
Gildersleeve said, “there was a very no-
ticeable decrease in drinking. But now
alas, much of the good work has been un-
done. It has become the fashion to break the law for
diversion. Many people are now consuming the strong
liquors that bootleggers can sell most easily and profit-
ably, and these are often peculiarly poisonous and
deadly varieties.
“What we need,” Dean Gildersleeve declared, “is
something corrective at
“once,” and then she put
herself on record as favor-
ing a change in the law
which would permit the
various states to set up their
own systems for regulation
of the liquor traffic.
VEN so staunch a be-
liever in Prohibition as
Miss Jane Addams, the well-
loved director of Hull
House, Chicago, admits
that laxity of enforcement
presents serious problems.
“During the first two
years of Prohibition,” Miss
Addams writes, “we were all
elated by the marked de-
crease in drunkenness and
disorderly conduct. Then we
began to observe the social
changes due to lax enforce-
ment. Certain families in
the neighborhood became
suddenly prosperous and we
knew that they were manu-
facturing liquor in a small
way. One mother, I remem-
ber, was brought into court
on a ‘contributing to de-
linquency’ charge because
she was using her home as
a bootlegging center.
“Before long there were
many stills in the neighbor-
hood, and gangs of rival
bootleggers. There was a
ring of hijackers, or hold-up
men who preyed on the
bootleggers. The police offi-
cials gave protection to the
gang that made it most
worth their while. This pro-
tection of the lawbreaker by
officers of the law produced
great cynicism among the
immigrants who say quite
openly, ‘you can do any-
thing in America if you pay
for it.’
“These are some of the
unfortunate results of Pro-
hibition. But we must set
over against them the bene-
fits. In former days Chicago
was infested with dance
halls where drink was sold
lavishly, and immorality
among young boys and girls
was deliberately encouraged.
Since Prohibition these
drinking-dance halls have
been done away with.
“The saloons, too, are a
thing of the past. In the
old days you could count
four hundred saloons in one
square mile on our side of
the city. It is difficult to say
to what extent the passing
of the saloon has increased Aree
prosperity, because we have had general prosperity since
the war. But certainly since 1919 the usual family has
received the envelope of wages more nearly full than
under the old treating system.
“There are fewer homes, too, that are shattered by
drunkenness. Fewer cases like that of a charming
woman of my acquaintance, who with her three chil-
dren led a dog’s life because her husband would regu-
larly desert her, and then when he came home after a
prolonged absence would sell the household goods and
clothing. So long as he remained at home the family
was reduced to absolute poverty and terror.”
Summing up the problem, Miss Addams believes that
“to give up now, or even to modify seriously the 18th
THEY CALLED HER
Margaret Bell Houston, granddaughter
of General Sam Houston—gallant South-
ern statesman—has written especially for
McCall’s a dramatic modern novel of the
old French quarter of New Orleans, the
picturesque Vieux Carré,.where racketeers
PROHIBITION
[Continued from page 17]
Amendment, would be to obtain not even a negative re-
sult, and would mean that we never could be clear as
to the real effect of national Prohibition.”
Leaving aside for a moment the question of the wel-
fare of society as a whole, I wrote Miss Zona Gale,
whose novels show such a keen insight into her psy-
McCALL’'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
of competition, usage of drugs, alcohol-
ism. At first disease was thought to be
sent by the Lord, but gradually the well
tried to heal the sick. At first war was re-
garded as inevitable, but Geneva councils,
a Kellogg pact, and a London conference, seek a way to
solve social difficulties by other means than by physical
wounds and bloodshed. Recklessness and theft and
physical struggles, once well within the province of pri-
vate initiative, are now for police control. Drugs are un-
der social ban, though certain nations still traffic in
them. Alcoholism, with its
train of crime and misery,
society is now seeking to
This mysterious veiled beauty of New Orleans
Haunting this
MOON OF DELIGHT
begins in the
AUGUST McCALL’S
chology of men and women, to ask her what she thought
of the effect of Prohibition on the individual. And this
was her answer:
“T believe that human beings are engaged upon the
adventure of growth .. . For the growth of the body
we know approximately the means, as rest, exercise, fresh
air, freedom from toxins. For the development of mind,
we are beginning to know certain means as good will,
education, poise, and the protection of the mind from
toxins such as those caused by anger, hunger, fatigue,
fear, drugs. For the growth of spirit we divine a little
of the function of love.
“There arise preventable obstacles to growth, such
as disease, war and other fury, robbery, certain forms
THE BLACK OPAL
and underworld princes mingle with the
glittering society of St. Charles Avenue.
colorful
glamour and intrigue is the most enchant-
ing heroine of recent fiction — Juanita
Basara—The Black Opal, whose romance
eliminate.
“Always the first efforts
at elimination are futile.
Peace congresses fail, the
germ theory is ridiculed, a
codification of law requires
years of patient struggle. So
now laws seeking to elimi-
nate alcoholism cannot be
enforced. It is said that such
laws limit liberty. But a
number of other steps in
social control have been in-
fringements on what had
previously been regarded as
human liberty. Quarantine,
laws against lynching, taxa-
tion, traffic rules, compulsory
education, are all infringe-
ments of liberty. Yet slow-
ly, for the growth of soci-
ety, these infringements
have been made.
“Alcoholism will go, too.
Prohibition is the first ges-
ture against it.”
ISS KATHARINE
CORNELL, the ac-
tress, is no less of an ideal-
ist than Miss Gale, and yet
she believes that prohibi-
tions which infringe upon
men’s and women’s per-
sonal lives, weaken rather
than strengthen their minds
and spirits.
“T suppose that I most
resent Prohibition,” she said
as her lovely dark eyes
gazed far away into her
mirror, “because of the
things it is doing to women.
I remember that when I
came out in Buffalo not
long before Prohibition, a
society girl who got ‘tight’
would have been black-
balled ina minute. We were
served a little wine at par-
ties and that was all. Now-
adays, since it is the
fashion to drink a great deal,
women of all ages are not
ashamed to lose control of
themselves, and of the situ-
ation, at the most select
gatherings. And this is truc
of other cities as well as of
New York. Last year when
we were putting on The Age
of Innocence in a city in the
middle west, I was invited
to an elaborate afternoon
tea, and when I got there,
there was no tea to be had!
Only quarts and quarts of
cocktails. Naturally I
couldn’t take anything to
drink a few hours before I
was to appear on the stage.
“People have the impression,” Miss Cornell smjled
ruefully, “that actors do a great deal of drinking. As a
matter of fact we are a very temperate lot, because our
work makes stern demands upon us. The stage people I
know who drink excessively have, I believe, been path-
ological cases. They are afflicted with a definite physical
craving, which is a problem for medical science, not the
law, to cure.”
No symposium of feminine opinion on a great na-
tional issue would be complete without the inclusion of
Mrs. Carrie Chapman Catt, the generalissimo who led
the suffrage hosts to victory. Today as she looks back
over many years in public life she [Turn to page 80]
pageant of
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Dorotuy Dix Aye
HY is it so many girls think romance
must wait for just the right moment?
That moonlight, music, atmosphere are es-
sential?
Romance is everywhere—afternoons at the
beach, hiking in the country—simple picnics
—all have their opportunities.
But you must always look dainty, color-
ful, attractive—your charming best!
You should know above all the signifi-
cance of color in clothes. For you needn't
wear expensive things if you know this secret.
Men respond quickly to color—as the old
saying goes, “‘It’s color that takes a man’s
eye.” Even on a picnic, where old clothes
ate called for, avoid faded blouses, color-
dimmed prints. For loss of color in a gar-
—too often take the loveliness from colors.
If that is the case, you have probably been
using the wrong soap.
Ordinary ‘‘good”’ soaps are sometimes not
good enough—and some of the color goes with
the dirt. To play absolutely safe, use Lux,
which is made to safeguard colors. Lux has a
slogan... “if it’s safe in water, it’s safe in
Lux.” And that’s true.
a LOVE as AT HOME, TOO, let the charm of color
ve Little .
seri ite pa add glamour to you. Even the simplest home
will “catch his eye” j
if kept fresh and gay
and colorful!
ment means a corresponding loss of allure.
Therefore, let me give you two simple hints:
FIRST: In even your simplest frocks, choose
pretty, becoming colors.
THEN: Guard colors from even slight fading.
When I say this, girls often reply that fre-
quent washings— which daintiness demands
35
Even Picnics have their opportunities—and simple frocks their charm
makes a lovely frame to your dainty, fem-
inine self, if everything—from the cushions on
the porch swing to the curtains in the living
room—is kept colorful as new with Lux. Re-
member, men love color.
Dorotny Dix
THE SECRET OF CLOTHES APPEAL
Sample washed 12 times with
ordinary “good” soap—un-
deniably faded. Not actually
ruined, yet color allure gone.
Sample after 12 Lux washings
—unfaded, live, vibrant as
when it was bought, all the
magnetism of color is retained.
if it’s safe in water
... 2S safe in LUX?
36
Spicy flavor
“CREAMED” in
O your sandwiches suggest the
dinner-pail? Or are they at home
in candlelight, on speed boats, in
cars that dash to picnics?
Make them what you will—hum-
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while they nourish. It’s a matter of
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Easy when you use French’s Pre-
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their aristocratic arrogance, the way
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FRENCH’S
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it’s “creamed
FREE: Mail this coupon for this
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Name...
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
He would come over to work with me until all the unfinished jobs were neatly completed
MY HUSBAND
BACKED MY CAREER
By a Business Woman
HALL a woman marry
S or have a career? Who
debates this question ,
any more? For a number of years
now, thousands of women have been
marrying and having careers, quite as
a matter of course. The only questions
that anybody is interested in nowa-
days are how these working wives
manage their feat of “eating their
cake and having it,” and with what
measure of success.
At the time I married the man who
is now my husband, I had just em-
barked upon the exciting adventure of
launching a business of my own. I
was paying myself, out of the profits
of the business, a smaller salary than
I had earned since I was a scared
young beginner, and I was prepared
to keep on with this policy for some
time to come. My husband, on the
other hand, was earning a comfortable
income, more than adequate to pro-
vide for us both. The matter of eco-
nomic necessity, which is so often the
determining factor in these situations,
did not, therefore, enter into ours.
Fortunately I had had the luck to
fall in love with a man who had no
traditional prejudices within himself
to battle against. And he was able to
listen calmly, reasonably and sympa-
thetically to the presentation of my
case for staying with the enterprise
into which I had poured so much
youthful energy and enthusiasm. Reso-
lutely, I made him feel the worst.
ARE you sure,” I asked him, “that
you will enjoy for a constant com-
panion and a wife, a commercially-
minded person who thinks in terms of
sales quotas, financial statements,
dealer coöperation, consumer accept-
ance, trade-mark consciousness, and
the moving of merchandise?”
“You must remember,” he replied,
“that I was brought up by a mother
who is, in a sense, a business woman.
She is still earning her living as a
writer because she loves it. I am pre-
pared, therefore, to admire and love
a business wife just as I have always
loved and admired a business mother.”
“But,” I countered, “I have always
understood that the successful business
man of today feels that he needs a
wife who is a social asset, a woman
who will dress herself up to reflect his
success, entertain his friends and gen-
erally add to his prestige in ways that
would be out of the question for a
woman at the head of a rapidly grow-
ing young business.”
“You seem to have overlooked the
fact,” he came back at me, “that I
have had ample chance to decide just
how much it would mean to me to be
socially promoted.”
“But what about all those charming
little services that it is a wife’s joy to
perform for her husband,
and that husbands are
said to prize so highly,
—all that pressing of
ties, tidying up of bu-
reau drawers, brushing
of clothes, darning of
socks, sewing on of but-
tons? No chance
for any of these
marks of devo-
tion from the
wife who has a
business on her
hands!”
“People can
be hired to do
all these things,”
was all the an-
swer he made to
that.
I went on to
warn him that when he came home
after a hard day. at the office he was
likely to find a dark and empty apart-
ment—no lights turned on, no appetiz-
ing aroma emanating from the kitchen,
no fresh welcoming voice saying,
“Cheerio, old darling.” Instead, he
might receive, half an hour, an hour,
two or three hours later, a worn and
weary fellow-worker, who might greet
him in a tired, thin voice with some
such words as “Oh dear, I’m all in!
Everything went wrong at the office
today.”
However, he still expressed himself
as emphatically and unequivocally
ready to take a chance. We were sure,
anyway, of two things: (1) we were
in love, (2) we wanted to be together.
And so, like any two young people
in love, we marched to the altar with
beating hearts and tremulous hopes,
as the organ pealed forth the familiar
“T am very happy
to have you for a wife,” he wrote
strains to which so many
others have started out on
this path perilous.
We did feel that we owed ourselves
a vacation and a chance to get better
acquainted before we settled down to
the task of harmonizing our separate
business requirements. However, even
during this glorious period the outside
world came between us to a certain
extent, and we returned with still very
little notion of what each was going
to be like in the marriage partnership.
Back to business. after the honey-
moon, he started once more going to
his office downtown, I to
mine, mid-town.
Y BUSINESS was
small, but expand-
ing. I had only two em-
ployees, and did
the lion’s share
of the work my-
self. I had to, in
order to make
the business pay
and provide for
its growth.
And so, at the
end of the day’s
activities—which
usually included
conferences with
clients, instruc-
tions to artists,
typographers and
engravers, and audiences to space-
sellers, as well as the planning and writ-
ing of copy, the outlining of “layouts”
and the ordering and judging of “art-
work”—I usually found myself with
a formidable pile of unfinished work
on my desk. And then, when my two
assistants had gone, when the tele-
phone had ceased to ring, and the
office door was locked against unfor-
tunate bond salesmen and insurance
solicitors, I settled down to several
hours of hard application.
Here, right at the start, was a fertile
source of trouble, as I’m sure many
young wives will agree, Every evening
at the end of his own day’s work my
husband would ring me up on the
telephone to ask me if I were ready
to go home. Home! Home to his arms,
to warm and enveloping affection, to
the rest and peace of our own two
[Continued on page 44]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
37
Drinking milk was
a nightmare to Mary
—unitil I discovered this way
to make her love it!
s HENEVER I got Mary ready for bed, my
heart ached to see how. thin she was.
And she always looked so pale.
“But Mary just wouldn’t\drink milk. It
was like a nightmare to her, I spent every
mealtime trying to get her to take her milk;
but she’d fuss until I gave up in despair.
“But now I mix Cocomalt with Mary’s
milk . . . and she loves it! She drinks four
glasses a day, and asks for more. Her color
is healthier. She has filled out too, and is full
of life.”
A food—not a medicine
In thousands of homes all over the country,
once-anxious mothers are having the same
experience with Cocomalt. This creamy,
chocolate flavor food drink tempts youngsters
who dislike milk or have tired of it.
Not only does Cocomalt make milk tempt-
ing to children—it adds 70% more nourish-
ment as well. Each glass of Cocomalt your
child drinks is equal to nearly two glasses of
plain milk. And most important of all,
Cocomalt contains the precious Vitamin D.
What Vitamin D does
Physicians recommend summer sunshine for
growing children—because sunshine pro-
duces Vitamin D, that potent, body-building
element which helps to prevent rickets,
builds strong bones and teeth, develops
sturdy bodies.
Cocomalt contains this precious Vitamin D
—and in addition supplies extra tissue-
building proteins, carbohydrates and minerals
so essential to the young, growing body.
Furthermore, Cocomalt contains malt en-
zymes which help to digest various other
foods that are in the stomach.
Free trial—send coupon
Cocomalt comes in powder form all ready to
mix with milk, hot or cold. Served in a jiffy.
Three sizes: 14 1b., 30c—1 1b., 50c—and the
economical 5 lb. family size. At grocers and
leading drug stores. Use the coupon below
for a generous trial tin, free.
See for yourself how delicious Cocomalt
is—and how the youngsters love it! Mail
coupon today.
JOSH OT 2022 eaC sorry
R. B. Davis Co., Dept. 17, Hoboken, New Jersey
Please send me, free, a trial-size can of Cocomalt.
38
The Great Imitator
Mankind’s most dangerous
enemy is syphilis. It takes the
form of many diseases, masking
as rheumatism, arthritis, physi-
cal exhaustion or nervous
breakdown. It may seem to be
a form of skin, eye, heart, lung,
throat or kidney trouble.
Most tragic of all, it often at-
tacks the brain and spinal cord.
It may result in blindness, deaf-
ness, locomotor ataxia, paralysis
and insanity—a life-long trag-
edy. No wonder it is called
“The Great Imitator”.
In certain general hospitals, as
high as 30% of all pa-
tients were found to be
suffering directly or in-
directly from this disease.
Yet many of its victims
had not known what was
robbing them of health
and strength until a med-
ical examination, includ-
ing blood and spinal
fluid tests, revealed their
actual condition.
Syphilis can usually be
cured by competent
physicians if detected in
time and if the patient
faithfully and persistently
follows the complete treat-
ment prescribed by his
doctor. If the early stages
4
are neglected, cures are less cer-
tain, but a great deal can still
be done to relieve suffering.
Tt is estimated that about thir-
teen million persons—one out
of ten—in the United States
and Canada have or at some
time have had'syphilis. Because
of fear and ignorance, millions
of victims have been imposed
upon by quacks, charlatans and
blackmailers pretending to
practice medicine.
A most effective way to reduce
the amount of syphilis is the
pre-natal treatment of mothers
suffering from this
destructive disease.
Parents and teachers owe
it to those dependent on
them for education and
guidance to replace secre-
cy by knowledge, frank
instruction and friendly
advice. Physicians, health
departments and social
hygiene societies will-
ingly offer their aid.
2 ata Pe
Lk Pi
The Metropolitan Life
Insurance Company will
gladly mail, free, its
booklet, “The Great Imi-
tator”. You are urged
to send for it. Ask for
Booklet 730-M.
mE
>
NOTE: The Metropolitan first published
“The Great Imitator” in January, 1928.
Since then, leaders of public health or-
ganizations and directors of big business
have requested that it be republished
and that booklets be provided for wide
distribution. The booklets are ready.
METROPOLITAN LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY
FREDERICK H. ECKER, PRESIDENT > ONE MADISON AVE., New YORK, N. Y.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
CHARLIE BUYS A PRESENT
[Continued from page 15]
“We'll give you a nice figure on an
exchange, though. Allow you a hun-
dred on a young bus. I might give you
thirty-five because I can use it to il-
lustrate a pamphlet I’m gettin’ up—
‘The Motor Car from Earliest Times’.”
This time when Charlie’s head
darted out at him, the soiled young
man discovered that it was red. Provi-
dentially, another car came rolling in
behind the Rameau at the moment,
which made his retreat appear both
natural and necessary. But the new-
comer failed to respond to the soiled
young man’s greeting. He was looking
at Charlie.
WE well, if it isn’t Charlie
Tweedy!”
The voice was as friendly as it was
familiar, which were two reasons why
Charlie’s heart sank when he heard it.
There are moments in every life when
a friendly voice can be less welcome
than the jeers of an alien multitude.
But escape was impossible and Charlie
slowly turned to the large man in the
small roadster behind him.
“Why, hello, Mr. Blakely.”
« “Well, Charlie! I knew I couldn’t
mistake that head. Minute I saw it, I
said, ‘That’s Charlie Tweedy, I'll bet
my socks.’ Well, Charlie, and how’s
New York treating you? Compared to
the old home town, eh?”
“Oh, all right.”
“Must be. See you’ve got a car, al-
ready. What is it, Charlie? What do
you call it?”
“Its a Rameau Eight.”
“Eight what, Charlie? Tons?”
Charlie waited for the laughter to
subside and then he made the most
cutting retort he could think of to the
sire of the Blakely car.
“The Rameau’s a great car.”
“Great in the matter of size, eh,
Charlie. Well, maybe you're right.
How do you like my newest model.
This is one of ’em.”
Charlie yearned to say that he
thought it would be fine if it were a
better fit, but, after all, Mr. Blakely
was a Personage in
the old home town,
so he said— “It’s
cute.”
“Cute is right,
Charlie. And she
doesn’t burn any
more gas than a cig-
arette lighter.” He
said it with a com-
puting eye on the
Rameau. ‘Should
think that bus of
yours’d eat up all
your savings, Char-
lie. Where do you
keep her?”
“I don’t—I mean
I’m going to sell her,” Charlie replied.
“Mm. Be more sensible to turn her
in, Charlie. Can’t get any money for
an old model like that.”
“Im not asking any to speak of,”
Charlie said with a narrow eye on the
soiled young man. “Only three hun-
dred.”
In the interviews with which the
press annually hailed Mr. Blakely’s
birthday, the motor manufacturer was
quoted as saying that laughter kept
him young. Charlie waited now for
him to laugh off a year or two and
then he said evenly— “Suppose you
think I can’t get it.”
Mr. Blakely wiped his eyes. “Well,
Charlie, if you do, I'll take back what
I said last time I saw you. Remem-
ber? The day you came to me for a
job?” Charlie nodded, but in case he
had forgotten, Mr. Blakely recalled
the choice morsel with which he had
ended that interview: “I said you
couldn’t sell fur coats to Eskimos,
Charlie, remember?”
Charlie nodded again and, for the
first time in his life, his chin appeared
a feature to conjure with. “Yes, but
I’m going to sell this Rameau. And
I’m going to get three hundred for
her.” He threw in the clutch and the
Rameau came to life with a shiver.
“Three hundred!”
Mr. Blakely’s genial mirth soared
above the din. “If you do, Charlie,
you come to me. TIl put you at the
head of my sales department, Charlie.”
Not until he had achieved the com-
paratively open spaces of Westchester,
did Charlie pause to refresh his gallant
courser with a few gallons of gas and
himself with a hot dog. And then he
realized the advantages of his forced
move. For, restored to the roomy
reaches of the countryside, the Rameau
no longer looked out of place and
myriad Cars Bought and Sold signs
heartened the highway.
By mid-afternoon, Charlie had de-
veloped a selling technique that a
Grand Street peddler would have
coveted. By an inversion of all the un-
flattering remarks the Rameau had
elicited, he had a line ready made and
singularly telling. Age, breadth, weight,
height, all these he conceded and elab-
orated as precious assets.
T these new models—sure they
are light, but so’s a perambulator.
Hit a corduroy road in one of ’em and
what happens to your store teeth? You
have to look out of the window of this
bus to know you’re going—and you're
sure of getting there, too. While in one
of these kiddie-cars, you never know
whose front porch you'll land on. And
listen! When this engine was made,
they weren't turning ’em out like salt
water taffy. When they finished one
they put it in the window on a plush
cushion and invited the public to the
party.”
Charlie raked his hair back and nod-
ded down at his
prospect. No one but
a man who had left
his hat and job in
the capricious clutch
of fate, would have
called his recumbent
listener that. But
the failure of the
Bought and Sold
signs to do more
than prove a kin-
ship to the soiled
young man, had
shifted his hopes to
a private sale. And
a gentleman prone
among the entrails
of a disemboweled car in a deserted
stretch of road, seemed to Charlie a
very promising prospect indeed.
The eyes staring up at him were at-
tentive but non-committal. “Looks
like she’d burn a powerful lot of gas,”
the prospect said without rancor.
“She'll burn more than that cross-
word puzzle you got there,” admitted
Charlie candidly. “But when you ride
in this bus you won’t look like you’d
outgrown it.”
The recumbent gentleman scratched
his whiskers with a reflective screw
driver. “Give ye a hundred for her.”
Charlie indulged in his new laugh—
full of scorn and polite incredulity.
“Three,” he said. His prospect disap-
peared beneath the car. “Two seventy
five,’ amended Charlie, sadly relin-
quishing the watch that didn’t look
[Continued from page 40]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Phone bill due?
Let your tooth paste pay it
Judges of value acclaim this
modern dentifrice at 25¢
O you know of one good reason why
you should pay more than 25¢ for a
quality tooth paste?
We don’t; and we have been studying
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have learned that all are basically alike—
and that, at 25¢, should leave ample profit
to the manufacturer.
In Listerine Tooth Paste we offer a denti-
frice of outstanding quality—one in every
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Why not switch to Listerine Tooth Paste
for one month and let it prove its own merits?
Note how swiftly but how gently it erases
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teeth and remove decaying matter. Note that
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If it can’t pay it all, it can pay part of it—for
Listerine Tooth Paste at 25¢ saves you about $3 per
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LISTERINE
Tooth Paste
40
like one in favor of some more
obvious trifle. But the prospect
was making derisive noises with
his hammer and Charlie shifted
gears.
At the next filling station, he dropped his lone quar-
ter into a telephone box and demanded New York and
Mr. Bree.
“Listen, Bree, this is Charlie—”
“Well, Charlie! Love of Pete, where are you any-
way?”
“Out near Ridgefield. Say, Bree, will you tell the
chief—”
“He don’t want to know, Charlie,’ Mr. Bree said
sadly. “He did this morning. He was asking about you,
but you didn’t leave any messages for
him so he said he’d leave one for you,
in case—”
“Well, listen, I—”
CHARLIE BUYS A PRESENT
[Continued from page 38]
“Down, Princess! Please, Mother, if you love me—”
“Don’t play-act with me, young lady! I didn’t skimp
and slave for you for twenty years to be dragged
around in a dog kennel. I’m all over hairs and slobber
and either they walk or I do.”
“But it’s only as far as Westbank and you know
we took this short cut on your account. Besides, you can
ride the rest of the way with Perkins.”
“T can, can I? I can ride with the chauffeur, can I!”
“Well, well,” Spats determination to treat the affair
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
“T blocking the young man’s
road!” Mother said, and bore
down on the Rameau. “Well,
you'll be blocking us in a minute.
Young man, will you give me a
lift to the nearest railroad station?”
“If you'll pay for the gas,” said Charlie.
“And cheap at the price!”
Mother placed her foot on the Rameau’s running
board and Patricia screamed. “Mother! I can’t bear it!
You're killing me! Jeanette!”
In the confusion produced by the ingenue’s hysteri-
cal response to her mistress’ summons, the scotties’
sympathetic yelps and Mother's derisive—‘‘Don’t act
for me, young lady!” Spats cantered over to the
Rameau.
“Now, listen. You come along back. I
know how you feel, but we got to think
of her and her public. We’re late as it
“He said to tell you not to worry about
coming back, Charlie. He said you never
did seem very happy here and he likes a
happy office force.”
“You mean my job—”
“Tsn’t, Charlie! You know you never
did nurse it any too well and to hop off
and leave it ailing like that wasn’t nice.
I'm sorry.”
But Charlie’s chin had not assumed
its new rôle for nothing. “Well, I’m
not!” he snapped. “I never did like it,
anyway. And listen, my hat—”
“You leave your hat, Charlie?”
“Yes. You can give it to the guy that
takes my place. Tell him to save it for
next year because he won’t be able to
buy a new one. ’By.”
Ape Rameau Eight was waiting pa-
tiently when he left the telephone
booth. He favored it with a long malig-
nant look and then he climbed slowly in.
It was now that Charlie began to take
an interest in that assiduous chapter of
human spongers, the Thumb Brigade.
In response to the next importunate
thumb, he stopped and leaned out.
“Going anywhere near Southport, mis-
ter?”
Charlie nodded.
“Gimmie a lift?”
“Tf you'll pay for the gas.”
It was on a forced detour, with twi-
light threatening, that Charlie's adven-
tures barely escaped a termination of
headline significance. For the road was
narrow and tortuous. The neglected
trees and tangled underbrush crowding
in upon it, attested to its disuse. After a
hundred arduous yards, Charlie decided
that the Rameau’s engine was probably
the first to disturb its virgin solitude.
Ten minutes later a willful twist of the
road brought him upon another car. He
came upon it abruptly, almost fatally,
Prayer for Independence Day
by Margaret Widdemer
URS is a flag that has not known defeat;
No mockery can still
Memory of young tread down each village street
Marching to do God's will.
No perfect nation ours; but yet our shield
In this is free from stain:
Slowly, with prayer, we faced each battle-field,
Never for gold or gain.
Only for freedom had our sword its powers,
Freedom to make the laws,
Freedom for slaves with souls as white as ours,
Or a chained Cuba’s cause.
Yea, in that last great struggle overseas
Freedom, slow-moving, made,
We fought for France, down-beaten to her knees,
For Belgium, crushed, betrayed.
Oh, by those boyish dead, whose mothers wreath
Their prides and sorrows still,
Grant, Lord, our sword may ever keep its sheath
Except at Freedom’s will!
for it was planted solidly in his path, its
doors flung wide like insolent elbows.
An elegant equipage with nothing in the
world left to wish for in the matter of
glittering grandeur and rich accessories.
It was not, however, until he had given the Rameau’s
brakes the test of their lives, that Charlie could ap-
preciate the full magnificence of the blockade. Even
then the confusion was a little bewildering. For the
primeval silence rang with voices—masculine, feminine
and canine.
“I tell you I won’t ride another yard with those—”
“But Mother, you must! What can we—”
“Come now, Mrs. Vane, be reasonable. We—”
“TIl walk first—and my name’s Hartigan and you
know it!”
It was not, as Charlie had supposed, an accident. The
engine of the ‘pompous car was rocking it gently. A
comedy-of-manners chauffeur in dove gray, was at the
wheel with the ingenue in the costume of a French
maid, beside him. The sextette in the road consisted of
a biggish lady in a well preserved state of black satin,
the most beautiful girl Charlie had ever seen, a plump
gentleman in stripes and spats, and a trio of frolicsome
Scotch terriers.
“I tell you I'll walk—or beg a ride. Here’s a car now,
TIl ask—”
“Mother, how can you!”
“Now don’t be foolish, Mrs. Va—Hartigan,” Spats
implored.
“Tf that’s any foolisher than traipsing around the
country with those nasty little black—ugh! Get away,
you brute!”
as a friendly little bout was slightly strained. “I mean,
you don’t want to make a scandal, I know. I mean you
know what scandals the papers can make out of little
things and you've got to think of Patricia.”
“I make a scandal!” the biggish lady said. “Z think
of Patricia—and you needn't bother to call her that in
this God-forsaken place—let me tell you, she'd never
have gotten as far as a screen test if it hadn’t been for
me and she knows it! And yet she'll make me ride
around the country with a lot of smelly dogs—they do,
I don’t care how much you wash ’em, they do! But I'll
not stand another hour of it. I can go back to taking
boarders as good as ever and no dogs either—I never
allowed it. That was one of my rules and this young
man here will give me a lift if I ask him.”
“But Mother!” and the beautiful girl flung out two
tiny, glittering hands. “Think what you’re doing! Think
what people will say! It will ruin me!”
At minute intervals, Charlie, the urgencies of his for-
tunes pressing in upon him, had given vent to a lusty—
“Hey!” But this had been a voice crying in a wilderness
of voices. Now, however, he leaned out and his indig-
nant bellow silenced even the gamboling canine trio.
“Listen, will you make room or do you expect me to
hop over?”
“There, you see!” cried Patricia in her most popular
personal-appearance manner. “Yowre blocking the
young man’s road, Mother.”
is, and if she gets all worked up, how's
she going to make a personal appear-
ance?”
“I tell you I’m going to ride with this
young man; he—”
“No, you're not,” said Spats playfully ;
“but I tell you what! The dogs are.
She'll agree to that, as far as Westbank,
anyway. This guy can take the dogs—”
“Oh, I can, can I!” said Charlie.
“And will!” Spats told him playfully.
“At five dollars a head, you will, sure.”
“Five dollars a head, eh? And how
much a bite?” asked Charlie his eye on
the scottie affectionately nipping Spats’
trouser cuff.
Spats shook off the dog. “Oh, well,
we'll make it ten if—”
“Not if you make it fifty,” said Char-
lie evenly. “I'd do a lot of things for a
little cash—especially right now, I would.
But before I'll play chauffeur to those
underslung floras and faunas, I'll starve.”
Patricia, thriftily holding her hysterics
and smelling salts in abeyance, stepped
forward and lifted a pair of eyes that
had wrung the hearts of the world.
“Oh, but you will, if I ask you—
please?”
Ber Connie’s eyes were just as mov-
ing, if not so well exploited. “No,”
Charlie said firmly. “I’m sorry. But I'll
be glad to take your mother. It'll be an
honor,” he told her with a friendly smile,
“and my friends’ll shrivel up with envy
when I tell them that I had the pleasure
of giving the famous Patricia Vane’s
mother a lift because there wasn’t room
in her own car—with the dogs and all.”
Spats made a sound like a man with a
fishbone in his throat, and Patricia
reached for the smelling salts.
“Or, I'll tell you what!” Charlie cried
in an inspired voice. “I'll sell you the
car.”
“What!” roared Spats.
“Naturally,” Charlie confessed, “I'd
rather not. I mean, it’s bound to get a
lot of other Rameau owners sore with
me. But you're up against it and there
probably won’t be another car along this road for the
next few years, so—”
“Well, of all the nervy—"
“—TIl let you have it for three hundred dollars,”
continued Charlie with a motion for silence in the gen-
eral direction of Spats. “Three hundred, and a good
buy, too. Especially for dogs. It’s a nice, roomy car and
that’s what they need. I mean, they need it for lots of
reasons like your mother says. And they'll be a darn
sight more comfortable in a car of their own and after
all you have to think of a dog’s comfort. I mean, if you
like ‘em, you do. A lot of people let on they like dogs,
but what do they do to prove it? A dog’s got as much
right to be comfortable as anyone else.”
“That’s the most sensible talk I’ve heard in a month
of Sundays,” declared Mother and took her foot off the
Rameau’s running board.
“So why not give ’em a nice car. You can afford it
and it'll save a lot of trouble and make a good impres-
sion,” said Charlie easily. “Put their monograms on the
door and a snappy uniform at the wheel—”
“By golly!” cried Spats. “It’s an idea. It’s a darn
good idea. We could pull down as much publicity on
that as we did on the jilted Dook racket.”
“More,” amended Charlie. “Patricia Vane, the only
woman in the world who has a private car for her dogs!
And it’s yours for three hundred, cash. And a free
ride back to civilization.” [Turn to page 120]
McCALIVS MAGAZINE JULY 1930
CONOMY with no loss of enticing
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\
A
[I Welland Dərcly
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
ly
Jor Economical Transportation
LOOK TO THE BODY
McCALL’'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930 43
CHEVROLET provides
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44
U
WY
Women. Most of ustry to
sidestep the roughness and
toughness thatgo withsum-
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to drying winds. And how
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does help! It’s both a pre-
ventive and a remedy—use
it before you go out to avoid
burning and afterwards to
relieve inflammation if
you didn’t use it before!
\ hat better friend has the
human skin !
Children. Boys and girls
who go in for summer sports
(there’s really no age limit),
must expect assorted bumps
and bruises, skinned knees
and blistered heels. Teach the
children not to overlook the
dangers of minor injuries—
that“ Vaseline” Jelly promptly
applied is a real safeguard. It’s
so handy, so safe and healing.
Babies. Too bad baby can’t
tellyou how miserable he feels
when hisrose-petal skin isirri-
tated and sore! Use“Vaseline”
Jelly daily to keep the baby
free from heat rash, sunburn
and chafing. It is so pure and
healing that doctors call it the
safestthing touse on little cuts,
scratches, bumps, and child-
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Men. Out in the South-
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army men use “Vaseline”
Jelly to protect skin and lips
against the dryness, dust,
and sunburn! It is an ideal
emollient, safe, easy to use,
can be bought everywhere.
One of its most popular
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light film of “Vaseline”
Jelly applied before the
lather does wonders to in-
sure a closer, easier shave.
© Chesebrough Mfg. Co., Cons’d, 1930, |
e Many Skin Specialists use and
. 4t . ul .
prescribe Vaseline” Preparations
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
MY HUSBAND BACKED MY CAREER
[Continued from page 36]
LSB?
Every evening he
would call to ask if
I could go home
rooms, the world shut away and all
the universe open to just us two. All
that was feminine in me cried, “Yes,
yes!” But the business woman quietly
and firmly answered, “No—not yet.”
What happened? Well, it seems al-
most too good to be-true, but my hus-
band, instead of turning first sulky
and then openly rebellious as I had
feared he might, cheerfully answered,
“All tight then, dear. I'll be right
over.”
And over he would come to work
with me, often until after midnight,
until all the unfinished jobs were
neatly taken care of and I could leave
with a clear conscience and a free
mind.
Things went on in this way for one
year, two years, three years. And each
anniversary found us more completely
and vividly happy in each other, more
alive to each other’s mental and
spiritual qualities, more unified in our
aims and purposes in life.
I am sure that this intimate blend-
ing of ideas in the creating and per-
fecting of plans which had nothing to
do with our personal selves may be
credited, to a great extent, with this
ever-growing happiness, understand-
ing, and sympathy.
We have had many difficult situa-
tions to face—situations packed with
possibilities of disaster for a young
married couple—but we have faced
them with a united front, analyzed
them together and managed to work
them out satisfactorily. Neither has
ever taken the sympathy, understand-
ing and coöperation of the other for
granted, but each has always made a
point of expressing gratitude and ap-
preciation whenever there has been
occasion to do so.
I retained my maiden name in my
work, for the reason that the busi-
ness had been launched with it as a
firm name, and it seemed simpler,
more practical, and more convenient
just to go on with it. I have no defi-
nite theories or feelings on this
matter, but I realize that there are cir-
cumstances under which the advisabil-
ity of this course might be questioned.
JS MY own case, for instance, there
was that very attractive young busi-
ness executive whom I met at a sales
convention not very long after my
marriage. He was an excellent busi-
ness prospect. His gifts of flowers and
candy, his invitations to dinner and
the theater, I accepted as any business
man would have accepted the cigars-
and invitations of a business associate.
There came a moment, however,
when I realized that I was not, after
all, quite a business man. I decided
that it was time that my young busi-
ness associate realized I was a mar-
ried woman. And therefore, after a
pleasant evening with him at the
theater, I suggested to him on the
way home in the taxi, that he come
in for a few minutes and meet my
husband. That I was right in my im-
pulse to let him know that I was mar-
ried—and happily and permanently so
—is probably proved by the fact that
I never saw or heard from him after
that evening.
FROM my point of view, our mar-
riage has been a complete and
glorious success. There have been prob-
lems of household arrangement and ad-
justment, but they have not been
insurmountable. At first we had a two-
room apartment in a residence hotel.
and took our meals out. Then, desiring
a more “homey” atmosphere, we took
a housekeeping apartment in a near-by
suburb, and engaged a housekeeper.
This arrangement has worked out very
well. The domestic machinery has
not always run with perfect smooth-
ness, but there have been no hitches
that we both could not quite easily
“laugh off.”
How my husband feels about it all
is best shown by a letter he wrote me
on the occasion of our first separation,
three years after our marriage. I am
going to let you read it.
Twentieth Century Limited,
En Route January, 1930.
“My Sweetheart:
“One does get time to think on such
a journey as this. I have been going
over our short experience of being a
partnership and realize, perhaps more
than ever before, how genuinely good
and delightful it all has been, and is,
We've done a job together, and we can
look back with some satisfaction at
having gained happiness as we went
along, and with it some material ad-
vancement.
“Tt is certainly strange for me to
have to run away to the cold and
dreary reaches of the West leaving
you to battle with an important deci-
sion alone. Yet, I have, as always,
supreme confidence in your logical
discernment and your complete mas-
tery of the whole question, and know
that your decision will bring us an
even greater measure of success.
“In some ways the situation is, or
seems, lopsided—you are experiencing
the thrill of progressing while I am a
sort of cheer leader on the side lines.
Yet perhaps cheer leaders are desirable.
“All of this, my sweetheart, is a
rambling record of my thoughts and
[Continued on opposite page]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
IN MINIATURE
[Continued from page 4]
Even then, it may be months and cer-
tainly will be weeks before a baby will
be available.
For, incredible as it may sound, there
are more persons in the United States
wishing to adopt babies than there are
babies to be adopted. On the waiting
list at the Alice Chapin Nursery itself
are always at least 150 names.
Some women want babies because
their own have died. Others seek found-
lings to take the places of the children
they can never have, The applicants
include all classes of society and both
men and women, unmarried as well as
married.
ANY of those who write to Mrs.
Chapin have their hearts, defi-
nitely set on a preferred sex, age, or
color of hair and eyes. In the prelimi-
naries, little girls are generally favored,
and blue eyes and curls. But strangely
enough, these things seem to count very
little in the final choice. That is based
on something much more important—
the attraction that the baby and the
prospective parent feel for each other.
The families which are to receive the
babies undergo a very thorough, even
rigid, examination by nursery authori-
ties and the babies are placed on trial
for a year before they can be legally
adopted. This is so that the parents
may be sure they want the baby, and
the nursery sure that the home is a
safe and pleasant one.
Money counts less than many things
when applicants are being examined, A
good home does not necessarily mean
a luxurious one, although care is taken
to be sure that the child will be ade-
quately provided for in a material way.
But more important is the training that
will be given, the love that will be lav-
ished. For, says Mrs. Chapin, what
will it profit a child if you give it
material riches, yet leave it spiritually
poor? The preferred home offers two
parents, educated, self-controlled, lov-
ing each other and capable of provid-
ing a peaceful, happy environment for
a child.
Babies from the Alice Chapin Adop-
tion Nursery have gone all over the
country. In 1928, they were placed in
New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts,
Ohio, Connecticut, Virginia, Pennsyl-
vania, New Mexico, Texas, and New
Hampshire. Many of these babies, now
safe in happy homes, had been cruelly
abandoned.
The Alice Chapin Nursery stipulates
that parents taking babies must tell
them the story of their adoption before
they enter school where they may learn
it from other children. Mrs. Chapin
believes that the story can be told in
such a way that the child will be made
proud instead of miserable by the rev-
elation. No child need be hurt or
ashamed if he understands that he was
actually chosen from among all the
children in the world by his father and
mother to be theirs.
ASD fate arranged that Mrs.
Chapin’s early training should be
such as to fit her for the great work
she was to undertake. The daughter of
a missionary clergyman in Chicago, she
was a kindergarten teacher until her
marriage to Dr. Chapin. :
Since the Alice Chapin Adoption
Nursery now has competent supervis-
ors and nurses to see that each baby
gets plenty of loving care, Dr. and
Mrs. Chapin often take time off to
travel together to remote parts of the
world. But always they come back
sooner than they meant, so eager are
they to be sure that all is well with
these babies that certainly are theirs in
every real sense of the word.
MY HUSBAND BACKED MY CAREER
[Continued from opposite page]
merely an odd way of telling you how
happy I am that I can get a greater
thrill than ever in writing a love let-
ter to you.
“I am very happy to have you for a
wife and business associate.”
You will say that ours is not a fair
test case because there are not many
men capable of the sympathy -and
understanding and the degree of co-
dperation shown by my husband. I
realize that this is true. And I have
not presented our story as proof that
all women can marry and keep their
jobs without disaster to either. I’m
only giving you one woman’s very
happy experience.
At the present moment I am on the
brink of the most crucial test of all.
I am about to embark upon the ad-
venture of being a business mother as
well as a business wife—voluntarily,
happily, and with both eyes wide open.
We decided early in our marriage
that we wanted a family and we did
not want to put it off too long. We
wanted to have our children while we
could be young with them.
We made our plans so that the
period that I shall have to be away
from the office will occur during our
quiet season. To keep up: the interest
and morale of the office force we did
some renovating there. Lease for the
office has been renewed for another
several years, the office has been
freshly painted and decorated, the
furniture which was acquired when I
started on the proverbial shoestring
has been discarded and beautiful new
walnut desks, chairs, and files have
taken their place.
We have bought a house outside of
New York City, having, as one of its
leading features, a sunny and airy
nursery. I have engaged an experienced
child’s nurse, and I already have her
with me in order that we may become
thoroughly acquainted and learn each
other’s ways. 5
By fall I fully expect to have my
new home organized and in perfect
running order, the simple routine of
a young baby adequately taken care
of by a woman I know and can trust.
And then I shall come back to my
work refreshed from my summer of
freedom from it, unspeakably en-
riched, and more sure than ever in my
conviction that I did right to marry
and keep my job.
IS YOUR SKIN TOO DRY?
Or is it too oily? Unless you have a skin like the proverbial peaches and cream you ought
to give yourself a home beauty treatment every day. Send for
and get an expert's advice on home beauty culture.
An Outline of Beauty
(Twenty-five cents in stamps.)
THE SERVICE EDITOR, MeCall’s, Dayton, Ohio
ead
your washday
fortune
in your hand
ou don’t have to be an expert palm-
Ver Just study the hand shown here
and see how it reveals its washday story.
The strong palm indicates a capable
woman—the kind who directs her own
housework. The shapely fingers show a
love of the beautiful—pride in clothes a
little cleaner than anyone else's. The
unbroken life line predicts years of hap-
piness because she gets things done with
least exertion. And the well-defined head
line tells that she’s thrifty—she knows a
bargain in value.
You would expect this woman to use
Fels-Naptha. And if you could see her
hand, you would know she does!
For her hands haven't that in-the-water
look. That’s because Fels-Naptha washes
FELS-NAPTHA
THE GOLDEN BAR WITH
THE CLEAN NAPTHA ODOR
45
clothes clean without hard rubbing, and
does it so quickly that she doesn’t have
to keep her hands in hot water so long.
The reason Fels-Naptha works so
quickly is that it is good soap and naptha.
These two cleaners, working together,
remove even stubborn dirt, swiftly and
easily, without hard rubbing.
Fels-Naptha is one soap you don’t have
to pamper. Naturally it works best in hot
water—all soaps do. But it also works
beautifully in lukewarm or even cool water.
Get Fels-Naptha at your grocer’s. Let
it give you extra help for household
cleaning, too. Then your hands and home
and clothes—and you—will all proclaim
your good fortune!
SPECIAL OFFER—Whether you have been using
Fels-Naptha for years, or have just now decided to try
its extra help, we'll be glad to send you a Fels-Naptha
Chipper. Many women who prefer to chip Fels-Naptha
Soap into their washing machines, tubs or basins find
the chipper handier than using a knife. With it, and a
bar of Fels-Naptha, you can make fresh, golden soap
chips (that contain plenty of naptha!) just as you need
them. Mail coupon, with a two-cent stamp enclosed
to cover postage, and we'll send you this chipper with-
out further cost. Here’s the coupon— mail it now!
© 1930, Fels & Co.
FELS & COMPANY, Philadelphia, Pa. M&S7"°
Please send me the handy Fels-Naptha Chipper
offered in this advertisement. I enclose a two-
cent stamp to cover postage.
Name. =
Street.
State.
City.
Fill in completely — print name and address
46 McCALI/S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
and her debutante daughter Miss
MIss MARJORIE GOULD
(now Mrs. Anthony J. Drexel, Jr.)
at her debut at the Plaza, 1909.
“Every debutante counts on Pond’s to help her look her
best,” says Mrs. Drexel. “In the old days there were only
the Two Creams, but I used them faithfully! Now my
daughter, like myself, delights in all four preparations.”
Mrs. Drexel’s lovely smooth clear skin attests the mar-
velous efficacy of Pond’s Cold -Cream for pore-deep
cleansing . . . Pond’s Vanishing Cream for powder
base, protection, exquisite finish . . . See both below.
Beautiful MRS. ANTHONY J. DREXEL, JR., of Philadelphia and New
York, has spent much of her married life at the Chateau de Courbois,
near Biarritz, France. She is the former Miss Marjorie Gould, daughter
of the late Mr. and Mrs. George J. Gould. Her mother was the celebrated
actress, Miss Edith Kingdon, before her marriage to the son of the late
financier, Jay Gould . . . Now young MISS EDITH KINGDON DREXEL is
féted as the first debutante in this important family for twenty years.
McCALL'S
MAGAZINE
JULY 1930
OVELY daughter of a brilliant alliance between two
L famous American families—Drexels and Goulds!
Miss Edith Kingdon Drexel inherits her distinguished
mother’s charm and dark vivacious beauty, her blue-black
curls and wide eyes, her clear pale olive skin.
Mother and daughter, as debutantes and always, have
counted on Pond’s to keep their skin at its best. “In the
old days,” says Mrs. Drexel, “I used the Two Creams
faithfully.” Miss Drexel charmingly adds: “When I was
just a little girl, Mother taught me to cleanse my face and
neck with the delicious Cold Cream... to smooth in a
film of Vanishing Cream to protect my skin.”
Now there are two delightful debutantes in Pond’s family
—two amazingly efficacious new preparations... silky
Cleansing Tissues to remove the cream after cold cream
cleansing . . . perfumed Skin Freshener to banish linger-
ing oiliness, tone and firm your skin.
“Iuse them, and like them so much,” says Miss Drexel.“We
both delight in all four preparations,” Mrs. Drexel says.
Keep your own skin fine and lovely by Pond’s famous
47
Method ... First, for thorough cleansing, lavishly apply
Pond’s Cold Cream several times a day and always after
exposure, letting the fine oils sink deep into the pores...
SECOND, wipe away with Pond’s Cleansing Tissues, soft,
absorbent, economical... THIRD, dab face and neck with
Pond’s Skin Freshener to banish oiliness, close and re-
duce pores... Last, smooth on Pond’s Vanishing Cream
for powder base and exquisite finish . . . At bedtime always
cleanse with Cold Cream and remove with Tissues.
MISS EDITH KINGDON DREXEL
at her debut
at the Ritz-Carlton, December, 1929.
“Now Pond’s has given us two delightful new
preparations,” Miss Drexel says, “silky Cleansing
Tissues to remove the cream and jolly Skin Fresh-
ener to take away any look of oiliness and tone and
firm the skin. I use them and like them so much.”
SEND 10¢ FOR PoND’s 4 PREPARATIONS
Pond’s Extract Company, Dept. G
111 Hudson Street . New York City
Name.
Street__
State.
Copyright 1930, Pond’s Extract Company
City.
48
protect their active feet with
FLEXIBLE SHOES
child specialists advise
s ATURE expected youńg feet to
run free—to exercise and grow
strong. Foot ills among children arein
reality shoe ills, Growing feet should
not be restrained in stiff, non-porous
cases” —says a noted foot specialist.
“But going barefoot nowadays—with
its attendant risk of cuts, bruises,
possible infections—is, of course, un-
safe. However, children’ can have all
the comfort, fun and foot-freedom they
need in flexible canvas shoes” —the same
specialist tells us, “provided the sole
and arch are protected.”
Hood Canvas Shoes are carefully de-
signed to meet every require-
ment of young feet. Extra
THE SIAK An ideal out-
door sports shoe for girls.
Made with white, brown,
or neutral colored duck up-
pers and contrasting trim-
mings. Smokrepe sole and rib-
bed toe reinforcement. Has the
Hood Hygeen insole.
HYGEEN INSOLE—An insole
which does not absorb perspiration,
but allows it to evaporate gradually
— thus minimising the opportunity
for unpleasant odors. This js. an
Hood feature developed
exclusive the same ti
in the Hood laboratories.
Let © Them K Have È More A Buns in r Hoods |
HOOD MAKES CANVAS SHOES
“INSTRUCTOR”
narrow shank last that hugs the arch
of the foot firmly and
sturdy canvas uppers under it for
proper arch and ankle support. At
e it allows ample toe
room and complete foot freedom.
RUBBER SOLES AND HEELS
tough soles guard against cuts, heel
bruises and pavement shocks. A nar-
row shank gives firm arch support.
The Hygeen insole—an exclusive feature
developed in the Hood laboratories—does
not absorb perspiration and minimizes
the opportunity for unpleasant odor.
Then, of course, their flexible canvas
uppers give young feet all the ease and
freedom. they need! And remember—
Hood Shoes are as trim and good-
looking as they are practical.
HOOD RUBBER COMPANY, INC.
Watertown, Massachusetts
Send for the Hood booklet on the care of your
children’s feet. Written by a well-
known orthopedic surgeon.
‘Look Jor the Hood Arrow .
PNEUMATIC HEEL—An air-
cushioned heel designed to absorb
the shocks and pars on city pave-
LAST—A
ulls the
ments and other hard surfaces. This
is an exclusive feature, patented
by Hood and is found in many of
the better grade Hood Canvas Shoes,
RUBBER FOOTWEAR -» TIRES |
RUBBER FLOOR TILING |
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
THE PLAY OF THE MONTH
[Continued from page 22]
treatment. The ancient and long tradi-
tion of the minstrels set a standard
from which it took us all a long time
to grow up. The axiom of the theater
ran that the Negro was a low com-
edy figure and nothing else.
The first play to break through com-
pletely was Porgy and although there
is no similarity in theme it did serve to
mark the way for The Green Pastures.
Any very successful production is likely
to depend upon a collaboration of
forces. In this case honors must be
split in several quarters. Marc Connelly
deserves the major share not only be-
cause he adapted Bradford’s material
for stage purposes, but also because he
touched the whole thing off with the
fire which can come only from superb
direction.
Some mention must be made of
Robert Edmund Jones, designer of the
sets and costumes. Too often the artist
wars against the actor. His sets may be
brilliant but they actually serve to dis-
tract the audience’s attention from the
players. This time the blend is perfect.
Mr. Jones has caught the precise color
of Mr. Connelly’s intention. And to
complete the synthesis of effort the cast
has clicked into place without one jar-
ring note.
ANY have held that the Negro is a
natural actor. This is probably as
false as the notion that any Pullman
porter could sit down and dash off en-
trancing ragtime if only there were a
piano in the diner. The men and women
who make up the cast of The Green
Pastures are much more than individu-
als riding along upon the crest of a
native gift. These are artists highly
skilled in the acting profession. You can
run along Broadway night after night,
sprinting from show to show, and see
no better rounded and complete per-
formance than that given by Richard
Harrison in the réle of God.
The fact that the Deity actually ap-
pears in person in this play is the ex-
planation of the number of managers
who fought shy of it. The manuscript
went almost a complete round of the
offices before an independent producer
had the courage to take a chance.
“People won’t stand for it,” was the
criticism of many a Broadway wiseacre
who read the script. Possibly Mr. Har-
rison’s performance has done much to
avoid any implication of offense. It is
such a simple, reverent and straight-
forward piece of acting that the effect
is one certain to move even the most
religious minded. Though the play is
shot through and through with: humor-
ous lines and situations its fundamen-
tal core is profound and serious. If the
play must be classified it can be best
identified as an Afro-American mo-
rality.
Au of the play is to me engrossing
and moving but one scene in par-
ticular grips me as little else in the the-
ater has ever done. The children of
Israel are on the march to the Prom-
ised Land. Naturally they are a very
dusky set of children. Moses is old and
feeble and cannot keep up with his fol-
lowers. He sits by the side of the road
as they pass on by and pat the fallen
prophet on the shoulder. And as they
go they sing a spiritual which has in it
something of the same sob which must
have been heard in the voices of the
authentic Israelites centuries ago.
Probably there are not more than
fifty or sixty people involved, but they
walk slowly, tight-packed, upon a
treadmill. It seems as if millions are
on the march. Ahead lies the Promised
Land which Moses will never see, but
the city of Jericho bars the way. And
then from offstage, faintly, sound the
ramshorns and the tinkle of masonry
as the walls come tumbling down. Up
rises that mightiest of all the spirituals,
“Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho,” and
I am weeping once more.
I have a right to weep. The man or
woman who can sit through The Green
Pastures dry-eyed has no right ever to
be allowed in any theater. In fact I
rather think that I would bar such an
individual from every communal con-
tact with all who move about the world
under the propulsion of a heartbeat.
THE SERMON OF THE MONTH
[Continued from page 23]
no place, as in some lives there is no
place for music or the love of beauty;
but they are not the fullest and best
lives. Keeping in mind a psychological
as contrasted with a theological point
of view, I would define prayer as, in
its essence and meaning today, three
things:
“Tn the first place, prayer is the delib-
erate formulation in our minds of an
idea of something that we need and
want. The old hymn-writer was right
when he said that ‘Prayer is the soul’s
sincere desire, unuttered or expressed.’
Our desires are always outrunning our
attainments. Always we are reaching
out for something that is beyond us,
or above us, seeking some satisfaction
that we have never tasted. Therefore,
I define prayer as the conscious, de-
liberate fixation of our inner attention
upon the needs and aspirations of our
lives.
“But prayer is more than mere de-
sire; it is the conscious, deliberate,
repeated direction of all our powers
to the attainment of our desires. It is
attention unfolding into intention. It is
purpose, resolution, dedication. Which
brings us face to face with one of the
greatest of all spiritual discoveries—
that, if our prayers are to be answered,
we must help answer them ourselves.
“But even this is not the whole
meaning of prayer; a third element
enters into it. For we are not alone
in our desires, as we are not alone in
our lives. What we are, what’ we want,
we share with the universe, or with
God, however we may name it.
“Tf we are to do anything final or
perfect, we must move out beyond the
limits of our own strength, and link our +
lives with a greater life for inspiration
and support; and that is what we are
doing when we lift up our hearts and
minds, and pray. As a seed, reaching up
through the dark, lays hold of the sun-
shine and air, so man, struggling on
the low levels of his life, reaches be-
yond himself and merges his life with
a life greater than his own, which we
call God, the nameless One of a hun-
dred names,”
After this manner a wise teacher
translates the oldest and greatest ad-
venture of man into the language and
experience of our own age, showing
us that prayer, so far from being a
vague, dreamlike thing, is the most
profoundly practical undertaking of
man, unifying his inner life, organiz-
ing it, and directing it toward its
highest desire and goal. “Who rises
from his prayer a better man, his
prayer is answered.”
McCALL'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930 49
Both at Home
and in their Studio Dressing Rooms
9 out of 10 Screen Stars use Lux Toilet Soap
urious bathrooms, but in their
dressing rooms on location, as well.
Hollywood — Broadway — not only at home, in their own lux- y=
nd now the European
a p All the great film studios have
Capitals all acclaim it... made Lux Toilet Soap official for
their dressing rooms. So essential
is it that every girl in motion pic- j
N° MATTER how perfect a tures shall have the very smooth-
girl’s features, she lacks the est skin!
power to attract romance if she
hasn’t charming smooth skin. The Broadway stage stars, too,
have long been using Lux Toilet
“Lovely skin is absolutely essen- Soap. At their request it has been
tial for that attractiveness which made the official soap in 71 of the
touches hearts.” This is the con- 74 legitimate theaters in New York.
clusion drawn by 45 leading Holly- And now the continental screen
wood directors. For the close-up, stars—in France, in England, in
with its revealing blaze of light, a Germany—are just as enthusiastic
smooth skin is essential, they say. about it as are the American stars.
And so, of the 521 important You will love its caressing lather,
actresses in Hollywood, including so very generous even in hard
all stars, 511 care for their skin water. And the delicate care it
with Lux Toilet Soap. They use gives your skin! Order
this white, daintily fragrant soap several cakes— today.
Photo by Bachrach
Bese Danicus, fascinating Radio Pictures’ star, in the luxurious
bathroom especially designed and built in Hollywood for her. “Lux
Toilet Soap is a great help in keeping the skin smooth and lovely.”
Photo by
H. D. Carsey
Above—DorotHy MACKAILL, €x-
quisite star, is another of the 511
important Hollywood actresses who
use Lux Toilet Soap. She says: “It
gives my skin a beautiful smoothness.
I certainly enjoy using it.”
Photo by Elmer Fryer
Above—Arice Wuirte, charm-
ing First National star, is de-
voted to Lux Toilet Soap. She
says: “Being a screen star, my
first thought is for my skin, and
I find Lux Toilet Soap keeps it
in marvelous condition!”
Left—Bessiz Love, lovely Metro-
Goldwyn-Mayer star, says of Lux
Toilet Soap: “It leaves my skin as
softly smooth as the most expensive
French toilet soaps would—it’s lovely
soap, I think.”
Left—Anita Pace, young
Metro - Goldwyn - Mayer star,
has the softest, smoothest skin
imaginable. She keeps it at its
best with Lux Toilet Soap, and
says: “I always use Lux Toilet
Luxury such as you have found Soap! It keeps my skin so won-
Ihe hotles Soap E
Photo by C. S, Bull Photo by ©. S. Butt
50
ONSTANCE
|
Tyndale McCormick
Shes only three but she
_candoa/ot of things!
Her health is guarded
by this special care
Plump legs that hardly straddle
her pony... thick dark curls...
big violet eyes that are very
fetching.
Constance Tyndale McCormick
is the three year old daughter of
the Alister McCormicks of Chi-
cago.
Life is a joyous round of tempt-
ing things. Riding (she has a firm
small hand on the bridle)...
swimming (short legs can kiok
effectively) . . . a Springer Spaniel
. .. a playhouse in the garden.
But, first of all, she stows away
a morning bowl of that cereal the
baby specialist advised when she
was a tiny little thing. Cream of
Wheat, an ideal food for infarits.
Constance started eating Cream
of Wheat when she was six months
old, and she’s been at it—gleefully
—ever since! As a breakfast it
exactly suits her. And it exactly
suits her mother to have her eat it
so regularly.
“Constance is never ill, says
Mrs. McCormick. ‘‘We are careful
about her outdoor life and food. I
think Cream of Wheat should be
in every child’s diet from six
months on.”
Naturally, Mrs. McCormick
=~
school. Just mail coupon to:
1930, The C. of W. Corp.
©
FREE— An authoritative booklet,
Children.” Correct diets for children from infancy through high
speaks with such conviction.
Cream of Wheat has so long headed
the list of all foods for babies and
children.
When we asked 221 leading baby
specialists in New York, Chicago,
San Francisco and Toronto about
cereal, every one of them voiced ap-
proval of Cream of Wheat.
They know that it is exception-
ally rich in energy, and that—
especially important when itcomes
to babies—it is digested without
tax on inexperienced little stom-
achs. Cream of Wheat is very in-
expensive too. I¢ costs less than one
cent for a serving.
The Cream of Wheat Corpora-
tion, Minneapolis, Minnesota. In
Canada, The Cream of Wheat
Corporation, Winnipeg. English
address, Fassett & Johnson, 86
Clerkenwell Road, London, E.C. 1.
Constance started eating Cream of Wheat when
she was six months old."*I think it should be in
every child's diet,” says her mother
The Important Business of Feeding
Tue Cream or Wueat Corporation, Dept. G-43A Minneaporis, MINNESOTA
CREAM OF WHEAT
Photo by
Tony Van Horn
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Picturesque Europe—but America too has
its travelers’ delights
TRAVEL MANNERS
By EMILY POST
whom the word does not hold out
enchantment? To most of us the
fascination of spreading out a map
and planning a trip is one of the thrills
that never palls.
Of course, the “how” you go is as
important as the “where.” You may
plan your trip yourself, or you may
prefer to evade resvonsibility and go
on one of the personally conducted
tours arranged by railroad and steam-
ship lines or by specialized travel bu-
reaus. These are specially suited to
women traveling alone, particularly
those who are not experienced travelers.
Advice as to baggage can be put in
a nutshell: Take the least possible. Cut
the list of necessary clothes to the
minimum—and then cut the list in
half! Nothing is such a nuisance as a
lot of baggage. Whatever pieces of
luggage you take should be in good
condition. Nothing makes a worse im-
pression on your traveling companions
than sloppy baggage, trunks tied with
frazzled straps, bags broken at the cor-
ners, handles or locks coming off and
tray straps hanging out. If you are go-
ing to a foreign country it is always
well to mark your baggage with some
easily recognized device. A bright-
colored stripe painted straight or obli-
quely across each side, or a pattern of
any individual sort is easily recognized
when hundreds of similar suitcases or
trunks are piled on custom-house docks
or baggage counters.
Ui [ YRAVEL! Lives there anyone to
OUR traveling accessories are of
next concern, Steamer blankets of
your own are not necessary since steam-
ship companies have them for rent. But,
if you are going on a motor journey, or
if you are traveling abroad in cold
weather, a roll of steamer rugs will
repay the nuisance of an extra piece of
baggage. To us, European hotels often
seem very cold and many trains are
unheated. The item of first importance
always is a really warm and thoroughly
comfortable coat that wraps well over
the knees when sitting down. For a
winter trip nothing takes the place of
fur, and at any season a small fur col-
lar adds warmth when warmth is
needed; and being small it is not un-
comfortable on other occasions.
The increasing fashion of wearing
sensible country clothes for all travel-
ing occasions is a comfortable and
practical one. Easy to put on, easy to
wear, easy to pack, one-piece slip-on
dresses, or skirts and blouses, are
boons to the traveler.
If you are going to visit, or to stay
for long in a fashionable resort, you
will have to take additional evening
clothes, at least one pair of evening
slippers, and an evening wrap. But for
the average traveler, two alternating
warm dresses and two alternating thin
dresses for hot weather and one or two
afternoon or evening dresses to put on
for dinner would be ample. Don’t for-
get shoes! In England the American
foot can be shod satisfactorily, but on
the Continent it is often hard to fit the
foot that is long and slim so do take
enough comfortable walking shoes.
S IN all other circumstances, Rule
(1) is the ever-repeated and funda-
mental one of all etiquette: “Do noth-
ing that can offend the sensibilities of
others.” On a tourwhere you are thrown
into close contact with companions who
have hitherto been strangers, it is nec-
essary to show more consideration than
when you are traveling with your fam-
ily alone. Your family can protest
against your habitual tardiness or your
dashing ahead for the best seat, your
helping yourself to the lion’s share, ac-
cepting courtesies without thanks and
without repayment, your lack of good
temper, or insistence upon doing what
you please. But strangers, especially
well-bred strangers, are made help-
lessly uncomfortable by one who for-
gets the essentials of good manners.
If the people you have learned to
like are hospitable because they choose
to be and not because you are unavoid-
ably planted upon them, there is no
reason for refusing invitations that give
you pleasure to accept. You return
kindness always to the best of your
ability. If your ability is great, so much
the better. If it is small, it does not
matter in the least. Make what return
you can in the way you can, and that
is all that is asked of you. Needless to
say, a woman does not accept con-
tinuous hospitality from a man, espe-
cially one she knows nothing about.
McCALL'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
ASAL
you cant
flour
ek
XPERIENCE tells you just what
sort of cake you could expect from
the recipe we give here, if
you used ordinary flour. An
“economy” cake, nothing more!
Yet.. make up this recipe, using Swans Down
Cake Flour. Wedon't hesitate to risk your whole opinion
of Swans Down on what this simple recipe can prove.
For out of your cake pan will come. . sheer perfec-
tion in sponge cake! With a crust so crisp and tender,
it is a mere wisp of a crust! And within. . a texture
so fine and velvety, you'll want to show this cake
proudly to every cake-maker you know!
In order to get a sponge cake anywhere near
as good as that, using ordinary flour, you'd have
to throw economy to the winds. Three eggs
wouldn’t be near enough!
Flour . . just flour . . makes that much dif-
ference in cakes. Here is the reason:
Why SWANS DOWN, with fewer eggs,
can give you finer sponge cake
Gluten is an important part of every flour. In or-
dinary flours which are milled primarily for yeast
bread, the gluten is tough, elastic . . excellent
for yeast’s slow leavening, but entirely too resist-
ant to the quick rising action of egg whites,
baking powder and other leavens used in cake.
Swans Down is milled especially for cakes. It
is ground from soft winter wheat because only in
this wheat can you get the most delicate of
glutens—gluten which is quickly, perfectly re-
sponsive to the leavens used in cake. But more
than that, only the choicest part of the wheat
kernel is used for Swans Down. Sifted and resifted
through the finest silk, this choice flour becomes
27 times as fine as ordinary flour!
Den on your
luckiest day,
cake like this
with ordinary
1 cup sifted Swans Down 1 cup sugar
times. Beat eggs until very thick and light and nearly white.
sugarsgradually, beating constantly, Add lemon juice. Fold in
alternately with hot milk, mixing quickly until batter is smooth.
Remove from oven and invert pan for 1 hour, or until cold.
measurements are level.)
get
No wonder Swans Down makes such
a difference in cakes! Not only in sponge
cake, but butter cake, angel food, all
sorts of cakes! No wonder you can econ-
omize on eggs and still get a lighter,
finer cake!
Prize winners rely on SWANS DOWN
Ask the cake winners at the big county and state
fairs. They know the value of using Swans Down.
For in just about every cake contest in the land, it is
a foregone conclusion that Swans Down cakes will win
more prizes than all the other cakes put together.
Send for this Wonderful Recipe Booklet —
Send 10c for ‘‘Cake Secrets” . . the
most complete booklet on cakes you
ever saw! It contains 127 recipes for
cakes, and all kinds of pies, cookies,
and quick breads, as well! Mail the
coupon today!
SWANS
Down
CAKE FLOUR
A Product of General Foods Corporation
IGLEHEART BROTHERS, INC.,
Evansville, Ind. Established 1856
HOT MILK SPONGE CAKE (3 eggs)
Cake Flour 2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon baking powder 6 tablespoons hot milk
3 eggs
Sift flour once, measure, add baking powder, and sift together three
at once in ungreased tube ban in moderate oven (350°F.) 45 minutes.
Add
flour,
Bake
CAN
MAKE THESE
TESTS when you
make your first
Swans Down cake
LOOK AT THECRUST! Touch it! It is ever so
crisp and tender . . . daintily thin... springy, under
Jour fingers! Swans Down makes an amazing difference, in
crust alone!
NOW CUT YOUR CAKE! [ook at its grain.
Did you ever see anything so fine and even? Swans Down
cakes are so light and fluffy, that feathery is the only word
to describe them!
NEXT, BREAK OFF A MORSEL! Pyess it
gently to feel its texture, 50 tender... so delicate! Never
tough or “bready” . Here is one of the most striking
characteristics of Swans Down Cake. It feels like velvet.
AND NOW TASTE IT! Light... fine...
delicious . . . Here is cake worth the making! Here is...
CAKE AT ITS BEST!
Sad for
wonderful recipe
booklet
IGLEHEART BROTHERS, INC.
EVANSVILLE, INDIANA
Enclosed is 10c (stamps or coin) for a copy of your recipe
booklet, “Cake Secrets.”
Name.
Street
+ State.
Fill in completely — print name and address.
In Canada, address General Foods, Limited,
Sterling Tower, Toronto 2, Ontario.
City
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
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McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
SONS OF THE DESERT
[Continued from page 7]
a novelty, they will buy things that
they could conveniently do without,
and it is really difficult for them to re-
sist making a sale if the price offered
is high. Even if he really doesn’t want
to sell, a Navajo will often dicker
awhile, just to keep his hand in.
The system on which business is
done is a remarkable example of adap-
tation to the temperament and seasonal
occupations of a people. The heart of
it is the procedure miscalled ‘“pawn-
ing;” and the foundation of this, in
turn, is the Navajo jewelry industry.
Along in December an Indian, let
us call him Bay Horse, will have spent
all the money received from the au-
tumn sale of sheep. He has corn, beans,
and pifion nuts laid by, but not enough
to feed his family all winter, and he is
reluctant to kill more than a few sheep.
So he asks for credit at the trading
post. To give a Navajo credit is to lose
a customer; why pay a bill when it is
just as easy never to go near that post
again? The government specifies that
credit is advanced at the trader’s risk,
a wise ruling which prevents snaring
ignorant savages in hopeless debt.
pe trader asks for security; Bay
Horse puts up his silver belt, worth
about seventy dollars. It is not really
pawned; it remains his, and no interest
is charged on credit extended. Toward
spring, Bay Horse has run up a bill of
some sixty dollars, and the trader asks
for more security, knowing that if he
gives goods to the full value of the
belt, the Indian may call it a trade and
leave him with an article on his hands
difficult to sell. A turquoise necklace
worth forty dollars is put up. Along
about this time the trader has a closet
full of rich, barbaric jewelry, a marvel-
ous sight, representing to him a thou-
sand or more dollars of credit given,
and not a cent received.
With spring and shearing time, there
is wool to sell or to be woven into
blankets. Bay Horse brings in a hun-
dred pounds, worth fifteen dollars,
more or less, according to the world
market. During the next months, he
sells three or four blankets
worth about ten dollars
each. Part of the value of
these goods is checked off
by the trader against the
debt, perhaps the necklace
is returned. But the family
has needs, the corn is not
yet ripe, some money is
demanded. Bay Horse buys
calico, some velveteen for
a new shirt, flour with
baking soda mixed in by
the trader, coffee, sugar,
tobacco, a pair of blue jeans, perhaps
candy whic he shares with all his
friends. If he feels very well, he stands
the crowd to a can of tomatoes or
plums and a box of soda-crackers, eaten
then and there. Finally, he demands
some actual cash. It may be for his
wife, it may come back to the trader, or
be made into jewelry, lost in gambling,
or spent in a rival post.
The exceptional Indian adds to his
income by jewelry, or working for
Americans, or cleans up on a horse
race. Bay Horse, being average, draws
on his credit again by the end of the
summer.
The crops are harvested; beside the
hogans are great piles of multi-colored
corn, melons, and squashes. Food is
plentiful. Now is the sheep-buying sea-
son. The trader draws from the bank,
or borrows, all he can get, and rides
from camp to camp, bargaining, buy-
ing, paying. Now at last he wipes out
the credits, with a deep sigh of relief
watching his treasure closet grow empty
as his corral fills with sheep.
His fiscal year is drawing to a close;
how does he stand? He has purchased a
year’s turnover of goods, for which
either he has not paid, or expended
most of his capital. Now, in September,
he has spent over and above this a
handsome sum of cash money, for the
Navajo gives no credit to the trader.
Let us call his investment altogether
five thousand dollars plus interest, in
many cases it will be more. In return,
he possesses raw wool, sheep, blankets,
and a certain number of “curios,” in-
cluding two or three pawns that have
become “dead” because their owners
definitely will not redeem them. He
believes all this to be worth his invest-
ment plus the difference between the
wholesale and a rather high retail price.
His wool is subject to the market—
just after the war, many traders went
bankrupt due to the slump. The sheep
must be driven a hundred miles or
“more and then sold. Blankets are sold
through the year, but there is over-
production. The “curios,” jewelry,
bows, arrows, and so forth, are unim-
portant, and the trader is wise to keep
them so, for tourists, with infallible
lack of artistic sense, turn away from
the.real Indian goods, preferring de-
based or fraudulent products.
If everything goes well, the trader
will make a good return on his invest-
ment—if. He may just as well go
broke. The low-grade traders, the men
merely holding down a poor job, the
so-called “traders” along the railroad
who encourage debased weaving and
jewelry for the sake of the tourist
trade, the stray individuals who teach
Indians to bootleg so as to increase
their purchasing power, like the in-
ferior type of government employee,
are distinguished by race feeling. They
misunderstand and despise the Indians.
Sublimely obnoxious, they move in a
nimbus of civilized superiority.
But the real trader, old or young,
loves and understands the Indians, and
in them finds his reward. It lies in the
real friendliness of the gang of young
Navajos who spend an
hour unloading a truck for
him, and the next hour
trying to get him confused
by fast trading. It lies in
the meals awaiting him in
a hundred desert hogans,
in the unspoken welcome
when he enters the medi-
cine lodge. It is there when
the headmen come confi-
dently to him for explana-
tion of a government
order, or for intercession
with headquarters in their behalf. It
is in the respect and friendship of fine
men and women.
HE sprawls along the counter of his
store, exchanging repartee with a
native humorist. The kerosene lamp
picks out the keen Indian faces, the
thick necklace of turquoise, silver and
coral. The colorful Navajo sentences
are interchanged lazily, the audience
laughs as first the Indian, then the
trader, makes a hit. Sundown and clos-
ing time, they mount their ponies, to
lope away singing and yelping. The
trader leans in the doorway.
A tall, elderly Indian walks toward
him. They shake hands, then in silence
watch it grow dark. The Indian coughs.
“My brother’s daughter is home from
school. She has forgotten our language,
our ways. She is sitting in his hogan,
crying. Will you come and help us, my
friend?”
That is the reward.
53
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ese housewives have discovered a new
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What is this ‘‘double-f"’ process—this Fixed*
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part of Armour and Company to give you still
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raising still higher the standard of selection.
Then we revised the cure and smoke process from start to finish. Some well-
meaning friends advised us to let well-enough alone. Star Bacon was already
the most melting morsel that ever decorated a dish, they said. But we were
bent on ‘‘doing the impossible.’’ Years were devoted to research, to perfecting
that uniformity of fragrance and taste which we have called Fixed* Flavor.
Let your family decide at breakfast tomorrow. After all, there are no words
in Webster that can put taste in your mouth. But you will know the instant you
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finally, your fork divides each marvelous mouthful, you will be convinced
beyond question, Mail the coupon for '*36 Ways to Serve Bacon,”
* * *
Tune-in the Armour Hour every Friday night at 8:30 eastern standard time, over any of 36
stations associated with the National Broadcasting Company. Armour and Company, Chicago.
Even the cartons ave new. You can see
what you're getting through the window
in the pound and balf-pound cartons.
ARMOUR’S STAR BACON
with the Fixed* Flavor
Dept. E-7, Div. Food Economics
Armour AND Company, Chicago, U. S. A.
Please send me free copy of **36 Ways to Serve Bacon.”’
Name
Address
© 1930
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Hands Around She Clock
HOW me a woman who does nothing useful
S or beautiful with her hands, and I'll wager
that she’s a discontented or a restless woman
—unless she has reserves of mental enjoyment
that are rare indeed in this hustling and unmeditative
world. Working with our hands is a heritage of women
down the ages. When laziness or a craving for luxury
takes this away, we are lost. Of course, for some of us
there are just to many dull manual tasks in some days
to give us the relaxation and poise we need.
It is probably true that we do plenty of silly, useless
things with our hands, too. Yet I say that even frivolous
manual activity is an emotional outlet. And productive
activity is an even better one. Among that large group
of women whose lives are tangled in unhappinesses of
various sorts there are plenty who have never learned
this secret: If you have the blues, go out and dig in
your garden—or window box! If you feel a burst of
temper coming on, drag that scarred chair down from
the attic and paint it a gay vermilion! If you feel
thwarted and abused, find some needlework you really
love—or bake an angel food cake!
I’m not writing a sermon on idleness; I’m reminding
you that there is not and never has been any stigma
attached to doing things with your hands. The only
qualms we should have are when duties round-the-
clock seem to allow us no time for keeping hands
shapely, creamy-textured and well-groomed. Your
friends will exclaim over your success in restoring the
antique finish of great grandmother’s bureau much less
enthusiastically if your hands bear the unmistakable
brown stains of oil and varnish. Everybody admires a
housekeeper or a stenographer or an amateur gardener
twice as much if she has, at the same time, learned to
keep her hands from advertising her work.
OWADAYS it is so simple to keep hands good look-
ing, if you'll give little attentions to them through-
out the day as automatically as you've learned to do
other business or household tasks. The morning scrub-
bing of the nails should involve a quick sliding of the
cotton-tipped orange stick under the nail tip and around
the cuticle—it takes such a little time to do this! Orange
sticks, the most important tool you need in nail care,
should be kept in the handiest places, as handy as towel,
toothbrush or soap. Then, too, either a hand cream or
hand lotion should be rubbed on the hands for pro-
tection; you can almost do this while you're walking
By Fildegarde Fillmore
downstairs to breakfast! Cotton work gloves are a help
and may save you a moment of embarrassed awkwardness
the next time you dress in a hurry for a party. For most
household tasks nowadays soaps are so mild and bland
that they don’t draw the hands or make them red and
rough. In fact hands suffer from insufficient drying dur-
ing the day more than from too much soaping. Dry
your hands thoroughly every time they’re in water;
keep hand cream or lotion close-by to use in a split-
second emergency!
If you are doing something about the house where
gloves interfere with hand skill, then be very sure to
use the hand preparations, either as protection or after
the chore. Lots of clever women keep a tiny container
of hand cream or lotion in the pocket of the sewing
basket, or in odd corners of the house near the cleaning
implements. Good homemakers insist on a complete
assortment of household cleaning powders, liquids and
oils, but too often they forget that the skin of the
hands suffers as much as the fine finish on a mahogany
table or the smooth, satiny surface of a silver platter.
In the garage, too, there should be an emergency
shelf of hand care equipment, and if you're one of the
hundreds of thousands of modern women who take care
of the family car, you'll want something for your hands
in a pocket of the car itself. It’s a good precaution, too,
if you're dealing with obscure dirty corners of the
house, to put a layer of vanishing cream or soap under
the nail tip. This protects the tip from grimy stains that
are difficult to remove.
Canning and preserving seem to ruin hands faster
than any other task. At this time, a good_ professional
manicure will do much to restore your pride in your
hands. At home use nail bleaches, cuticle liquid, or
simple handy things like a cut lemon to take away stains.
Hand and nail preparations are simple enough, so
simple that we are apt to take them for granted. Yet
it is only in the past few years that any real study was
made of the best methods of home manicure. Curiously
enough it was a man who thought of putting within the
reach of every modern woman simple manicure essen-
tials. He found, for example, that orange wood sticks,
and emery boards and cuticle liquid for softening cuti-
cle, and polishes of various kinds, cake, powder, and
liquid, could be made well in such quantities that
it brought them into the price range of the simplest
toilet accessories. We may buy expensive equip-
ment for hand care just as we may buy expensive
soaps, if we like. But, as in the case of toilet soaps, you
may be sure nowadays that good manicuring essentials
are not necessarily high-priced.
When the day’s work is over, during that half-hour
breathing spell before dinner, give yourself a home
manicure from one of those kits that you can keep in
almost any handy place in the house. First, again, a nice
soap wash, with special use of the nailbrush on knuckles
and wrists. Now, twist a bit of cotton on the end of an
orange stick and clean the nail tips. Again, the cotton-
tipped orange stick dipped into cuticle liquid to loosen
and push back the cuticle and smooth the rough edges.
Don’t get into the habit of cutting the cuticle! It makes
it tough and is far too apt to encourage hangnails. Only
when a rough point of cuticle forms during the day
should it be clipped off with the cuticle scissors. Now
file the edges of the nails smooth to coincide with the
line of the fingertips. Even a light day’s work may make
some roughness on the nail. Then smooth a rich cream
all around the nail and cuticle—down all over the hand,
if you have time. A hand massage is a fine thing aftér a
hard day—it seems to soothe jumpy nerves all over the
body. After you’ve applied this nourishing cream to
the hands, smooth each fingertip down as you’d smooth
on a pair of tight gloves. Then, with the palms, massage
the backs of the hands. If your manicure comes just
before you go to bed you may profitably leave the rich
cream on to lubricate hands and nails at night.
E YOUR manicure is a daytime one, you'll take all
the cream off before using polish on the nails. Remove
the cream with cleansing tissues, and perhaps another
washing of the hands. Then you may apply a lotion or
vanishing type of hand cream. The nails themselves
should be quite dry before applying polish, and I hope
you'll use the kind of polish you really like. As in the
case of rouge or lipstick or eye make-up choose the
shade of nail polish that is truly becoming to you.
There are two safe truths to remember about hands
at all times: First, learn to use them capably; skillful
work with your hands gives you self-expression that
will serve you all through life. Second, never let your
hands look as if they were slaves to any grimy task.
That’s a major crime in the beauty code.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
ae and-
babies
rr
fake m y advice /
“I tell you, folks, the time has come when something simply must be done!
Just look at the weather—getting warmer, every day. Prickly heat has
become a hig problem... are we going to put up with it? And with chaf-
ing, too? I say—No, my friends! Take my advice...
“End these troubles! Get acquainted with the right kind of powder!
I met it when I was all chafed and cross, and I’ve been a better baby
ever since. In all my eleven months of experience, I’ve never known pow-
der so soft and fine! It keeps me comfortable—and cool. And remember,
folks, I’m not the only one... if all those in favor could only stand up,
you'd see that babies know what's best!”
The Chief Chemist has something to say... Baby powders are not all alike,
as a baby soon finds out! You yourself will understand the difference in them,
when you know the difference in tales. The high-grade Italian talc used for John-
son’s Baby Powder is made up of soft, tiny flakes—but the inferior talc used in
some baby powders contains sharp, needle-like particles! The trained observer
readily sees this difference under a microscope—or you can feel it this way...
Rub a little Johnson's Baby Powder between your thumb and finger. Then do
the same with other powders . . . you'll know, soon enough, if they're made
with inferior talc! Another important thing to remember: Johnson’s Baby
Powder contains zo stearate of zinc. For your baby’s sake, decide wisely!
Babies should have the best of soaps, too . . . Johnson's Baby Soap is made
especially for babies, from purest high-grade olive and other vegetable oils. It is
as bland and soothing as the finest Castile soaps—but
unlike Castile, Johnson’s Baby Soap gives a rich,
smooth lather and rinses off quickly and completely,
leaving the skin soft and velvety. Note this fact, also—
fotmsons
whereas Castile soaps are frequently impure and inferior in quality, every cake of
Johnson's Baby Soap conforms to the highest standards of purity and excellence.
Extra comfort in this cream! Johnson's Baby Cream is also made especially
for babies, from purest ingredients. It is bland and soothing and relieves chafing,
prickly heat, “‘diaper rash,” and other mild irritations of the skin. A little of
this cream, rubbed gently on the baby’s skin before going outdoors, will prevent
painful sunburn.
samples of Johnson’s Baby Soap and Cream,
Sor you to try in connection with the powder.
Write to Baby Products Division, Dept. 4-J,
Johnson & Johnson, New Brunswick, N. J.
FREE SAMPLES! In order that you may test
Jobnson’s Baby Powder without expense, we
will be glad to send you a generous sample—
Sree of charge. With it, we will send you free
WORLD'S LARGEST MANUFACTURERS OF SURGICAL DRESS-
665 208:
INGS, ZO CARTRIDGE SPOOL ADHESIVE PLASTER, ETC.
Baby
Powder
56
A PRICELESS CARGO of glow-
ing health—thanks to a mother
who knows that bananas mean
better nourished bodies.
BEST THING AT THE BEACH PARTY—dananas.
They’re clean to carry and easy to eat—anywhere.
Wonderfully satisfying, too, when you're hungry.
~ No Vacation
for your VITALITY
That’s why bananas belong in the diet...
T hey’ re a natural vitality food
Ve time—but not for
your vital energy. That
must be kept bubbling. It’s the
spark that brightens all activity >
—work or play. And that’s ex-
actly why dananas belong in your
diet. They help build vitality.
What is it that gives bananas
this energizing quality? Let the
leading food authorities answer
... Bananas are liberally stored
with health-building properties.
They are a valuable source of the
protective vitamins—A, Band C.
They have the regulating minerals
that are necessary to body tone.
And, of course, no food is more
easily digested than a ripe banana.
BANANA
GROWERS
ASSOCIATION
So eat bananas at least once a
day ... for breakfast . . . lunch-
eon... dinner... or as a tasty
bite between meals. Revel in
their mellow, luscious flavor...
Let them add to your vacation
pleasure... and help guard your
vitality through the strenuous
summer. ,-
New Banana Book Free
Just off the press and brimful of unusual
recipes, menus, and serving suggestions.
Prepared by nutrition experts. Send
coupon for your copy. Be among the
first to benefit by the new knowledge
of the banana and its uses.
| BANANA GROWERS ASSN. MC-7 |
| 17 Battery Place, New York City, or
i 1171 St, James Street West, Montreal, Canada
Please send me“*Bananas in the Modern Manner.” }
Name,
Address,
a
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
A WORD TO THE BRIDE
[Continued from page 8]
transforms it, but simply the disturb-
ing, destructive thing that it really is.
The monetary consideration, most
of us have discovered, is not to be dis-
missed lightly. It is age more than
anything else, I think, that determines
one’s definition of comfort with the
result that financial demands are a
good deal more modest early in life
than they are later on. When two very
young people marry, the business of
finding success as measured by con-
temporary standards is an intriguing
prospect, an exciting adventure; a
more seasoned couple if they are com-
pelled to think in terms of money at
all are secretly appalled by it.
You will find that a girl who has
survived the adolescent stage without
making the most courageous of all
romantic gestures usually finds an-
other interest that replaces the frus-
trated homemaking urge. This occupa-
tion is apt to give her an exaggerated
financial independence carrying with it
a subconscious pride in her ability to
look after herself; a vainglorious,
empty pride that is the arch enemy of
matrimonial congeniality.
An early coming together, apart
from the theoretical points in its favor
has its practical advantages as well.
For one, it is a health policy un-
exploited by even the canniest of in-
surance agents; for show me the
happily married couple who do the
amount of chasing about, who keep
the fantastic hours and who consume
the quantity of liquor that unattached
people do. In spite of their reluctance
to admit it—for being a “home body”
isn’t considered chic—after that first
hectic year during which everyone is
entertaining for them an evening at
home has an undeniable appeal.
eee advisability of having one’s
babies early is perhaps the most sig-
nificant of all the arguments advanced
in favor of youthful marriages. That
it is a smaller physical hazard is gen-
erally admitted and I am not one bit
sure that the casual attitude of which
the young mother is frequently ac-
cused is not better for the child itself
than the unduly elaborate tactics em-
ployed by the older woman whose ex-
cess of care is stimulated subconsci-
ously by an intense fear that should
this youngster be snatched away from
her she might not be able to have an-
other. This constant surveillance and
fanatical amount of attention simply
turns what might have been a healthy
little animal into a fractious, high-
strung bundle of nerves,
Then, too, dispositions are more
tractable when they are young, just
as bodies are more pliable and the ad-
justment that must take place, if true
congeniality is to be found, is a far less
painful operation if attended to early
than it is when a later attempt is
made.
Bes it is none of these sage, sound,
reasonable assumptions that has
made of me the staunch advocate of
early marriage that I am. It is rather the
incorrigibly romantic notion I've al-
ways hugged to me that “love comes
but once”—the sort that is the especial
property of the very young, the mad,
unthinking kind that makes you trem-
ble with mingled delight and trepida-
tion at a touch, and the conviction
that life owes us the consummation of
that love.
The world is filled with people who
are trying desperately to delude them-
selves into thinking that love and a
friendly tolerance are interchangeable
terms; that an affectionate esteem,
which I call love that has been served
once and warmed over, is the emo-
tional status to which the sensible
aspire. Perhaps they are wise. They
save themselves many a heartache cer-
tainly; but I think that those who de-
fine first love as a malady that must
be endured but cured in short order
and who defer marriage until a more
suitable alliance looms up, are a pretty
sorry lot, for they consummate some-
thing they don’t really want except
with their minds.
They marry, a great many of them,
for a comfortable kind of security
which, in their ignorance, they con-
fuse with tranquillity. The state of be-
ing they babble about is nothing but
respite from fatigue, balm for disap-
pointment, snug harbor for the dis-
illusioned. Inner calm, however, that
safe sweet sensation, is the product of
a lifetime of companionship and un-
derstanding. It belongs to those who
have come a long way together to
find it and have been generous on the
journey.
Practical souls, dull, unimaginative,
sane souls will urge you to abandon all
idea of adventure and play safe. Love
doesn’t last, they will tell you. After a
time—whether you’ve married the boy
you adored at seventeen or the man
who adored you at thirty-seven—it will
all be the same in the end, they will say
in their cynical fashion. But does the
end matter so much? Enough to re-
linquish the beginning?
[Now turn to page 102]
WORDS AND MUSIC
[Continued from page 23]
a means of making aesthetic whoopee,
and more and more a serious choral
organization, conducted by a musician
and devoted to performing the best
music in the choral repertoire.
Consider, for a moment, the Harvard
Glee Club. Here is a male chorus with
an average membership of two hundred
and fifty, conducted by a man who has
made himself and his organization fa-
mous, Dr. Archibald T. Davison. Its
spring program included hardly a num-
ber that the Schola Cantorum or the
Oratorio Society would not gladly
sponsor.
Equally good are the programs
offered by the Hamilton College Choir.
For the choir is a real one, and the
music that it offers at its concerts
is the music that it sings in the Ham-
ilton College chapel. The organization
owes much to its conductor, Paul A.
Fancher, who besides being a faculty
member is a rabid musical amateur who
developed the choir more or less as a
hobby.
Just how and when this “excelsior”
movement among the glee clubs took
place I do not know. One thing of which
I am certain is, that it was not imposed
from above. If American undergrad-
uates today elect to sing Palestrina and
Brahms and Wagner and Purcell, leav-
ing Sweet Adeline and Didn’t He Ram-
ble to the old grads and the business
men’s lunch clubs, it must be because
they like to sing good music. If things
keep on as they are, a college reunion
twenty-five years from now will prob-
ably sound very much like the Tourna-
ment of Song in the second act of
Tannhauser.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
57
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McCALL’S
M’SIEU SWEETHEART
[Continued from page 20]
dishes. Even now her own brother sat
in scornful silence by the living room
fire, dark brows drawn, listening, sul-
lenly, to the giggles from the kitchen.
Dishes done, they sat by the fire and
talked. Bob told of London days and
nights and Neeka listened, spell-bound,
crouched in a corner, all eyes and eager-
ness, hugging her knees and watching
the play of firelight on the golden heads
of the visitors. “They will marry,” was
her secret thought. “They are so beau-
tiful and so suited to each other. They
look at the world together. They are
team-mates, like Giekie and the white
malamute he met and loved last
spring.”
Neeka brought Miscou his fiddle.
“Mak’ music for your
snow-bird,” she whispered
to him.
“Its wonderful!” Car-
lyle whispered as Miscou
played. “The lad’s a mar-
vel.”
A change in tempo...
longing, woman-longing . . .
someone, seen brilliantly, as
if a stage curtain had just
gone up on an unforgettable scene
. a tall, dark girl in an open door-
way, her skirts whipped about her body
by the wind . . Neeka! Neeka in
the lantern light, kneeling by his pris-
oner, woman’s eternal compassion
shining in her eyes . . . Neeka close
by him in the moonlight, taunting him
with the cry—‘You nevaire, nevaire
catch me!” Neeka, at home, serving
him, hanging upon his words; quiet as
a deep running river amid the brook-
chatter of his talk with the blonde girl,
Daisy. Daisy? No note of her in the
music. It -was all Neeka and Carlyle
turned to look at the girl.
She was dancing. Lightly, smoothly;
a graceful, pliant bending, a ripple of
brown hands like leaves, hushed as sil-
ver moonlight, joyous as golden day,
untrammeled as crystal water gliding
over agate pebbles. `
“Bravo!” Carlyle cried when the
music stopped and, with it, Neeka’s
dance. Daisy laughed. Carlyle shook
himself and threw off the spell. “If I
could take you two home and stage
that act you’d be a sensation!” he said.
Neeka was rosy with sudden shy-
ness. “I no think you look, m’sieu,”
she said. “It is jus’ something silly I
do by myself in the woods, or when
Miscou and I are alone. But, oh,
m’sieu,” she added, loyally, “you
should see Daisy dance! It is beauti-
ful! Daisy, please! For M’sieu Car-
lyle!” and she seized the girl’s hands,
dragging her to her feet and ordering
Miscou to “play gay!”
“Go on, Miss Dell,” said Carlyle,
politely.
AISY did not want to dance. Her
steps, she knew, would place her
all too plainly, in a certain class. “I
don’t really dance,” she explained.
“Just some steps I learned at dancing
school, when I was little.” But she
flung off the veil of her unhappy
thoughts and kicked formality with the
toe of her slipper. She danced. She
flung her legs ceilingward, she bent,
she twisted, she twirled silken knees in
a froth of white lace. Fire and lamp-
light played upon her and her lips
parted in the set, red smile of the
trained chorus girl.
“You never learned that dance in a
school for young ladies!” considered
Corporal Carlyle to himself, drumming
the tabletop and roaring the lilting
chorus. Neeka, standing upon a chair
the better to see the show, clapped her
hands with unfeigned delight while
Miscou played as one possessed. He
drew nearer to the whirling figure until
he was standing beside her and Daisy
dropped into a Spanish posture, hands
on hips, heels clicking and lithe body
swaying before the musician. The fid-
dle crashed to the floor. Miscou’s arms
were about the dancer and she was
struggling against his breast. “Oh!”
cried Neeka, from her perch, frightened
for her brother, fearful for Carlyle.
Might they not fight, these two? As
her forest friends fought in the mating
season? Her eyes flew to the Mounty.
He had stopped drumming upon the
table with the two pieces of kindling
wood but he was still humming, under
his breath, and he made no move to
interfere. Daisy wrenched
herself from Miscou’s arms,
slapped his face, laughed
and with a high-pitched
scream—‘“Tag, you're it!”
darted from the cabin and
down the path. Miscou was
after her in a flash and the
night swallowed them.
It all happened so quickly
there was not time for
Neeka to leave her perch upon the
chair and she was still standing there
when Carlyle slammed shut the cabin
door and came back to her. “She can
take care of herself,” he said, dryly,
answering the question he thought he
read in Neeka’s startled eyes. “He’s
very much in love with her, isn’t he,
this brother of yours?”
HE breathed assent. “Oui, m’sieu, I
fraid so, but Daisy . . .” she
wanted to assure him it was all right,
that he need have no fear for Daisy,
the girl did not care for Miscou but
was deeply enamoured of himself, as
anyone with half an eye could see!
“You must do your best to break up
your brother's affair with this girl,”
Carlyle said. “Listen to me, Neeka,
and try to understand. You're good
and sweet and everything that is ador-
able. I only wish . . .” Here he checked
himself and began again, lighting his
pipe and cursing, inwardly, the trem-
ble of his fingers. “You couldn’t pos-
sibly know the sort of a woman Daisy
is,’ he went on; “nothing like her,
naturally, has ever floated into the
backwater of Neepawa. She is hard to
explain, to you, but, promise me, when
the time comes you'll see that she
goes on her way free of entanglement.
An affair with your brother would be
a terrible mess.”
“I think I understand,” Neeka
found tongue at last. “It is because
Miscou is an Indian, eh? An’ because
Daisy, as you say, is so different from
us. She is not our sort. Is that the
word? I know that, m’sieu. She is not
for us, m’sieu, any more than you are
for us.” She was thinking of the peb-
ble and the dewdrop and tears crept
into her voice. “I understand, m’sieu,
an’ I ask you to hav’ no fears. I know
Daisy care for you. I feel it, here!”
her hand on her loyal little heart.
“Nonsense!” Bob pulled on his pipe
and laughed. “Stuff and nonsense! That
sort of woman makes a play for every-
thing in trousers! . I mean for
every man who comes along. She
doesn’t care for me any more than I
care for her! But when it comes to
your brother—”
“You don’ care for her? You don’
love her?”
She leaned forward, breathlessly, her
whole world caught in her eyes. He
laughed again. “Lord, no! I was pretty
sure at the post today as to what she
was and tonight’s performance fixed it.
[Continued on page 60]
MAGAZINE JULY 1930
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930 59
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McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
M’SIEU SWEETHEART
[Continued from page 58]
Mind you, she is probably all right.
Lots of those girls are and they’ve had
a devil of a time and all, but—”
Neeka did not hear a word of it.
Her mind was totally occupied with
the glittering fact that he did not love
Daisy! She no longer saw the golden
head against the scarlet tunic.
Some of her relief must have blazed
from the forest-pool depths of her
eyes for Carlyle, reading the sweet
confession there, stood up; silent, ap-
prehensive; conscious of an unspoken,
trembling hope within himself.
And now the girl was free to move
away but she stayed still, waiting. And
he was a man. The spell of her dancing,
the thoughts that raced riotously
through his mind when Miscou played,
trouped hungrily back. He drew her to
him so that she knelt upon the chair
and he kissed her; kissed her until her
first faint struggles ceased and she re-
laxed in his arms. She leaned against
him as if she were tired. “I did not
think there was this much happiness in
the worl’!” she whispered.
The voices of Daisy and Miscou as
they neared the cabin crashed in upon
an even sweeter second kiss. “I must
go,” Carlyle said, hurriedly. “But I must
see you again, talk to you...where?”
Wild roses, he thought, were no more
sweetly flushed than the girl’s cheeks
and her eyes shone, star-like.
She considered, forefinger nestled
on the spot at the corner of her bowed
lips—the dimple so inviting to a lover’s
kiss. “Come to the High Trail,” she
said. “The river sing there now on its
way to Le Bois Noir an’ violets grow.
Fin’ the High Trail. In Neepawa they
tell you where she is.”
“Early, Neeka?”
“Oh, so early as you say. Wit’
dawn?”
“Well, not quite that early.”
“Then when the sun come to hear
the river sing.”
“When is that, adorable?”
She clapped her hands as if to catch
the word between her fingers and im-
prison it, like a butterfly. “Oh!” she
cried, “that is a nice name. May I call
you that name —‘Ador-
able?’ ”
“That name is only for
lovely girls, like you.”
“Then what I call you?”
“Sweetheart . . . if you
want to.”
“Sweetheart! Heart that
is sweet! M’sieu Sweet-
heart!”
“You didn’t answer my
question. When does the
sun come to the river?”
“Ah, you is stranger to
the big woods if you ask
that, M’sieu Sweetheart!
He com’ at noon, when he
is mos’ high in the Heaven. That is
the only time the sun can reach on his
tip-toe and look down through the tall
trees to hear the singing of the River!”
EASON rode with a sharp spur as
Corporal Carlyle came down the
High Trail to his rendezvous. When he
left the LaRonde cabin upon the pre-
vious evening he walked to the post on
air, the tops of the tallest pines tickling
his chin and his head scraping the
clouds. The Factor, cynically dry and
infinitely wise, pricked the bubble. Sit-
ting by his fireside he talked plainly of
existence in Neepawa as opposed to
life at home. He expatiated the fate of
certain squawmen he knew. The father
of the LaRonde girl, he pointed out,
was a sad case and illustrative. A fine
enough fellow, he had been, clean as a
hound’s tooth and with no reason to
contract such a marriage, no more
reason than there would be for, say
Bob himself to throw over his career,
his chances in the service and risk the
breaking of his people’s hearts by mar-
rying a breed-girl!
This conversation revolved in Car-
lyle’s mind as he came down the trail
and thoughts of Neeka, he found, were
inextricably woven into the motif. It
seemed he could not have her; nor
could he forget her. He must, he
thought, be careful in his interview to-
day, must make things clear to her
about Daisy, Miscou and himself.
E FOUND Neeka sitting with
Giekie upon a mossy boulder
overhanging the stream. She was a
throned queen of her forest, her scep-
tre a bouquet of white violets, her
crown the shaft of sunlight gaining the
tops of the tallest trees and shining
obliquely, for a precious handful of
minutes, upon the river below. “You
are on time, m’sieu,” said the girl,
greeting him shyly and lifting her lips,
as naturally as a child, for his kiss.
Carlyle pretended not to see the in-
nocently expectant gesture. He looked
instead at the brawling stream as it
flung itself in a flurry of white froth
over the boulder barricades, lay quietly
in deep pools, or chattered, noisily, as
it tripped down rocky stairways. “Must
be good fishing here,” he remarked.
Neeka nodded, repulsed, certain he
must have noted her bold offering, hop-
ing he had not.
She jumped up. “It is col’ here. See,
the sun is already mos’ gone. Only for
a leetle minute does he see the river,
If you will follow me, m’sieu,” she in-
vited, “I will show you somethings.”
“Ssh!” she warned at length. “Crawl
on your knees, like me. Giekie, down!
If they see you they runs!”
Passing the tangle of bush they came ~
to the rim of the ledge and looked
down upon an open meadow, a moun-
tain intervale of lush loveliness; small,
circular, walled by the ledge upon one
side and forest-screened on the other.
A silver thread of brook embroidered
the flower-starred grass and
a dozen or more deer were
scattered about the meadow.
Upwind from the watchers
on the ledge, the deer did
not notice the invaders and
went contentedly about
their meal, nibbling the
juicy grass, chewing their
cuds, stamping sharp hoofs
and jerking short, white-
tipped tails at the pesky
May-flies.
Neeka cautioned Carlyle
to lie still and watch and
ordered Giekie to remain’
with the man. Then she
stood up, advancing, slowly, to the rim
of the ledge. Slight as was the noise
she made, the deer jerked up their
heads and stood motionless, listening,
jaws and hoofs stilled and the white
hairs upon the undersides of their
knees and tails flying erect, like warn-
ing flags. A fawn bleated and the larg-
est stag wheeled and began to lead
off, but, just then, Neeka gave a soft,
appealing call. It seemed to carry con-
fidence to the deer for the buck came
to a standstill and the eyes of the herd
were fastened upon the girl above. She
called once more, then started to climb
down to the meadow. The deer paid
no attention, their tails were lowered
and they resumed their peaceful chew-
ing. A doe nosed at the bleating fawn
and he bunted about until he found
her teats and began to nuzzle.
[Continued on page 64]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
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chips, flakes or powder, but tiny hollow
beads. Made by spraying melted soap from
high steel towers. The walls of each bead
are 4 times thinner than the thinnest chip
or flake ever made. Thus this wonderful
new form of soap gives instant suds...suds
with such speed of action that they cut dish-
washing time in these 3 ways:
(1) Saves waiting for suds. No stirring,
coaxing or heating water extra hot to get
soap to dissolve. (2) Washes dishes clean
faster. The rich, penetrating, all-through-the-
water suds wash dishes clean with lightning
speed. (3) Saves dishwiping. Because this
soap dissolves completely, every trace of it
is carried away in one hot rinse. Dishes drain
dry to streakless, sparkling clearness. Wiping
is not necessary.
Once you've used this
instant dissolving, instant
washing, instant rinsing
form of soap you'll have no
more patience for old-fash-
ioned, slow-dissolving
soaps. And Super Suds is
only 10 cents a package,
10 brimming cups. Order
from your grocer today.
f *These tests were made under identical conditions. 14 oz. of Super Suds was placed in one glass
dishpan. In the other, 14 oz. of chip soap. Equal amounts of water of the same temperature
were then added to each pan. The time, from the moment the water touched the soap to the
moment the photographs were taken, was the same in both cases, down to the very second. 5850
68
Cool that fiery Sunburn
|
INSTANTLY with HINDS CREAM
PPLY Hinds Honey & Almond Cream freely, but
A gently... feel theinstant relief from painful burning.
Apply a little more. Your sunburn is cooler at once. Try it
again in a little while . . . and again the last thing at night.
Hinds Cream will give blessed relief to the most violent
sunscorch . . . it will make your skin cool and supple and
comfortable again. It offsets the ravages of wind and
sun, too, and keeps your skin soft and fresh. Rub on
Hinds Cream before you go out into the sun if you would
like a glorious tan without the painful burn. Or, if you
prefer to keep your skin creamy-white all summer long,
Hinds Cream with powder over it will help prevent burn-
ing at all. All drug counters carry this soothing lotion.
Refine the texture of your skin with Hinds Toning Cleanser
This extraordinary new liquid cleanser will clean your pores thoroughly, will make them
exquisitely fine, will tone your skin and refresh it. Used together with the new Hinds
Cleansing Cream and Hinds Texture Cream, it will keep your skin radiant and young.
Hinds Toning Cleanser is 60 at all drug counters.
A. S. Hinds Co., a division of Lehn & Fink Products Company, Bloomfield, N. J.
7
ama GREAM
REG, U, S, PAT. OFF.
HINDS
©1930, Lehn & Fink, Inc.
McCALIZS MAGAZINE JULY 1920
M’SIEU SWEETHEART
[Continued from page 64]
intensity of the moment, Neeka seemed
to float before him, an embodied
sprite of the wilderness.
With every hesitating moment he
was more hopelessly lost, like a man
plunging deeper into quicksand. “My
dear,” he began, but the words choked
him.
“Oh, say that other, like las’ night!”
she begged.
“What was that? I don’t remember.”
“Oh, bad one, you do! It was ‘Ador-
able’.”
“Adorable!” he breathed it after
her, closing his eyes against the temp-
tation of her curved throat, the dim-
pled sweetness of her mouth.
“Ah! How I love that name,” she
whispered. “An’ my name for you,
that one you tol’ me—‘M’sieu Sweet-
heart!’ I hav’ say it over and over to
myself. All night and all morning, un-
til you come to me today, M’sieu
Sweetheart!”
And there was the
heart, flung before
him, loving, loyal;
to trample on, to
fling away, or to
gather up and cherish.
Groaning, he took her
into his arms, crush-
ing her to his breast,
his kisses beating
down upon her lips, her throat and her
hair. The tumult passed she lay, un-
resisting, in his arms, her face nestled
against his red coat. Flaming sunset
bathed their hilltop. Giekie, forgotten,
looked over his shoulder at the lovers
and grinned, pinkly. “Neeka, dear,
adorable, give me something to take
with me when I go.”
“When you go?” Sudden apprehen-
sion chilled the warmth of her voice.
“There is this job to finish.”
“Oui, oui, the trapped man. I had
forgotten him. I was so happy. So
selfish. But, when he is—when he is
taken there, then you will come back,
for me? You will? Oh, say to me you
will or I tell you I follow right after
you!”
Carlyle visualized an arrival in Ed-
monton with his prisoner and this
beautiful, if untamed, girl. “I'll come
back,” he said, the bleak knowledge
that he lied cutting him like a knife.
“But, give me something . . . those vio-
lets you’ve worn all afternoon in your
sash. Kiss them . . . there, they shall
go into this pocket.”
“No, no! The other one, over your
heart!”
“My keys are there,” he objected,
showing her the steel ring from which
jingled several keys. “Handcuff keys
and white violets don’t go together!”
“Then change them over!” she de-
manded and gravely watched the trans-
fer of the keys to the right-hand
pocket, placing the flowers in their
stead, over his heart, first kissing each
blossom again. “They will grow old
and die,” she said, “but my kisses will
always be on them, until you come
bac’ for me, over the las’ ridge!”
HAT afternoon found Neeka alone
in the post, tending shop and sing-
ing riotously as she stacked tinned
goods into new and astonishing pat-
terns. The well-intentioned Factor’s
lady came to her. “I must talk to you
about Mr. Carlyle,” she said.
Neeka plumped. down upon a pile of
blankets behind the counter. “Oh!”
she cried, “he hav’ tol’ you?”
“Yes,” Mrs. McDonald fibbed, “but
it is all quite impossible.”
The dark eyes clouded. “I not un-
derstand, Madame. It is impossible
that we should marry?”
Mrs. McDonald gasped. “It has gone
that far?” :
“Far?” Neeka was wide-eyed inno-
cence. “I not understand. On the night
before las’ M’sieu Corporal kiss me.
That is a sign of our marriage pac’, is
not that so?”
HIDDEN by the counter, Alice set-
tled herself upon the blankets at
Neeka’s side, genuine pity in her heart
for she loved this child and disillusion
was a cruel knife. Some moments later
Carlyle came into the store and heard
the women’s voices. Checked by the
repetition of his own name, he listened,
guiltily. Mrs. McDonald’s explanation
of his conduct was truthful but diffi-
cult to swallow. “Men of his class are
like that,” she was saying. “They think
nothing of kissing a pretty girl, par-
ticularly if she is a girl from another
walk in life.”
Neeka said, fiercely: “He love me!”
“Did he tell you
so? Didn’t you just
take it for granted,
because of that
chance kiss, which he
might have given to
any pretty girl who
tempted him? Did
he really tell you he
loved you? Did he
ask you to marry him?”
Thick silence fell in the store, like
the ticking of dying heart-beats, then
a small, tear-drenched voice confessed:
“No, Madame.”
That broken cry echoing in his burn-
ing ears, Carlyle stole from the post,
his face as red as his coat and his lips
a taut line. ‘No, Madame!’ No. He
had not said he loved her; had not
asked her to marry him. He had kissed
and held her, once in the cabin, again
on the hillside, and he had known the
impossibility, known he would never
come back to Neepawa.
“You beastly rotter!” he cursed him-
self as he walked swiftly from the vil-
lage, past the LaRonde cabin. He was
hailed by Daisy from the cabin win-
dow. “My, but you go fast,” she cried.
“Won’t you come in for a cup of tea?”
Wheeling in his tracks, Carlyle
stared at the blonde girl with a fierce
animosity. What right had she to stop
him? What right to be in Neeka’s
house at all, a girl like that? Well, for
the wrong he had done Neeka, he'd do
one right; he’d put a bug in Daisy's
ear and send her packing before the
Indian brother was hopelessly en-
tangled. “I hope she tries to vamp
me!” he thought, grimly, going up to
the cabin.
Daisy met him at the door, all
smiles. “I was so lonesome,” she said,
“so I’d just boiled a kettle of water
for some tea. I just love afternoon tea,
don’t you? We always had it at home.
Then I happened to see you going by.
My, but you were walking fast! And,
I thinks, I'll just bet the corporal
would like a cup too. So I called you.”
“Very kind of you, I am sure.” He
sat down, without removing his Baden-
Powell.
A flush deepened her rouged cheeks
but she nervously pretended not to no-
tice the hat. “One lump or two?” she
asked, her hands fluttering among the
teacups. “As I was saying,” she added,
“we always served tea at home and—”
“Don’t tell me the dance-halls you’ve
worked in made a speciality of five
o’clock tea!”
There! He, too, could cut. But he
lacked the courage to look at his vic-
tim; stood up, instead, and went to
the window. After a little silence of
[Continued on page 74]
McCALIVS MAGAZINE JULY 1930
THE BUTCHER . .:.
THE BAKER... THE
CANDLESTICK-MAKER
KEEP THINGS CLEAN
AND WHOLESOME FOR
YOU WITH WYANDOTTE
69
Mosr of the things that come into your home have been made better for you in one way
or another by Wyandotte products . . . canned peaches for your luncheon . . . the spotless
bottles your milk comes in... gossamer silk hosiery . . . kitchen-ware . . . shoes... even
bread and butter. . . .
Wyandotte products bring cleanliness to every great industry — and thus into your own
home. They bring food to your dining-table, wholesome and inviting. They wash dishes
for you in hotels and restaurants. They clean the stores, the office buildings, the hospitals,
you visit... walls, floors, paint, tile, marble, in fact, everything. They return your clothing
Leading bakeries depend on Wyandotte to maintain y Much of the food that comes to your table has been guarded on its way by Wyandotte clean- from the better laundries, clean, safe arid sweet-
the very highest standards of cleanliness, everywhere. ™ liness. Meat, milk, butter, canned goods . . . almost, in fact, anything you may name,
Great ice cream plants are kept spotless and sparkling with Wyandoue, so that
their products may reach your home, absolutely clean, wholesome and sanitary.
smelling, without damaging the most delicate
fabrics. They even make metals “chemically
clean” . . . the fenders of your automobile, for
instance, so they will retain their brilliant finish
without “peeling.”
The J. B. Ford Company is the world’s largest
manufacturer of cleaning materials. For a third
of a century, it has been developing special
products, dozens of them, for difficult jobs.
These products guard your health, and aid in
manufacturing processes.
Textile manufacturers use a special Wyandotte
product to remove impurities from wool, silk,
cotton. Tanners use another in the preparation
of leather. Lumbermen use still another to pre-
vent “sap stain,” so your furniture will have a
beautiful, clear grain.
The meat market cleaned with Wyandotte has
no grease spots for the breeding of bacteria;
neither has the packing-plant, nor even the
refrigerator-car in which the meat is carried.
The bakery is sanitary and wholesome; the
dairy, shining and spotless.
Indeed, there is hardly an item of the three
great essentials of life—food, clothing and
shelter — that has not been improved for you
by one or more of the Wyandotte products.
The J. B. Ford Company, Wyandotte, Michigan.
For your protection the canneries from which your fruit comes
are kept as clean as your own kitchen 5. . with Wyandotte.
WYANDOTTE
‘Trade Mark
C LE ANS THE W O RLD
70
Pal
Thin sandwiches served with tall, frosty glasses of Rhubarb Punch
pa
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Pineapple Icebox Cake is a simply irresistible summer dessert
HOT WEATHER RECIPES
FOR THIS AND THAT
UZZLED, these hot days, about what to have for
Pieces: or dinner or in-between meals? Here
are some easy-to-use recipes, especially planned
to tempt summertime appetites. Wouldn’t you like to
try some of them? ,
Jellied Tomato Soup
Pepper
1 small onion, sliced
2 cups chicken (or
1 bay leaf, broken
1 teaspoon sugar other) broth
2 cups canned 2 tablespoons
tomatoes gelatine
Salt ` 4 cup cold water
Put onion, bay leaf, tomatoes and sugar in saucepan
and cook 20 minutes. Strain and add broth. Season to
taste with salt and pepper. Soak gelatine in cold water
5 minutes. Add to hot stock and stir until dissolved.
Pour into a square shallow pan which has been dipped
in cold water. Chill. Cut in small cubes or break up
with fork. Pile in bouillon cups and garnish with
whipped cream and chopped parsley.
Broiled Finnan Haddte
Wash fish thoroughly. Soak in cold water, skin side up,
for % hour. Pour off water, cover with hot water, and
let stand 15 minutes. Drain thoroughly and wipe dry.
Brush with melted butter, or oil, and broil slowly 15 to
20 minutes. Dot with butter, and garnish with slices of
lemon. Serve with chilled sliced tomatoes and cucumbers.
Bay State Salad
Arrange a mound of heart leaves of lettuce in the
center of a salad platter. Around it, place alternately
slices of tomato and halves of deviled eggs. Against
each slice of tomato, lay a sardine spread with a little
prepared mustard. Serve with a sharp French dressing.
Jellied Veal with Summer Salad
1 teaspoon salt
34 teaspoon paprika
1 knuckle veal
\% teaspoon pepper
Cover veal with cold water, bring to boiling point,
and simmer until the meat drops from the bone, or
By McCALL’S FOOD STAFF
about 2% to 3 hours. Season at the end of the first
hour. When done, remove the meat and strain the
stock, Return the stock to fire and boil until it is re-
duced to 2 cups. Add the meat, finely shredded. Pour
into a loaf pan and chill. Serve in thin slices with
Summer Salad
Cut radishes and green pepper in wafer-thin slices,
put in ice water and chill thoroughly. Drain well. Serve
on crisp watercress with French dressing to which a
little grated onion has been added.
Stuffed Tomato, Fondue
6 large ripe % cup cream
tomatoes % cup top milk
1% cups cooked rice % teaspoon salt
% 1b, mild Ameri- % teaspoon pepper
can Cheese Few grains paprika
Scoop out centers of tomatoes and sprinkle insides
with salt. Invert and let stand in refrigerator 1⁄4 hour.
Fill centers with rice and bake in a hot oven (400° F.)
about 15 to 20 minutes. Cut cheese in small pieces and
melt in the combined cream and milk. Add salt, pepper
and paprika. Pour around tomatoes and garnish with
parsley. The tomatoes may be stuffed with sautéd
mushrooms, if desired.
Pineapple Icebox Cake
1 box (8 oz.) graham
crackers
1 No. 2 can (20 oz.)
crushed pineapple
% lb. marshmallows
12 dates
1% doz, lady fingers
% pint cream
Crush crackers with rolling pin on bread board. (This
should make 2% cups of crumbs.) Add pineapple pulp
and juice, marshmallows cut in quarters, and dates cut
in small pieces. Line a bread pan or a round cake pan
with waxed paper, then with split lady fingers laid
round side out. Fill with graham cracker mixture and
cover top with lady fingers. Put a piece of waxed paper
on top and place in refrigerator for several hours. Turn
out on a platter and serve with whipped cream, sweet-
ened and flavored to taste. If desired, garnish the top
with whipped cream, put around the edges with a pastry
tube.
Plombiére Glacé
Put vanilla ice cream in the bottom of a dessert
glass. Cover it with marrons glacés, cut in pieces. Then
put a layer of macaroon crumbs, and on top pile
whipped cream. Garnish with pieces of marrons'and
chopped pistachio nuts.
Rhubarb Punch
Mix equal quantities of tea and rhubarb juice to-
gether. To each cup of liquid, add 1 teaspoon lemon
juice. Sweeten to taste with sugar syrup (made by
boiling equal quantities of sugar and water together
for 5 minutes). Chill and serve with cracked ice. Gar-
nish with lemon and sprigs of mint.
Chocolate Malt Shake
Dissolve 1 tablespoon prepared malt cocoa drink in
1 cup milk. Put in a covered jar, or shaker, and shake
thoroughly. Add a few drops of peppermint. Chill. Gar-
nish with a sprig of mint.
Orange Milk Shake
Mix % cup orange juice, 1 teaspoon sugar, 1% cup
evaporated milk and 1/3 cup water. Put in shaker and
shake thoroughly. Serve with cracked ice. To make this
drink more nutritious, add 1 egg before shaking.
Pineapple Fruit Cup
Mix equal quantities of pineapple juice and grape
juice. To each cup of this mixture, add % cup water
and % cup ginger ale. Sweeten to taste with sugar
Syrup. Garnish with pieces of pineapple and serve icy
cold.
We have a new leaflet, Cold Plates for Hot Days,
which gives combinations for 16 plate-meals. For your
copy, send a two-cent stamp for postage to the Service
Editor, 44 McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Whip ed ~
used in place of cream
and costs ten cents a pint
C o you think
a thing
thatcosts
so much
less than
cote am
must be
lessgood?
The contrary is true! For frozen
and gelatin desserts Pet Milk,
whipped, gives youthree qualities
which are very much desired:
1 Desserts that are delightful
in taste and texture.
2 Desserts that are most
wholesome food.
3 The better, more whole-
some quality at less than one-
third of what they'd cost if made
with whipping cream.
Here’s the Reason
Cream is rich only in fat. Pet
Milk is rich, not in fat alone, but
in all the milk-food substances—
the elements that make milk—
not cream—the most nearly per-
fect of all foods. It takes the place
of cream, because in degree of rich-
ness (in solid substance) it is
equal to ordinary cream. It makes
better food than cream can make,
because the richness of Pet Milk
is a balanced, whole-milk rich-
ness. Children may eat as much
as they will of such desserts. And
adults, who want to preserve the
slender lines of youth, need not
shun them.
It Will Whip
Because Pet Milk is more than
twice as rich as ordinary milk—
in butterfat and in all the other
food substances of milk — you
can whip it.
Metuon: Place the unopened can of milk
in a pan and cover with cold water.
Heat to the boiling point. Remove can
and chill thoroughly.
Whip in a shallow enamel or china
bowl 4 to 434 inches in diameter across
the base, with a rotary egg beater. Sur-
round the bowl with an ice and salt
mixture — have the whipper and bowl
ice-cold.
Smooth Texture—
Rich Flavor
The texture of whipped Pet Milk
desserts is exceptionally fine,
because the milk is homogenized
—the fat globules broken into
such tiny particles that the fat
never separates. The same proc-
ess—with the extra richness of
the milk—accounts for the fine
richness of flavor.
Marre Mousse
For NorpicA PEACHES
Icup maple syrup Pinch salt
4egg yolks 2 cups Pet Milk
Boil syrup 5 minutes. Remove from fire and
pour slowly over well-beaten egg yolks,
beating constantly. Add salt and cool.
Fold in milk that has been properly
chilled and whipped until stiff. Freeze
in a mechanical refrigerator tray or in
mold packed in a 1:2 salt-ice mixture.
Serves 8.
Toast rounds of Plain or Sponge Cake
and cool. On each round put a tablespoon-
ful of Maple Mousse. Top with a fresh
or canned peach and pour some of the
syrup over all.
Pet Milk is sold in two sizes
only—six ounces and sixteen
ounces. The cans are of the same
size, contain the same quantity
and the same quality of milk at
all stores. The tall can (16 ounces)
can be bought generally for ten
cents—never more than eleven.
Mail the coupon. It will bring
you, without charge, our new
loose-leaf book — 300 recipes —
25 for frozen desserts.
Nordica Peaches
have Pet Milk
in the
Sponge Cake
and the
Maple Mousse
72 McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
SANDWICHES
By SARAH FIELD SPLINT anb DOROTHY KIRK
“Huh, woman’s food,” members of the
Stronger Sex used to say when a sand-
wich was so much as mentioned in their
presence. And just for that they were
turned into the chief sandwich consum-
ing branch of the Human Family. Who
is now the luncheonette’s best friend?
Who herds around the soda fountains
at noon time? Who thought up the
bright idea of the “hot and hearty” sand-
wich? Why, Man, of course.
The club sandwich (left) is an old
and honored member of the group called
“Substantial Sandwiches.” Some con-
tain two or more layers of filling as,
Swiss cheese and cold tongue; sliced
ham and American cheese; chopped egg
and sardines (split and boned); crab-
meat and tontatoes; liverwurst with
chopped celery salad; veal loaf and
watercress; Swiss cheese, tongue, pimi-
ento cheese, chicken (four layers); dev-
iled ham and piccalilli. For sandwiches
like these, two or three slices of bread
or toast are used.
But the hot sandwich is the Siren of
them all. Who could turn a cold eye on
a slice of tender, juicy roast beef half
concealed between two slices of bread
from which the crusts have been cut—
the whole covered with savory brown
gravy? Or baked Virginia ham with hot
raisin gravy; or Hamburg steak with
tomato sauce; or fresh baking-powder
biscuit, split and covered with diced
chicken and golden gravy; or a fried
ham and egg sandwich; or a grilled
cheese, tomato and bacon surprise?
[Continued on page 73]
S A hint to parents, children recom-
mend this picture (right). The
best sandwich filling in the world
becomes tiresome if it appears constantly
on the same kind of bread. Therefore,
let’s vary our sandwich breads. Boston
brown bread, once made only at home,
can now be bought at the bakery or in
a tin can from the grocer. Spread one
slice quite thickly with cream cheese
(moistened with a little cream or mayon-
naise) and in a second slice cut a “Fun-
nyface.”” When the two slices are put
together the effect is amusing.
Raisin bread, nut bread, whole wheat
bread, bran muffins (with raisins), rolls,
and the plainer kind of bun, all make
excellent sandwiches.
Children, we suspect, would eat lots
more lettuce in their sandwiches if they
found it crisp and dry instead of slip-
pery and wilted. We can imagine their
saying: “Our folks should remember
that we have to keep our lunch boxes
in a hot cloakroom for hours, and that
some kinds of food don’t stand the strain
very well.” So hereafter let’s spread may-
onnaise on the bread instead of on the
lettuce; or put a jar of it in their boxes.
Among the sandwich fillings liked by
children are: peanut butter (plain, or
combined with chopped prunes, raisins,
or marshmallows); cream cheese and
nut (or chopped olive or pickle or pre-
served ginger); jelly and cream cheese;
chopped meat; cold meat loaf; chopped
egg; shredded tuna fish and celery;
snappy cheese; and the prepared sand-
wich spreads.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
SANDWICHES
[Continued from opposite page]
In humans and in sandwiches, an open face attracts us
as the other members of the
Sandwich Family. They can be
served at the elaborate kind of tea
called a reception, or as the first course
at dinner, when they are called canapés.
Pinwheel Canapé—Spread bread
circles with butter mixed with a little
anchovy paste. With two strips of pimi-
ento, divide circle into quarters. Fill
sections alternately with egg yolk
pressed through a sieve and chopped
egg white.
Black and White Canapé—Chop the
whites of hard-cooked eggs, season and
mix with a little mayonnaise dressing.
Spread generously over bread, leaving
a small well in center. Fill with caviar.
If preferred, use the red caviar which
is cheaper.
Watercress Canapé—Cut bread in
fancy shapes; soften butter and blend
with it finely-chopped watercress.
Spread over bread and put a border of
it around the edge, using a pastry tube.
In the center place a small sprig of
O's. sandwiches are as versatile
watercress. Chill well before serving to
harden the butter.
Inlaid Sandwiches—Use any desired
bread and filling. With a fancy garnish-
cutter, cut a small piece out of*top
slice of sandwich; fill it with piece
(exactly same size and shape) cut
from bread of contrasting color (be-
low). Or cream cheese and a nut,
pimiento, chopped olives, or other
bright-colored food may be used.
Lily Sandwiches—Remove crusts
from bread and cut in thin slices. (For
all rolled sandwiches use a close-
textured, moist bread.) Lay on a damp-
ened cloth, spread with cream cheese
softened with a little cream. Fold over
to make a cornucopia; press lightly so
that edges hold together. In the open-
ing, place a small strip of yellow cheese
to represent the stamen.
Our new leaflet, Sandwiches for All
Occasions, is yours for the asking.
Write to the Service Editor, McCall
Street, Dayton, Ohio, and enclose a
two-cent stamp for postage.
Tea sandwiches every hostess ought to know
73:
This recipe is so good
a woman from Memphis telegraphed for it!
We frequently serve this dessert at home on special occasions and
never fail to get requests for the recipe. It has all that a dessert should
have— good to look at—exquisite to the taste—nourishing, digestible.
And, best of all, it is easy to make. We urge you to try this recipe
which we are giving below for we know you'll think just as highly of
it as did our friend who telegraphed for it.
RASPBERRY WHIP {6 Servings}
1 level tablespoonful Knox Y cup sugar 1 cup raspberry juice
Sparkling Gelatine 2 tablespoonfuls lemon and pulp (fresh or canned)
Y cup cold water juice Whites 3 eggs
14 cup boiling water
Soak gelatine in cold water about five minutes
and dissolve in boiling water. Add sugar, salt
and lemon juice, and raspberries which have
been forced through a fine sieve and all seeds
Few grains salt
bow! will do, or pile in glasses and serve with
a garnish of whipped cream and a few whole
berries. For a brighter color, use a little red
vegetable coloring. Strawberries, blackberries
or loganberries may be used. A little more
sugar will be needed if fresh berries are used
instead of canned.
removed. When mixture begins to stiffen,
beat until frothy and fold in stiffly beaten egg
whites. Turn into wet mold, even a plain
Raspberry
Whip
20,000 women wrote for our Recipe Books last month and if you do not have them
we want to send them to you, for they give answers to every dessert and
salad problem. And you'll find many other delightful suggestions for
meat and fish dishes and candies, too. And if you're interested in knowing
how to make “whipped cream” with evaporated milk, we'll tell you.
KNOX 5 te real GELATINE
FOR DESSERTS AND SALADS
With Knox Gelatine, you do not have to remember whether strawberry flavor
blends with fish —or raspberry flavor with eggs or lemon with milk or cream.
Knox Sparkling Gelatine is not a ready-made mixture. You merely soak and
dissolve the gelatine, add your own pure ingredients, cool and serve it — ready for
banquet or plain home meal. And you needn’t use the entire package at one time.
It is good for four different desserts, salads or other combinations, and they can be
made into these appetizing dishes on four separate days. Try the recipe given above
and you will still have enough gelatine left in the pice for three other delightful
dishes of six servings each. Is it any wonder, that millions of women say—‘“Knox
is the real gelatine!”
ORANGE CREAM SHERBET {8 Servings}
1 teaspoonful Knox ¥ cup cold water Grated rind of two oranges
Sparkling Gelatine 14 cup sugar + 2 eggs 1 cup lemon juice
136 caps sugar 114 cups boiling water 1 pint heavy cream or
1}4 cups orange juice Few grains salt evaporated milk ¢
Soak gelatine in cold water about five min-
utes. Dissolve gelatine and sugar in boiling
water; add orange rind, lemon juice and
orange juice, Turn into ice cream freezer
or trays of automatic refrigerator and freeze
to a mush. Beat cream until stiff, and add
sugar and salt. Separate yolks from whites
of eggs. Beat yolks until thick and lemon
colored and whites until stiff, and add to
cream. Turn into frozen mixture and con-
tinue the freezing. In automatic refrigerator,
stir twice during freezing.
| My name i:
Mail this coupon for the Knox Recipe Books
108 KNox Avenue, Jounstown, N. Y.
Please send me FREE copy of your Recipe Book.
My address is-
My grocer’s name is.
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McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
M’SIEU SWEETHEART
[Continued from page 68]
painful recovery, Daisy spoke, clearly.
“I don’t understand you,” she said, the
silver hammers of her brittle voice
chipping on ice.
“Don’t bluff, my dear.” He did not
turn around. This was rather a beastly
business but he was going through with
it—one decent gesture, for Neeka! “I
wasn’t sure, at first. I'll admit you
fooled me. But the other evening here,
certain things you said, the way you
danced, and, later, I remembered a
snapshot of you one of the lads in
Calgary carried. You may recall the
picture, and his name—Dick Turner.
He knew you in Las Pas, at the Klon-
dike Dancehall. He often addressed
your photo in terms of great profes-
sional admiration. In fact he said
Oe
“Shut up, damn you! Shut up!”
The pent-up bile of two month’s en-
forced decency found outlet in her
tongue and surged
about the Mounty’s
ears in a torrent of
abuse. When the storm
passed in a deluge of
tears, he came to her
and spoke more gently.
“Now,” he said, “that’s
over and you'll feel
better. Don’t worry. I
shan’t say a word if
you'll just get out.
‘You mustn’t stay here,
with these people.”
“Because you're stuck on the girl, I
suppose?” sobbed the woman.
“Because they are decent people and
it’s plain you’re making a play for the
lad.”
She sat up, tigress-fierce. “That’s a
lie! He’s dead stuck on me, if you
want to know. He wants to marry me.
And I’ve played straight ever since I
been here. I’ve been decent. Do you
hear that? And now you're trying to
kick me back! Haven't you a heart?
Haven’t you one spark in you that’s
kind? Can’t you see what it means
to me to be chucked out of here?”
Now she was on her feet, shouting de-
fiance. “I won’t go, do you hear? You
can’t make me! This boy wants to
marry me and TIl do it. Won’t you
give me my chance? Don’t turn me
out! What harm do I do Neeka and
Miscou? I'll marry the lad, be straight,
make him a good wife. I swear it!”
SHE was leaning against him, sob-
bing, and, instinctively, Carlyle pat-
ted her heaving shoulders, sorry for her.
The door was flung open and Miscou
came into the cabin like a storm cloud.
He did not waste words but lunged
for the Mounty, knife flashing as he
came. Bob met the impact with one
outstretched arm while, with the other,
he drove a stiff blow to Miscou’s jaw,
staggering the Indian. He fell back
and Daisy threw herself upon him,
crying: “No, Miscou, it’s a mistake,
there's nothing—” but he shook her
off.
“Ive watched this man,” he said.
“I told you I kill him if he touched
you!” And with this he jerked back
his knife hand and the blade sang.
Carlyle dodged and the knife bedded
in the log wall behind his head. With-
out further ado, and before the maniac
could spring, the constable pulled his
gun and fired, pointblank. Miscou
dropped, a bullet in his shoulder. “My
God! You’ve killed him!” screamed
Daisy.
“Quit the acting!” Carlyle cut in,
crisply, the gun already returned to
its holster. “I’ve winged him. It was
that or kill him outright, poor fool!
Come on, help me. Where’s a bed? TIl
get the bullet out and a bandage on
him. He'll be all right.”
His sharp, cool authority calmed the
girl. Obediently she helped him lift
Miscou and together they carried him
to her own bed. Working fast under
Bob’s instructions, she heated water
and blew the kitchen fire to white
heat so that he might sterilize his
knife. Carlyle tore clean lint into
bandages and cut Miscou’s shirt away
from the wound.
‘HE Indian was unconscious and, as
she worked over him, Daisy’s tears,
genuine now, splashed upon the still
face. Carlyle, watching her, shrugged
his shoulders and said: “If I thought
you really cared—”
“I do!” she whispered, fiercely.
“Can’t you see? I’d of taken the bul-
let myself if I could have got between
the gat and him. Won’t you keep quiet
and let me stay?”
He threw her a look
of half-belief and one
word of hope. “Per-
haps,” he said, and fell
to prying. Working be-
hind the closed door of
the bedroom, they did
not hear Neeka when
she came into the liv-
ing room. And she too
was quiet and her eyes
were blind with tears.
Mrs. McDonald's
victory had not been easily won. “If I
mak’ of myself something better,” the
girl had plead, kneeling, abjectly, by
her counselor on the blankets behind
the counter. “If I go to the school in
the South and learn things, to speak
as you do, and be as you, would I
not then be his equal, nearly? If he
hav’ love me, or could ever love me.
an’ I was so he would not be ashame’
of me wit’ his mama and those peoples
of whom you speak in England, then
might he not marry wit’ me?”
And for this there was the cruelest
cut of all, the final plunge, twist and
turn of the knife in the naked wound.
Mrs. McDonald did not hesitate,
but her voice trembled: “Haven’t you
remembered, Neeka, that you are a
breed, that your blood is tainted with
the red of your mother? A white man,
a man whose blood is blue and pure
and aristocratic, like Robert Carlyle,
cannot marry a half-breed Indian girl!
He would be ostracized, that means
put out from society. There would be
no future for him, no career. He could
not stay in the service. You wouldn’t
ask that, Neeka, even if he loved you
and would marry you! If you love him
you couldn’t ask such a sacrifice!”
No, Neeka couldn’t. It was all over.
Habit brought her home, rather
than to the solitude she craved. Habit
and the spirit of service, for it was
supper time and Daisy and Miscou
would be hungry.
Standing alone in the living room of
the cabin, trying numbly to jerk her
bewildered faculties together, she un-
wound her woolen scarf and pulled the
knitted cap from her curls. As she put
the things upon the table she saw the
tumbled cups and saucers, the over-
turned teapot and the red coat hanging
on a chair-back. Beside it was a stiff-
brimmed hat.
So he was here! Carlyle was here!
Her first impulse was to run. She
would die rather than face him again.
Then, in a vivid flash, she recalled
something—the violets! The white
violets she kissed and hid in his tunic
pocket! He should not have those to
scorn and toss away!
[Continued on page 76]
McCALL'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
75
How lwo Mothers
Made their Gai Over
One, the mother of a nervous child... one, the mother of an underweight child
What Happened to
the Nervous Child
“IT PUT HER ON HER FEET, WHEN I
WAS SURE I WAS LOSING HER”
My little daughter 234 years old had the flu with measles
following. As the result of this she was very puny and nerv-
‘ous, cried all day, bit her finger nails, and refused to eat her
meals or drink milk. At night she was restless. Altogether she
was in bad shape.
Ovaltine put my little girl on her feet again when I was sure
I was losing her. The roses are coming back in her cheeks.
She sleeps and eats regularly, does not bite her finger nails
any more, plays out in the sunshine all day and ts altogether
a different litile girl.
Mrs. John Rosen,
8616 Garfield Blvd., Cleveland, Ohio
L
EW light has been thrown on the problem of the under-
weight, nervous child.
Important discoveries have been made in Switzerland—
and the result, an utterly NEw TYPE and supremely deli-
cious food-drink—has spread now over some 54 nations
of the world.
New to America, over 20,000 doctors are already advising
it. It frequently increases weight 134 to 2 pounds weekly.
Nervousness is often noticeably curbed in a few days.
The two examples of its results, reported on this page, are
typical of thousands of others coming from mothers in
practically every part of the world.
It may do much or it may do little for your child. But, in
light of what it has done for others, we think most mothers
will agree that trying it is worth while.
So that you may first test it, before purchasing a larger
quantity, a coupon good for a special 3-day supply is
rinted at right.
i 5 What It Is
It is a food-drink called Ovaltine—that is utterly different
Dhe Swiss Food - Drinks
A discovery from Switzer-
land, world-leader in child
development, that has swept
from one end of the world
to the other —Employed
Now by children’s experts
of over 50 different nations
Please accept 3-day supply
Not a medicine..
a super-delicious
food-concentrate
in formula, taste and effect from any other known. Enticing
beyond words to the childish palate. A scientific food-
concentrate; not remotely to be confused with powdered,
sugary, chocolate, malt or cocoa “‘mixtures’’ offered as
substitutes.
Ovaltine may make your child over—try it.
Developed 38 years ago by a famous Swiss scientist,
Ovaltine contains, in highly concentrated form, virtually
every vital food element necessary to life, including, of
course, the Sunshine Vitamin D.
Due to an exclusive process, enployed by no other food-
drink known, it supplies those vital elements in such easily
digested form that a child’s system will absorb them even
when digestion is impaired.
How It Acts
Some of those elements in Ovaltine build bone and muscle.
And thus create new strength. Others build firm flesh.
And thus constantly increase weight. Others develop
nerve poise; for, as weight increases, nervousness per-
ceptibly decreases.
Other elements foster richer blood. And thus combat con-
ditions of anemia. All are supplied in scientific ratio to
meet the body’s needs. That is why results are often
astonishing.
Digests Starches
Then, too, Ovaltine has high diastatic power. Which
means the power of digesting the undigested starches from
other foods eaten.
What Happened to
the Underweight Child
“WE NOTICED AN IMMEDIATE
INCREASE IN WEIGHT”
My small son was a perfectly healthy child, but his appetite
had fallen off noticeably during the summer heat. I wanted
to see if Ovalline would provide the necessary food elements
and vitamins even though he was not eating as much solid
food as usual.
We noticed an immediate increase in weight and he has cer-
tainly come through the hot weather in first-class shape. He
likes Ovaltine immensely—drinks it 3 times a day with
meals and whenever he wants it between meals.
Mrs. H. A. Witcher, Amarillo, Texas -
Thus, this scientific creation not only furnishes tremendous
food energy in itself, but greatly increases the effectiveness
of all starch foods your child eats. Such as oatmeal, bread,
potatoes, etc., which comprise over half the normal child’s
daily diet. Consider what this means.
Results will surprise you. Note the difference in your
child’s weight, in nerve poise, in greater strength and
energy. Find out, for your child’s sake, what this creation _
means to you and yours. Give at breakfast, always. Give
at meals and between meals. Get Ovaltine at any drug or
grocery store or send coupon for 3-day test.
(Note) Thousands of nervous people, men and women, are using Ovaltine
to restore vitality when fatigued. During the Great War it was a standard
ration prescribed by the Red Cross as a restorative food for invalid soldiers
of all nations. Ovaltine is now made in 8 countries (including the U.S. A.)
according to the exact original Swiss formula —to meet the demand from
54 different nations,
MAIL THIS COUPON FOR 3-DAY TEST
c
Tue WANDER Company, Dept. L-21
180 No. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill.
I enclose 10c to cover cost of packing and mailing. Send me your
3-day test package of Ovaltine.
Name........
(Please print name and address clearly)
Address......
O DEM
(One package to a person)
76
WAVES
book locelier, last
E E A propery
ombed. ee
OU can spoil the lines of the best-looking
wave by using an inferior comb. Even the
least roughness along the edges of the teeth will
catch and pull the hair so that it will not be ex-
actly as you want it.
With an Ace Comb you can always dress your
hair better in the lines set by your hairdresser.
Moulded—not cut—from vulcanized hard rubber,
Ace Combs are perfectly rounded and highly
polished to remove even the slightest roughness,
Ace Combs make it possible’ to accomplish the
most difficult hair arrangements.
For your convenience and choice Ace Combs are
made in a variety of sizes and styles —for dressing
table use, to carry in your purse, for the special
use of guests, and the dry shampoo comb fulfills
a need, as its name suggests. Twenty different Ace
Combs are displayed in the cabinet, as illustrated.
Almost every drug store or department store you
enter displays an Ace Comb cabinet on the counter.
ACE
COMBS
The -Ace Comb
Cabinet
Interesting facts about the structure and hygiene of the hair have been assembled for you in a booklet, "Lovely Hair”.
You may have a copy free. Write your name and address plainly in margin and mail to cae
eC
AMERICAN HARD RUBBER COMPANY, 11 Mercer Street, New York. N. Y.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
M’SIEU SWEETHEART
[Continued from page 74]
She found them still fragrant, and
tore the blossoms to bits, crushing
them with hot fingers and flinging
them to the floor. Then a swift revul-
sion, an obedience to her sterling hon-
esty which warned her that no matter
what happened she would always care,
she knelt to retrieve the fallen flowers.
“TIl keep them for myself,’ she
thought. Voices, from Daisy’s bed-
room, came softly to her ears, the
words indistinguishable but the tones
familiar. Daisy and Carlyle then were
together in there—in Daisy’s bed-
room. His hat and coat were out here,
on the chair. Here, at home, was the
dreadful thing Mrs. McDonald had
tried to explain—a man, loving lightly.
At evening, on the hillside, he could
kiss one girl; a sun later and he was
with another, in her room!
A new being was born in the depths
of her soul and sprang, hot and red
and raw to her burning eyes. She
thirsted for vengeance like an angry
animal. With fingers that neither
trembled nor faltered, she opened the
right-hand pocket of Carlyle’s red
coat, extracted the handcuff keys and
ran from the cabin.
HEN Neeka returned, some fif-
teen minutes later, she found
Carlyle on his knees by the table pick-
ing up crushed white violets. “Did you
do this?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “Why not? What good
are they? Forget them, m’sieu!”
Carlyle thought he understood. She
was angered, naturally, by what Mrs.
McDonald had said. He rose, dusting
off his knees and feigning a noncha-
lance he did not feel. So’be it! Better
it end this way than in tears! He held
out his hand but she ignored it. “Won’t
you say ‘goodbye’?” he asked. “TIl be
going tomorrow, taking my man down
to Edmonton, you know.”
She gave another short, ugly laugh.
“Neeka!” he blurted,
“Don’t act this way. Can’t
you forgive me, dear? I
—Oh, I’m an ass, I know,
but I did care for you and
. .. . Neeka, won’t you
pick up the poor little
violets and put them back
in my pocket?”
For a moment he
thought she was going to
strike him for her brown
hands were clenched, then
she seemed to gain control
of herself and, uncurling
her fingers, disclosed his
own key-ring in her out-
stretched palm. “These
belong better in your coat,” she re-
marked. “Please to take them.”
He looked at the extended keys in
wonderment, her motive in removing
them from his tunic ambiguous. Then
he laughed. “Put ’em back yourself!”
he ordered.
She eyed him levelly and he thought
he had never seen such a look in any
but the eyes of a wounded animal.
“You are right,” she said. “When
Neeka tak’ something, she mus’ mak’
return!” She thrust the jingling keys
into. his pocket and he seized her
wrist. “Now,” he demanded, “the vio-
lets! Pick them up, at once, and put
them back!”
“Non, non, m’sieu! Let me go!”
She struggled furiously for now his
arms were about her and he was cry-
ing: “Neeka! Adorable! Listen to me!
You must! I am sorry for what has
happened—I—”
He drew back before the swift im-
pact of her nails, five red welts cross-
ing his cheek. For the moment he was
tempted to strike her, brutally, slash-
ingly, as she deserved, then he re-
covered himself and bowed. “Adieu,
Madame Wild-Cat! Have it your own
way!” and he turned to go but she
flung herself in his path. “I wish you
had beat me,” she sobbed. “I wish
you would beat me. I am bad, bad,
bad!” And she fell at his feet among
the crushed violets, a crumpled figure
of heart-broken penitence.
(GSEs picked her up and sat
down, holding her upon his knees,
patting her heaving shoulder, and
soothing her. “Hush, my dear,” he
murmured; “hush!”
She sobbed into his coat: “I hate
you! I hate you!”
“Because of what that old hen—I
mean, Mrs. McDonald, told you?”
She lifted a face flushed and swollen
with crying. “You know?” she said.
“You heard?”
“Some of it,” he confessed. “But it
isn’t all true, Neeka, that is—”
“I don’ care!” she interrupted,
fiercely, wiping her eyes on her sleeve
and sniffling. He proffered his hand-
kerchief and she blew her nose, child-
ishly, striving to control the sobs
which shattered her voice. “I don’
care about that now, m’sieu,” she
said. “When she tell me that you kiss
an’ go ‘way, that you don’ mean—
anything—jus’ mak’ flirt wit’ me, well,
for time I think my heart will break
but he don’. No, he mak’ himself of
ice instead.” She slid from his knee
and stood facing him, accusingly.
“You are ver’ bad mans, m’sieu.”
He tried to be properly serious.
“Neeka! What have I done?”
“Oh, not much, by your way of
thinking maybe. It is as Missis Mc-
Donald say: ‘He mak’ love wit’ all
womens, parlor-maids, Neepawa girls,
anyone. All is fishes to his net!’ Oh,
when she say that I am sad! But I
only cry and that hurt no-
body but myself.”
“T don’t make love to
every woman, Neeka, that
old cat—”
“Then what of Daisy?”
she flashed. “Daisy?” he
was nonplussed. “Surely
you are not jealous of
her? Why, I told you the
other night I don’t give a
rip for her, she—”
“Then what do you do
wit’ her in the bedroom,
m’sieu? I hear you, in
there, when I come home.
I see your coat an’ hat
out here. It is then that
I—Oh, m’sieu, how could you? It is
your own fault that man is gone. I
don’ care!”
He looked at her, sternly..‘‘Neeka,
I don’t know what you are talking
about and neither do you.
“Neeka, tell me you were just mad
and jealous! That you didn’t really
think any such rotten thing of me!
Here,” he seized her arm and almost
dragged her to the bedroom door,
flinging it open, “Look in there. What
do you see?”
Daisy looked up, her finger up-held
for silence. ‘““Miscou’s conscious,” she
whispered, “an’ restin’ quiet.”
With a smothered cry Neeka ran
to her brother’s side. The wounded
man recognized her. “Your policeman
shot me,” he murmured, in Indian. “I
told you I would kill him if he came
near Daisy. I found them together.
She was clinging to him but she tells
me now there was nothing wrong. She
was begging him to go away, for your-
[Continued on page 79]
McCALL'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Now a new way to get
a “Vegetable Effect”
in a new, delicious cereal!
.. . a food so dainty and alluring that it wins every child.
An entirely new creation by HEINZ of “57” fame.
SHE LIKES THEM + Here Mother, are
some happier healthful effects. You win certain
“battles” at the table through attractive strategy.
TAEA
a fine cereal-cellulose is added to HEINZ Rice
A rare combination, Mother . . . to help you
solve a diet problem that causes arguments at
many tables.
Here is flavor that your children can’t
resist, so they don’t resist the benefits that come
with it. Crunchy, oven-toasted crispness in the
daintiest rice flakes you’ve ever tasted and a
new healthfulness that rice flakes have never
offered heretofore are now available to you.
AN ENTIRELY NEW VALUE
You may know that vegetables and fruits
would form the same healthful habits. But
you know, too, how difficult it is to get these
essential foods consumed in right amounts.
Serve these luscious rice flakes with deli-
cious cream and sugar to supplement all other
«foods. See how whole days are made happier
and brighter for everyone concerned. This en-
tirely new value in HEINZ Rice Flakes results
from years of experiments and tests by HEINZ.
AN EXCLUSIVE PROCESS
Through a patented process, owned by HEINZ,
Ox, s. H. co. 130
RICE FLAKES
Flakes. It is a natural food substance derived
from rice itself. It isn’t bran. It isn’t harsh.
Being soft, fluffy and non-irritant it forms a
mild, gentle, stimulating bulk and roughage
that is both effective and acceptable to all.
Because it is odorless and tasteless, no
one can detect its presence in these luscious
flakes, which is one of the main secrets of its
notable success, especially with children.
LET CHILDREN JUDGE
Don’t urge the eating of HEINZ Rice Flakes
because they are good for children . . . simply
let the children see how good they taste.
That's the best method.
In a series of tests by unprejudiced au-
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greatly improved in this attractive way. (De-
tails on request).
PROOF IN A WEEK
One week's trial usually wins a mother’s great
Name.
H. J.. HEINZ COMPANY œ
Please send without charge your booklet “Children’s Futures Told in Foods.”
enthusiasm and respect
for these new HEINZ Rice
Flakes. Serve twice daily
for one week to start the
benefits; once daily thereafter to maintain them.
Remember... no coaxing or “forcing” ever
is required. The flavor wins the child.
Remember, too, that this new feature comes
to your entire family only in HEINZ Breakfast
Foods. Here is all the energizing food value that
any other rice food offers, plus HEINZ Cereal-Cel-
lulose which no other brands contain. You are
getting more than merely “rice flakes,” therefore
when you order HEINZ, which is reason, in this
instance, to insist on HEINZ. Just as good for
adults as for children. Mail coupon below for free
booklet “Children’s Futures Told in Foods”, tell-
ing all about HEINZ Rice Flakes.
ASK YOUR PHYSICIAN
He will know the importance of the effects of
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H. J. HEINZ COM PANY
Makers of the ‘'57 Varieties”?
ENJOY THESE RADIO TALKS: Tuesday and Friday
mornings at 10:45 Eastern Daylight Time, Miss
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ONE OF THE
5
PITTSBURGH, PA.
DEPT. D-4 e
tani i
: Address.
mots
|
|
q
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
NEW «Jime FLAVORED
QUICK SETTING
This Cooling Royal Flavor
Makes Possible Delicious New
Summer Dishes
ROYAL LIME FRUIT SALAD
Dissolve x package Royal Lime Gelatin Dessert in 1 cup boiling
water, add 1 cup cold water. Chill until it begins to thicken; add
¥ cup thinly sliced cucumber and 1 cupsliced fresh fruits (honey-
dew melon, fresh pears or peaches). Pour into mould. Chill.
Serve garnished i chicory, lettuce or curly endive, curls of ripe
olives and finger-shaped pieces of Royal Cheese Salad, made as
follows:
Dissolve 1 package Royal Lime Gelatin Dessert, as instructed
above. Add x teaspoon salt and chill. When it begins to thicken,
beat in 2 packages (6 oz.) cream cheese which has been mashed.
Mix in 1 cup cream, whipped, 14 cup finely chopped canned
pineapple, drained from juice, and 3 tablespoons chopped pi-
miento. Mould in square, shallow pan.
Serve with mayonnaise.
Dissolve 1 package Royal Lime Gelatin
Dessertin 1 cup boiling water; add 1 cup cold
water. Pour in large mould to half fill; chill
until firm. Dissolve another package Royal
Lime Gelatin Dessert in x cup boiling water.
Chill until it begins to thicken; whip until
frothy and add x cup cream, whipped, with
34 teaspoon salt and few drops vanilla and
almond extract. Add 1 cup cut strawberries.
Pour in mould of firm gelatin; chill. Garnish
with whole strawberries.
Dissolve 1 package Royal Lime Gelatin
in 1 cup boiling water; add 1
cup cold water. Chill 14 cup of gelatin
in small pan; when set, cut in cubes.
Fill parfait two-thirds full with re-
maining gelatin mixture. Chill. Before
serving, whip 1 cup cream with few grains
ae a y oP gues crumbs.
ile on lime gelatin in fait glasses,
Garnish with cubes of lime gelatin.
. . perfectly set . . . tender and quivery.
Making gelatin in summer used to be an ordeal. It
your gelatin .
foes months ago, we gave to the women of America
a marvelous new quick setting gelatin—that jells nearly
twice as fast as ordinary gelatin desserts.
Today, we are introducing a new flavor . . . the luscious
coolness of juicy limes.
Piquant, refreshing . . . this new lime flavor makes
possible a wide variety of tempting dishes—garnishes,
appetizers, salads and desserts.
So easy to make, too. Without a bit of fuss. For Royal
Quick Setting Gelatin sets in half the time you have
heretofore allowed. In fact, with modern electric refrig-
eration, it is ready to unmould in an hour .. . or less.
took hours to set. And often it was still soft and liquid
when dessert time came.
But this new Royal Quick Setting Gelatin always jells
on time.
You prepare it in 3 minutes—just before your meal
is put on to cook. When you're ready to serve, there’s
ROYA Igija]
Serve it tonight for dinner. But remember—all gela-
tins are not alike. Ask for Royal Gelatin Dessert—the
uick setting kind. In the red box— the same color as the
eh Royal Baking Powder can.
Six flavors to choose from: Strawberry, Raspberry,
Cherry, Lemon, Orange. .. anda brand new flavor—Lime.
elatin Dessert
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
M’SIEU SWEETHEART
[Continued from page 76]
sake. She says you are mad about this
man and would do any wrong for him.
Is that true?”
Neeka looked at Carlyle, standing
in the doorway, watching them. “Yes,”
she said, “I would do any wrong for
him.”
ISCOU turned away, disgust in his
eyes. “You! My sister! Bah! Ino
spik more,” he added, wearily, in Eng-
lish.
“Poor Miscou went kinda crazy,”
Daisy explained, patting the lean
brown hand extended upon the cover-
let. “He jumped for Mister Carlyle
with his knife out. The Mounty held
him back and landed him an awful
wallop on the chin. Then Miscou threw
his knife but it missed and so, I guess,
Carlyle done the only sensible thing
he could. He pulled his gun and fired.
“Oh, I was nuts at first! I thought
he’d killed Miscou and, so help me
God, if he had I’d have
killed him. But he is a
pretty good shot and
knew what he was do-
ing. He winged Miscou
and sorta put him out of
the running; stopped lan
the argument as it were.
Then he had me help
him and we got Miscou
in here and fixed his wound. He’s all
right now, ain’t you honey?”
“So long as you stay with me,
Snow-bird!”
“Daisy’ll stay with you, always!”
She rested her blonde head beside his
dark one, stroking his forehead, sooth-
ingly. Neeka tiptoed from the room
and Carlyle, closing the door softly,
followed her.
The girl struggled to find words,
wringing her hands in torment. “For-
give me,” she begged. “Oh, can you
ever forgive me?” -
He took her in his arms. “I am the
one to ask forgiveness, dear,” he whis-
pered into the sweetness of her hair.
“I know better. I shouldnt have
played around, knowing it was im-
possible, that I should have to go
away and never come back.
“I'm crazy for you, Neeka. You’re
the most adorable girl in the world.
Just to have you near me makes the
blood pound in my veins.”
“I am a half-breed, m’sieu.”
“I know . . . don’t say it. That’s
the pity of the whole thing! God, if
it wasn’t for that, for that cursed
streak in your blood, which is prob-
ably what makes you so altogether
adorable and desirable, we could...”
He stumbled on the word “marry.”
Neeka freed herself from his ardent
embrace.
She shuddered with distaste and
closed her eyes to shut out his flushed
and yearning face. “No, m’sieu,” she
said, “we could never marry. It would
ruin your chances in the ser-vice an’
break the heart of your mama, in Eng-
land. So Missis McDonald tell me an’
I believe her. Not for us, m’sieu, is
that countree beyond the las’ ridge,
that place where the sky begin.”
“Oh, Neeka, Neeka! Don’t put it
that way. Don’t make me suffer. Just
let me go and forget me, as quickly
as you can.”
“That I cannot, m’sieu.”
“They tell me all girls say that,
but in time they learn.”
“I don’ mean forgettin’, m’sieu.
That, indeed, I can never do. But -I
mean something else. I mean I cannot
let you go. Listen... .” She came
swiftly to him, her words tripping each
other in her haste to get this thing said
and understood. “M’sieu, I am not a
thief. I took your keys
an’... something else,
but I am no thief. Al-
ways, when I tak’ poor,
wounded animal from the
trapline I mak’ some re-
turn. An’ always it is of
more value than the fur
I set free. An’ now I mus’
mak’ some fair return to
you. I hav’ done one terrible thing, but
I was like mad womans for what I be-
lieve of you and Daisy. That is why
I say I cannot let you go away—yet.
I hav’ not paid you back. M’sieu,
whatever I hav’ that you want, she is
yours.”
What this offer cost her, her God
alone knew. The man stared at her.
“Are you joking, Neeka? Or tempting
me? Don’t do it, I warn you! I do
want you. God knows I want you. And
Td take you here, now... only...”
he resisted the well-nigh overpowering
desire within him to crush her in his
arms and reluctantly strode to the.
door. “Only I’m not such a beast—
not quite!”
OODBYE—no,” for she ran to him
and twined her arms about him,
“No, Neeka, make it goodbye, now!
I’ve got my man to take down to Ed-
monton. When that’s over, then per-
haps, someday—”
“Tak’ me instead of that man,
m’sieu! No, don’t turn from me, but
listen! I tell you I always giv’ some-
thing in place of what I steal. If that
something you want is me, then I am
ready to go wit’ you. . . any place
you say.”
There was a violent knocking on the
door behind them.
[Continued in Aucust McCatt’s]
PICNIC EATS
TI OEDN T: you like to have some new suggestions for that picnic in
the woods or the campfire party at the beach? Our booklet What to
Serve at Parties will also give you recipes for delicious cooling drinks, summer
salads and sandwiches. Send for your copy now—twenty cents in stamps.
The Service Editor, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio.
| ural.
Quickly, Easily, at a few
cents cost, you can have a
Real “Beauty Shampoo”
that will give Your Hair a
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able by Ordinary Washing.
OU CAN SAVE TIME, expense
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results at home.
The beauty of your hair, its sparkle
.- its glossand lustre .. depends, almost
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A thin, oily film, or coating, is con-
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—hides the life and lustre—and the hair
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Only thorough shampooing will remove
this film and let the sparkle, and rich, nat-
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Ordinary washing fails to satisfactorily
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Besides—the hair cannot stand the harsh
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SS
"|
To Set or Wave Hair
To set your hair, or put in a finger wave,
use a few drops of Glostora.
Apply with your fingers, or add a few drops
to alittle water in your wash basin and comb
it on. You can then press the waves in easily
and they will set quickly and stay. ]
Waving your hair in this truly professional
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looking, as ordinary waving fluids do.
FOR DRY HAIR—a few drops of Glostora,
brushed through your hair after shampooing,
restores the natural oil, leaves your hair easy
to manage and gives that added gloss and lustre
which is always so charming.
oe
_
79
in ordinary soaps, soon dries the scalp,
makes the hair brittle and ruins it.
That is why women, by the thousands,
who value beautiful hair, are now using
Mulsified Cocoanut Oil Shampoo.
It cleanses so thoroughly; is so mild and
so pure, that it cannot possibly injure, no
matter how often you use it.
You will notice the difference in the ap-
pearance of your hair the very first time
you use Mulsified, for it will feel so de-
lightfully clean, and be so soft, silky, and
fresh-looking.
Try a Mulsified “Beauty Shampoo”
and just see how quickly it is done. See
how easy your hair is to manage and how
lovely it will look. See it sparkle—with
new life, gloss and lustre.
You can get Mulsified Cocoanut Oil
Shampoo at any drug store, or toilet goods
counter .. . anywhere in the world.
Two or three teaspoonfuls of Mulsified in a glass or
pitcher with a little warm water added, makes an
abundance of . . . soft, rich, creamy lather . . . which
cleanses thoroughly and rinses out easily, removin~
with it every particle of dust, dirt and dandruff.
80
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McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
PROHIBITION
[Continued from page 34]
recalls the evils of the saloon and the
stranglehold that the brewers and dis-
tilleries had upon politics. “It’s ridic-
ulous,” she exclaimed, “to say that
Prohibition has brought the liquor issue
into politics. Liquor has always been
in politics.
S I see it,” Mrs. Catt went on in her
statesmanlike manner, “the one
question worth weighing in this Pro-
hibition discussion is this: what kind
of a law shall we have if the present
one is repealed? For my part I very
much doubt that a law could be con-
ceived by anyone which has not al-
ready, been tried somewhere in our
country and pronounced wanting.
“Some people now say that the per-
fect law is that of the Canadian prov-
inces where the government manages
the sale of liquor. Alas, we tried this
system in several of our states without
success.
“In any event imagine what would
happen in this country if the govern-
ment took to selling liquor. The vast
army of manufacturers, smugglers,
criminals, and sharp business men who
are now breaking the Prohibition law,
would ally themselves with the politi-
cians and we should be worse off than
we now are.
“Certainly no sensible country will
repeal one law, simply because it is not
well enforced, until it has worked out a
better one to take its place. And if we
are to have a new law it must be pre-
scribed, not by the wets alone, but by
all varieties of people.”
Disagreeing with Mrs. Catt that the
Canadian system is not a great im-
provement over our own, Mrs. Charles
Fiske, wife of Bishop Fiske of Central
New York, believes that we should re-
peal the 18th Amendment so that we
shall be free to try a more workable
system. Describing herself as “person-
ally dry,” she says that she believes in
temperance. “By that I do not mean
total abstinence, but rather, ‘the spirit
and practice of rational self-control,’
which is the definition that the Stand-
ard Dictionary gives for temperance.
“Ten years ago,” Mrs. Fiske points
out, “we were told that we must wait
for a decade to give the law a real
chance. The decade is past. In my
home town of Utica, New York, the
annual police report for the year 1929
shows an increase of 25 per cent in ar-
rests for intoxication. Utica is merely
a sample of what may be found else-
where.
“The statement is constantly made
that the Prohibition law has trans-
formed the workingman’s home into a
comparative heaven. Yet Judge Frank-
lin C. Hoyt, presiding justice of the
Children’s Court in New York City,
states that 50 per cent of the neglected
children with whom he has to deal are
brought before his court because of
the intemperance of their parents.
ORST of all,” Mrs. Fiske con-
cludes, “education as to the evils
of excessive drinking has practically
ceased. As a result the improvement in
habits of temperance which had become
so noticeable before Prohibition, has
been checked, if indeed there has not
taken its place a defiant attitude which
makes excessive drinking ‘good sports’.”
Whether you agree with Mrs. Fiske
that we must find a more workable
system than Federal Prohibition, or
with Miss Jane Addams that the latter
has not yet had a fair trial, I am sure
you will agree with me that conditions
cannot remain as they are. We must
enforce Prohibition with a will, or we
must find a system for controlling the
liquor traffic which can be enforced.
TURNING OVER NEW LEAVES
[Continued from page 23]
industrial age’s tribute to real litera-
ture. For its subject matter—the tragic
love story of a gifted and beautiful
courtesan on an island of peasants,
shortly before the birth of Christ—is
foreign to the spirit of our own day.
The sheer beauty of its writing has
swept us aside for an hour from our
hasty pursuits, to savor a simple tale,
and ponder, perhaps, on its subtle
spiritual implication, the foreshadow-
ing of new beliefs in the world.
Here are two delightful historical
novels: Desires and Devices, a nine-
teenth century story by Helen Simpson,
and Margaret Irwin’s prize novel,
None So Pretty, laid in the time of
Charles the Second. It would be hard
to say which of these I most enjoyed.
Both authors have the gift of endow-
ing romance with conviction, and
presenting characters of the past as
vividly as if they were your neighbors.
None So Pretty is the story of Nan,
daughter of an impoverished noble-
man who marries her off to a sottish
farmer neighbor. Nan, in love with life,
eager for the world, dreams of ro-
mance and love. When it comes she
has her brief idyll, and pays for it. The
book gives a vivid picture of the times,
and is piquant with odd points of
view—a calm acceptance, for example,
of outrageous debauchery, and yet
great indignation against such vices as
collecting china and imbibing “those
new eastern drinks, coffee and tea, for
breakfast instead of wholesome British
beer!”
For want of space some good books
must be omitted and others reduced to
brief mention. Another English prize
novel, The Seventh Gate by Muriel
Harris, tells of the rejuvenation of a
middle-aged woman and the develop-
ment of her latent genius, by the
sublimation of sex; and her final de-
struction... The Asking Price by Helen
Hull has brilliant writing in it, and an
interesting theme: a poet, yielding to
his wife’s importunities to “do the
right thing,” to make money, to avoid
offending those in high places, lets life
frustrate him at every point. The
book’s one hopeful note is the sturdy
strength of a daughter who realizes
that the asking price need not be paid,
and who has a strong will and a warm
heart and will get on, in and with the
world . . . An unusually good book
for anyone about to go there is H. V.
Monton’s In Search of Scotland . ...°
Peasant Art in Roumania by George
Oprescu, beautifully illustrated with
photographs and colored plates, doesn’t
intend to be a travel book, but gives a
better picture of the country than
would most travel books . . . If you’re
interested in needlework, it has an
added appeal . . . In Flying Gypsies
the Countess de Sibour tells of the
trip she and her husband took round
the world, mostly in a tiny moth plane
—a gallant, perilous journey which you
can follow comfortably from your
hammock. . . . Two authors needing
no introduction are Kathleen Norris,
who tells in The Passion Flower of a
rich girl who marries poor and has
much to endure and forgive; and Mary
Roberts Rinehart, who gives you’ a
favorite thriller, entitled The Door.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930 g1
of Enduring lexture
toned to blend with your Summer Dresses . . . 98 Sand $1.49
subtle tints sponsored by Fifth Avenue shops
. . and the soft shades approved by great
couturiers! This is the exciting color range that
we have accurately reproduced in these new stock-
ings for summer wear.
Today, in our 1,400 stores throughout the
country, these exquisite stockings are ready for
you to choose the tones . . . the weights . . . your
summer wardrobe needs.
Here are semi-sheer No. 447, service No. 449,
and most popular of all for summer wear . . . our
famous chiffon No. 455. Sheer, clear-textured and
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picot-edged. It’s hard to believe that even the
J. C. Penney Company can sell stockings of such
lustrous beauty . . . such supple strength for $1.49.
And stockings as luxurious as our silk-to-the-top
No. 442 . . . for only 98¢.
S site skin tones of Southern beaches . ..
We know that hosiery as fine as ours usually costs
considerably more. To convince yourself that
J. C. Penney stockings are as sheer, clear and en-
during as others in a higher price range... we
invite you to make these two simple tests . . .
Choose any one and hold it up to an X-ray of
bright sunshine. Notice how clear this filmy tex-
ture is... how gracefully the narrow heel is
shaped . . . and how generously the toe is re-
inforced. Buy two pairs and wear them. Decide to
your own satisfaction what extraordinary service
this smooth silken sheath will render!
Countless women who trade with us have made
their own tests of the extraordinary quality in
J. C. Penney merchandise. And many hundred
thousands of them have found that each thing they
buy in our stores is even finer than they first
thought. .. finer than we ourselves claimed it to be.
That discovery brings them back to our stores
Photograph above shows exquisite texture of our chif-
fon sheer No. 455. In the small sketch at left, is
No. 449 in service weight. To the right, the new open-
work clock of our popular No. 465 . . . chiffon-sheer
stocking, silk to the top. Each weight . . . $1.49.
At 98¢ we are offering a popular new stocking, not
illustrated here. Smart tints, luxuriously sheer, and
silk right to the top! This is a most unusual value.
again and again... for smart hats, frocks and
lingerie . . . draperies for their homes. . . clothing
for their husbands and youngsters. And always,
these women rely upon us to save them money on full benefit of these double savings . . . low purchase write to us and we will gladly tell you. We will send
fire merchandise. price and progressive store management. Let us show you, too, a FREE copy of our illustrated booklet,
you how true this is, in your own J. C. Penney store. Spring Fashion News. Please address the J. C. Penney
T his, b lossal scale that 3
© do thia, WE ey on A co osa, Ponle Ue If you do not know our most convenient location, Company, Inc., 330 West 34th St., New York, N. Y.
earns for us manufacturers’ lowest prices. And
we operate our stores by modern business methods
which put this excellent merchandise into each C P E N N E Y co. D E P T S T O R E S
customer’s hands at a retail price very close to e e INC. e
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On each thing you buy from us you enjoy the The largest department store in the world .. under more than 1,400 roofs
82 McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Its Bubbles wash Impurities from
Between the Teeth Colgate’s not only polishes the
smooth outer surfaces ... but also
washes out the tiny crevices where
ordinary brushing can’t reach.
Thus, it cleans teeth completely.
ERE surface polishing of teeth is only half
cleansing. Danger lurks in the spaces between
teeth; in the tiny fissures where food particles collect and
where decay may begin.
Colgate’s cleanses these hard-to-reach places. Its bubbling,
sparkling foam penetrates the crevices; softens the de-
posits and flushes them away in a hygienic wave of
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This Colgate foam is unique. Scientific tests prove that
it has the highest penetrating power of any of the leading
toothpastes. Its washing action is amazingly thorough.
After brushing with Colgate’s, your mouth feels clean .. .
because it is clean... as no other toothpaste can clean.
Colgate’s polishes teeth brilliantly . . . using the soft, chalk
powder which all dentists use for this purpose. But any
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to polishing, gives the extra protection of a thorough wash-
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Superiority in cleansing and economy have made Col-
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If you prefer powder, ask for
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How Colgate’s Cleans Crevices
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Colgate’s Ribbon Dental Cream is the
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Diagram showing tiny This diagram shows
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Note how ordinary, foam (having low “sur-
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FREE COLGATE, Dept. M-593, P.O. Box 375, Grand Central Post Office, N. Y. C.
Please send a free tube of Colgate’s Ribbon Dental Cream, with booklet
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D E aaa ee Ee ER SRR PSone ea ARTES Ee =
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
0195 0108
July finds everyone in a holiday mood, whether
at the seashore or the mountains, travelling
abroad or merely being lazy at home. And
fashions, to follow suit, also go in for a brief period of rest. But though the
changes are not so spectacular as in the earlier active months of the year,
what is happening is just as important from a style standpoint. It is these rest
periods that decide which among the new clothes are really the most beau-
tiful, useful and wearable. On these the future developments will be based.
Among the items that stand out in this process of smart selection are the
classic note in formal gowns, and the new liking for draped effects. Almost
every formal gown shows drapery of some sort, sometimes almost Grecian,
as in the hood-like drapery at the back of the evening gown shown on
page 90, sometimes simply a line of shirring down the front of the bodice.
A eaaifeljclly
6162
This fashion has an attractive echo in daytime
clothes with draped necklines, like the after-
noon frock and the sports frock on this page.
Boleros and capes are developing in such charming ways that they have
an assured future. The latest capes are usually separate, forming an evening
wrap, or an outdoor ensemble like the one on page 87. The new boleros
are becoming fitted in their lines, to seem more a part of the dress, and
often they are merely suggested by soft flounces on the bodice. The back
of the afternoon frock on this page shows this treatment.
The nipped-in waistline, as an accent to long full skirts, is perhaps the most
universally accepted feature on all kinds of new clothes. It is particularly
successful in the new suits, made with a simple skirt, a contrasting tuck-in
blouse, and a fitted coat that may match the skirt, or, very smartly contrast.
FOR BACK VIEWS AND YARDAGE SEE PAGE 126
No. 6195. A scarf collar lends flattering lines.
No. 6168. A soft flounce suggests a bolero.
No. 6162. The new neckline is draped in front.
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices listed on page 124
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
61 8 3 O17 4
Tear Oued) sal Vigra lay
m-
FOR BACKVIEWS AND YARDAGE SEE PAGE 126
No. 6183. A straight-line belted frock with curved No. 6174. Groups of pleats at the front and back sup-
seamings and a pleat at the side acquires the air ply fulness in a one-piece frock. The bodice is seamed
of a suit by the addition of a separate bolero. to suggest jacket-lines and finished with a jabot.
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page 124
1930
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
(oO ee ee CET OTZ O
CEO ATSA E
FOR BACKVIEWS AND YARDAGE SEE PAGE 126
No. 6179. A flounce at the hemline lends a No. 6177. A contrasting collar finished with a No. 6170. Lines that make any figure look
princess suggestion to a frock cut on slightly fit- bow accents the surplice collar lines of a tai- youthfully slender are simply produced in a
ted lines. Buttons and pockets are smart details. lored frock. Pleated sections supply fulness. frock with decorative seaming on the bodice.
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page 124
86 McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
OOA 6173
FOR BACKVIEWS AND YARDAGE SEE PAGE 126
No. 6194. A double collar lends . F
French chic to a simple frock made
with pockets heading circular sections.
No. 6173. Pleats held down by but-
ton-trimmed tabs trim a frock worn
with a seven-oighths length coat.
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page |24
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
DEY. VMAIGNES.
6180 6165
FOR BACKVIEWS AND YARDAGE SEE PAGE 126
No. 6180. Princess lines are prac-
tically interpreted in a belted frock
Jx 4 that closes with a row of buttons.
No. 6165. A becoming ensemble
consists of a frock with a novel
flounce on the skirt, and a short cape.
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page 124
88
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
No. 6176. A knotted lingerie collar No. 6178. Tucks and a little frillhead No. 6186. Contrasting color accents
lends charm and freshness to a frock slightly circular sections at each side a V neckline finished with drapery,
for morning or afternoon wear. ofa simple frock belted at the waist. short sleeves, and a shaped skirt yoke.
FOR BACKVIEWS AND YARDAGE
SEE PAGE 126
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page 124
1930
McCALL’S MAG
No. 6187. Clever cut lends flattering No. 6163. The soft drapery that Paris No. 6184. Contrasting bands form a cae ORS
. $ z ACKVIEWS AND
princess lines and results in decora- -uses to make all kinds of frocks femi- smart trimming on the neckline and side a SEE PAGE 126
tive seaming. A belt marks the waist. nine appears in a pointed collar. pockets of a tailored type of frock.
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page 124
90
MeCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
No. 6188. A beautiful ex-
ample of the very formal
type of gown that Paris
intends for important oc-
casions has flounces on
the bodice and the skirt.
6188
No, 6182. Soft drapery
shirred in front and fall-
ing in a hood at the back
_of th bodice, and a skirt
trailing in points achieve
graceful flowing lines.
No. 6185. Typical of the
new French frocks for
dancing is a gown which
has a short bolero, a flat-
tering peplum, and a
circular ankle length skirt.
6182
PARKES
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page 124
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
tr À
fà
6185 6182 6185
SAVES ITS MOST STRIKING IDEAS FOR THE EVENING
FOR YARDAGE SEE PAGE 126
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page |24
91
6192 6190
5430 5404
543.5):
6189
6191
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
Ruri Play Clothes Ges ko Ihe Secu
No. 6191. Box pleats supply skirt fulness in a
No. 6192. Style features of a small frock are shir-
rings down the front of the bodice, short sleeves,
and clever cut producing becoming princess lines.
No. 6190. A separate bolero
is a smart addition to a frock
that has a belt in the back,
and seamings in. the front.
No. 5436. Rompers that have
a deep round neck and are
open at the sides form a
practical costume for play.
FOR BACKVIEWS AND YARDAGE SEE PAGE 126
No. 5404. Trousers that are
held by narrow straps cross-
ing in back permit the sun
and air to reach a small child.
simple frock which is made with short sleeves.
A sash tying in the back marks the waistline.
No. 5435. Another costume
for a sun bath or for play has
a square bib in the front to
which straps are attached.
No. 6189. The full skirt of a
smart little frock is shirred on
toabodice cutto form curved
seamings suggesting abolero.
X
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices and sizes listed on page 124
1930
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
6164 O175
rocks Grew Glaborate inthe late Aterncon
No. 6164. The lines of a flounce No. 6166. A new French draped EOR DAGE No. 6172. A cape collar is a No. 6175. Soft bodice lines are
suggesting a bolero on the bod- effect appears in a simple frock views AND flattering detail of an afternoon lent by a diagonal frill and a
YARDAGE
ice are repeated in deeper floun- cleverly cut and shirred to sug- sep page z6 frock. The skirt is cut to form a cape collar. The diagonal treat-
ces on the skirt, crossing in front. gest an apron front and back. low flare at the front and sides. ment is repeated in skirt flounces.
Patterns. may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices listed on page 124
93
94
bias tape bands held together by fagoting are one
of the smartest innovations in the field of “hand-fin-
ishes” for children's frocks. Clever mothers are mak-
ing them by the simple method shown in the details at
right. The bias tape is basted in rows on a heavy
brown paper yoke and then joined together by simple
fagoting stitches. The results are utterly charming.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
FAGOTED FROCKS ARE NEW
bY ELISABETH MAY BLONDEL
Nos. 1796 and 1795. The cunning fagoted frocks, which
wee sophisticates are wearing, are the loveliest in
pastel colors. Bias tape bands, in colors contrasting
with the dress and held together with fagoting, make
simple and charming yokes. The demure miss-six-year-
old is proud of her cape collar, Her little two-year-
old sister prefers a dress with tiny puffed sleeves.
Patterns may be bought from all McCall dealers, or by mail, postage prepaid, from The McCall Company, McCall Street, Dayton, Ohio, at prices listed on page 124
1930
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Here’s That New Way
of Removing Arm and Leg Hair
So many women are asking about
TA,
By a total and altogether delightful lack of stubble you
can feel the difference between this and old ways.
Not only is slightest fear of bristly re-growth banished,
but actual reappearance of hair ts slowed amazingly,
A New Discovery That Not Only Removes Hair Instantly
But Utterly Avoids Fostering Bristly Re-growth!
found that not only removes every vestige of
hair instantly, but that banishes the stimu-
lated hair growth thousands of women are charging
to less modern ways. A way that not only removes
hair but delays its reappearance remarkably!
A NEW way of removing arm and leg hair has been
It is changing previous conceptions of cosmeticians
about hair removing. Women are flocking to its use.
The discovery of R. C. Lawry, noted beauty scien-
tist, it is different from any other hair remover
known.
WHAT IT IS
It is an exquisite toilet creme, resembling a superior
beauty clay in texture. You simply spread it on where
hair is to be removed. Then rinse off with water.
That is all. Every vestige of hair is gone; so com-
pletely that even by running your hand across the
skin not the slightest trace of stubble can be felt.
And—the reappearance of that hair is delayed sur-
prisingly!
When re-growth finally does come, it is utterly unlike
the re-growth following old ways. You can feel the
difference. No sharp stubble. No coarsened growth.
The skin, too, is left soft as a child’s. No skin rough-
ness, no enlarged pores. You feel freer than prob-
ably ever before in your life of annoying hair growth.
WHERE TO OBTAIN
It is called NEET—a preparation long on the market,
_ but recently changed in compounding to embody the
new Lawry discovery.
It is on sale at practically all drug and department
stores and in beauty parlors. In both $1 and 60c
sizes. The $1 size contains 3 times the quantity of
the 60c size. 256
Neet
Cream
Hair Remover
96
Finished in Ming Green, Old Ivory and Black enamel
A COOL KITCHE
Reveals its SECRET
OW can you have intense heat to cook your food quickly, yet
keep the kitchen cool even in blistering weather? The Florence
oil range provides the answer with “focused heat”.
The Florence has short burners and no wicks, so the flame strikes
right on the center of the cooking vessel. The heat goes into the
cooking instead of out into the room.
This Florence principle of “focused heat” is not only a blessing
in hot weather but proves a great economy in the use of kerosene
(coal oil). Also, when you are not actually cooking, you don’t burn
the Florence at all. The Florence is odorless, smokeless and safe.
The advance Florence model (FR-51) shown above has five burners,
but they are ingeniously “staggered” so the range takes only modest
floor space. The oven is built in as an integral part of the range.
Two burners will bring the oven temperature over 650 degrees and
the side-wall thermometer is accurate.
The FR-51 is finished in Ming Green, Old Ivory and Black. There
are other Florence models—a stove of the size, finish and price to
meet every woman’s requirements. In many models, the oven is
removable and is sold separately. Florence ovens, because of many
special advantages, are world-famous and are often used on gas stoves.
Hardware, furniture and department
stores everywhere, have the Florence line.
Constant Hot Water
You should also owna Florence Automatic Water
Heater. It works under thermostatic control, with
a pilot light, requires no attention and gives you
constant hot water for a few cents worth of kero-
sene a day. Four Florence models to choose from
through your plumber.
“Shorter Kitchen Hours”’—The title of this un-
usual booklet is accurate. It is full of expert house-
hold information, including delightful recipes. We
would like to mail you your copy without charge.
FLORENCE STOVE COMPANY
Dept. B4, Park Square Bldg., Boston, Mass.
If you have gas, ask your dealer about the new
je Sı
Florence Gas Range. Antonu SAES
Water Heater
FLORENCE
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
RED, WHITE AND GREEN
[Continued from page 13]
mound of tortured ocean leaped up
under them. The stricken seaplane shot
up sharply, hesitated a moment, and
dropped off helplessly on the left wing.
As its speed mounted, Jackson felt the *
controls stiffen. He moved the wheel
a little; sluggishly the plane responded.
Faster and faster they slipped and
whirled toward the sea.
In a last desperate effort to regain
his sight, the frantic man at the wheel
ripped off his blinding goggles. Before
his unprotected eyes filled with the
stinging, burning oil, he caught a fleet-
ing glimpse of the waves jumping up at
him. He hauled the control wheel vio-
lently back to his chest. The whining
aircraft zoomed out of the death-dive,
fluttered for a seeming age and then
fell heavily into the sea, deluging the
whole structure.
COENE and gasping for breath,
Jackson finally managed to speak:
“Foster—Foster—are you—all right?”
“I—I—can’t tell—yet,” came the
shaky answer.
“Foster, we’ve got to find out as soon
as possible how badly the plane is
busted up. What I can see from here
doesn’t make me feel very cheerful.”
Very carefully the drenched men
climbed about the rolling, pitching,
slippery seaplane to determine the ex-
tent of the damage. The radiator hung
on a single cable. The motor was fright-
fully wrecked and wrenched loose from
its bearers. The forward float struts
had been pushed up by the force of the
landing into the fuselage. The bows of
both pontoons were sliced off. Prac-
tically every fitting was bent or twisted
from its base. A score of holes gaped in
the riddled wings. But most important
of all, the water-tight bulkheads of
the pontoons appeared to be intact.
Here lay the key to their buoyancy.
“We've got to get this engine over-
board before it drops through a pon-
toon. Break out the tool-kit, Jack.”
On such an unstable platform, it was
slow, difficult work clearing the engine
of the wires and bolts that held it in
place. They finished at last
and waited for a favorable
wave.
“Let er go,” yelled
Foster.
They gave the engine a
mighty push; with a big
splash it sank into the sea,
barely clearing the port
pontoon.
“God, that was close!”
breathed Jackson, weakly,
wiping the cold sweat from
his brow.
“Write out the bad news to the Air
Station, Jack,” directed the pilot,
“while I get a bird ready.”
As Foster gently pulled one of their
two carrier pigeons from its cage.
Jackson climbed into the after cockpit
for the little book of tissue message
blanks.
“How long do you figure we can stay
up, Jack?” asked Foster.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” re-
plied the other. “I’ve seen ’em go
under from one minute to four hours
after hittin’.”
“Well, what’d you say? We’ve got to
put somethin’ down.”
“My vote is for the top time of four
hours, Foster. I wouldn’t give the
Skipper the satisfaction of saying that
we misrepresented our condition.”
“Tm with you! Put ’er down at four
hours.”
So Jackson wrote:
From: A-408. Time: 0845. Date:
17/9/17. Forced landing. Position 45.
Plane damaged. Estimate cam stay afloat
at least four hours. No ships in sight.
Sea too rough for rescue plane to land.
Personnel O. K.
Jackson rolled the message and
slipped it into the tiny aluminum con-
tainer on the pigeon’s leg. Foster
planted an oily kiss on the bird’s head
before he tossed him into the air.
The pigeon flew off bravely, made
two wide circles around the rolling sea-
plane and alighted upon the end of the
top wing.
Like two lunatics the men yelled and
whirled their arms at the frightened
bird. Finally sensing he was no longer
welcome, the little pigeon began his
dreaded flight over the waves toward
home.
The long, exhausting morning at last
gave way to afternoon. The tortured
seaplane was settling slowly forward,
like a great animal with its nose be-
tween its paws. No longer were the
compartments of the pontoons water-
tight. The continuous pounding of the
seas was ripping the fabric from the
wings. Some hours. ago the battered
officers had removed their heavy shoes
and flight clothes. Between them they
had divided the important equipment.
To Jackson, the observer, went the
precious Very’s signal pistol; the
water-proofed box of red, green, and
white shells; and the little secret signal
book with its covers of lead. Foster
guarded the remaining carrier pigeon.
In addition, each of them had a manila
wing-line, a canteen of fresh water,
and a tin of concentrated emergency
rations. The eyes that searched that
dreary horizon now were desperately
anxious. Aid had to come soon to be of
any use to them. Already they had re-
mained afloat beyond the four hours
they had believed possible. They were
living on borrowed time now. And
Foster and Jackson knew it.
The last pigeon had been released
shortly after the seaplane had plunged
over on its back. This bird seemed
glad to go. The discussion as to what
the message should con-
tain was brief. Foster had
said: “Whatever you say,
Jack don’t let ’em think
the old upper lips aren’t
stiff.”
So late in the afternoon
two very frightened and
despairing young officers
sent their last carrier pi-
geon off with a simple
message :
From: A-408. Time: 1600.
Date: 17/9/17, Position 45. Wreckage
awash. No ships in sight. Believe can stay
afloat a little longer. Personnel O. K.
‘HEY felt very lonely after that last
little bird had gone.
“We're so low in the water—no
ship—will ever see us,” said Foster
hopelessly.
“Don’t forget, old fella,” returned
Jackson, “we've got a Very’s pistol
which can make us seen for miles.”
“I forgot, Jack. Don’t mind me...
My legs have no feeling in them... I
never knew—water—could be so cold.”
“Try to keep your circulation goin’,”
pleaded Jackson. Then, to cheer Foster
up, he laboriously thumbed through the
dripping little signal book until he
came to Emergency Signals.
“Listen, here’s ours, Foster: ‘A series
of red and white Very’s lights: Air-
craft sinking. Need immediate help?
The guy who made up that signal—
must have heard about us.”
[Continued on page 98]
McCALL'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
HELP IO
KEEP GIPS YOUNG
97
CHEWING GUM
PEPPERMINT FLAVOR
WHAT most excited the ‘astonishment of those bedazzled Spaniards who first set
foot in Mexico was not the glittering gorgeousness of Aztec civilization half so
much as the Aztec women’s seeming possession of the Secret of Perpetual Youth. It
was observed that Aztec women rarely lost their teeth and their lips stayed marvels
of youthful loveliness even into old age. Could this signify that a woman is only as
young as her lips? Did the Spaniards know the Aztecs chewed gum? Wrigley’s is the
same sort of chewing gum only enticingly more delicious. Chew Wrigley’s ten
minutes or more each day. Wrigley’s tones up the muscles about the mouth
and preserves the youthful contour which keeps you looking healthy and young.
Try Double Mint—for its delightful and sumptuous new peppermint flavor.
98
You
Never
Saw a
Happier
Baby
Than This
One!
And Yet, a Month Ago It Was One of the Most
Irritable Children You Ever Held in Your Arms.
1. After the morning bath massage baby’s
entire body gently with Mennen Baby
Oil. Rub this delightful, pleasantly
scented, medicated oil into the folds and
creases of the skin, to prevent chafing.
2. After wiping off the excess oil dust
baby with Mennen Borated Talcum to
keep him sweet-smelling, cool, and com-
fortable. Mennen Borated Talcum is
scientifically medicated.
3. After every diaper change massage the
buttocks with Mennen Baby Oil to water-
proof the skin against urine and other
matter. Then apply Mennen Borated
Talcum to prevent any possibility of
“ammonia diaper” irritation.
A certain young mother was’ unable
to account for the irritation that was
causing her baby so much trouble in
the diaper region. Its tender skin broke
out into galling red rashes causing pain
and sleeplessness.
And all this in spite of the fact that
she changed the diapers frequently, and
laundered them thoroughly. Consulting
her doctor, he immediately explained
the cause.
He advised her to rub her baby’s en-
tire body daily with Mennen Baby Oi
—to massage it gently into the folds
and creases of the skin.
And after every diaper change the
buttocks were to be massaged with oi
to act as a water-proof coating against
urine scald. After the excess oil had
been wiped off, Mennen Borated Talcum
was to be dusted over the buttocks and
into the diapers, to help correct and
prevent “ammonia diaper” irritation.
Following this procedure baby was
instantly relieved from the irritation that
attacked its skin, and its entire body soon
became free from chafing.
Mennen Baby Oil is medicated and
sterilized, pleasantly scented, and will
not stain diapers or clothing.
The Mennen Company ,
Newark, N. J. Toronto, Ont., Can.
MENNEN
BABY OIL and BORATED TALCUM
$3300.00 Prize Contest for mothers for a new name for
Mennen Baby Oil and for the best letters on baby oil. Go
to your druggist for FREE Sample of Mennen Baby Oil,
Entry Blank, and complete contest details.
RED, WHITE
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
AND GREEN
[Continued from page 96]
“Jack, I'm awful’ tired . . . I—I'd
like to rest a little while . . . Feel bet-
ter, perhaps, when I wake.”
Foster’s voice was so low Jackson
could barely hear it above the swish-
ing of the waves.
“Fight it off, Foster!” cried Jack-
son. “For God’s sake try to keep
awake.”
“Tm all right—Jack . .. Wake me—
if anything—happens.”
“Foster! Foster! Stay with me!”
Bur Foster’s burning eyes closed. A
glorious feeling of well-being en-
veloped him. He felt almost happy. The
waves didn’t bother him now.
The frantic Jackson on the other
side of the wreck yelled and screamed,
but Foster gave no sign that he heard.
Soon only painful gasps came from the
raw and swollen throat of the ob-
server. A sudden blindness assailed
him; his mind drifted, derelict like
himself.
It was some time after this merci-
ful period of oblivion that Jackson
noticed the periscope ,
protruding from the
waves not a hundred
yards away. He didn’t
become excited; in fact
it required painful con-
centration on his part
to comprehend that a
means of rescue was at
hand. But at last came
realization and a joy-
ous light suffused the
bruised and swollen
features of the exhausted man.
New life flowed through his veins.
He unfastened the line that bound
him to the pontoon and laboriously
climbed astride the half-submerged
float. The waves strove to sweep him
back into the sea. Then with arms
that seemed made of lead he sema-
phored the Allied recognition signal of
the day. He waited patiently for some
signal or sign of acknowledgment. But
the dark lens in the periscope con-
tinued to stare blankly at him. He
tried again...
He became a little dizzy as he
swayed back and forth on the pitch-
ing float. He tried to laugh but only a
pitiful choking sound came through his
bleeding lips. A vessel within hailing
distance on this desolate waste—and
it turns out to be an enemy! Some-
thing seemed to die within him.
No longer was Jackson in doubt as
to the submarine’s intentions. Foster
and he were to be decoys . . . decoys
for big game . . . big ships! Two half-
dead decoys! An old game, but, thanks
to the humanitarianism of the men
who follow the sea, it still worked.
With a mind bewildered by the
events of the day, Jackson tried to
reason out this new turn of affairs: In
spite of the submarine a ship could
save them. Ships had guns; they could
drive the sub away, or sink her. Or
even if the sub got a torpedo into a
passing ship and it had to be aban-
doned, the life boats would surely pick
them up. But that meant a ship lost
. .. perhaps lives...
The horizon in the west brightened
as the sun lowered to meet the sea.
The opposite sky was already shad-
owed by the hand of approaching night.
His soul in his eyes, Jackson gazed to-
ward the light.
Suddenly he stiffened, wiped his
flaming eyes, looked again. Fascinated,
he watched the black speck on the
glowing horizon grow into a ship: A
great fast ship from overseas, depending
on her speed for safety in these enemy
infested waters. If this ship maintained
her present course she would pass
within a half-mile of the plane. . .
and the submarine whose baleful eye
was just above the surface now.
“Foster! Foster! A ship!” he cried.
But Foster didn’t hear.
Jackson began to shake as one with
an ague. He fought to ward off the
blackness which threatened to engulf
him. Like a great dog he shook off the
seas sweeping over the wreckage. He
opened the little signal book to make
sure of the signal he wanted, but it
was a long time before his eyes would
focus so he could read in the fading
light. He studied the signal carefully,
turned, and threw the little book into
the sea. With lifeless fingers he strug-
gled with the water-proof wrapping on
the box of colored shells. At last he
succeeded in loading the Very’s pistol.
In his hand, ready, he had two other
shells.
Ensign Jackson looked up . . . to-
ward the ship approaching from the
west...
The Captain of the S. S. “Jefferson”
paced his bridge with
nervous strides. Two
watch officers on either
wing of the bridge
gazed intently into the
darkening east. The
Naval officer navigator
leaned over the chart
tacked to the table on
the rail. It was a secret
Naval chart divided in-
to little squares, each
designated by a glaring
red number. On the line representing
their course he made a tiny dot; around
this he drew a little circle and alongside
he wrote the time. It was S. S. “Jeffer-
son’s” position. And under the little
circle was printed the number 45. Po-
sition 45.
“Doyle, this running through these
hellish waters without destroyers is
makin’ a wreck of me,” complained the
Captain to his navigator. “Our luck
can’t last forever.”
Suddenly a bright red star flamed in
the sky ahead! A moment later it was
followed by a white . . . and then a
brilliant green one!
“Red, white and green Very's signal
lights two points on the starboard
bow!” roared one of the watch officers.
“Wha’d’ they mean, Doyle?” bel-
lowed the Captain.
qp navigator snapped open the
signal book. It required but a mo-
ment to find the meaning of the three
lights.
“‘Enemy submarine on your star-
board bow!” read Doyle excitedly.
“Left full rudder!” thundered the
Captain to the helmsman. “Emergency
full speed ahead!” 4
The big ship careened drunkenly in
answer to the sudden rudder. Black
smoke belched from her stacks as she
raced away from the menace in the
southeast. No submarine on the high
seas could overhaul the S. S. “Jeffer-
son” now...
Midnight. The wind whistled in
from the sea; great gashes of lightning
lit up the somber, rain-swept town.
Within an opaque exterior, the Brit-
ish Officers’ Club was brilliant with
light and gay with laughter. At the
end of the bar, swaying a little, stood
the Commanding Officer of the Air
Station.
“I could give you fellas more help,”
he said thickly to an English destroyer
captain; “If they'd on’y give me some
men—-like I used t’have—in the ol’
days. But, dam’em, all they send me
is a lot of puling kids.”
McCALI’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Behold... Four Million Women
making jelly in the time !
N,
Enthusiastic Jelly Makers
send letters from 47 States
“Imagine! Now I boil my jellies
only one minute!”
from CALIFORNIA
“Why, jelly-making this new way
takes only 3 the time.”
from WISCONSIN
“Irs like magic—in 12 minutes
my jelly is done.”
from VERMONT
Allover the country, housewives by the
thousand are adopting this easy cer-
tainway to make their jellies and jams.
WELVE minutes to make jelly! Think of that
IE . . you who now spend hot, tedious, uncertain
hours over the jelly kettles!
A few minutes to bring to a boil . . . add
Certo . . . boil one minute ... and there you are,
scarcely twelve minutes later, triumphantly putting
your jelly in the window to cool.
Certo makes this magic possible! It whisks away
the tedious uncertainties of old time jelly-making.
It gives you delicious tasting jellies and jams in less
than one-third the time.
For seven years Mrs. J. S. Schupp has been a consistent prize winner at the Missouri State Fair with her Certo-made jellies
and jams. In 1929 she won a prize for flavor and texture with each of the jellies shown in this color photograph above,
Certo fills your jam cupboard economically, too.
Out of the kettle comes sudden abundance . . . half
again more glasses than ever came before. Ten
glasses when you expected a meager six! The one
minute boil, you see, saves all the luscious, fragrant
fruit juice that used to boil away and quickly turns
it into jelly.
whenever you wish, With it you can make jellies
from any fruit—even from strawberries and pine-
apple; yes, even from bottled grape juice! And, be-
cause with Certo you use the fruit at its ripest and best,
your jellies take on an exquisite new deliciousness,
HAVE YOU STOPPED PUTTING UP JELLIES?
No matter how disastrous your past experience may
have been, with Certo you can make jelly quickly, easily,
surely, economically. Even your grandmother with all
her talent could never secure such a fresh fruit flavor.
And such tantalizing, glorious tasting jelly it is!
Such piquancy! Such sparkling clearness. Actu-
ally its flavor rivals the sun drenched fruit itself
as you pick it fresh from the vine! Little wonder
that more than 4,000,000 women have been won to
this magical, modern way!
EXACTLY WHAT IS CERTO?... Certo is the
natural jellying substance of pure fruit, scientifically
extracted, concentrated and bottled.
TRY IT—TODAY... Why not start today to
fill your jam cupboard with a rainbow of gay, crystal- ———1
lear jellies and tempting jams? Choose the fruit Pep A F
clear j pting jams! e frui foai | ! of the Jam Cupboard” contains many
that is cheapest and ripest—and begin! | | recipes for exquisite desserts and salads using jams and
Under the label on the Certo bottle you will find | jellies. It will bring new inspiration to your meal plan-
93 jelly and jam recipes, personally prepared and | ZÆ | ning. Another of her booklets contains 93 jelly and jam
tested by Elizabeth Palmer, the world famous au- Sieve) recipes for use with Certo. The coupon brings them
thority on jelly-making. Lnvenen 5) both to you free. Simply fill in and mail the coupon.
Please remember that these recipes are made for
use with Certo. Follow them to the letter every time
and your jellies will be greeted with the honors due
a master cook,
Miss Palmer’s new booklet “Secrets
, Certo Corporation, Fairport, New York.
This jellying substance is so scarce in some fruits Led., Sterling Tower, Toronto 2, Ont.)
that jelly cannot be made from them by the old-
fashioned way. With many others, jelly can be
“Secrets of the Jam Cupboard.” Print name
M. C. 7-30
Please send me your new booklet,
and address—Fill in completely
i i ; ft 7 : NAME en
made ony aaia pay pened fruit and after Certo is a product of General Foods Corporation.
long, wasteful, tedious boiling. More than 4,000,000 jelly makers are using it. Go ask STREET.
Now in Certo this jellying substance is yours to use vour grocer for your supply today. ©1930 G.F. CORP. CITY. STATE
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
An easy ear for
Tue new Ford is a splendid choice for the woman motorist because
a woman to drive
it is so reliable and easy to handle. Particularly in heavy traffic, you
will appreciate its quick acceleration, alert speed, effective four-wheel brakes, and ease in steering, shifting gears, turning and parking.
Another factor that contributes to your feeling of confidence and security in driving the new Ford is the Triplex shatter-proof wind-
shield. This reduces the danger of flying glass, a frequent cause of injuries in automobile collisions. The Ford Motor Company has
provided it for you on the new Ford as a contribution to greater safety on every highway. « « « « «
<>
McCALL’S MAGAZINE
JULY 1930
Glusirared by
GEORGE BREHM
FOR THE SAKE
E HEAR much
today about the
frivolities of
Youth. Writers view with
alarm what they call its insubordi-
nation. To me, this only seems a
very natural revolt against tradi-
tion. It is evident to all of us that
the customs and habits of modern
youth are different from those of a
few decades ago, but I feel very
hopeful about this change. I believe
it indicates that our boys are gain-
ing mental alertness and independ-
ence earlier in life than we did; and
I see, in this earlier development, a
promise of progress in human re-
lationships.
In a family that is fortunate
enough to have a son, numerous
problems arise when the boy’s
future must be considered from a
serious standpoint. Soon he is to oc-
cupy a position in the world of men—
to take his place in the great human
family—and his preparation for a ca-
reer is of the utmost importance.
One of the great crimes against
youth is to force a boy into a field of
endeavor for which he has no natural
inclination or mental capacity. To every-
one, the greatest satisfaction in life
comes through accomplishment and we
can only accomplish worthwhile things
when we derive pleasure from work.
FOR several generations we have
been drifting, as a nation, into the
state of standardization which is guar-
anteed to develop the “Average In-
dividual.” All too often, environment
has been the deciding factor in a boy’s
life. He has gone into the business of
his father and his father’s father, fol-
lowing the direct line of ancestral
custom. This has made of him an ex-
emplary and contented citizen, yes.
But the exemplary citizen does not
necessarily go far. Contentment and
satisfaction are too apt to kill initia-
tive, in the course of time.
In my professional life, I have seen
several generations of boys passthrough
adolescence to manhood — made by
formula, fashioned after a model. I
have seen promising youths sink to the
obscurity of the Average because the
S FUTURE
By CHARLES GILMORE KERLEY, M.D.
NE of the great crimes against
youth is to force a boy into
a field of endeavor for which he
has no natural inclination or
mental capacity,” says Dr. Ker-
ley, in this frank discussion of
the mistakes so many devoted
parents are making today. Dr.
Kerley’s observations are based
on a lifetime’s study of children;
and his plea for a keener appre-
ciation of the rights of Youth
sounds a note of warning to
every thoughtful mother and
father—The Editors.
home, the school, and the college are
trying to make every boy exactly like
every other boy. These youths had
originality, initiative, and a capacity
for work; and they would have de-
veloped into outstanding men of force
and individuality if their own desires
and potentialities had been given in-
telligent consideration. As a result of
the efforts to make our boys measure
to a pattern, the United States today
has an unfortunately large number of
hand-fed college-bred boys who are
round pegs in square holes.
Unless great care is used, vanity and
mistaken ambitions will continue to
produce a supply of misfits. Our coun-
try is a comparatively new one and it
has become rich a bit too quick. A
large number of fathers and mothers,
whose parents or grandparents were
pioneers or immigrants, have built up
comfortable fortunes in spite of their
handicaps, and they think that by giv-
ing their children the advantages they
were denied, they can capture fame
and success for their offspring.
These hard-working, devoted parents
feel so much joy and pride in having
their sons go to college, that they fre-
quently fail to consider whether or not
this is the best preparation for the
boy’s future. A large number of boys
who are sent to college should go in an
entirely different direc-
tion. If they were free
to choose for themselves,
they would select ca-
reers for which they are mentally
and physically qualified and in
which they would, in all likelihood,
find signal success.
Parents should not plan a boy’s
life—particularly when he is too
young to share in the plans. He has
his inheritance — this you cannot
change. Give him as good a physi-
cal equipment as science can afford,
and a stimulating mental envi-
ronment. Let him develop natur-
ally without overmuch suggestion or
compulsion from you. Help him to
find himself by being his friend and
confidant, as well as his parent.
Give your boy guidance, but never
for one instant forget that he is to
live his own life—not yours.
Of course, ambitious parents will
sometimes experience a severe disap-
pointment when they learn what occu-
pation or profession their son has
selected; but this disappointment
would be more poignant later on, if
they should see him unhappily pursu-
ing a line of work in which he had no
réal interest.
W HATEVER higher education a
boy chooses, it should give him
a specific preparation for the business
he intends to follow. Much is written
about the broad culture and mental
training which a general education
affords; but I think a student’s train-
ing is more complete when he pur-
sues a course of study in which he is
genuinely interested.
The rapid progress being made in
the development of occupational
schools, trade schools, and specialized
courses in our modern universities
shows a tendency to “scrap the ar-
chaic, as well as a demand on the part
of youth for instruction along lines
which he may personally select and to
which he is particularly adapted.
This is one manifestation of the in-
subordination, revolt and independence `
which characterize our boys today.
Through it, I fancy I can see the dawn
of a renaissance for Youth.
101
Enough Hires Extract
to make
8 BOTTLES
of delicious Hires Root
Beer. Just mail the coupon,
FREE
Only 1%° per bottle
for delicious
Hires Root Beer
There is no worry about expense in
homes where Hires Root Beer is served.
It is such an economical luxury, compared
to other bottled beverages.
Delicious and invigorating, always wel-
come, you can serve it generously to family
and friends, no matter how modest the
household budget.
May we prove both its economy and
superior flavor—let us send youa free trial
bottle of Hires Extract—sufficient to make
8 pint bottles of Hires Root Beer.
If the trial delights you and your family,
then for 30c at all dealers you can buy a
full-size bottle of Hires Extract—it makes
40 bottles of Hires Root Beer, costing
about 11c per bottle, compared to what
you usually pay.
Millions of families all over the Nation
are enjoying this famous, thirst-quenching
beverage, containing the juices of 16 roots,
barks, berries and herbs—Nature’s invigor-
ating and appetizing ingredients, includ-
ing Vitamin B and Mineral Salts. Utterly
free from artificial color and flavor.
Mail the coupon at once for free trial
| bottle of Hires Extract—or order a full-
| size 30c bottle from your dealer today.
35c in Canada.
At fountains ask for Hires
or buy it in bottles.
Tue CHARLES E. Hires Company, Dept. M
Philadelphia, Pa. [ 4-2-3. J
1
1
i I
i Please send me free sample |
of Hires Root Beer Extract i]
|
l
l
| I Name.
| | Addre:
! City
Stat
address plainly |
| Canadians may mail coupon to
The Charles E. Hires Co., Ltd., Toronto
102
This book and a
... SINGER ELECTRIC
No wonder you want more dresses this season than
ever before. The new fashions are so lovely, the new
fabrics and colors so tempting... And now you can
make them yourself—with all the style and smart-
ness of the original design. For this book, “How to
Make Dresses,” which you may obtain free from any
Singer Shop or Representative, tells you step by
step just how to select becoming designs, fabrics
and colors, then how to cut out your dress, fit it,
seam it and finish it, even to the pressing. Every
detail of importance in the new silhouette is made
simple for you—sleeves, necklines, waistlines, skirt
finishes... With this book and a modern Singer
Electric you can successfully make a spring and
summer wardrobe of lovely clothes. For this book
will show you what to do and the Singer Electric
will stitch the seams and do every bit of finishing
swiftly, quietly, and with magic ease... Why not get
a modern Singer now, enjoy its use in making your
clothes this season, and let it pay for itself out of
the savings?...Any Singer Shop or Representative
will give you, free, a copy of “How to Make
Dresses,” and will send a modern Singer Electric
to your home to try on Self Demonstration Plan.
SINGER
ELECTRIC
SEWING MACHINES
Copyright U. S. A. 1930 by The Singer Manufacturing Co. All rights reserved for all countries
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
A WORD TO THE BRIDE
[Continued from page 8]
beings from a reckless girl of twenty
and her ardent twenty-three-year-old
lover, although the young people bore
the same names as the woman and the
man. How can youthful lovers dare
to contract for the lives of the mature
woman and man?
BARLY marriages are like purchasing
a pig in a poke. It is not until long
afterward that you know what you've
got. Then you may not like it as well
as you anticipated, and even if you
do you have a sense of uneasiness
„ born of the realization you might have
made a grave mistake. In no other
phase of life can people give and take
so blindly as in the marriage relation-
ship, because it is so easy to be over-
come by the emotion of early youth.
First love is the most powerful stimu-
lant the world has ever known. Under
its influence men and women gamble
with all their years of living, years
which will make them mature individ-
uals, whose natures they cannot be-
gin to predict. And oh, so often, it is
a losing game.
Those who marry extremely young
have not yet had time to make up
their minds about a lot of the big
things. They have not worked out
decided opinions on religion or poli-
tics, have no definite
tastes in art, music, lit-
erature, have acquired
no lasting hobbies, dis-
covered no satisfactory
diet. The day may come
when one will turn to
the Roman Catholic
Church and the other
to Christian Science;
when one will be a
rabid vegetarian while
the other will insist on
a diet of liver and
steak; one will adore
traveling and the other
abominate it. Yet all these simple things
have been established and are known
by men and women marrying late in life.
Mature men and women really have
more respect for love, yes and rever-
ence, too, than young people. They
think so highly of it that they are
willing to make themselves worthy of
it, a task fiery youth never would set
itself. Consideration, kindness, mend-
ing of ways, are qualities injected from
the start into a marriage made late in
life. The participants in such a mar-
riage have known solitude, and relish
companionship.
But I can see the noses of youth
wrinkled in disdain at the mention of
these things. Such considerations de-
stroy romance, they cry. How wrong
is that idea! Because a marriage has
taken in companionship as well as pas-
sion, need companionship be thought
the only thing in marriage? I think the
physical side of marriage is as import-
ant when it shares honors with friend-
ship as when it is the sole vehicle of
the partnership, as it so often is in
early marriage.
The outward signs of physical love,
holding hands under a table or cud-
dling in the darkened interior of a
motion picture house, are no true in-
dicators of that love’s power. Mature
physical love is not apt to be ex-
pressed so that the world, which older
persons have found cold and uninter-
ested, can gaze and snicker or be un-
moved: But the physical side is
important, and it can be very exquisite
and perfect for experienced men and
women. The blowzy untidiness, the
rumpled enthusiasm of extreme youth,
has given way to dainty care, unerring
taste. The older woman pays more
attention to her appearance in the
walled privacy of her home than the
young woman. She never lets her hus-
band see her looking her worst.
These small niceties count a great
deal in marriage; they help especially
when children come. For here again the
late marriage brings more satisfaction
than the early one. The ignorant, un-
trained, little-girl wife, with her woeful
ineptness in handling the myriad prob-
lems of caring for a baby, not only
forgets but does not even know she
should be trying at the same time she
is learning to take care of her child, to
preserve the delicate romance of her
marriage. Contrast her with the mature
mother, whose experience in fending
for herself before marriage has given
her the knowledge of how to plan and
arrange and organize her duties, and
who realizes besides that she must
never neglect the more intimate side
of her life with her husband.
The attitude of men and women
toward their children is far more awe-
inspiring than that of boys and girls.
The adult parent does not regard a
baby as a toy, to be played with when
the spirit moves one, and to be treated
with rigid adherence to scientific for-
mulae when Mother or Father has a
date at the country club.
The intensity of emo-
tion in the love of a
young woman for her
child is the greatest en-
emy the child can have.
It is a love which has
sporadic outbursts,
crushing the child with
tenderness one moment,
and leaving the child
lonesome and confused
the next. The mature
mother is steadier in
her devotion, more
likely to be firm and
logical, ready to sacri-
fice herself to a greater extent than the
young mother over a long period of
time. The mature father, too, makes
a better advisor for his children than
the young one who has not yet tried
out his ideas in the stew pot of activ-
ity, where they can be tested before
they are handed on to children.
Many obstacles in children’s way
are knocked down by parents who have
become parents late in life by the fact
that these people often havemore money
than young parents, too. It is all very
well to exist on bread and cheese and
kisses, if you are the only two who
must live on this fare. It is quite an-
other matter when a baby’s uncompre-
hending wails are added to the scene.
Besides, older people appreciate the
value of money. They need time in
which to learn how to spend money
wisely. They must know what por-
tion of-the weekly stipend should go
for food, for clothes, for amusement.
HIS sense of the complete unity of
ideal and act, companionship which
probably drew them together in the
first place, guides men and women who
marry when the first flush of youth
has faded into the more becoming
pink of maturity. The hard knocks the
world gave them when they were be-
ginning do not bring unhappy mem-
ories; they do not connect disappoint-
ment and suffering with the warm
happiness of their long-anticipated
union.
So, with marriage the reward in-
stead of the struggle, those who came
to each other because they saw they
were bound by mutual tastes, thoughts
and emotions, march hand in hand to-
ward the sunset at the end of the road.
McCALL'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
103
Why 85% of America’s
leading hospitals use Kotex absorbent
Because of its greater comfort . . . its
hygienic value . . . Kotex absorbent is
used today by 85% of our great hos-
pitals ... not for one or two purposes
alone, but for important surgical work
pe LOOK at this imposing
list of hospitals at the right.
Then consider that this list could
be extended to cover the entire page!
Indeed, Kotex absorbent is used
today in 85%. of the leading hos-
pitals of America.
And these famous hospitals do
not use Kotex absorbent for just one
or two purposes. Many of them use
it for important operations . . . for
obstetrical work . . . wherever the
very greatest care must be taken.
Medical science has produced no
finer, more hygienic absorbent!
Isn’t it wonderful that every
woman can have this same Kotex
absorbent for her own, personal
sanitary use? z
The Kotex absorbent is Cellucot-
ton (not cotton) absorbent wadding.
Remember, Cellucotton is not cot-
ton, but a cellulose substance which
performs the same sanitary function
as the softest cotton— but with five
times the absorbency.
Kotex is made up of layer on
layer of thin, soft absorbent tissues
... each one a quick, complete ab-
sorbent in itself.
These Famous Hospitalsare
only a few of the hundreds
that use Kotex Pads:
CHICAGO MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
of Chicago
PENNSYLVANIA HOSPITAL
of Philadelphia
LENOX HILL HOSPITAL
of New York City
UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL
of Baltimore
ENGLEWOOD HOSPITAL
of Chicago
MT. SINAI HOSPITAL
of Milwaukee
PRESBYTERIAN HOSPITAL
of Philadelphia
THE SWEDISH HOSPITAL IN
BROOKLYN, Brooklyn, N. Y.
PASSAVANT MEMORIAL
HOSPITAL of Chicago
BAPTIST HOSPITAL
of Houston, Texas
these distinctive qualities of Cellu-
cotton make Kotex superior for your
own personal use.
URELY, no woman can over-
look the overwhelming medical
preference for Kotex absorbent. For
the right kind of sanitary protection
is not just a matter of convenience
and comfort. It is a matter of actual
health protection.
Today, authorities stress particu-
larly the importance of protection
from mental and nervous strain dur-
ing the use of sanitary protectives.
Nervous vitality is low; and unless
precautions are observed, the ner-
vous system may be permanently
injured.
Kotex removes one of the greatest
causes of nervous strain and mental
discomfort at this time.
Kotex deodorizes, for instance,
assuring you a sense of complete
security and daintiness.
Kotex has rounded, tapered cor-
ners, which make it inconspicuous.
There is no bulk, no awkward,
bulging corners.
ND Kotex is comfortable. So
wonderfully comfortable that
HESE AIR-COOLED LAYERS make Kotex
lighter and cooler. And they absorb moisture
away from the surface, distributing it throughout the
entire pad. This leaves a surface soft and delicate,
which is far more hygienic and prevents packing,
chafing and any other possibility of irritation.
Hospitals say that dressings made of Cellucotton
are more comfortable for the patient . . . are more
practical, because they absorb more and last longer
... and ate more hygienic, You can readily see how
you are never conscious of the use of a sanitary pro-
tective. Think what that means in promoting perfect
poise and relieving nervous strain. Remember, too,
that the comfort lasts. Even after several hours of
wear the surface remains soft and delicate.
Kotex may be worn on either side—doesn’t have to
be used in a certain specified way. That makes adjust-
ment easier, protection safer. Any way you use it,
Kotex is always comfortable and safe.
Then you know the great advantage of Kotex that
KOTEX IS SOFT...
1 Not a deceptive softness, that soon |
packs into chafing hardness. But adel- ~
i icate, fleecy softness that lasts for hours.
2 Safe, secure... Keeps your mind at ease.
3, Rounded and tapered corners—for
inconspicuous protection.
` 4 Deodorizes, safely, thoroughly, by a
5
special process.
Disposable, completely, instantly.
| |
Y Regular Kotex — 45c for 12 @
E Kotex Super-Size— 65c for 12 J
a Or singly in vending cabinets through West
; Disinfecting Co.
Ask to see the KOTEX BELT and E
KOTEX SANITARY APRON atany a
drug, dry goods or department store. a
eS
first brought so many millions of women to its use ...
it is quickly and completely disposable.
T IS SIGNIFICANT that nine out of ten well-dressed
women select Kotex for their sanitary protection.
They find it permits a freedom and poise hard to main-
tain with substitutes. It is designed, you see, to safeguard
your nervous as well as your physical health ... and that
means the removal of every discomfort and annoyance.
The regular size Kotex package never costs more
than 45 cents. Every drug store, every department store
has it. Ask for Kotex anywhere, without explanation
or embarrassment. Kotex Company, Chicago, Illinois.
KOTEX
The New Sanitary Pad which deodorizes
104
my proof !
I want to shout to
everyone about it!”
McCALL'S
MAGAZINE JULY
1930
Sucu a happy letter came to us recently from
a mother in Germantown, Philadelphia!
“I just thought I'd drop you a few lines
to tell you how wonderfully pleased we are
with our twins’ progress,” she wrote. “I am
sending you their pictures. You can under-
stand why we are so proud of them because
they were prematurely born (714 months),
and one especially we all were very doubt-
ful of.
“But on Eagle Brand they have gained
rapidly.. Our doctor has only seen them
twice since they were born. He says I have
| BECOME A LANDLORD
Se ere eee HELEN STARR HENIFIN
M have overlooked
what I’ve found to
be a very remunerative sideline. They
best as the interest rate is
low.
For those beginning aven-
debt. Now the value of the lot alone ture in real estate, the building and
surely had luck with them.
“T have also raised three other children on
Eagle Brand—my oldest boy, now in his 21st
year, my girl 18 years old, and Norman, my
9
year old son. I hold them up as examples
of good health!
“I have my proof of Eagle Brand from
babyhood to manhood, and just feel I want
to shout to every one about it!”
Sincerely yours,
Mars. D. E. Nicuotas,
2140 Grange St., Germantown, Philadelphia, Pa.
the Borden Company 1s voluntarily
l Every letter and picture published a}
sent to us by a grateful mother.
Mothers of bottle babies: 1% Bt 79
years millions
of babies have owed their good start in life to
the remarkable digestibility and nourishing quali-
ties of Eagle Brand. If your baby is not thriving
on his present food we suggest that you and your
doctor consider Eagle Brand. Send for two free
booklets. The new and complete edition of “Baby `s
Welfare," containing practical feeding information
and suggestions for supplementary foods advised
by doctors—orange juice, cereals, cod liver oil,
etc. “The Best Baby,” a beautiful little book,
ill
] THE BORDEN COMPANY
yeee
ustrated in color, for keeping records of baby’s
growth and development. Mail the coupon today!
Dept. Ler, Borden Building
350 Madison Avenue, New York, N. Y.
Please send me my free copies of the new “Baby's
Welfare" and“The Best Baby.” My baby is
months old.
have thought that in order to-do their
whole duty by their family they must
give up all idea of business. But this
vocation of being a landlord gives a
woman ample time to manage her own
home, care for her children, and in-
dulge in hospitality or social life.
One day a friend showed me some
surprising statistics. By paying a
monthly rental of $50, I would have
given away at the end of twenty
years, $22,071.28! Statistics also showed
that only one man out of ten has saved
enough by the time he is sixty-five to
insure even a $50 a month income. I
determined to acquire at least a roof
by the time I was sixty-five.
I had only $400 and my vision of a
house, so I paid $300 (first payment
down) on an $1800 lot in a suburb of
San Francisco, and contracted with my
bank, as trustee, to continue to pay $25
a month on the unpaid balance. I was
so inexperienced that I didn’t think to
ask about taxes, deed restrictions, or
assessments.
However, I hung on tenaciously un-
til the lot was paid for. But that first
buy taught me a valuable lesson.
Never again will I buy a vacant lot. I
will buy something with a house on it,
which can be secured for almost as
small a down payment as vacant land,
but which can begin to earn immedi-
ately. Or, I will finance lot buying and
house building, at the same time.
I asked many questions before I
bought again and was given much ter-
rible advice and some that was good.
And then I searched—out in West
Hollywood—and found a three room
house, total price $1600. It could be
has increased eight times.
A carpenter who helped me to re-
model gave me another idea. He had
built six little houses in odd hours and
his family lived on the rentals. I had
planned, when my house was paid for,
to remove it and erect a good $6000
house in its place. But why not build
three small houses at
$2000 apiece instead? I
did and found that the
rents from two of them
almost paid for the
third.
As I had never built a
new house, I secured a
reliable builder and
watched the process so
that the next time I
would know how to di-
rect the building myself.
I financed it by borrow-
ing from a large loan
and building company.
I had been told to look well into the
character of the institution from which
to borrow. It was good advice. It
makes a great deal of difference in a
hard year if you have an unscrupulous
lender who can suddenly foreclose.
Borrowing from your strongest banks
or from your building and loan com-
panies is far safer.
Banks are conservative lenders, and
if they will not loan the full amount
you need, you have to find “second
loan plan is most satisfactory. The in-
terest rate is higher than the bank
rate, but the advantages counterbal-
ance. You can borrow more generously,
and the amortized loan may run as
long as seventeen years. You can ar-
range such a nominal monthly payment
that your incoming rent exceeds it and
the danger of loss is minimized.
There are several loan plans for pay-
ing off, but the one I arranged for my
three houses called
for interest four
times a year and
an annual pay-off on the
principal. The loan runs,
however, for ten years. =
This year, 1930, is a
real estate buyer’s year.
And, also, a building year.
Not in the past ten years
have materials been so
low or labor more plentiful. In any
city or town you can find many owners
willing to sell good property.
But before you begin on this new
venture, take stock of yourself and
your resources. If you have an inheri-
tance, you are fortunate. If not, your
husband may be able to help you with
the initial capital or you may, per-
haps, keep your own position in busi-
ness long enough after marriage to
start your venture. Your husband may
be willing to look after the business
Name. bought for $400 cash payment down
and $25 a month. money” at high interest. Also bank end of property control while you at-
Address “Going to tear it down, aren’t you?” mortgages usually run only three years. tend to the upkeep, the renting, and
questioned my neighbors. I did not On expiration, if money is close, you the more domestic side of the invest-
Cb oe commit myself, but had it painted. may have difficulty in renewing. How- ment. However, find out if your local
(Print name and address plainly)
And for two years I rented it for $35 a
month which helped to pay off my
ever, after property is about three
fourths paid off, bank mortgages are
building and loan companies will aid
[Continued on page 108]
McCALL’'S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Wat
as women themselves see it
The New Essex Challenger has naturally won
overwhelming tavor with women. Because
women on the engineering staff have so ably
interpreted the feminine requirement in de-
sign, smartness, comfort, distinction and
driving convenience.
This special contribution of woman’s view-
point is combined with the most rugged
reliability and brilliant perform-
ance of Essex history. The events
of Continent-Wide Challenger
Week, with more than 5,000 Essex
cars engaging, established its outstanding
ability in fast get-away, speed, reliability,
endurance and economy. Everywhere its
women want in a motor car
achievements far surpassed any require-
ment you may have.
Yet you handle this powerful, brilliant
performance with effortless ease. You
start the motor by a button on the
dash. Clutch, brake and acceleration
pedals are easy to reach,and respond to
light pressure.
Power is so flexible that little gear
shifting is required. You have
quick response in traffic. You turn
easily in restricted spaces. You
y
omg
steer and park easily. Wide seats and ample
head-room give a grateful sense of spacious-
ness and free movement.
The New Essex Challenger beauty will
charm you. Not merely in general line and
design, but the finish of every detail, fitting
and appointment. It looks “well-dressed”
and is “well-dressed”, in just the smart
woman’s meaning of that word.
Come examine, drive and know the New
Essex Challenger. You will like its beauty
and quality that you can see and feel in the
very upholstery, in the wheel you handle
and the hardware you touch. And it will
cap the proof of greatest dollar-for-dollar
value, with a pride of ownership that is
distinctive in its field.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
You folks must be hungry .. Well, here you are
Says the Uneeda Boy
It’s a long time since lunch ...
Everybody gets hungry in the afternoon...
and it’s no wonder you began thinking about
something good to eat from the “Uneeda
Bakers.”
Well, here it is . . . made for you. The
“Uneeda Bakers” want you to have the best
—so they use the very best of everything in
all the good things they make. >
I know all about their place ... for I’m
the Uneeda Boy.
And it’s a fact that every time you see a
package with the N. B. C. Uneeda Seal, you'll
know there’s something extra good in it —
because the “Uneeda Bakers” made it.
Take these Fig Newtons, for instance .
i pen
Where could you find anything better? a ee
Fig Newtons make the eating of figs a mighty pleasant
pastime. Luscious figs — baked in a sweet and crumbly
jacket that’s one of the “Uneeda Bakers” greatest creations.
Buy them in packages ‘or by the pound. ;
= l B; >
ae Go NATIONAL BISCUIT COMPANY
n “Uneeda Bakers”
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
TODAYS BARGA
BUT NEXT WINTERS LUXURIES
way to turn fruits into
delicious jams and jellies
and relishes, that my preserve
shelf gets stocked for the win-
ter almost without my know-
ing how it happened!
Instead of devoting a whole
day to preserving, I put up a
few glasses at a time while I
am busy in the kitchen doing
other things. I am sure I get
better results in this way—particularly with jellies.
Six or eight glasses of juice is the very most that
should ever be attempted in one kettle. A small
quantity requires less boiling, and this gives a more
sparkling and tender jelly.
The same is true of jams. The less the fruit is
cooked, the more natural its color and flavor.
And right here let me warn you not to attempt to
make jelly from fruits that are not good jelly-
makers—unless you use a commercial pectin. Tart
apples, crab apples, quinces, currants, and under-
ripe grapes are best adapted to the usual methods of
jelly-making.
Pectin is the substance in fruits which makes jelly
“jell.” Some fruits contain more of it than others,
and under-ripe fruits contain more than fully ripened
fruits. Commercial pectin is natural fruit pectin,
concentrated into a liquid or powdered form. With
the addition of this product, fruits lacking in pectin
can be made into delicious jellies and jams.
The best glasses for jellies are those from which
the jelly can be turned out whole. The tumbler-shaped
glasses, with or without ridges, or the squat-shaped
ones are the most commonly used.
But for gifts, or for individual servings for the
breakfast or convalescent tray, you can buy the very
small straight-sided glasses illustrated on this page.
Fill these with jelly or with pectin jam, and make
them more decorative by topping them with fancy
paper.
And now for some recipes:
[= found such an easy
Currant Jelly
Wash and pick over fruit. Place in preserv-
ing kettle with just the water that clings to
the fruit. Heat slowly, pressing with wooden
masher, until juices flow freely. Turn into jelly
bag and allow juice to drip through. Measure
juice. For each cup of juice, allow 34 cup
sugar. Boil juice rapidly for 5 minutes; add
sugar and continue to boil rapidly until done.
(See “Important Points” for jelly test.) Re-
move from fire; skim, if necessary, and turn
immediately into clean hot jelly glasses. Cover
with a thin layer of paraffin, when cold, cover
with a second layer of paraffin.
Strawberry Jelly
4 cups strawberry juice 7% cups sugar —
(about 3 quarts fruit) 1 cup liquid pectin
Wash and stem the berries. Heat slowly
with only the water which clings to the fruit,
crushing thoroughly with wooden masher.
Heat only until fruit becomes very juicy. Do
not boil. (Juice may be extracted from cold,
thoroughly crushed fruit; not quite as much
juice is obtained by this method, but the pulp
can be made into a delicious jam or conserve
alone, or in combination with pineapple or
other fruits.) Turn fruit into jelly bag and al-
low to drip.
Measure juice, add sugar, and bring to a
boil. Add pectin and stir continually until
mixture comes to full rolling boil, allowing it
to boil that way for a half a minute. Remove
from fire, let stand for a minute, then skim.
Pour into clean, hot jelly glasses and cover
immediately with a thin coating of paraffin.
When cold, cover with a second layer of paraf-
fin. Raspberry or ripe blackberry jelly may
be made in the same way.
By DOROTHY KIRK
IMPORTANT POINTS
HE kettle used for making jellies and jams
should hold 4 or 5 times as much as the mix-
ture to be cooked. This will allow for a full
rolling boil without danger of boiling over.
Measure sugar accurately. Too much sugar is
the cause of many a batch of soft, sticky jelly.
To make crystal-clear jelly, do not squeeze bag
in which jelly is dripping. The pulp which re-
mains need not be wasted. Empty it into a kettle
and add water to cover. Cook ™% hour, pour
into jelly bag, and proceed as usual.
Do not drip fruit over-night unless it has been
first boiled; uncooked juices ferment quickly.
Cook jellies and jams rapidly to retain natural
color and flavor of fruit, and to make them clear
and sparkling. Almost constant stirring is necessary.
Cook fruit butters slowly to the consistency of
a thick paste. Frequent stirring is necessary.
To test jelly, take small amount of boiling
juice in spoon and allow to drop from side. When
two partially’ congealed drops flow together and
fall off in a “sheet,” the jelly is done.
To paraffin jellies, melt paraffin slowly over
water; pour on a thin coating aş soon as glass
is filled with the hot jelly. Allow to harden. Add
a second layer of paraffin about 14-inch thick,
tilting the glass so that the wax will thoroughly
coat the edges where the jelly joins the glass,
thus making a perfect seal.
Jams and conserves made without commercial
pectin should be stored in air-tight jars. Pectin
products may be coated with paraffin and cov-
ered with tin or paper tops.
QUINCE.
Jerr,
Sparkling jelly neatly topped with fancy paper covers
107
Mint Jelly
| Wash and cut tart apples in
* quarters. (Use Greenings or
other colorless apples.) Put into
kettle and almost cover with
water. Cook slowly until ap-
ples are soft and mushy. Turn
into jelly bag and allow juice
to drip through. Measure juice.
For each cup of juice, allow
2/3 cup sugar. Boil juice rap-
idly for 5 minutes, add sugar, and continue to boil
rapidly. Put a few sprigs of fresh mint into the jelly
while -cooking, and color it a delicate green with
vegetable color-paste or liquid. When jelly is done
(see “Important Points”), remove from fire, take
out mint, skim if necessary, and pour immediately
into hot jelly glasses. Cover with thin layer of paraf-
fin. When cold, cover with second layer of paraffin.
Crab A pple Jelly
Wash fruit, cut in halves, remove stem and blos-
som end, nearly cover with water. Cook slowly
until fruit is soft. Turn into jelly bag and allow juice
to drip through. Do not squeeze if a perfectly clear
jelly is desired. Measure juice. For each cup of juice,
allow 2/3 cup sugar. Boil rapidly until it meets the
jelly test (see “Important Points”). Put a paper-
thin slice of lemon or a rose geranium leaf in each
glass and fill with hot juice. Cover immediately with
thin layer of paraffin. When -cold, cover with a sec-
ond layer of paraffin.
If fruit is not squeezed, there will be enough fla-
vor left in the pulp to make crab apple butter. Fol-
low recipe for Apple Butter.
Sour Cherry and Currant Conserve
2 quarts pitted sour 2 quarts currants
cherries Sugar
Wash and stem cherries, and remove pits. Wash
and pick over currants, removing stems.
Weigh the combined fruit. To each pound of
fruit, allow 2 cups sugar. Starting with the
fruit, arrange alternate layers of fruit and
sugar in preserving kettle. Cover and let stand
over night. In the morning, bring mixture to
a boil and cook slowly, stirring frequently, un-
til it thickens. Use jelly test to determine
when it is done or try a little of the mixture
on a cold plate; it will thicken as it cools, if
sufficiently cooked. Fill clean hot jars to over-
flowing, adjust rubbers and tops and seal at
once. This makes a tart conserve, excellent to
serve with meats.
Plum Conserve
5 Ibs. plums 3 oranges
5 Ibs, sugar 1 Ib. seeded raisins
2 cups walnut meats
Wash plums, cut in halves and remove pits.
Cut oranges in quarters and remove seeds. Put
plums, oranges and raisins through food chop-
per, using coarse blade. Combine fruit and
sugar and cook slowly for about % hour. Add
nuts and continue to cook until jelly-like in
consistency. Turn into clean, hot jars, fill to
overflowing, adjust rubbers and seal at once.
Cherry and Peach Jam
2 cups sour cherries 7 cups sugar (three
(pitted and cut in pounds)
halves) 1 cup liquid pectin
2 cups peaches 3 or 4 drops
(thinly sliced) almond extract
Use fully ripened fruit and measure by
packing solidly into cup. Add 14 cup water to
cherries and bring to boiling point, stirring
constantly. Cover and simmer for 15 minutes.
Peel and slice peaches very thin. Add peaches
and sugar to cooked cherries. Bring to boil for
three minutes, stirring [Turn to page 113]
108
A\ SKIN that’s fresh and rosy
as a child’s lies hidden just un-
derneath the outer veil of dry, |
dead skin that covers it.
Day by day this outer veil is |
peeling off—invisibly. R
Day by day the new skin is
coming through.
DESQUAMATION—a natural proc-
ess of every healthy skin.
To help this natural peeling-off proc-
ess and fone the new skin as it comes
through, there’s a special treatment
worked out by John H. Woodbury.
FIRST BATHE THE FACE in warm
water. Then work gently into your skin
a generous lather of Woodbury’s soap.
Now wash off with warm water. The Wood-
bury lather has freed it of the tiny, invisible
dead cells that covered its surface. Now
tone the new fresh skin with a brisk splash-
ing of cold water.
See what a special soap made to aid
the skin’s natural processes will do for
you. Give your skin its first Woodbury
treatment today
Years of scientific study
are behind the Wood-
bury formula for the care
of the skin
—medical term for the invisible peel-
ing that goes on in every healthy
skin, and brings out the new skin
that lies just underneath
In ten days, see how much fresher and
clearer your skin is.
That’s a promise of what the faithful
use of this special treatment with a soap
made especially for this purpose will
do for you.
Woodbury’s is 25 cents a cake at any
drug-store or.toilet-goods counter. It
also comes in convenient 3-cake boxes.
To meet a skin specialist’s exacting
requirements for a soap for the face,
Woodbury’s is very finely milled. This
also makes it last much longer than
soaps for general toilet use.
John H. Woodbury, Inc.— Cincinnati, O.
SEND FOR LARGE-SIZE TRIAL SET
John H, Woodbury, Inc., 1513 Alfred St., Cincinnati, Ohio
For the enclosed 1o¢—send large-size trial cake of Wood-
bury’s Facial Soap, Facial Cream and Powder, Cold
Cream, treatment booklet, and instructions for the new
complete Woodbury “Facial,” In Canada, The Andrew
Jergens Co,, Ltd., 1513 Sherbrooke St., Perth, Ontario,
Name.
Street.
State.
City.
© 1930, J. H. W., Inc,
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
I BECOME A LANDLORD
[Continued from page 104]
you in the financing. Of course, the
rate at which you will show profits de-
pends on the amount you have to in-
vest, the price of your purchase, and
the pace at which your particular city
or town is growing.
If your capital is small, your invest-
ment at first will mean hard work and
a few watchful, unproductive years.
But in middle life and old age you will
have cash profits and security. You
must have faith in the venture and the
long point of view on property. If you
lack these and have no business nor
home-making instinct don’t ever start.
PevcatE yourself in comparative
values of vacant and improved
properties in your own home town.
Newspaper want ads offer surprises.
Many owners sell cheaper through this
medium because they have no agent’s
cominission to pay. But don’t pyramid
too fast. You must keep some cash re-
serve for periods of vacancy and re-
pairs.
In choosing a property, consider
these precautions. Buy near transpor-
tation lines and keep out of districts
which require toll rates to reach the
nearest city. Buy property a few blocks
from a school for this will solve half
your rental problems. Search close to
the heart of your town and invest on
future business boulevards whenever
you can afford it.
Buy large lots, and buy level lots,
for masonry is- costly. Corner lots
achieve good future value..And buy
property on alleys. With the latter,
you don’t-have to waste a long strip
of land, valuable for building pur-
poses, on ‘an unproductive: driveway.
And trees are an artistic asset. Few
properties fill all these requirments,
but you must weigh values and oppor-
tunities.
Examine your deed. Find out if you
must build your house of a minimum
value, or whether the lot is restricted
to one house, or can you build several?
Are there setback restrictions? And
what are the possible assessments for
paving, regrading, sewers, and lights?
You must look up all these facts your-
self at your own city hall or county re-
cording offices.
If you supervise the building your-
self, you can save a contractor's fee.
Hire a good foreman who is also a
good builder and who supplies his own
men. Make a written agreement with
the foreman on just the labor cost, and
set a time limit for finishing the job. If
unions are in control of the building
trades of the city, the problem may be
more complicated.
While paying
off the mort-
gages on your
house invest-
ments you may
have to wield
a paintbrush
and renovate
second-hand
furniture
Before you start to build, have your
lot surveyed. It’s expensive later to
find that you have built on someone
else’s property. Find out if your city
requires building permits, light wires
in conduit, special pipe material, or a
certain amount of window space.
Tve found that it is best to keep
investment houses simple, comfortable,
and attractive. Avoid frills. I can’t
emphasize enough the importance of
starting with small houses regardless of
the amount of your capital. The ma-
jority of people earn modest salaries
and demand modest rates. Also, the
average family is small.
In building little houses, remember
that halls are a luxury, screen porches
an added expense, and that every ad-
ditional bedroom costs a surprising
amount more. Breakfast nooks, instead
of dining rooms, save your money and
your tenants’ time.
Buy a lasting roof. Tile is perma-
nent, but costly. Shingles are beautiful,
but dew and sun crack them in a few
years. Many composition roofs are
reasonable and are guaranteed for from
ten to twenty years. Make a hardwood
floor saving by using them only in the
living rooms. Tile kitchens and bath-
rooms are not necessary for rental
purposes. Tinted plaster walls are
economical and can be rekalsomined at
low cost.
Now that you’ve cut down on
expenses, add attraction and con-
veniences. A rented house is only a
makeshift home at best, so make your
tenants happy. I built living rooms with
French windows on three sides for
plenty of sunlight and cross ventila-
tion. Bookshelves, window seats, cup-
boards, built-in ironing boards, closets,
coolers, built-in ice boxes or space for
electrical refrigerators, shelves and fire-
places all add a homelike touch. Each
electric outlet is an expense, but install
plenty because electrical devices are
increasing in use. Beautify your little
houses with flower boxes, shutters,
trellises, and fences outside. I installed
reasonable lawn sprinklers of perfor-
ated pipe laid above ground, but con-
cealed by shrubbery. Some money
should be laid aside to cover such ex-
penses as screens, grading, planting,
walks, driveways, window shades, and
fire insurance.
Don’t live on your rental property
as all landlords are considered as
watchful old eagles. And don’t lose
faith even when rentals exasperate you
to madness. You have to keep faith in
most human beings and your sense of
humor.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
HIS PRIVATE PRACTICE
[Continued from page 21]
on the subject of girls would merely
have amused her.
Nevertheless, Tommy was quite right
on one point. The Thorpes were in
society and they had very little money.
And—well, somehow the bills for Nan-
cy’s clever little costume suits, her
smart hats and furs, her sophisticatedly
naive dance frocks, must be paid.
After her début she had danced her
way, literally, through her first season,
with never a lack of partners or cut-
ins. She had gotten herself impulsively
kissed several times, as she undoubt-
edly deserved, and had even been pro-
posed to.
“By..,various ineligibles, who, the
next morning, doubtless thanked what-
ever gods there be that I had sense
enough to refuse them,” was the way
she summarized these impetuosities.
The truth was that Nancy had
reached the point where she wasn’t at
all sure she was ever going to marry,
for love or money. Lots of the debs
she knew, confronting the same prob-
lem, were talking about “going in” for
this or that.
“Looking,” thought Nancy, “for the
nearest exit.”
This, however, she did not tell her
mother. There were many things she
didn’t tell her mother. But: “I’m
darned sick of eleventh
hour invitations—just
asked to fill in gaps,”
she assured herself with
stark candor. “And
sicker still of pretences
which fool nobody.”
The telephone rang.
It was downstairs on
the third floor, an extension of the
house phone on the first floor. The call
was for Nancy: it ‘usually was. She
rose swiftly, gathered her negligee
about her and darting out the door
started down the stairs.
The stairs were steep and narrow,
poorly lighted and...
F THE five men of medicine who
had offices across the street four
had departed—the four that had pay-
ing patients.
The fifth was still at his window
when the maid broke in on him.
“Somebody wants a doctor?” he
echoed idiotically, as if he had never
heard of such a thing.
“Wa just across the street—Thorpe’s
the name,” the maid cried. “I guess
something terrible has happened.”.
Tommy came to. “The mother had
had a stroke!” he guessed.
But it was Nancy’s mother who met
him. She was close to hysteria.
“Good Lord!” he gasped, glimpsing
Nancy. “What happened?”
The question was unprofessional, at
least in that tone, but not unnatural.
He had seen her, only a few minutes
before, seated at the window. A pretty
girl with a straight nose. But now!
“I—I tripped on the stairs and fell,”
she explained, and he realized that she
was trying to be incredibly gallant.
“And—and I think I hit every stair on
the way down—on my nose.”
She shuddered a bit, and with reason.
Yet still she tried to smile.
“Am—am I to be permanently dis-
figured?” she asked.
To Tommy that seemed horribly
possible. He had seen many damaged
noses but few worse than hers.
He did not tell her so. “Sit down,”
he suggested.
She obeyed and he turned her head
so the light fell on her face. The sur-
geon’s fingers with which he had been
born came into play, tender as a moth-
er’s fondling her first born.
“You might,” suggested Nancy, “as
well tell me the worst.”
Tommy hesitated. Then: “It’s a bad
fracture. The septal supporting carti-
lage has been torn. If it were only a
bone fracture—”
“Then—then I’m doomed to be a
Miss Cyrano de Bergerac?” put in
Nancy, trying to smile—and setting
her pretty teeth into her lip to keep it
from quivering instead.
pomy weighed his answer. “Not
necessarily,” he began. “I—”
Nancy’s mother broke in on him.
“We must have a specialist at once,”
she announced, agonized.
“But I happen to,be a specialist my-
self,” protested Tommy.
“I mean,” she explained, “the very
best money can buy.”
Tommy was only human. “Then,”
he suggested, stiffly, “you had better
telephone Dr. Sutton. I’m not sure you
can get him at once—”
But Mrs. Thorpe was on her way to
the phone before he finished.
Nancy glanced up at Tommy. “I
don’t think Mother means to be un-
tactful,” she apologized.
Tommy looked down at her. “You're
a game kid,” he assured her impul-
sively. “Sit still—I’m going to do what
I can until my distin-
guished successor ar-
rives.”
It was a relief to
Tommy when the great
man came. The latter
nodded to Tommy,
practically ignored Mrs.
Thorpe, who was all
the more impressed, and proceeded tò
examine Nancy.
“H’mm,” he said. Then, surveying
Tommy as Jove might have looked at
some young sprig who had wandered
into Olympus, remarked: “Haven’t I
seen you at the Eye and Ear?”
The digression was too much for
Mrs. Thorpe. “But doctor—aren’t you
going to do something?” she asked.
Jove glanced at her. “Everything
that can be done at the moment, has
been done, madam. As to what should
be done next I shall consult with my
young confrere here—”
“But I want you to handle the case
personally,” wailed Mrs. Thorpe.
“Flattered, my ‘dear madam,” he
said, but hardly looked it.
He reached for his hat and coat,
smiled at Nancy, nodded to her mother
and said to Tommy: “My car is down-
stairs—can you drive along with me?”
Tommy drove along with him, in the
chauffeured luxury ripe old specialists
can command.
“What’s your diagnosis?” demanded
Jove abruptly.
“Why,” said Tommy, “it’s a bad
smash and—”
“What have you in mind?”
“My idea would be to use a section
of the scapula and—”
“All right, go to it,” said Jove.
“Me?” echoed Tommy, touched.
Then—Jove was a pretty human old
scout—he grinned, if wryly and added,
“That’s ever so good of you. But Mrs.
Thorpe—”
“I,” announced Jove, with great
finality, “will attend to her.”
Dr. Sutton, reaching his destination,
ordered his chauffeur to take Tommy
home. And so, in the cushioned ease
that ten thousand had purchased for
another man, Tommy returned to the
privacy that ten dollars a week pur-
chased for him.
The curtains on the fourth floor
across the way were, for once, closely
[Continued on page 110]
-In brilliant BERLIN
` “die ele ganten “Damen. use
“LYSOL” is for feminine hygiene
A type of German beauty one sees in exclusive meeting places of Berlin.
IONIGHT, in the most: exclusive
Ts of Berlin—on the Kurfürsten
Damm and the Potsdamer Platz—will
gather ‘‘die eleganten Damen"’ of the
gay German capital. Smart women of
society, the stage and the screen, ‘en-
vied for their immaculate beauty and
rare charm.
Brilliant women! Like their fash-
ionable sisters of Paris and Vienna
and London, they rely on feminine hy-
giene to help protect their health and
retain that assurance of true cleanli-
ness. And like them, they use ‘‘Lysol’”
Disinfectant for this intimate purpose.
Everywhere “‘Lysol’’ is the standard
antiseptic for feminine hygiene among
women who know. It penetrates. It is
non-poisonous when diluted and used
according to directions. For forty years
doctors and hospitals the world over
have depended on ‘‘Lysol”’ at the most
L. & F., Inc,
critical time of all—childbirth—when
disinfection must be thorough and
without possible risk of injury.
What greater assurance could you
have that ‘‘Lysol"’ is safest and surest
for personal cleansing?
Know more about feminine hygiene
and the protection ‘‘Lysol’’ affords. A
prominent woman physician will give
you professional advice and specific
rules in the booklet offered below. It
is reliable, it is enlightening. It is free.
Send for your copy today. In the mean-
time, get a bottle of ‘‘Lysol’’ at your
druggist’s and follow the directions
on the circular enclosed. Being a con-
centrated germicide,'‘Lysol"’ gives you
many times more for your money.
PR lam Ned
Be careful! Counterfeits of “Lysol’'are being
sold, Genuine “Lysol” is in the brown
bottle and yellow carton marked “Lysol.”
eee ee emer ere rere reece
LEHN & FINK, Inc., Sole Distributors
Dept. 421, Bloomfield, N. J.
Please send me, free, your booklet,
"The Facts about Feminine Hygiene”
Name
Street
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State,
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[Continued from page 109]
drawn. Behind them Nancy, whose
head and nose ached, set her teeth.
“Oh, my darling,” her mother was
wailing, for the fortieth time, “what
shall we do?”
Nancy disciplined a desire to
scream; schooled herself to speak re-
assuringly, only to be interrupted by
a knock at the door. It proved to be
the maid bearing a box. A florist’s box
and—orchids!
“Good gracious!” gasped Nancy.
“Somebody has plunged!”
“Who are they from?” demanded
her mother, breathlessly.
Nancy discovered the card. “William
James Houston,” she said and knit her
brows over the name. Then “Oh—I
remember. I met him at Sally Thaxter’s
dinner dance night before last—”
“Who is he—what is he like?”
“Well, he seemed big for his age—
whatever that was,” said Nancy, friv-
olously, “and I rather wondered who
had brought him and why. He didn’t
seem to just belong. The sort that
doesn’t know what fork comes next—”
“But he must have money!” pro-
tested her mother. And then, sensing
the crudity of that, added, “I mean
that he wouldn’t be at the Thaxter’s—
When do you expect to see him again?”
Nancy did not reply. She merely
glanced at her mother.
And: “Oh my darling!” wailed the
latter, for the forty-first time. *
“In time,” thought Nancy, “I may
get used to that—I suppose it’s to be
my daily diet for days.”
It was. The fourth floor front was
to become virtually her prison for good
and sufficient reasons, all of which
were given to William James Houston,
from Texas, over the phone.
He called up Nancy and was thanked
by her—over the phone—as a man
who sends orchids to a girl should be.
Especially when—the phrase was
Sally Thaxter’s—he is simply rotten
with money.
“Oil,” Sally had explained, also over
the phone. “It simply
gushes out of some hole on
the ground he owns and
spatters him with mil-
lions!”
“He seemed very nice,”
Nancy commented.
“Well, my dear, I'll be
your bridesmaid—and
please throw your bouquet
straight at me.”
“Don’t be silly—”
“I’m not. I can see you
in orange blossoms and
veil right now—”
“If anybody saw me
right now it would be in a veil,” Nancy
retorted, “THat’s the only part of a
wedding gown that would become me.”
HIS was very true. Nancy’s nose
was now swathed in cotton, surgical
gauze and tape. But as the horrors of
television had not become common
there was no reason why she should
not herself talk to this miraculous
young millionaire—over the phone.
“He called yesterday—while you
were at the hospital,” her mother told
her. “I didn’t know what to say.”
Neither did Nancy, exactly. “It was
lovely of you,” was what she did say.
“They are still keeping wonderfully.”
He said he was pleased. Then: “I—
could you—would you let me call?”
“Im awfuliy sorry, but I’m not at
home to anybody these days,” replied
Nancy. “Which means that I’m home
all the time but—but indisposed.”
“You mean—you’re sick?”
Nancy hesitated. Then: “I suppose,”
she confessed, recklessly—Sally would
probably tell him anyway, “that I
ought to pretend that I am suffering
from appendicitis or something inter-
esting. But—well, the truth is I fell
downstairs and broke my nose—”
“Oh,” said he, “is that all!”
“All!” echoed Nancy. “If you could
see it—”
“Td like to,” he assured her. “I—
I’ve got to go back to Texas next week
on business and—”
“Im sorry,” said Nancy. “Perhaps
next time you come north—”
Silence for a moment. Then: “May
—may I write you?” he asked.
“Do,” said Nancy. “It would be
nice—I’m a shut-in, you know.”
She was, stubbornly so. Tommy told
her so. For Tommy was Nancy’s spe-
cialist, after all. Jove had arranged
that, just how Tommy did not know.
“You have got to get out,” asserted
that young specialist. “You're not an
invalid and you need fresh air and ex-
ercise.” He paused then, impulsively:
“Get ready now and come with me—
I make a round of the Esplanade every
night. You can wear a veil—and it
will do you a world of good.”
Nancy considered that for a second
and then surrendered swiftly, slipping
into her fur coat, jamming her hat on
and adjusting a veil, all in a moment.
pE blue dusk of February was fall-
ing, the chill crystal of the air was
heavenly.
“Tm glad you rooted me out,” con-
fessed Nancy.
Tommy glanced down at her. “So
am I.”
It was through instinct rather than
by design that Nancy then led the
feminine ace of trumps. “I should
think your work would be wonderfully
interesting,” she ventured. “Examining.
diagnosing and prescribing for all sorts
of patients. Dr. Sutton told Mother
that you were on the way to the top.
that you were one of the best men at
the Eye and Ear.”
“Gosh!” gasped
Tommy, surprised. “Did
he really say that?”
Nancy reaffirmed it.
“Well,” said Tommy, “it’s
a long way to the top.” He
stopped there, briefly, and
then, impulsively, blurted
the truth: “In fact, you're
all the private practice I’ve
got at the moment.”
“Not really!” she pro-
tested. “I suspected your
private practice wasn’t
large but—”
“It isn’t,” he broke in.
And audaciously added, “In fact I
should say it isn’t more than sixty-two
inches tall and can’t weigh much more
than a hundred and ten.”
Nancy smiled. “It doesn’t sound to
me as if it could support you in much
style.” And with characteristic candor
she added, “I hope you’re not counting
on your bill being paid the minute you
present it.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it won’t be,” she confessed.
“We owe everybody—”
“And of course doctor’s bills always
come last.”
. “No, I promise to pay yours among
the first, if it isn’t too much. And,”
“she added with a swift glance upward,
“provided my nose suits me.”
“Satisfaction guaranteed or money
refunded,” he replied in precisely the
same tone.
And so they walked and talked. Not
only that night but every night. Until:
“Do you think you ought to encourage
[Continued on page 111]
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[Continued from page 110]
him so?” demanded Nancy’s mother.
“Oh, Mother!” protested Nancy.
“Don’t be such a goop! Do you think
I could possibly suggest romance to
him, or any man, at the moment?”
Even her mother could see that.
“But when your nose is fixed—”
“And if,” murmured Nancy, under
her breath.
HAT did he write you today?”
asked her mother. She didn’t mean
Tommy. Every day brought a letter
from William James Houston of Texas.
“The same thing he wrote yester-
day,” retorted Nancy. “He probably
has a heart of gold but I doubt if his
letters will ever be published.”
“But he is so thoughtful,” protested
her mother. “Flowers every day!”
Impulsively Nancy gave her mother
a swift kiss. It was, she knew, a ter-
rific strain—all the unpaid bills, all the
worry about her nose.
She was prepared to do her part only
she preferred not to think of that just
now. Instead she thought of Tommy.
He was, really, awfully nice and amus-
ing. And, like most nice and amusing
men she met, quite impecunious and
utterly ineligible.
As they walked around the Esplan-
ade the next night that thought re-
occurred to her. “I wish,” she said ab-
ruptly, “that I were a man!”
Tommy glanced at her, surprised.
“Why?” he asked.
“Oh, a man can have a career, do
worth while things—but a woman—”
“Why should you worry about a
career?” he asked lightly. “Aren’t you
—well, considering matrimony?”
“Isn’t every girl?” she evaded.
“T mean rather definitely,” he per-
sisted. “I’m not blind and it has struck
me that somebody is certainly saying
something with flowers.”
“Oh, he’s worth millions,” explained
Nancy. “They mean no more to him
than a bunch of daisies would to
you—” She bit her lip and apologized
swiftly. “I don’t mean just that, of
course. I just—”
“You are quite right,”
sured her grimly.
“But it’s only temporary,” she re-
minded him. “You'll make money—”
“And you'll marry it, so what’s the
difference?” said Tommy.
“Well, what would you do if you
were me?” she asked. Her eyes met
his challengingly. But he had nothing
to say.
“I told you we owed everybody.”
she went on. “It’s getting to be a night-
mare. Well, why shouldn't I snatch
at a kind and indulgent husband with
a couple of million or so?”
Tommy couldn’t keep a certain silly
stiffness out of his voice, “That is your
affair.”
It was absurdly like a lover’s quar-
rel, save that it couldn’t be anything
quite as absurd as that.
Nevertheless, at midnight, as Tommy
moved toward his bureau ready to turn
off the light, the X-ray pictures of
Nancy’s nose caught his eye. He gazed
at them intently. Then abruptly he
snapped out the light. “If she’s the
sort of girl who marries for money then
that’s the sort of girl she is,” was his
not illogical conclusion.
Four o’clock the next afternoon
came at last, and so, on the dot, did
Tommy. But Jove was very late: it
was almost five when he entered with-
out apologies. And Tommy, who had
done everything save bite his finger
nails, put those impatient fingers to
work. He stripped off the crépe de
lisse, removed the cotton, and:
“Hmm,” said Jove.
Tommy as-
Mrs. Thorpe took a deep breath.
“Oh—hh!” she fluttered.
Nancy glanced at the mirror, breath-
lessly. Then, even more breathlessly.
“O—h-h!” she fluttered.
Her luminous eyes, a bit awestruck,
sought Tommy’s. But Tommy’s were
engaged by Jove.
“Congratulations,” that great person
was saying. “If you can drop in on me
at this time tomorrow there’s a case
I'd like to discuss with you.”
Tommy was stunned almost speech-
less. “I—I,” he began.
But Jove, after running his fingers
up and down Nancy's nose, had given
it a final tweak and was saying: “You
can thank my young confrere here that
Im able to do that.”
The moment he left Nancy tried to.
“It’s one of the nicest noses I ever
had,” she assured Tommy, but with
that in her eyes which belied the flip-
pancy in her voice. “I don’t know how
I can ever repay you—”
“T am very glad that it turned out
so well,” said Tommy, ridiculously
stiff. “I don’t think it needs any fur-
ther attention. If it does—”
He left it there, picked up his bag.
took his hat, nodded to Nancy's
mother and passed out of the door and
presumably out of Nancy’s life.
Nancy merely wrinkled her nose ex-
perimentally. She had seen young men
act that way before; they always
came back—
On his way out, Tommy had con-
fronted a very tall young man stand-
ing at the door.
“Can you tell me if—if Miss Thorpe
is at home?” the latter asked, his voice
suggesting a customary drawl accel-
erated by some emotion.
Tommy guessed what. “The big oil
and orchid man from Texas!” he told
himself. Aloud he said, “She’s at home
—whether to callers or not I don't
know.”
A minute later he was back in his
own room. That he had performed al-
most a miracle he knew. If he had
doubted it, Dr. Sutton’s swift interest
should have made him sure of that.
He should have been uplifted, exult-
ant. But curiously enough, he wasn't.
“She certainly lost no time in get-
ting him here,” he was thinking, al-
most viciously.
TE interview the following after-
noon was breath-taking. Dr. Sutton
went straight to the point. “I need an
assistant,” he announced to Tommy.
“Want to come in with me?”
That was what Tommy had ex-
pected, and he answered as he had al-
ready planned. “Young saplings are
apt to be stunted when they grow up
alongside great oaks, don’t you think?”
Jove rubbed his nose. “There's
something in that,” he admitted. “In
fact I had a chance to go in with an
older man myself at the beginning,
and decided not to. Never regretted
it, to tell you the truth.”
He puffed at his pipe. Then: “I've
got a case,” he announced abruptly.
“Boy sixteen. Broke his nose playing
football at St. Mark’s, Rather a wicked
looking affair. His mother wants some-
thing done. Want to tackle it?”
“Me?” gasped Tommy.
“TIl tell her,” continued Jove,
ignoring Tommy's surprise but savor-
ing it none the-less because Jove was
human enough to like to play the
rôle, “that you'll take it for a thou-
sand—she won’t think you’re any good
if you charge less, you see. And you'll
earn it—she’s that sort. I wouldn't
take it myself for ten thousand.”
[Continued on page 112]
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HIS PRIVATE PRACTICE
[Continued from page 111]
“I,” babbled Tommy, “don’t know
how I can thank you—”
“Don’t bother to,” suggested Jove.
“The truth is that I’m getting no
younger fast and I’m only passing on
what an older man did for me. He
gave me a lift the same way. I’ve
asked about you and I. know, aside
from the case you’ve just finished,
that you’re good. Good men shouldn’t
be left to starve—and I can throw a
few cases your way. That’s all.”
He rose, held out his hand—the fine
hand of a surgeon. Tommy gripped it,
hard, in a hand that matched.
OVE was as good as his word—
rather better in fact. Tommy was
busy at last. Too busy, one might
think, ever to give a thought to what
might be happening across the street.
Nevertheless, he did know that the
man who had flown from Texas had
not gone back there. Instead he had
purchased a car which Tommy saw
parked outside often.
Not that any of this mattered, ex-
cept that whenever, in the paper, he
saw a headline “Engagement An-
nounced” he paused to see whose it
might be.
So March moved on toward April.
Then, on the evening of April 1st,
Tommy, spreading his paper, turned
to the classified advertising page ,and
searched until, under the head “Female
Help Wanted” he found this:
OFFICE ASSISTANT: By Beacon
Street Specialist. Should have some
knowledge of typing and preferably of
stenography and must be of pleasing per-
sonality. Hours 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Address
X768 Transcript Office, giving qualifica-
tions and salary expected.
Jove had prescribed the office as-
sistant. “You’ve got to have one—both
as an assistant and to create atmos-
phere,” he had explained. “If you
need a little ready cash—”
Tommy said he could manage that,
and astonishingly he could, thanked
Jove fervently and, pri-
vately continued to won-
der just why Jove was so
determinedly thrusting
him ahead. He wouldn’t
know until he was near-
ing seventy himself. Then
he, too, would know the
thrill Jove was getting out
of playing God, shaping
a human destiny.
So Tommy, on the fifth
floor, perused his ad while
downstairs on the first
floor, a lady waited to see him.
No, the maid didn’t know whether
it was a patient or not, but she had
put her in the waiting room. And so
Tommy put aside his pipe and used
his military brushes and adjusted his
tie and descended, looking as profes-
sional as possible.
The last person he expected to dis-
cover, seated in the waiting room, was
Nancy. She flicked a feminine eyelid
at him. “No,” she said, serenely, as if
answering a question, “I haven't fallen
downstairs again, nor is there anything
the matter with my nose. I'm just
looking for a job.”
“You're w-what?” he stuttered.
“And,” she went on, “I saw your
ad in tonight’s ‘Transcript’.”
“How did you know it was my ad?”
demanded Tommy.
“It sounded as if it might be—and
I called up Dr. Sutton and asked him
if he knew. He seemed very sure it
was and so I thought I’d better come
at once in person. I do need a job, and
I’m a fairly good typist, with the aid
of an eraser—”
“Typist?” echoed Tommy. “Where
did you learn typing?”
“At a business school,” she ex-
plained meekly. “I was taking a secre-
tarial course evenings, from eight to
ten, when I fell down and bumped my
nose. Taking it on the sly—I didn’t
_ dare to tell Mother.”
“I can’t understand,” confessed
Tommy.
“It’s really quite simple,” she as-
sured him. “I was getting on with my
second season and we were getting
more and more into debt. I knew I'd
have to do something desperate un-
less my millionaire appeared.”
“But he did appear,’ Tommy re-
minded her.
“He did—and departed too,” she
confessed. “And it wasn’t because he
wasn’t nice or because I didn’t like
him a lot because—well, if he hadn’t
been so very nice I might have taken
him on. But it wouldn’t be fair—”
“You—you aren't going to marry
him?” said Tommy inanely.
“T told you I was looking for a job.
I am, truly. And I have some knowl-
edge of typing, though I’m a rotten
speller, and I can make a stab at
stenography. And I can, truly, be
quite pleasing when I try to—and I'll
try—awfully hard.”
Tommy swallowed; his head reeled.
But he managed to say: “If you really
want the position—”
Nancy rose. “Thank you,” she said.
“T think that is particularly sweet of
you because I know you don’t approve
of me or, I suspect, really believe me
qualified. But TIl prove that I am, or
quit.” She offered him her hand. “Shall
we shake on that?”
There was a flutter in her voice.
And when, instead of releasing her
hand Tommy but gripped it the harder,
she did not protest.
“J,” began Tommy, with no idea of
what he meant to say, “—I—”
Nancy’s eyes were hidden. Gazing
down at her he could only see the top
of the hat that caparison-
ed her shining head. If
she would only look up—
Abruptly she did. Their
eyes met and he took a
deep full breath.
“You—you don’t mean
it!” he murmured, incred-
ulously, as if she had said
something.
Then suddenly it struck
him that she did. He
laughed, swiftly, triumph-
antly, and swept her into
his arms.
“Is—is this the way to test appli-
cants for an assistant?” asked Nancy.
“I—I told you I was a rotten speller.
But TIl buy a dictionary.”
RE you still talking about that
job?” he teased.
“But I want that too,” she pro-
tested. “I want to help, truly, and—”
“Come into my office,” he sug-
gested. “TIl test you right now.”
Nancy obeyed, her hand still in his.
She sat down at his typewriter, as he
directed, and waited.
“Please take dictation, Miss Thorpe,”
he said, very formally. And after she
had prepared a sheet of paper, he went
on: “Dear Tommy, I love you—”
She gave him a swift, luminous
glance. Then quickly, almost blindly
she typed:
“de4f Tomjy, I loge you2”
He took it from the machine.
“Perfect!” he exclaimed, and opened
wide his arms.
tee with simple directions in every p:
with Nadinbla tonight.
your skin to.exquisitewhiteness—clear smooth beauty.
size 50c; if they haven't i
Toilet Co.,
1930
McCALL’'S MAGAZINE JULY
Smooth, white SAI
oe safe way!
smooth skin may
be yours, quic! re tan and
of pimples,
blemishes, roughness to mar your natural beauty.
One wonderful beauty-aid, Nadinola Bleaching
Cream, will ‘transform your complexion quickly to
radiant healthy loveliness.
smooth over your
cately fragrant
effect.
more lovely. .
Before bedtime tonight
a little of this pure white, deli-
m. Instantly you feel its tonic
You see your skin growing whiter, smoother,
a Bleaching Crea
and surely.
works mildlyand gently
Positive money-back guaran-
age. Begin
See how quickly it restores
At your toilet counters, extra large size $1
order direct fron
is, Tenn.
egular
National
Dept. Mc-7, Pa
| eNadinola Bleaching Cream
Whitens, Clears, Beautifies the Skin
CORNS
| In three seconds pain is deadened.
tight shoes, dance, walk again in comfort!
loosens it.
with your fingers.
“GETS-IT”’
STOP PAINING
One drop does it immediately
OUCH the most painful corn with this
amazing liquid. Acts like an anaesthetic.
You wear
No cutting—that is dangerous. This way
Soon you peel the whole corn off
Doctors approve it as safe. Millions employ
it to gain quick relief. There is no other likeit.
Money back if not delighted.
World’s
Fastest Way
Freckles
Salman? s Ç Cream bleaches them >S
you sleep. Leaves the skin soft and white—the
complexion fresh, clear and natural. For 37
years thousands of users have endorsed it. So
easy to use. The first jar proves its magic worth.
If you use Bleach Cream
you need no other product than Stillman’s
Freckle Cream. The most wonderful Bleach
science can produce. At all drug stores, 50c.
Write for free booklet Tells “Why you
have freckles. How to remove them.”
Box 4, STILLMAN CO, Aurora, Ill,
SELL DRESS GOODS:
‘Show finest silks, pir fab- Gas
materials, ‘Special pore
Seat salen all year. Outhe t
THE easier: IMPORTING CO.
569 Broadway, Dept F-41New York
| GO NN
make
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and S ou how lo pake and
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HILLYER RAGSDALE `
HOME Drawer 120 East Orange, N. J.
Menorwomen, earnfine incomein businessof
YOUR OWN operating “Specialty Candy
Factory begin Home Spare Time
First Week. Werfarnish Tools
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
PICNIC MEALS
[Continued from page 33]
Hot Hamburg Sandwiches
1 lb. round steak,
finely chopped
onion, finely
chopped
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon salt
% teaspoon pepper
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup boiling water
Sauté the onion in the butter until
a delicate brown. Add the meat, salt
and pepper and sprinkle with the flour.
Cook, stirring frequently, until brown.
Add the hot water and finish cooking.
Serve on slices of buttered bread.
Nut Bread
2 cups whole wheat 2 teaspoons baking
flour powder
1 cup white four 4 cup brown sugar.
1 teaspoon soda % cup molasses
1% teaspoons salt 1% cups milk
1 cup walnuts, cut fine
Mix whole wheat flour, white, flour,
soda, ,baking powder, salt and brown
sugar together. Add molasses and milk
and mix well. Add nuts and beat thor-
oughly. Pour into a greased loaf cake
pan; let stand 20 minutes. Bake in slow
oven (300° F.) 1 to 1% hours.
Lemon Coconut Cake
% teaspoon salt
% cup milk
1 tablespoon lemon
juice
1 teaspoon grated
lemon rind
% cup shortening
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1% cups flour
3 teaspoons baking
powder,
Cream. shortening, add sugar, and
cream thoroughly. Add one egg at a
time and beat vigorously. Mix and sift
dry ingredients and add alternately
with the milk to the first mixture. Add
lemon juice and rind and mix thor-
oughly. Bake in 2 greased layer cake
pans in a hot oven (400° F.) 20 to 25
minutes. Cool and put layers together
with
Lemon Coconut Filling
% cup sugar
4 tablespoons flour
W% cup water
1 egg yolk
Juice % lemon
Rind 4 lemon
% teaspoon salt ,
1/3 cup coconut
Mix sugar and’ flour together. Add
water slowly and mix until free from
lumps. Add egg yolk and beat thor-
oughly. Cook over.a low flame until
thick. Add lemon juice, rind and salt.
Cool slightly and add coconut. Spread
between layers, Cover whole cake with
White Frosting
% cup sugar 1 egg white
3 tablespoons water Few grains salt
%% teaspoon vinegar % teaspoon vanilla
Coconut
Boil sugar, water and vinegar to-
gether until the syrup spins a thread
Pour hot syrup over the stiffly-beaten
egg white. Add vanilla and salt. Cover
top and -sides ‘of cake with frosting
and sprinkle generously with coconut.
TODAY’S BARGAINS BUT NEXT
WINTER’S
LUXURIES
[Continued from page 107]
throughout the process. Remove from
fire and add pectin. Allow to cool for
about 5 minutes, stirring and skim-
ming by turns. (This keeps the fruit
evenly distributed and prevents it
from floating as it cools.) Add almond
extract. Pour into glasses or jars and
cover with paraffin.
Apple Butter
Wash and. cut apples into quarters,
without paring or coring. Place in pre-
serving kettle with just enough water
to cover. Cook slowly until tender.
Press through a coarse sieve. Measure
the strained pulp and to each cup pulp
add 1⁄4 cup sugar and the grated rind
of % a lemon. Cook slowly until thick
and of spreading consistency. If spiced
apple butter is preferred, add ground
cloves and cinnamon taste just be-
fore the desired consistency is reached.
Green Tomato Relish
1/3 cup salt
1 tablespoon whole
2 quarts green
tomatoes
6 onions cloves
2 green peppers 2 or 3 pieces stick
Small bunch celery cinnamon
1 quart cider
vinegar
1 tablespoon all-
spice berries
1 pound sugar
Wash tomatoes and slice. Peel and
slice onions. Remove seeds from pep-
pers and chop fine. Separate celery
stalks wash and cut into small pieces.
Place ‘alternate layers of vegetables in
bowl: or kettle, sprinkling each layer
with salt. Let stand over night.
In the morning drain, add half the
vinegar (1 pint) and 1 quart of water.
Bring to boil and cook slowly % hour.
Drain again.
Make a syrup by boiling together
for 5 minutes the remaining vinegar
(1 pint), the sugar, and the spices in
a cheesecloth bag. Add tomato mix-
ture and simmer for 15 minutes more,
or until the tomato is tender. Pack in
clean, hot jars and seal at once.
Spiced Ripe Grape Jam
3% to 3% Ibs. grapes 2 teaspoons ground
% cup cider vinegar cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground 8 cups sugar
cloves % cup liquid pectin
Wash and stem fully ripened grapes.
Separate skin from pulp. Cook pulp
slowly for 5 minutes. Press through
sieve to remove seeds. Crush or chop
skins and mix with the pulp. Add vine-
gar, cloves, and cinnamon and bring to
boil, stirring frequently. Cover and
simmer 30 minutes. Measure cooked
fruit into large kettle, adding water, if
necessary, to make 5 cups. Add sugar,
bring to boil, and boil hard for one
minute, stirring continuously through-
out the process. Remove from fire and
add pectin. Stir well and skim. Pour
at once into hot glasses or jars and
cover with thin layer of paraffin. When
cold, cover with a second layer of
paraffin.
Pickled Watermelon Rind
Pare green skin from melon rind and
remove any traces of red pulp. Cut
into 1% inch cubes or cut into rounds
with small biscuit cutter 1 to 1%
inches in diameter. Soak overnight in
salt water, using 3 tablespoons salt to
1 quart water. In the morning drain off
brine, cover with fresh water and cook
until tender. Drain again. In the mean-
time, make a pickling syrup as fol-
lows:
4 cups sugar
2 cups water
1 tablespoon
cinnamon
lemon, sliced thin
teaspoon cloves
teaspoon allspice
cups vinegar
eee
Mix all ingredients together and boil
for 10 minutes. Add watermelon rind to
this syrup and cook until rind is clear
and transparent. Pack rind into clean
hot jars, fill to overflowing with the
syrup and seal at once.
3 Shades
ERE’S the quick, easy way to
sound, sparkling white teeth
and firm, pink gums—the Kolynos
Dry-Brush Technique.* Use it for
just 3 days. .. Then note the results.
Teeth look whiter—fully 3 shades.
Gums feel firmer, they are healthier.
And your mouth tingles with a re-
freshing, clean taste.
Kolynos cleans teeth and gums
as they should be cleaned.
As soon asit enters the mouth, this
highlyconcentrated, antiseptic dental
cream gives
you a pleas-
ant surprise.
Ithecomesan
exhilarating
FOAM that
is full of life.
ThisFOAM
gets into and
cleans out
every tiny
crevice, pit
and fissure.
Make the Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday Test with
“It Saves Teeth
...saves Money
The unique action of Kolynos
permits theDry-BrushTechnique
advocated by leading dentists as
the way...touse a dental cream
full strength . . .to keep thebrush
bristles stiff enough toclean every
tooth surface and massage gums
properly... . Use a half-inch of
Kolynos on a dry brush, morning
and night. ..Dental cream lasts
longer eeth look cleaner and
white: . Try this amazing
Kolynos Technique.
113
in 3 Days
It quickly kills the millions of germs
that cause offensive Bacterial-Mouth
—that lead to tooth decay, stain,
ugly yellow and to gum diseases.
(Kolynos kills 190 million germs in
15 seconds.) Moreover, this FOAM
keeps on working after you hang
up your toothbrush. For 3 hours it
continues to cleanse the teeth and
purify the mouth.
That is why teeth are so easily
and so swiftly cleaned down to the
beautiful, naked white enamel—
without injury.
If you want whiter teeth free
from decay, and firm pink gums—
discard the dentifrice that does
only half the job. Switch to Kolynos.
It will win you in 3 days. Get a tube
from any druggist—or mail coupori
for a generous trial tube.
14-Day Tube ,
114
When lightning is crackling |
overhead, it’s nice to have |
Morton’s Iodized Salt in the
house. Because it’s made with
cube-shaped crystals, which |
tumble off one another in damp |
weather instead of sticking to-
gether like the flake crystals |
of ordinary salts, this better
salt pours just as freely on |
rainy days as it does on dry. |
Another nice thing about Mor-
ton’s Iodized Salt is that it
protects children from simple
goiter. Why not change to it?
WHEN IT RAINS
y
IODIZED TO PREVENT
GOITER.. ALSO PLAIN
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
CELEBRATING THE FOURTH
E DON'T need firecrackers
and toy pistols to express
the patriotism and pride that
fill our hearts on Independence Day.
The Fourth of July means flags ffying,
gay streamers, shooting stars . . . and a
patriotic party for our friends before
we all go to see the Community Fire-
works display.
This day, of all holidays, should be
celebrated out of doors. We’ll hang
flags of all sizes everywhere. Red,
white, and blue streamers will flutter
from porch ceilings, and rails and pil-
lars will be draped with bunting. Out
of the Christmas boxes on the shelf
will come the strings of colored lights.
Paper lanterns and red, white,
and blue balloons will dance
and bob from the trees.
Invitations to the party can
easily be arranged in the form
of a flag. On a white gilt-edged cor-
respondence card paint in the upper
left corner, stars in a field of blue. Us-
ing a red typewriter ribbon or red ink,
write the lines of your invitations. Or,
the invitations might be written in blue
ink on thin, white paper folded like a
fan and tied with a red cord at the
bottom.
So that no sudden thunder storm
may spoil the party, it would be wise
to arrange the refreshment table on the
porch. Buffet service is the most prac-
tical, and the hostess, always thinking
of the comfort of her guests, will have
on hand a number of trays so that they
may help themselves and then go off
and eat where they like. i
ATONG narrow table may easily be
made of two planks resting on two
wooden horses which may be bor-
rowed from a local lumber dealer.
Cover the top of the table with sev-
eral layers of bright blue paper sprin-
kled with hundreds of silver stars.
Draw this taut and fasten to the edge.
From the edge of the table, hanging to
the floor, tack red, white, and blue
crêpe paper cut into fringe. There
should be several thicknesses so that
the wooden horses will not show
through. In the center of the table,
place a large vase filled with red, white,
and blue fresh flowers from your gar-
den—roses, carnations, larkspur, corn-
flowers, and bachelor buttons.
For supper serve chicken salad or
sliced ham and potato salad with hot,
buttered rolls, A very appropriate
By VERA HARRISON
dessert would be strawberry ice cream
in star molds sprinkled with candied
violets., With this, serve squares of
angel cake, iced all over and decorated
with tiny American flags. Loganberry
juice and ginger ale make a delicious
cold punch, but there should also be
hot coffee for those who desire it with
their meals.
On a smaller table close by, arrange
the favors, paper hats, and noisemak-
ers. Every party shop offers all sorts
of patriotic novelties for parties, and
anything red, white, and blue will be
appropriate.
It is best not to plan games
that will be too strenuous for
hot weather. Tables might be
set on the lawn for bridge and
other card games, cross word
puzzles, cut-out puzzles, and
other pencil and paper games.
A phonograph and a space at one end
of the porch will please those who
must celebrate by dancing, regardless
of the thermometer. Wicker chairs,
benches, cushions, and mats will. pro-
vide a comfortable place for others
who prefer to sit and chat. If it is pos-
sible, bring the radio out on the‘porch
or near a window, so that the stirring
patriotic programs planned for this day
may be enjoyed.
If your community does not give a
public fireworks display have one your-
self. As the twilight deepens, pass
around the sparklers, light the colored
lights, and, seated in a circle, sing the
songs that are so dear to the
hearts of all—‘A Long,
Long Trail,” “Over There,”
“Keep the Home Fires
Burning,” “The Star-Span-
gled Banner,’ and other
favorites. Then with the last
Roman candle’s spurt of sparks
and the last rocket’s burst of
colored stars, comes the end of a
safe and sane, yet really glorious Fourth,
For the Children
Given a lawn, a nearby grove or
even a back yard, any group of chil-
dren may have a wonderful Fourth of
July party. The affair should be man-
aged by someone who understands
children and who will enter whole-
heartedly into their pleasures. It should
be planned for late afternoon.
When the children have arrived
at the starting place of the party,
give each child a package—each one
of different shape and size. When the
destination is reached, the hostess blows
a whistle and the children come to at-
tention. The children are then directed
to open their packages and they find
an American flag, a patriotic hat, a
noisemaker and a mysterious box which
is marked “not to be opened until sup-
per time.”
'HE children then form in line for a
grand march. Flags wave gayly, and
each child plays lustily on his noise-
making instrument.
At six-thirty, the hostess blows her
bugle and the young guests again come
to attention. She opens her package
and brings forth a crépe paper table-
cloth in patriotic design with matching
napkins; also paper cups, plates and
two thermos bottles. She spreads the
cloth on the ground and directs the
children to sit down and open their
packages. In each box is a delicious
picnic lunch. Every article of food is
wrapped in waxed paper. A paper cup
contains a scooped out tomato filled
with chopped chicken and celery mixed
with boiled mayonnaise dressing. A flat
package contains two sandwiches, one
of brown bread with cream cheese fill-
ing and one of white bread with jelly
filling. Each box also holds two home-
made cup cakes iced all over in white
with a red and white peppermint stick
in the top of each. Thermos bottles
contain milk which has been flavored
with a little strawberry syrup.
When supper is over the
hostess announces a hunt for
fire-crackers and torpedoes.
These are hidden in the
grass and shrubbery. The
firecrackers are of candy,
wrapped in paper. The tor-
pedoes are squares of red,
white or blue paper in
which a few salted nuts and bonbons
are tied with red, white, and blue rib-
bon. Bunches of harmless sparklers are
then passed and are lighted just at twi-
light as the children start for home.
Write to the Entertainment Editor,
McCall’s Magazine, (Dept. 2) 230
Park Avenue, New York City, for
Directions for Making Patriotic Fav-
ors and other suggestions. Enclose a
two-cent stamp for postage.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
New... utterly different!
This rare delight in
CHEESE FLAVOR
J
| a toss-up whether it tastes
more delicious outdoors or in!
People who love the mellow flavor of
finest Cheddar cheese . . . people
who've never worked up any par-
ticular enthusiasm about any sort of
cheese—all pay tribute to Velveeta.
And with enjoyment you have that
comfortable feeling that you're eat-
ing something good for you!
Velveeta is as easily digested as
milk, because it és a pure milk prod-
uct. In making it—a secret, patented
process—Kraft-Phenix restore the
valuable milk elements . . . milk-
sugar, calcium, vitamins,
That’s why Velveeta is a food for
young and old. One that you may
KRAFT
eat freely in any form, at any hour.
If yours is an appetite responsive to
the bubbling golden lure of toasted
cheese—Velveeta will claim you. Or
perhaps you like your cheese flavor
uncooked, spread on bread or crack-
ers. Velveeta does that too. If you
long for a subtle, blended cheese
taste in endless variety of cooked
dishes, Velveeta still rises to the
occasion. Versatile Velveeta!
Few pleasures are so easy to get.
Just ask your grocer for a half pound
package.
Kraft-Phenix Cheese Corporation,
General Offices, Chicago, Illinois. In
Canada, Kraft-Phenix Cheese Com-
pany, Ltd., Montreal.
elveeta
The Delicious New Cheese Food
For summer days, Velveeta with fruit dessert or cold
meat with sliced Velveeta. And for something light
yet substantial, you'll find the addition of Velveeta
to hot, cooked dishes gives fresh urge to appetites
Digestible
as milk
itself |
Wlelwe eta
Cu
*Velveeta —A Product of
Scientific Research
Velveeta, the delicious new cheese food, is a product
built up as the result of scientific research. This
research was carried out in the laboratories of
Rutgers University, Newark, New Jersey, in the
College of Pharmacy.
FREE—a tecipe book, ‘‘Cheese and Ways to Serve It.”
Full of suggestions for varying the old favorites. Many
recipes for novel new dishes. There's new pleasure in
cooking with Kraft Cheese. Send for your copy. Home
Economics Department, Kraft-Phenix Cheese Corpo-
ration, 404-E, Rush Street, Chicago, Ill.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE
WORLD'S LARGEST GROWERS
lice by slice we grade
our fruit for you — then
give you this easy way
to know what grade is
inthe can ; > >
HY are there grades of pineapple, and what do they
mean? Come see for yourself—in the largest fruit
cannery in all the world.
Here on these spotless tables the freshly-cut slices pass.
Trained eyes—swift, gloved fingers—are sorting them _by
grades. Ahat perida sheds first grade frui ebe
called DOEA. This one—less fine in appearafie and tex-
ture—is picked fOr DOLE 2 grad@ And here asia Boken
slii¢e—that Ayill He graded DOLE Bs
Sliced 4Crushed=aTidbiéts—all/@ome in different srades.
And the number of thegrade yo buy is clear stamped
in the top of the can. Look for it—beneath the name DOLE.
“You can thank ‘Jim’ DOLE for Canned Hawaiian
Pineapple.”
Do you know you can now buy unsweetened pineapple
juice—packed by DOLE?
HAWAIIAN PINEAPPLE COMPANY
Sales Office:
215 Market Street
San Francisco
Honolulu
HAWAII
pineapple:
and show
These exact definitions will help
you choose just the grade of
pineapple you want for each
dish you prepare:
Grade 1
Sliced — Slices which are the
pick of the pack — uniform in
size and color—in richest syrup
of pure pineapple juice and cane
sugar only, In appearance and
flavor the finest pineapple skill
can produce or money can buy.
Crushed—The same fine pine-
apple, incrushed form—packed
in the same rich syrup as above.
Tidbits (Salad Cuts)—Grade 1
slices cut into small, uniform
AND CANNERS OF
But there are differences in ap
ance—color—texture—and that is why DOLE
apple is so carefully graded, so exactly ma
JULY
HAWAIIAN
A color photograph
of the new grade numbers
DOLE 1- DOLE 2:DOLE 3
sections— packed in the same
rich syrup.
Grade 2
Also comes in Sliced, Crushed
and Tidbits. Slightly less per-
fect —less evenly cut, less uni-
form in color—Grade 2 pine-
apple is less expensive than
Grade 1, though still a fine, de-
licious product. Grade 2 syrup
is less sweet than Grade 1,
Grade 3
Broken slices packed in the
same syrup as used in Grade 2.
Grade 3 costs the least because
broken in form, but the fruit is
of good, wholesome quality.
1930
PINEAPPLE
A much-talked-of booklet
” © 1930, H.P.Co,
“The Kingdom That Grew Out of a Little Boy’s Garden” is in its
fifth tremendous printing! And this edition is the most com-
plete of all. In it are 39 delicious Hawaiian Pineapple recipes by
four famous food editors—and the complete story of the new DOLE
grade numbers, A free copy waits for you Mail the coupon to:
HAWAIIAN PINEAPPLE COMPANY, Dept.M-50
| 215 Market Street, San Francisco, Calif.
CITY
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
1930
Camping in
the open, cook-
ing bacon over
a wood fire,
swimming,
and canoe
trips are va-
cation pleas-
ures every boy
enjoys
VACATION HOBBIES FOR
YOUR CHILD
y JACATION time. Thousands
of eager young minds and
bodies, freed from the disci-
pline of school, are clamoring for new
activities. Now—more than at any
other time of the year—children need
wise guidance at home.
What sort of summer are you going
to give your child? Should he spend it
in camp? Possibly. Most boys and girls
thrive in the wholesome at-
mosphere of camp life, and
there are some children who
require this complete change
of environment for their best
development. You'll know
what your own child needs.
If you are thinking about
camps, remember that the
Boy and Girl Scouts, the
Camp Fire Girls, the Young
Men’s and the Young
Women’s Christian Associ-
ations, the Big Brothers
and the Big Sisters, the
Rotarians, the Knights of
Columbus, the Elks, and
many similar organizations
conduct summer camps which provide
the best sort of camp life at low
prices. And then, of course, there are
all kinds of private camps—some
simple and inexpensive, and others
luxurious and costly.
F YOUR child is to spend the sum-
mer at home, you will have a won-
derful opportunity to help him get the
most profit and enjoyment from: his
vacation. What he needs most is some
definite interest—some hobby—which
will be important to him. This hobby
should be one to which he can devote
several hours every day, so that his
enthusiasm will be sustained.
Don’t make the mistake of forcing
a hobby on a child. Suggest a number
of things which he might do, appeal
to his imagination by showing him
the interesting possibilities ahead, and
then let him choose a pastime for
which he has a natural liking. Often-
times, a vacation hobby gives the first
indication of where real talents lie.
No matter how your child spends
his summer, encourage him to keep a
diary of his activities and discoveries.
By RITA S. HALLE
This will give him excellent practice in
formulating his thoughts; and, in later
years, he will treasure these records of
his early impressions.
There are dozens of possible hobbies
which you can suggest. Collecting
things is a fascinating occupation and
a valuable education. And if
both parents will show a genuine
interest in the growth of the
collection, the child will respond
by putting his best efforts into it.
Stamp collections are
probably the most popular,
and they have the advan-
tage of being available
everywhere. Stamps stim-
ulate an interest in geog-
raphy and history, as well
as an appreciation of de-
sign.
The child who is a lover
of Nature can do his col-
lecting out of doors. Flow-
ers can be identified and
the pressed specimens fastened with
gummed strips in a loose-leaf book.
Ferns, collected in the same way, make
an interesting book. Of course, a fern
collection grows very slowly; and so,
unless the child has considerable pa-
tience, he is likely to lose interest in
it. A special notebook should be kept
for trees. These can be drawn and col-
ored, their leaves pressed, and speci-
mens of their woo. and bark kept.
In any of these plant collections, a
small camera gives added interest to
the study. The flowers, trees, or ferns
may be photographed as they grow,
and the finished pictures will add
greatly to the attraction of the book.
If the child is fond of music, give
him the opportunity to learn some
musical instrument during his vaca-
tion. When practicing is squeezed into
the few free hours of a school day,
it is apt to become a hated task; but
during the long summer months, it
may easily develop into a fascinating
pursuit. There are many instruments—
banjo, mandolin, guitar, harmonica,
ukulele—which can be mastered in a
summer; and if they are properly
learned, they will provide the
fundamentals for a musical knowl-
edge, and add much to the child’s
happiness and popularity later on.
For older boys and girls, the study
of typewriting and stenography will
prove profitable, both personally and
commercially. With the invention of
the inexpensive portable machine, the
typewriter is now easily attainable.
MAY boys want to take paying
jobs for the summer. They have
the urge, strong in adolescent children,
to get away from the family and be in-
dependent. Some parents give a. willing
consent, but there are many who hate to
see their young people give up their
leisure—who feel that they have plenty
of time later on for work and responsi-
bility. As a matter of fact, work and
responsibility increase happiness, and
the right job is often better for a child’s
health than idleness. It is an opportu-
nity to get in touch with the world of
business and to live with people on
terms that are entirely different from
those at school.
The occupation selected should be
creative and related to the child’s fu-
ture. If he is interested in journalism,
let him get a job—however small—
on a newspaper.
Girls who like to sew will enjoy
lessons in dressmaking or millinery.
Cooking and other household arts also
make interesting studies. They have
commercial value and are an impor-
tant part of the equipment for wifehood.
Wise mothers and fathers welcome
the summer vaca-
tion which brings
them a chance to
share their chil-
dren’s interests and
to become a guiding
force in their lives.
Deli ht full
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McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
THE FIFTH HORSEMAN
“Oh, ten days or more ago. In Los
Angeles. Funeral private. Maybe that’s
what made Stede look so low at re-
hearsals.”
Lester said slowly: “That elder
brother of his was no good—no good
at all. Stede hasn’t mentioned his
name to me in twenty years.”
“Did you ever see him?”
“Once, at Cambridge. More than
twenty years ago. He was a handsome
fellow, but no good, no good. He went
out to the coast; went on the stage.
Then he got mixed up with a woman
and did something—rotten.”
7] POSES eyes met Lester’s; he hesi-
tated; but his insatiable curiosity
prevailed. He began: “You don’t sup-
pose that—”
[Continued from page 30]
“Darling!”
“—Don’t speak of death!” he re-
peated sharply.
“No—I'm sorry. It was just a joke.
But youre too tired to be teased.
Please smile. I’m coming to the sta-
tion tomorrow morning.”
“Nonsense! It’s an unearthly hour.”
“Please!”
“No.”
“Pretty please!” she pleaded.
He laughed: “You won’t wake up,
anyway. Pll be back here by six, you
know.”
“T know,” she murmured:
“The sun sets when my lover goes;
It rises when he comes again;
I know more than a wizard knows
Of Day and Night and Love and Men;
“I scraped a salad together. That
and tea.”
Josephine found needle and thread,
picked up the tunic and offered to help.
The sewing of the costume was soon
finished. As Josephine rose and laid
it on Florrie’s lap, the telephone rang.
She answered it.
ES, this is Josephine Moreland.”
Florrie, watching her, saw her face
go white, her eyes widen as she lis-
tened. Suddenly she swayed, and giv-
ing a little cry, sank in a heap on the
floor. Florrie rushed to her side.
“What is it, darling? What is the
matter?” But Josephine lay limp and
silent in her arms. Swiftly Florrie car-
ried her to the couch and bringing a
bowl of water, bathed her head and
1930
Of Night—and Love of Men.” temples. Presently Josephine opened
her eyes, smiled wanly and closed them
“Clever. Whose?” again. For ten minutes or longer she
“Mine,” she admitted shyly. seemed to sleep; her small hands
“My dear, it’s charming!” clasped by Florrie’s larger ones, like a
“Oh, Stede, stop making fun of me.” lost child. Then she stirred, looked
But his surprised grin revealed un- about and sat upright.
feigned delight in her: “It’s just as “Did I faint?” she said.
“What was it dear?” asked
Florrie. “Do you want to tell
me?”
“Yes, it’s—Earl Holden
again. He says that women
may be afraid of Stede, but
“I don’t suppose anything,” inter-
rupted the other. sharply. “No—no!
Don’t let’s talk any more.”
When Lester arrived at the theater,
Seafield was already on the stage, look-
ing gray and worn, but quietly atten-
tive to the work in progress.
The actor-manager regarded him
furtively. He was putting two
of the principals through their
paces, purely a matter of drill
until Lester should appear.
“Where’s Clarel?”
Seafield smiled. “Impudent
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little rascal. What do you think
she’s doing, Ed?” `
“What?”
“Reading Shakespeare in
her dressing-room. I went in
and said: ‘When Mr. Gaylord
calls everybody, who do you
think you are, Clarel?’ ‘No-
body,’ said she coolly, ‘so you
needn’t feel lonely, Mr. Sea-
field.’ You'd better discipline
your brat,” he added, laugh-
ing.
Lester signaled Gaylord, who
picked up a megaphone:
“Everybody and Miss Cary!”
he bellowed, amid universal
laughter.
Clarel sauntered onto the
stage, pink to the ears, but composed.
Lester turned to Seafield: “How are
you, Stede?”
“All right.”
“You don’t look very well.”
ey am?
“Not worrying about
Horseman?”
“Well, you know—”
“Don’t make any mistake. It’s going
all right. Why don’t you go away for
a week? You can.”
“I’m going up to Brook Hollow.”
“For a day—yes. You need a week.”
“I need—years,”
The Fifth
Seafield met Josephine at the Avig-
non for lunch. She was late, but came
in looking very lovely, though a trifle
pale.
“Well, darling,” he said, “I’m going
to Brook Hollow on the early morning
train tomorrow. Will you miss me?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me
to go with you, Stede?”
“No use stirring up that community.
If ever we go back there together—
you know what must be the circum-
stances.”
“Darling,” she whispered.
“You know what you mean to me,”
he said. “It came suddenly then into
my mind—suppose anything happened
to you.”
Josephine’s clear laugh was unre-
strained. “Oh, my dear! I’m the most
vigorous thing on earth! I simply
couldn’t be ill! I don’t believe I'll ever
even be ill enough to die—”
“Don’t talk about it-—”
”
RE YOU satisfied with your gar-
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clever as it can be,” he said. “You
secretive little thing, when did you be-
gin this sort of stuff?”
“That evening—at Brook Place—
after you told me.”
“Told you what?” he insisted, se-
cretly thrilled.
“You know.” She wouldn’t discuss
it further. However, under pressure,
she finally admitted that she had writ-
ten a few more verses in an old copy-
book. “Just to try, Stede. I just
wanted to try.”
But he continued to tease her until,
in sheer desperation, she promised to
let him see the copy-book on his re-
turn. But, after her promise, she be-
came grave and absent-eyed; and sat
so, looking at the flowers until he paid
the luncheon check and it was time to
separate.
HEY took a taxi at the door; she
dropped him at the theater, promis-
ing to dine with him that evening.
Instead, however, of going shopping,
she drove back to the apartment in
Grape Vine Lane, where Florrie was
stitching madly on a costume for the
forthcoming performance. A matter of
alteration which the costumer had al-
ready failed with.
“Hang him!” said Florrie vigorously,
sewing on another spangle as Josephine
came in. “It should have taken that
fool half an hour and it’s taking me
all day! Look! There’s nothing to it—
almost nothing! Did you have a nice
lunch, dear?”
“Yes; did you?”
that he isn’t through with me
yet—and that as long as I am
not. Mrs. Seafield he can either
force Stede to pay him a lot
of money to keep still, or ex-
pose the fact that our names
are on that register.”
“But, my dear, the clerk at
the inn will testify that it was
merely a lark; that only ap-
pearances make such an attack
possible.”
“Oh, you don’t understand,
Florrie. It isn’t that I care
about proving to the world our
complete innocence. It could
be proved, as you say, easily
enough. But the publicity
would be fatal to Stede’s repu-
tation as a playwright. And I won't al-
low him to suffer that for my sake. Be-
cause after all, you know, it was my
crazy caprice to stay there—the coun-
try was so lovely in the spring moon-
light—and I was too ignorant of the
world’s ways. I didn’t realize how
people delight to misconstrue such
simple acts.
“Tgnorance again! There it is—the
root of all evil, as Stede says, is igno-
rance. If only I had been trained as a
child in worldly wisdom I wouldn't
have made such a stupid mistake. I
would have known better than to flout
Mrs. Grundy, however innocently.”
“But you're not ignorant, dear,” pro-
tested Florrie. “You're only innocent,
pure-minded. And there was nothing
even faintly wrong in what you did.
It’s only Holden seeing a chance to
blackmail you both, because of his
hatred for you and because of Stede’s
prominence.”
“Well, he shan’t. I knew as I listened
to him over the telephone, that it was
the end—that I could never let Stede
in for another such scene as he had
with those women. If I disappear for-
ever while he’s in Brook Hollow, every-
thing will be all right—and TIl never
see him again—the man I love better
than anything in the whole world. Oh!
5
Sobs shook her, and it was a long
time before she finally fell into a
troubled half-sleep.
Florrie drew a coverlet over her, and
as she stood there looking down at
[Continued on page 119]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
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THE FIFTH HORSEMAN
[Continued from page 118]
Josephine’s white face, panic seized
her. She swiftly closed the doors, sped
through the hallway to the telephone
and called the Chelsea Theater.
HE asked for Mr. Seafield. Waited.
The answer came presently, that
Mr. Seafield was on the Stage and
could not be disturbed.
“Tell him it’s a matter of life or
death,” she said, tremulously.
“Are you telephoning from Mr. Sea-
field’s home?”
“No, but—”
“Well, those are my orders—”
“But he'll speak to me!”
“Who are you?”
“Tell him Florrie Eden—”
“Say, little lady, don’t make me
laugh.”
“Please—”
“Ta-ta, sweetness!”
The last act of The Fifth Horseman
was on; and it was going
well when somebody
touched Seafield on the
shoulder.
“I can’t be interrupt-
ed,” he said, not even
turning.
“Sorry, sir; your house
is on the wire.”
He hesitated. “Find out
what it is. I can’t come.
Take the message, Harry.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Seafield—”
He turned his head in the dusk.
“Ves?”
“An important telegram from the
West at your house. Your maid, An-
nie Cassidy, will read it to you.”
Seafield found his hat and got up,
stumbled, steadied himself, squared
his shoulders, went out to the lobby
and into Lester’s office, closing the
door behind him.
For a second he paused, pressed his
temple with chilly fingers, then seat-
ing himself at the desk, he picked up
the receiver: “What is it, Annie?”
“Mr. Seafield, sir, I have a tele-
gram—”
“I know. Read it.”
She read the date; the place; the
name of the hospital in a shaky voice.
Then the signature of the head of the
hospital. Then the message.
Woman here Marie Seafield drug ad-
dict dying cancer desires notify you Stop
Requests you take charge of body Stop
Please bury in same grave with Donald
Stop Forgive Stop Shall we ship Stop
Wire reply
Seafield said hoarsely: “Is that all?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When did it come?”
“Just now, sir.”
“Annie!”
“Sir?”
“Pack a suitcase, take a taxi and
meet me at the Grand Central—near
the information bureau—near the
clock—”
Then, turning to a desk, he wrote
on a telegraph blank:
If Marie Seafield is still alive say to
her that I forgive her Say also that
her wishes shall be respected If she is
already dead the body shall be properly
cared for and the casket sent to Brook
Hollow New York All expenses will be
met by me Please telegraph me at the
final moment
Stede Seafield
“Harry!” he called.
“Yes, Mr. Seafield.”
“Please take this out and have it
rushed. There’s an office around the
corner.” He gave the young man
money. “Hurry,” he said, “—and get
me a taxi, too.” He picked up the tele-
phone again.
But there seemed to be nobody at
the apartment in Grape Vine Lane—
no answer.
Then, on the stage telephone, he
got Lester.
“Tm leaving for Brook Hollow on
the six-thirty, Ed. I’ve an engagement
to dine with Miss Moreland tonight at
seven. Her house doesn’t answer.
Would you call her later if I don’t
get a chance and explain?”
“You bet.”
“Just tell her where I’ve gone. Prob-
ably I'll return tomorrow. If not, say
to her that TIl write.”
“T will. Is anything wrong? Your
voice sounds—”
“Oh, I don’t know what's wrong or
right any more. You won’t need me
if I stay away a few
days?”
“T guess we can man-
age.”
“Thanks. Goodbye.”
From her post by the
clock in the great station,
Annie Cassidy, watching
the marble stairway,
caught sight of Seafield
descending.
She had even bought
his tickets. With them she gave him
the telegram from the West.
“Oh, Mr. Seafield, sir, I hope that
pleasanter days are coming to you
now,” she said with deep emotion.
“I hope so, Annie. These are bitter
hours. But all things end—even
shame.”
WHEN Lester telephoned the girls’
apartment Florrie answered in an
agitated voice: “Yes, she’s here, Mr.
Lester. She’s expecting Mr. Seafield,
but she says she isn’t well enough to
see him.”
“May I speak to her?”
“One moment, please. I think she’s
lying down.”
“Don’t disturb her,” interrupted
Lester. “I’m sorry I forgot to tele-
phone earlier. Just say that Mr. Sea-
field left unexpectedly early for Brook
Hollow on the six-thirty this evening
and was very sorry he could not dine
with Miss Moreland.”
“Has he gone!”
“Ves?
“Oh, can’t you stop him at the
train? Can’t you send—”
“It’s half past eight. He’s been gone
two hours. What’s the matter?”
“Oh, Mr. Lester! Help me, please.
Send a telegram to him to come back.
Tell him it will be too late tomorrow.
Tell him he’ll regret it all his life if
he doesn’t come back.”
“What the devil’s the matter?”
“I can’t tell you. He must come
back. I tried to reach him. You must
telegraph him. Say that it’s a matter
of life and death. Say that it’s Jose-
phine—”
“Is Miss Moreland ill?”
“No. But she’s going to do some-
thing desperate.”
“See here, young lady—”
“No, no! Don’t say that to me. Do
what I ask you. You'll never regret
it, Mr. Lester. You’ll—”
“You’ve got to tell me—”
“I can’t!”
A silence.
“What is it you want me to tele-
graph?”
“Come back instantly. Josephine’s
happiness — perhaps her life — de-
pends—”
[Continued on page 120]
119
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McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY
THE FIFTH HORSEMAN
“But I—whose name am I to sign
to the telegram?”
“Josephine Moreland’s. It’s the only
name that will bring him back.”
Lester wrote his telegram:
Stede Seafield
Brook Hollow N Y
Matter of greatest concern to me un-
less you return before tomorrow
Josephine Moreland
“Rush this,” he said to his man,
who answered his desk bell.
EAFIELD went out to the veranda
of the Brook Hollow hotel and be-
gan to pace to and fro before the ranks
of empty rocking chairs. Presently
from where he stood in shadow, he
saw the undertaker across the street,
pulling on a black alpaca jacket. Sea-
field met him on the steps.
“How are you, Charlie?” he said,
shaking hands.
“Man is but mortal, Mr. Seafield,
but I guess I’m up to specifications.”
Seafield said: “You look well. I
came up in regard to that matter about
which I wrote you—”
“Compose yourself, Mr. Seafield,”
said Charnall, in his most mortuary
manner, “every detail was given my
personal supervision.”
“Another casket will be here soon,”
said Seafield quietly. “You will pre-
pare another grave beside—my—my
brother's. There should be a headstone
similar to his. On it you will have this
inscription placed:
‘Marie Westwood’
and the date of her death, which I
will give you later.”
A boy came out of the hotel office.
“New York on the wire, Mr. Seafield.
The telephone is in the office—”
“One moment,” said Seafield to
Charnall, “and I'll give you that date
of her death—”
“Mr. Seafield speaking.” he said
warily. “Who? Lester? Is it you, Ed?
No, I’ve received no telegram. Yes.
I've just arrived. No; I have no tele-
gram from Josephine. Who sent it?
You? Yes, I hear you plainly. Repeat
the telegram.”
He stiffened; took hold of the chair
to brace himself.
“Yes, I got it, Ed. What is the mat-
ter? Has Josephine been taken ill?
Has she been hurt? No, there’s no
train out of here tonight. No! TIl get
a car somewhere. What? Certainly
I’m coming—” .
He went out to the lounge: “I’ve
got to be in New York by morning.
CHARLIE BUYS A PRESENT FOR
Mr. Blakely was in the act of pluck-
ing the topmost letter from his morn-
ing mail, when Charlie’s name was
brought in. `
“He says you want to see him,” his
secretary announced.
The motor magnate said, genially,
“Well, well, let him in. Maybe he'll
tell me what I want to see him about.”
And he repeated this to Charlie, for
Mr. Blakely liked the taste of his own
jokes. “Well, Charlie, I understand I
want to see you. What do I want to
see you about, Charlie? I don’t seem
to remember.”
“A job,” Charlie told him.
Mr. Blakely looked him over, sober-
ing in the process. “Well, Charlie, you
look as if you needed one.”
“T need a shave,” said Charlie, with-
out any embarrassment.
[Continued from page 119]
Get me a car. I must be on my way
in less than ten minutes—”
“Hey, Jake!” roared the clerk. “Tell
Patsy Blake to fill her full 0’ juice
and get his flivver here inside the
minute! Tell him Mr. Seafield’s due
in Noo Yorruk b’ sun-up!”
Seafield, ghastly white, went out to
the veranda as Blake’s car rolled up.
To Charnall he said: “Wait till I
write you.” Jake threw his suitcase
into the car.
i “Tires? Gas? Oil?” he asked hoarse-
ly.
“All ready,” said Blake.
Seafield got in: “‘What can she do?”
“Forty-five.”
“Ts there a better car—”
“No better in this town.”
“All right. Break loose.”
“New York?”
“New York.”
“TI want fifty dol—”
“Anything you want I’ll double. Get
me there; that’s all.”
It was an early and warm July morn-
ing when they rushed upon the first
far-strung suburban town that marks
the outskirts of Manhattan.
N
A
aN :
ek aw dein "se
Blake’s nightmare was ended, thanks
to the traffic police. But Seafield’s was
scarcely beginning in the early sun-
shine of a cloudless day.
It was after eight o'clock when their
mud plastered car stopped at the en-
trance to Grape Vine Lane.
GESEIELD reeled as he stepped out;
made his way unsteadily into the
alley; leaned against the door as he
rang. At that instant Florrie came into
the hall. She had been crying. When
she saw Seafield she took hold of him.
“What’s the matter—” But his lips
uttered no sound.
“She’s in there—dressed to go. Oh.
don’t let her go—don`t leave her—ever
—again—”
“No, I never shall.”
[Continued from page 40]
“But I thought we had this job
question all settled, Charlie. You re-
member the last time you came to see
me—”
“That was six months ago,” Charlie
reminded him. “But the other day in
New York—”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” remembered
Mr. Blakely. “In Ed’s place, it was.
You had an old Rameau you were try-
ing to sell—”
“And you said you’d give me a job
if I sold it. And I did.”
“Bh?”
“For three hundred, like I said I
would. See, here it is—all but a couple
of bucks I spent to get home.”
Mr. Blakely, completely sobered
now, looked at the bills and scratched
the place where his hair had been.
“Well, well, Charlie. You did, did
He passed a dirty hand over his
dusty face; drew a long, uneven
breath; rested an instant against the
wall, then straightened up and went in.
He saw a suitcase on the sitting
room floor. The bedroom door was
closed; but he heard somebody mov-
ing in there.
E OPENED the door in silence.
Josephine was pulling on her hat
before the mirror on the bathroom
door. She saw him in the glass and her
face flamed.
When he could control his voice:
“Well, darling?” he said.
She gazed at him in silence. Then,
finally she told, between sobs, her re-
solve not to disgrace him at any cost.
that just to slip out of it forever was
the only way.
“Only our marriage can stop this
man, unless I disappear. And you know
we are not free to marry—and not
being free, I must go away—oh, Stede,
my dear, my very dear.”
Only once had he ever seen tears in
her eyes. He never had seen her cry.
Now, in this passion of tears, her whole
slender body was shaking.
He did not stir to intervene. Pres-
ently, in the doorway, he became
aware of Florrie; got up and went to her. °
“Thank you,” he whispered. “It’s all
right now. Will you do something for
me?”
She smiled consent through her tears.
“Get my house on the wire. Ask if
there is a telegram for me.”
“Yes—” Florrie slipped away
through the hall. Then her touch on
his shoulder. “Yes; a telegram. They'll
read it to you—”
He went back to the kitchenette;
picked up the detached receiver, which
was standing on end upon the shelf.
“Annie.”
“Yes, Mr. Seafield.”
“Read it, please.”
She read, carefully. distinctly.
“Mrs.—Seafield—died—eleven—for-
ty-five—last night. Stop. Sent—you
thanks—for forgiven Stop. Ohio—
East—on—noon train. Stop.”
“Ts that all, Annie?”
“All, sir.”
“Thank you.”
As he hung up the receiver, Trouble,
who had been watching him, turned
and fled before him.
The last remorseless touch—the
Happy Ending—or the Beginning.
Truth—obvious, shopworn, redundant,
but Truth. no less. The real thing—
The Apocalypse of the Commonplace.
[Tue Enp]
HIS GIRL
you? And now I suppose you think you
can sell some of mine, eh?” :
“Listen,” said Charlie quietly. “I
could sell boxing gloves to a one-
armed man and a sight-seeing bus to an
institution for the blind. I can sell
electric fans in Greenland and woolen
mittens in the tropics. I can sell baby
booties to old maids and scooters to
the Home for the Aged. I could sell
New York to the bird who says he
wouldn’t have it for a gift—only I
don’t like New York so I'll peddle your
Christmas tree ornaments instead.”
After a little while, Mr. Blakely said
“Well, Charlie, you’d like to start right
in, I suppose?”
“No,” said Charlie firmly. “TIl start
tomorrow. Today I got to get a shave
—and besides, I got to buy a birthday
present for my girl.”
1930
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
WITH THE ILRECIOUS TEETH
frust
O WIDELY known are the bene-
fits which Forhan’s brings to
mouths marked by the effects of
age, that another important func-
tion of this dentifrice is sometimes
overlooked.
It is so pure, it is so mild and
cleansing, that this ‘‘dentists’ den-
tifrice” is ideal for children.
Young teeth need exceptional
care. Fully 85% of all molars coming
through the gums contain tiny sur-
face cracks or
OF CHILDREN
only the finest dentifrice
He prepared a dentifrice which
gives the teeth a wonderfully gentle
and thorough cleansing—and claims
to do nothing more for the teeth.
But he added another benefit which
his practice had shown him was im-
portant—the benefit of a prepara-
tion used everywhere by dentists in
the care of the gums. In fact, this
treatment for the gums, also
originated by Dr. Forhan, was the
starting point of his excellent den-
tifrice.
fissures—the
breeding place
of future trou-
ble unless they
are watchfully
cleaned with a
safe dentifrice,
and checked al-
so by your den-
Any mouth may have
pyorthea, and at forty
the odds are
4 out f 5
Use Forhan’s
inthe mouth of
youth—and to
keep the mouth
of youth into
middle age.
When teeth are
sound and gums
are healthy is
tist. During
those critical years, avoid particu-
larly harsh toothpastes and those
with unnatural bleaching power.
Health authorities also recom-
mend that you clean and massage
the gums, even of infants, and urge
that children’s gums receive regu-
lar care.
And care of the gums is the other
function of Forhan’s. This denti-
frice was developed by a dentist,
R.J. Forhan, D.D.S. Out of his ex-
perience and his scientific training,
he compounded it with the same
professional care which he would
use in treating his patients.
the time to
adopt this excellent dentifrice.
Let it cleanse the teeth and add
its help to the care of the gums.
Used with massage at the time
of brushing, it livens circulation,
and aids the gums to stay young
and firm.
You can buy Forhan’s with the
comfortable assurance that no finer
dentifrice is made.
Forhan’s comes in two sizes, 35¢
and 60¢—just a few cents a tube
more than the ordinary toothpaste
and exceedingly well worth it.
Forhan Company, Inc., New York.
Forhan’s Limited, Montreal.
YOUR TEETH ARE ONLY AS HEALTHY AS YOUR GUMS
ee MAG
If gas service is not available in your com-
munity, let us tell you how to obtain tank-gas-
service for use in a Red Wheel Gas Range,
UNLESS the gas range has a
RED WHEEL it is not a LORAIN
AMERICAN STOVE COMPANY
Showing “Magic Chef” Patrician Model in Spanish-type Kitchen of Modern Bungalow
IC CHEF First
HEN you go to buy a new cook stove see
“Magic Chef" first! It would be distinctly unfair
to yourself to attempt to judge other
types of cooking appliances WITH-
OUT FIRST seeing the unmatched
“Magic Chef”
acquainting yourself with its many
beauty of and
labor-saving advantages.
No matter whether your kitchen is
large or small, old-fashioned or mod-
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atmosphere of charm and comfort.
Aside from its beauty “Magic Chef”
possesses more than a score of labor-
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course, the famous Red Wheel Oven
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Second only to its perfect baking-
oven is its broiling compartment of
unusual efficiency. The cooking -top,
too, is large and roomy and can be
AMERICAN STOVE COMPANY +
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N can be made to pay
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Patents Pending
Showing “Magic Chef’ with cooking-top
cover raised, oven and broiler doors
open and utensil drawer extended,
Largest
Makers of Gas Ranges
in the World
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
instantly concealed by a spring-balanced cover-all.
“Magic Chef” has the approval of noted artists,
architects, expert gas engineers
and home economics authorities. It
is, indeed, the new standard for
comparison, and represents most
unusual value.
Wherever gas is available you will
find a dealer or gas company who
will gladly explain the many good
features of “Magic Chef” and give
a special demonstration if you wish.
For these very good reasons you are
urged to see “Magic Chef” FIRST. If
you don't, you may seriously regret
your ultimate purchase ofa gas range.
f A booklet, “The New Vogue in Gas. j|
Ranges,” contains illustrations of hand-
some, modern kitchens in full color. I
Ask your dealer for a free copy or |
write to the address given below. |
DEPT. B-77 CHOUTEAU AVENUE, ST. LOUIS, MO.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
At the edge of the lot, shade trees and tall shrubs form a background for a garden seat and flower beds
MIDSUMMER GARDENING |
By ROMAINE B. WARE
OT sun, burning winds,
H and summer drought
followed by torren-
tial thunder storms make midsum-
mer gardening somewhat difficult. But,
if we are willing to study our plants
and learn their needs we may plant
and transplant safely. By study and
experimentation we find that some
things, such as Peonies, may be trans-
planted only in the fall, while others,
like the Japanese Anenomes, can only
be moved in the spring.
Midsummer is the best time to
transplant Iris as it is now in a some-
what dormant state after blooming,
especially if the weather is inclined to
be dry. Midsummer planting insures
the plants becoming fully established
before freezing weather and usually
such plants may be depended upon to
bloom well the next summer. On the
other hand, fall planting is usually safe
if care is taken to see that the plants
are not heaved by winter frosts.
Another perennial that may be
transplanted in the summer is the
Oriental Poppy. Its natural habit is to
die down and practically disappear
within a short time after blooming.
During this dormant period it may be
transplanted safely, but if it is moved
in the spring it will probably die.
IX THE dormant period the Oriental
Poppy may be propagated suc-
cessfully. About the middle of July,
dig up one of the old plants, cutting off
all the roots below the crown and then
cut each root into pieces two inches
long. Plant these pieces two inches
deep and eighteen inches to two feet
apart where you want them to bloom.
Within a few weeks each piece of root
will have produced a young plant and
most of them will bloom the next
summer. Unlike planting from seed,
which usually produces the common
brick-red variety, this method will
propagate faithfully the choicest vari-
eties such as Olympia, scarlet over-
laid with glistening golden salmon;
May Sadler, salmon pink; Mrs. Perry,
orange apricot; and Perry’s white.
To propagate the delightful old-
fashioned perennial, Bleeding Heart—
Dielytra Spectabilis—follow the same
method but set back the old fleshy
central root, after cutting off all the
side roots to within two inches of the
crown. These roots, cut in three inch
lengths, if planted two inches deep and
six inches apart, will quickly produce
plants that may be transplanted very
early in the spring.
Midsummer is the best time to start
most seed perennials. Many persons
advise waiting until late August but if
you plant your seeds now in a cold«
frame where the moisture and shade
may be controlled you will have
stronger plants. Be sure that your seed
bed is well drained, the soil light and
friable, and with sufficient leaf mold
in it to aid in retaining the moisture.
Do not plant the seed thickly nor too
deep as this will interfere with germi-
nation. Shade with a strip of burlap
and later with a screen made of lath
spaced an inch apart.
In sections where the autumn is
long, the more vigorous plants may be
transplanted then. Set them four to six
inches apart for the best results. This
will make it possible to move them
next spring, soil and all, without dis-
turbing the roots. Although a wide
variety of perennials may be grown
from seed, they usually produce. in-
ferior flowers. Peonies, Iris, Phlox, Pop-
pies, and Gypsophila are best pur-
chased as plants in named varieties
only.
Midsummer is not too early to be-
gin preparations for fall planting.
Bulbs of all kinds should be ordered.
Not only should your planting plans
be made now but the soil should be
prepared also. New beds or borders
should be dug deeply, eighteen inches
or more, and fertilizers added and thor-
oughly mixed with the soil. If the soil
is well prepared in advance it will have
time to settle and the first crop of
weeds will have been gotten rid of by
planting time. It is well to
plant all blooming perennials
in the fall; and the Peony
should be planted at no other time.
The transplanting of shrubs is sel-
dom practical at this season unless
they can be moved with a large ball of
earth which keeps the soil around
their roots intact. A study of the root
structure of plants will show that most
of the absorption of food takes place
through a system of fine hair-like root-
lets near the outer ends of the root
mass. If in transplanting you destroy
these fine feeding rootlets, the plant
will suffer seriously until new ones are
formed. If many of them are de-
stroyed, some of the top of the plant
should also be cut off.
E IT is necessary to move shrubs or
trees when they are in full leaf dur-
ing the summer, be certain that they
are bountifully supplied with water
and the surface above their roots well
mulched to keep it cool and moist. In
extremely hot or dry weather, .the
foliage should be sprayed occasionally.
It is perfectly possible to move al-
most anything if sufficient care is
taken.
Established perennials should be fed
in midsummer with liquid manures or
top dressing of bone meal. A plant can-
not thrive nor remain healthy if starved
or if spraying is neglected.
Of recent years, dusting has largely
taken the place of spraying and there
is much to recommend it. Roses should
be dusted every ten days with “all-in-
one” mixture. Phlox, Delphinium,
Hollyhocks, and other plants need reg-
ular spraying with Bordeaux or other `
fungicide to control the various plant
diseases. The Red Spider which is so
prevalent upon evergreens can be con-
trolled by spraying with a strong
stream of water. from the hose. This
should not be done if certain chemicals
have been used to purify the water as
is the case in many communities. This
point can be determined by writing to
your agricultural college or by con-
sulting a competent nurseryman.
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124
odin the
same time it
takes to powder
Sem
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It can’t do any harm.
You can—and should—use this snowy,
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Mum offers permanent protection from
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Make the use of this dainty deodorant
a daily habit. Morning and evening.
Then you're always safe. Never at a
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enemy of charm—body odor.
That’s the beauty of Mum! The utter
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Mum isas bland as any face cream and
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Keep your jar of Mum on your dressing
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I |
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BITTER SWEET
[Continued from page 28]
them. I advise you, for your girl’s
sake, to be quiet. Don’t speak to her.
T'Il come down and see you tomorrow.
TIl bring Roger. Your accusation, or
rather, your suspicion, is about equally
insulting to my boy and to your poor
daughter . . . .” His tone hummed
suddenly like a falling lash— “You
pay your child a poor compliment.”
“What does she know? She’s only
sixteen,” stammered Rossiter.
AX day Curtin could not bring him-
self to speak to his son. After din-
ner, smoking on the dark terrace, the
moon not yet up, he blurted out with
violent suddenness: “I’ve told you a
thousand times not to write a letter
like that to any woman.”
Roger started and sat still. Before
the story was half out, he was on his
feet, quivering from head to foot, his
face altogether white, dazed and horri-
fied. “Oh, my God,” he said—“Oh, my
God, what a devil he must
be! What a devil! Sue...
whom I hadn’t the nerve
to kiss! ... Sue... and
I'd give my soul to marry
here ie x
His father came and
patted the shaken shoul-
ders. “We’ll fix it. It’s all
right. I beg your pardon,
my dear.” He hated the .
thought of a marriage between his son
and Susan Rossiter, but he was sensi-
ble enough to keep this to himself.
The next morning, as early as might
be, Roger tore down through the
rainy, windy woods to see his love.
When Sue came into the shabby room
where Hetty had left him to his sus-
pense, he forgot his own emotions. He
had never seen this Susan Rossiter.
She spoke to him gravely and steadily.
standing well back from him, her hands
behind her.
“My father has told me what he
thougħt and did and said. My father
has told me what he wants to make
you do. I will never marry you, Roger,
I will never see you again.”
She opened the door with a hand put
back, for she had kept just inside the
threshold, and, still with those un-
lighted eyes upon him, went out of the
room, and closed between them a bar-
rier of impenetrable pride.
So, very early, Sue entered into hu-
manity’s long acquaintance with grief.
After Roger had gone and his house
up above her woods had been closed
and darkened, she was relieved of her
shifts at avoidance, but winter brought
an icier desolation. She outlived it and
came into the perilous pain of spring.
She could not drag herself to the old
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playground, she went more often to
the library and began in spite of her-
self to mingle a little with the small
life of the village. Therefore, she was
seen again by Charles Derringer. He
had. now been divorced and appeared
to have more liberty than the world
had been ready to grant him; for, as
yet, the fulfilment of a rumored obliga-
tion to Averil Wende had not been per-
formed. As the languid summer
droned itself out gossip linked an-
other name with the new mill-owner.
Astonishingly it was the name of little
Susan Rossiter.
She was now past seventeen and
pretty enough with those eyes and lips
of hers to be an enchantress; but...
well . . . it was too bad, when you
came to think of it, and her father
ought to waich her. To many such
clacking and cluckings Roger’s ear was
introduced when after a year of ab-
sence he came back, hardened, to an
autumn fortnight near his
former love.
Trotting home from a
long ride he saw a girl
standing on the bridge
near Rossiter’s smothered
entrance and that hard
and merry heart of his
swooped, spun, stopped
and hammered in his
breast. He dismounted,
white as dust, he led his horse and
came beside her.
“Sue,” he said, “Sue... = Oh,
Suess TE H
She looked at him and did not smile
at all but put her hand for a cool in-
stant into his.
“Roger . . how well you look.
You’ve been abroad?” -
“Oh ... Sue... You haven't for-
gotten me, have you? You must have
forgiven me . . . You must have
thought better of your injustice to me
. .. how unkind you were... !”
Sue answered very slowly, “I haven't
forgotten you—no—” But her eyes
had a queer, cold shining. “I am go-
ing to marry Charles Derringer.”
He lost his head. He followed her
along the lane, reminding her of fool-
ish speeches of her childhood, how
that man “made everything black,”
how she had “hated him.” At last she
turned upon Roger and silenced him
with one swift speech and a white, bit-
ter look.
OPER painted the surface of
Charles Derringer’s lake with flecks
of tawny color from its wooded banks.
Here just below his house he had a lit-
tle landing and a canoe. On her way
to a meeting with this lover, after a
[Continued on page 126]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
Soft,
Bleedin
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Gums ns.)
their power to grip and securely hold
the teeth in place. The daily use of
Pyrozide Powder stimulates the gums
to resist this softening tendency.
Unless the root-supporting tissues
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Pyrozide Powder is designed spe-
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teeth thoroughly, but even more,
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gripping power. The teeth that last
a lifetime are gum-gripped teeth.
At all druggists. The oe
dollar package contains
6 months’ supply. Sam-
ple and booklet on care
of the gums sent free on
request. The Dentinol &
Pyrazide Co. (Sole Dis-
tributors), Dept. L-17,
1480 Broadway, N. Y.
YROZID
POWDER
FOR GUM-GRIPPED TEETH
See MARION NIXON’S
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— in Warner . Bros.’ “Show of Shows,”
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hut only once adaj
—Marion Nixon, radiant film star, frankly
admitted.
“But I won’t be annoyed with a lipstick
that keeps coming off. That’s why I’m so
strong for Kissproof. When I put it on my
lips of mornings, I’m through with them. I
know Kissproof will keep them looking their
best all day.”
Miss Nixonis just another of the Hollywood
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combines immediate with lasting charm,
subtle sophistication with natural beauty.
This modern lasting waterproof lipstick
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Black and Gold Case, 50c; Swivel Case, 75c.
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MAGAZINE JULY
McCALL’S
1930
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‘Statement of the Ownership, Manage-
ment, Circulation, Etc., required by
the Act of Congress of August 24, 1912
of McCaLL’s MaGaziNe, published monthly at Dayton,
Ohio, for April 1, 1930.
State of New York, County of New York, ss
Before me, a Notary in and for the State and County
aforesaid, personally ‘appeared John D. Hartman, who,
having been duly sworn according to iaw, deposes and
says that he is the Assistant Treasurer of The MeCall
Co., publisher of McCall's Magazine and that the fol-
lowing is, to the best of his knowledge and belief, a
true statement of the ownership, management, etc., of
the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the above
caption, required by the Act of August 24, 1912, em-
bodied in section 411, Postal Laws and Regulations,
printed on the reverse of this form, to wit:
1. That the names and addresses of the publisher,
editor, managing editor and business managers are:
Publisher: The McCall Company, 230 Park Avenue, N.
Y. C., Editor: Otis L. Weise. Managing Editor: E. M.
Millen, Business Managers: None.
2. That the owners are: The McCall Company, N. Y.
C. McCall Corporation, Wilmington, Del. (Owner of
The McCall Co, Stock): The following are the names
and addresses of stockholders holding 1 per cent or
more of the capital stock of McCall Corporation:
Brown Brothers & Co., 59 Wall St., New York City;
Oliver B, Capen, 381 Fourth Ave., New York City; Car-
reau & Snedecker, 63 Wall St., New York City; Irving
M. Day, c/o Guaranty Trust Co. of New York, 140
Broadway, New York City; Morris E. Dent, e/o Guaranty
Trust Co. of New York, Madison Ave. and 60th St., New
York Ci Louis Eckstein, 36 So, State St., Chicago,
Ill; Henry J. Fisher, c/o United States Trust Co, of N.
¥.,'45 Wall St., New York City; Hamilton Gibson, 919
No, Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill.; Blanche 8, Giddens &
Chicago Title & Trust Co, as Trustees Under Last Will
and Testament of Louis M., Stumer, Deceased, 69 West
Washington St., Chicago, Ill; Guaranty Trust Co, of
NAb ay
Under’ Subdivision 1 of Article 19 of the Last Will &
Ottley, Lucetta G.
Stephen Hexter, 202 So.
140 Broadway, N. y
State St., Chicago, Ill; McCall Corporation, 230 Park
Ave., New York City; John P. Munn, 18 West 58th St.,
New York City; Sanford Robinson, 26 Liberty St., New
York City; jamin J. Rosenthal, 36 So. State St.,
Chicago, IL Sifleet & Co., 60 Broadway, New York
City; John K. Simpson, 63 Wall St., New’ York City;
Daniel W. Streeter, 514° Marine Trust Bldg., Buffalo, N.
Y.; Theodore F. Stuart, 19 Nassau St., New York City;
Wm. B. Warner, 230 Park Ave., New York City; Mrs.
Ada Bell Wilson, t Co., 233 Broadway,
New York City; son, ¢/o Irving Trust
Co., 233 Broadway, New York City.
3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other
security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or more
of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities
are: None.
4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving the
names of the owners, stockholders, and security holders,
if any, contain not’ only the list of stockholders and
security holders as they appear upon the books of the
company but also, in cases where the stockholder or. se- |
curity holder appears upon the books of the company as
trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of
the person or corporation for whom such trustee is act-
ing, is given; also that the said two paragraphs con-
tain statements embracing affiant’s full knowledge and
belief as to the circumstances and conditions under which
stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon
the books of the company as trustees, hold stock and
securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide
owner; and this afflant has no reason to believe that any
other person, association, or corporation has any interest
direct or indirect in the said stocks, bonds, or other se-
curities than as so stated by him.
John D. Hartman, Assistant Treasurer.
Sworn to and subseribed before me this 27th day of
March 1930, Grace A. Finn, Notary Public, New York
County No. 81. New York County Reg. No. 1F206. My
commission expires March 30, 1931.
“Hurry along!” cries Tiger Tom. “The party is already on!”
ANIMALS
N THE GARAGE?
ETTY BROWN had been married just a month. Her little home was com-
plete at last and she was very proud. “Let’s give a party—a housewarm-
ing,” she said to Bob one night.
“Oh,” groaned Bob, “You too! Til never forget the housewarming the Haw-
thornes gave, where there was nothing to do but admire and admire and then
admire some more. Then out came the delicatessen store chicken salad and the
half-baked chocolate cake that kept me awake with indigestion all night. No,
we can’t inflict anything like that on our friends.”
“But listen,” said Betty, “we won’t have the usual kind of housewarming.
We'll use the garage and the lawn. Here, look through this little booklet and see
just how amusing parties can be.”
Bob turned the leaves of the book and suddenly let out a shout. “Now
here’s my idea of a lot of fun—a Who’s Zoo Party. Everyone must represent a
different animal in the zoo and you and I will be the keepers. There are funny
animal games to play, and even the supper is a cinch. It says to have a help-
yourself supper on the porch, so you needn’t worry a bit about your precious
dining room rug. Let’s get busy with the invitations.”
The party was a huge success and it was voted the best of the season.
Much praise was given Betty on her ability as a cook. She had planned a simple
menu with foods that could be prepared the day before. There was a delicious,
cold ham and chicken mousse with crispy potato chips and hot buttered rolls
and a chilled tomato cole slaw salad. The dessert was ice cream in animal molds
and sugar cookies that had been cut out with animal cutters.
If you would like to give the kind of party Betty and Bob gave, send for
Unusual Entertaining and What to Serve at Parties—twenty cents each.
McCALL’S HOME SERVICE BOOKLETS AND LEAFLETS
Simple home treatments and health-
ful living can do much to clear up a
spotty skin; hands, feet, hair, and
general appearance can be improved.
Send for this new booklet to help
you solve your beauty problem.
An Outline of Beauty 25¢
Food
Would a Sunday night supper of
creamed consommé, lobster New-.
burg, hot biscuits, apple whip, cook-
ies, and coffee appeal to you? De-
licious—and yet the entire meal can
be prepared in half an hour from
foods taken from the pantry shelf.
Other quick ways are explained in
Time-Saving Cookery ....... -10¢
Is there anything more discouraging
than dozens of jars of preserves that
have turned bad? The answer is in
Some Reasons Why in Cookery ......10¢
How to Make Candies at Home
Preserving for Profit ....
How to Serve Afternoon Tea .
Wedding and Bride’s Cake
Vitamin Foods «0...
Quick Yeast Breads ....
Party Plans
Celebrations for all holidays, bridal
parties, and club affairs.
Unusual Entertaining ..... a.. 20¢
Bridges, dances, school affairs.
Parties for Children .... sarereseesnie OF
Jolly times for the little ones on
their birthdays and holidays.
A Dumb-bell Party .
Parties for the Fourth
A Turkey Bridge
Stork Showers ....
Money-Making Affairs
un OF.
.10¢
LOE
10¢
.10¢
A Gardener’s Fair „s...
Four Fairs . 2¢
Affairs for Churches . 2¢
Miscellaneous
The Family Budget ......c...s000000-20¢
Save money by the budget pla
Beautifying the Home Plot .20¢
Helpful advice on gardening
Dressmaking Made Easy ....e.ss0100025¢
Home sewing means more clothes,
smarter styles, finer materials at
one-half the cost.
Book of Etiquette . 20¢
What to do on all occasions; the
formalities of engagements and wed-
dings are also discussed.
Books You Ought to Own ..
Books on Church Problems .
8¢
8¢
Send Stamps to THE SERVICE EDITOR, McCALL’sS, DAYTON, OHIO
125
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126
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§436 5404 5435
No. 6195. Size 36, 234 yards 54-inch mate-
rial; contrasting, ¥% yard 39-inch. Width,
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No. 6168. Size 36, 4 yards 39-inch mate-
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No. 6162. Size 36, 534 yards 39-inch mate-
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No. 6183. Size 36, 4 yards 39-inch mate-
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No. 6174. Size 36, 534 yards 27-inch mate-
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No. 6179. Size 36, 3'/ yards 39-inch or 25%
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No. 6177. Size 36, 3% yards 35-inch mate-
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No. 6170. Size 36, 4!/p yards 32-inch or 4'/g
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No. 6194, Size 36, 34% yards 39-inch; con-
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No. 6173. Size 36, dress, 21/4 yards 54-inch;
coat, 23% yards 54-inch; collar, 1/2 yard 35-
inch. Width, about 1% yards.
No. 6180, Size 36, 4 yards 39-inch mate-
rial; contrasting, '/, yard 39-inch. Width,
about 2!/) yards.
No. 6165. Size 36, 5!/> yards 39-inch or 4
yards 54-inch. Width, about 13 yards.
No. 6176. Size 36, 4/4 yards 35-inch mate-
rial or 334 yards 39-inch; contrasting, '/2 yard
35- or 39-inch. Width, about 25% yards.
No. 6178. Size 36, 434 yards 35-inch mate-
6173 ;
rial or 4 yards 39-inch. Width, about 2 yards.
No. 6186. Size 16, 35 yards 35-inch or
3g yards 39-inch; contrasting, 34 yard 39-
inch. Width, about 2!/) yards.
No. 6187. Size 36, 53% yards 35-inch mate-
rial or 3'/g yards 54-inch. Width, about 21/2
yards,
No. 6163. Size 36, 45% yards 35-inch mate-
rial or 4/4 yards 39-inch, Width, about 3
yards.
No. 6184, Size 36, 3% yards 39-inch mate-
rial; contrasting, '/4 yard 39-inch for each
color. Width, about 2 yards.
No. 6188. Size 36, 73 yards 35-inch mate-
rial or 63 yards 39-inch; slip, 13 yards 39-
inch.
No. 6182. Size 36, 53g yards 35-inch mate-
rial or 434 yards 39-inch.
No. 6185. Size 36, 5 yards 35-inch or 43
yards 39-inch. Width, about 33% yards. {
No. 6192. Size 6, 134 yards 35-inch or 15%%
yards 39-inch; contrasting, |/2 yard 35-inch.
No. 6190. Size 12, 2l% yards 39-inch; con-
trasting, 3⁄4 yard 39-inch.
No. 5436. Size 4, I'/2 yards 27-inch or 11⁄8
yards 32-inch; binding, 2% yards.
No. 5404. Size 2, % yard 27-inch or '/
yard 32- or 36-inch; straps, '/4 yard 32- or
36-inch.
No. 5435. Size 2, I'/4 yards 27-inch or |
yard 32- or 40-inch; binding, 35% yards.
No. 6189. Size 10, 2'/g yards 35-inch mate-
rial or 2 yards 39-inch.
No, 6191. Size 8, 2 yards 32-inch or 134
yards 35- or 39-inch; contrasting, 2 yard 32-
inch.
No. 6164. Size 36, 434 yards 35-inch mate-
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No. 6166, Size 36, 7 yards 35-inch material
or 6% yards 39-inch. Width, about 5!/2 yards.
No. 6172. Size 36, 434 yards 35-inch or 4/4
yards 39-inch. Width, about 234 yards.
No. 6175. Size 36, 5!/4 yards 35-inch mate-
rial or 454 yards 39-inch.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
BITTER SWEET
[Continued from page 124]
two days’ absence of his in the city,
she came along the road to a gate
which opened upon her short cut to
the lake. Here stood a motor, very
shining and discreet, a uniformed
chauffeur motionless behind its wheel.
On the other side of the gate, under
the flaming trees, a slight woman, gray-
eyed with a sensitive, marred, charm-
ing face, looked up at Sue. After
looking, the eyes softened and deep-
ened, their owner came through the
gate.
“Are you Susan Rossiter?”
asked.
ahi Fa
Scarlet leaves drifted between them,
one clinging for an instant to the
woman’s veil; she moved it with a
sighing breath which just carried the
sound of “Poor child . . . poor
child . . .” She held out her hand. “I
hope you will bring him real happi-
ness, real peace, my dear. . . I was
his wife . . .”
She turned then and walked down
the road, from which she was drawn
away with a smooth humming.
she
ISTLESS and haunted, Sue wandered
down the path and, coming to the
landing-place too early for her rendez-
vous, she let herself down into the
moored canoe and sat there, sad and
idle. So possessed was she by the lovely
patient face of her lover’s wife that
when a movement on the bank drew
up her eyelids she expected to see the
ghost returned.
There stood, however, a quite differ-
ent figure . . . one half familiar, tall,
full-bodied, under whose eyes lay two
brown marks like autumn leaves. Averil
Wende was several years older than
Charles Derringer; that afternoon she
looked many more than several. Susan
rose, but before she could leave her
boat, the woman stepped out on the
landing and down carefully into the
stern to face her.
Averil unchained the canoe and
pushed off with a vigorous paddle.
“Now we can have an uninterrupted
talk, Sue Rossiter,” she said.
“You are Miss Wende?” Sue stam-
mered. Her heart resented this second
interview; it hung ill-balanced al-
ready under a freight of half recog-
nized emotion.
“Yes. I am Averil Wende. You’ve
heard of me?”
“T’ve seen you often, painting. I
think you do it beautifully.”
“Thank you.” Miss Wende drew off
her gloves, and took the paddle in her
strong artist hands. “I saw Charles to-
day in the city. At the end of our
talk, during which I tried—and failed,
my dear—to make him see my point,
he told me, just to prove his firmness,
that he was going to meet you here at
five o’clock. I caught an earlier train
and forestalled him, hoping you’d be a
little ahead. You see, I have something
to say to you.” She smiled quite nat-
urally and with a genuine sympathy.
“Its as much for your sake as for
mine.”
“What is for my sake, Miss Wende?”
The woman seemed cold again and
harder than she had been at first. “Be-
tween you and my—lover—there
hasn’t been much talk of loyalty, of
fidelity.”
Sue looked with all her eyes. “Your
a snare i
“Don’t pretend you never heard him
called that, Sue.”
“Oh, Charles has told me there was
gossip . . . I believed . . .”
“What Charles kasn’t told us! What
we haven’t believed!” The caldron of
pain which was this woman’s heart
boiled over. She threw down her paddle,
leaned over her locked and knit-
ted hands, fixed her eyes of concen-
trated violence like burning glasses on
the girl’s face and her story poured,
dark and wild, across her lips.
“Ive given my youth, my good
name, all that I have or ever will have.
Don’t you believe an honorable man
pays off such debts as these? Don’t
you believe that the man who doesn’t
feel the weight of such sacrifices about
his neck will carry other burdens care-
lessly? I trusted so to his promises
. . . I waited—so—for my happiness,
with a blind heart, with a dry throat.
Do you suppose I love secrecy and
hiding and shame . . . ? He gave his
best to me... You'll drink the dregs.
What’s left in such a heart? There was
that other girl—his wife—”
“Bushi,.... « MBA -s hush)...”
Sue prayed.
“Don’t you suppose he loved her,
and others, we don’t know! I must be-
lieve 7 had the best. But it’s gone. I
drank it dry. I was too greedy. After
all, why don’t I let you alone? Why
don’t I? There’s nothing for you. Noth-
ing real. If you love him, you'll go
thirsty all your life. . .”
Sue did not know she had stood up
in the canoe until she heard Averil say-
ing in a changed voice, “Sit down, you
little fool . . . do you want to upset
us? We’re too near the chute for that,
much too near . . . sit down. . .”
She didn’t even then understand.
She saw Charles Derringer running
down the path with a white face. He
looked frightened, yes, that was the
way he looked . . . frightened . . .
“Take him, both of you!” Sue said.
She flung out her hands. “He’s poisoned
for me. Take him, I tell you, take
inte
Averil crouched forward and laid
hold of her to pull her down. It was
Sue’s recoil from this touch that threw
the boat over, and as it sank, the cur-
rent caught them in its hurried hands.
Charles Derringer, flinging himself
from the end of the landing, came up
close to Sue where she struggled, gal-
lantly, tight-lipped, for her young life;
but, before he could reach her, Averil’s
face rose just behind him and two
strong wet hands closed round his
throat. He was wrapped about in blind
and drowning limbs, the woman’s
dreadful strength and weight pulled
him down and under, as though the
wieght of her misery had lent her aid,
down and under, past the depths of
love into the depths of death.
T SIGHT of those two terrible faces
Sue gave her first cry . . . and this
was her salvation. It was heard by a
factory hand loitering above them and
he, plunging down through the brush,
waded out into the channel down which
the overturned canoe had vanished and
caught Sue’s twisted clothing in the
hooked end of a branch. So he coaxed
and dragged and worried her out of the
fretting white-flecked water and, once
in his hands, he found her light enough.
He did not know who the half-
drowned little lady was but after a
period of hard-breathing rumination he
carried her up to the old Curtin house
on the hill above the lake.
For one merciful minute after her
consciousness returned, Sue did not re-
member. She looked up at Roger where
he sat beside her and her eyes, as
though they saw the happy future,
widened into a dewy shining and there
stole across her face a wan child-smile.
Afterward, this stiffened and she turned
her face away and wept.
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
WILD WIND
[Continued from page 25]
And now Sue took admiration where
she could get it. Even Joel went over
gladly to play bridge at the Gilmans’.
There was always a gay crowd; and
Sue in the rustling taffeta gowns which
she affected, of turquoise and apple-
green and orange was a brilliant and
arresting figure.
Jacqueline did not blame him, yet
she was always afraid. “What if he
should find someone, some day, who
would make him care less for Mary?”
But she put the thought behind her.
Joel was good-looking and attractive;
but he would never, never, forget what
Mary had been to him.
ACQUELINE had hoped as she had
said in her letter that when Yolanda
came she would fill Joel’s life for him.
But water and oil do not mix, nor do
those of Joel’s generation and of Yo-
landa’s. Joel admired his daughter im-
mensely, but he was not at ease with
her. “She’s too modern for me, Jack,”
he had complained; “and as for those
boys that hang about her... .”
He hated the thought of lovers for
Yolanda. “The child’s too young!”
But now as Jacqueline watched her
dancing, Yolanda did not seem young.
Not with that unselfconscious youth
which had belonged to her aunt and
her mother. All of the girls of Yo-
landa’s set gave an effect of sophisti-
cation.
Yolanda, holding up her glass for
Stuart to pour more ginger ale, called,
“Why aren’t you eating, Aunt Jack?”
“TIl have something later.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s having supper with the Gil-
mans. There are some people up from
Boston.”
“Good,” Yolanda shelved Joel, drank
her ginger ale, and again danced with
Stuart. Stuart’s devotion to Yolanda
seemed unabated, yet, of late, Jac-
queline had noticed a difference in its
quality. It was as if during his years
at college, he had learned that a rich
and attractive man might have his
pick of the girls he gathered about
him. Yolanda still held her head high
and issued her com-
mands; but Stuart
yielded with an air of
amusement rather than
with the eagerness he
had once displayed. He
was listening now to all
she said, and laughing.
But -when Yolanda a
little later urged some
plan for the evening of
which he did not ap-
prove, Stuart said mas-
terfully, “No,” nor
could she shake his de-
cision.
Yolanda affected an
attitude of good-
humored acquiescence
which Jacqueline was sure she did not
feel. Three years ago, Yolanda would
have stayed at home if Stuart had at-
tempted to play the master. But to-
night she did not stay. Before they
left she asked the night nurse who was
passing through on her way to the
kitchen, “Is Mums awake?”
“Yes.”
“TIl run up and see her for a minute
before we go.”
“Don’t tell her you are going for a
sail,” Jacqueline advised.
“Why not?”
“Oh, she hates to have you out at
night.”
“Silly. Oh, she'll get used to it,
Aunt Jack.”
Upstairs, Jacqueline’s dress lay on
the bed. It was white, like a bride’s,
without sleeves and with a little coat.
And there was a white fox fur, and a
white felt hat. She wouldn't wear the
hat tonight, however, for Kit would
want to see her hair.
She slipped the sleeveless frock over
her head and went again to the mirror.
She drew a quick breath as she saw
her reflection. The years had dropped
from her, She was the child Kit had
known, the child Kit had loved; and
she was going to meet him... .
Suddenly, all her small vanities
seemed shallow. What would Kit care
for shining hair and subtle perfumes?
She was his and he was hers, and had
been from the beginning!
She put on the little coat, and with
the white fur in her hand went down-
stairs. The house was very still as she
opened the door and followed the path
through the garden. On the high bluff
was Kit, her lover, and for the mo-
ment there was no one else who mat-
tered in the whole wide world.
She saw him at last, standing under
the white stars, and she heard herself
crying, “Kit, Kit, is it really you?”
Then she was-in his arms, and all the
rest was a. whirling ecstasy.
And after a while, she said, “Oh,
Kit, to think you waited!”
He drew her closer, “It was wort!
it? $ a
“Was it, darling?”
“Yes, to have you now, like this...”
She clung to him, “I wanted you so
much.”
“T know.”
She was shaken by a storm of feel-
ing. His strength was hers, his adora-
tion. Never again would she be alone,
afraid of life, unhappy. “It is heavenly
to have you, Kit.”
He led her presently to the shadow
of a great rock, which overlooked the
sea, and she sat with her head against
his shoulder, and all the night was a
glory round about them. And there
they talked of their plans. She was
to go home and tell Mary and Joel
and Yolanda. And as soon as possible,
she and Kit would be married, and
have their honeymoon
at Kit’s camp in Maine
—a long rest and a hol-
iday before they were
off for India.
It was late when
they parted. He went
with her as far as the
garden, and there he
picked a white rose
which was silver in the
starlight, and tucked it
in her hair.
“PIL come tomor-
row,” Kit said. He
kissed the rose in her
hair, and then her lips.
“You are lovelier than
ever.”
“Really, Kit?”
“Really, blessed one! And now I
must go. Can you hold me in your
heart until tomorrow morning?”
“I can hold you in my heart—for-
ever .:'...”
WHEN she entered the house Jac-
queline went at once upstairs to
see Mary. In the upper hall she was
met by Miss Ogden. “Mrs. Hutchins
is in great pain,” she said, “you'd bet-
ter not go in.”
“Ts she worse?”
“No. But she suffers, and she hates
to have me give her an opiate. She
wants to bring herself out of it. I’ve
persuaded her to let me put on hot
towels. That will ease things a bit.”
[Continued on page 128]
127
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128
“Can I help you?”
“Not now.” She turned back into the room but
stopped to say, “How lovely you look, Miss Griffith.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s just sweet.”
Jacqueline smiled at her, and went downstairs again.
The night was warm, so she took off her little coat, and
stood bare-armed, looking out of the sun room window.
Under the great lamp that lighted the pier, she saw
Stuart’s boat arrive, and a little later he and Yolanda
climbed the hill together. When, however, Yolanda
came into the room she was alone. She gazed at her
aunt, as Jacqueline turned to greet her. “For Pete’s
sake, Aunt Jack!”
“What’s the matter?”
“What have you done to yourself?”
“Bought a new dress.”
“It isn’t just the dress. It’s everything . . . ” Yolanda
was puzzled. Then as her mind went back through the
years. “You're shining, just as you used to be.” She
caught at Jacqueline’s hand, “Aunt Jack, has Kit come
home?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“T saw him for the first time tonight.”
“Here?”
“No. On the bluff.”
Yolanda was staring at her, “When’—the words
seemed to come with difficulty—“when are you going to
be—married.”
“As soon as possible.”
“How soon is that?”
“Oh, a month, perhaps. And then a honeymoon at
Kit’s camp—and then, India.”
Yolanda was still as a statue, her face dead white in
its frame of bright hair. “Oh, well you deserve all the
happiness that is coming to you.”
SHE went to the window and stood looking down at
the lights in the harbor. “I think Kit’s been marvel-
ous,” she said over her shoulder. “Not many men are
like that—constant. Half of them don’t know their own
minds; they leave the women to make up their minds
for them.”
“It seems to me,” Jacqueline said, “that if a woman
had to make up a man’s mind for him, he wouldn’t be
worth having.”
“Our generation is different,” Yolanda argued, lean-
ing back on her hands. “In your generation the men
wooed, and wooed hard. That was because the girls had
oodles of proposals and could pick and choose. But now,
the men are in demand, and the girls have to work for
what they get.”
Jacqueline opened her lips, byt before she could an-
swer, Miss Ogden came running down. Her left arm was
wrapped in a towel, her face was flushed and drawn. “I
have burned myself,” she said, “badly. I was lifting the
pan and let it slip, and the boiling water poured over
me. I've put on a lot of ointment, and the pain isn’t so
bad. But I must have a doctor.”
The doctor came, but another nurse was not to be
had until morning.
Having made Miss Ogden comfortable in one of the
guest chambers, Jacqueline went in to Mary. The room
was lighted faintly by a low lamp, and by that faint
light Jacqueline saw that things had been left exactly as
they were at the time of Miss Ogden’s catastrophe. Yo-
landa, in a Chinese coat. sat in a big chair, with her
feet under her, apparently oblivious of the confusion
about her.
Jacqueline got into a wash frock and tied on an
apron, and when Joel arrived a little later, he found her
in Mary’s room on her knees, sopping up the water with
a sponge. Yolanda was still curled up in the big chair
talking to her mother.
“I'm sorry I'm late.” Joel began, then uttered a
startled exclamation. “What's happened? Where’s Miss
Ogden?”
Yolanda told him.
Joel leaned down and kissed Mary. “I should have
been here, dearest, but we went for a sail after supper.
It’s a gorgeous night.”
“Yolanda was sailing, too,” Mary said. “Joel do you
think I shall ever go sailing under the stars?”
The wistfulness in her voice brought her husband to
his knees, “I thought of you a dozen times tonight,
sweetheart, and wished you were with me.”
“Did you, Joel, really?”
“Really, Mary.”
It was decided that Jacqueline should sleep on the
couch in Mary’s room, and that Yolanda was to keep an
eye on Miss Ogden.
Yolanda and her father went downstairs together.
“Do you want anything to eat, Daddy?” Yolanda asked.
“Not a thing, my dear. If I don’t look out I'll lose
my figure; and the Gilmans had a feast for the gods.
There was chicken with curry, and a salad of chilled
asparagus with cress and green peppers—and—”
WILD WIND
[Continued from page 127]
Yolanda broke in with, “Aunt Jack’s going to be
married.”
“Married?” Joel’s countenance had the dazed look
of a man struck suddenly on the head.
“Yes,”
“Who’s she going to marry?”
“Kit, of course.”
“But my dear child, their engagement was broken off
years ago.”
“Tt was never really broken, Dad. She let people
think it, but she has always felt that when she was free
Kit would come back to her.”
“Free, what do you mean, Yolanda?”
Yolanda sat up straight and looked at him,
us, Daddy. Free of the whole darned famil
“We're not a darned family, Yolanda.”
“We are. We've been perfect pigs! But being us. we
couldn’t help it, and Aunt Jack being Aunt Jack
couldn’t help it either.”
“But I can’t quite see... .
“Oh, well, she wouldn’t have been happy with us
all at loose ends; so she has waited until I was out of
school, and until Joey could go away... .”
Joel stuck his hands in his pockets and considered
it. “We're going to miss her a lot. I'm afraid we can’t
ever repay her for all she’s done for us, Yolanda.”
“Oh, well... . she’s got Kit... .” Yolanda stood
up. “I’m dead for sleep. If you hear Miss Ogden’s bell,
just call me, Daddy. I told her not to hesitate to wake
me if she wanted me.”
She kissed him on the cheek as she passed him. “Nice
old Daddy,” she murmured.
He caught at her hand, “Love me?”
“You know I do.”
“I’m a bit—lonely sometimes, Yolanda.”
Her arm went around his neck. “I’m not much at
saying things, Daddy, but I'll try to make up for a
lot ene
“My dear child”—his tone was tense. He held her
close for a moment, her bright head against his coat.
Yolanda, fighting against the net that was drawing her
in, curbing her freedom, weighting her down with cares.
was aware that Joel was already caught in the net. It
had begun with the war, and then—Patsy, and then his
leg, and then her mother’s illness.
And now she, too, Yolanda, was caught. She wanted
to go to Wales more than she wanted anything in her
life, and she couldn't go because Aunt Jack was going
to be married. Fate had it in for her; but she wouldn't
submit tamely. There must be some way out.
‘Free of
”
Upstairs, Jacqueline having set the room in perfect
order, lay down on the couch. She was spent with ex-
citement. The hours had been packed full since Kit
had tucked the silver rose in her hair. The rose was
still there, she had forgotten it in the midst of the old
heart-breaking worries.
Ws it too late for her ever to find happiness?
Hadn't she been so long a part of this household
that the tearing apart would be like the tearing of flesh?
Yet, before she slept, peace came in the thought of
Kit. He was strong, wise. He would be a bulwark against
the storms which had assailed her. She would go with
him, curled up in his heart hidden from all the cruel
blasts in the nest that he would build for her.
The next morning Jacqueline told Mary that she was
going to be married. It was very early in the morning,
before the day nurse came, and while Miss Ogden was
still sleeping. Mary was much better, and took the news
calmly. “I shall hate having you go, Jack; but it is
splendid to know that Kit has come for you.”
Jacqueline outlined her plans. “It will be a very quiet
wedding.” i
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
“I don’t see why it should be. I should think you’d
want to ring bells and sound cymbals after all this wait-
ing. And we've a big house and a lot of friends, and
Yolanda could be your bridesmaid.”
Jacqueline shook her head. “I'd rather put on a white
dress and run around the corner to the little church,
and come back and have a party up here in your room.”
“Kit’s position demands more formality than that,
dearest.”
“I don’t care anything about Kit’s position . . .
“But you know he’s rich now, Jacqueline.”
“Tf he is, what matter? He’s my same Kit.”
Mary laughed and patted her hand. “You'll never
grow up, darling. But whether you'll admit it or not,
you're really making a grand match.” She lay looking
out toward the east. The sun had not yet risen, and the
sky was suffused with the white pearl of the dawn. “I
wonder what Sue will think of it,” she said.
“She’s probably forgotten that she ever cared.”
“No, she hasn’t forgotten.”
“But she never speaks of him, Mary.”
“Which shows how much he means to her.”
”
UT Jacqueline didn’t want to talk about Sue. Some
day, perhaps, Kit would tell her, and she could wait.
She was glad, therefore, when Yolanda appeared in
the doorway. “I heard you talking. How are you this
morning, Mums?”
“Much better.”
“I had a beastly night. Miss Ogden slept but I
couldn't. I'm going for a swim. I adore the water at this
time in the morning.”
“I don’t like to have you out alone,” Mary said.
“I shan’t be alone. Stuart’s coming.”
“Stuart? How did he know?”
“T called him up. And we won't be back to breakfast.
I’m taking bacon and bread, and a thermos of coffee,
and we'll build a fire on the rocks.”
“But my dearest...”
“Oh, don’t be stuffy, Mums. You're going to say that
we oughtn’t to eat in our bathing suits, or that we ought
to have somebody along to play propriety. But I shan’t
listen, darling,” she crossed the room and cupped her
mother’s face in her hands, “Oh, Mummy, Mummy,
you're such a back number.”
“Am I, “Landa?”
“You are. And you've got to trust your darling daugh-
ter not to hang her clothes on a hickory limb, or go too
near the water.”
“Please put on your coat, “Landa,” her mother begged.
Yolanda wrapped it about her. “I bought it the other
day in Boston. Like it?”
“Yes,” Jacqueline said. “You have the art of choos-
ing things. I shall want you to go with me to Boston
and help me buy my wedding clothes.”
“Not to Boston. New York.”
“But why desert our home town?”
“Because Stuart will be in New York next week and
the week after, and he says he'll give me the time of
my life if I'll come. And you know Mums and Dad
wouldn't let me go alone. So we'll kill two birds with
one stone. Wedding clothes, n’everything.”
She kissed the tips of her fingers and fluttered them
in a gay “Goodbye.” She had, as she had told them,
spent a dreadful night. But now she was going to meet
Stuart, and nothing else mattered.
The telephone rang, and Marta came to say it was
for Miss Griffith.
Kit was at the other end of the line. He was stopping
at the big hotel on the town side, and he was wondering
if he and Jack couldn't run away and have breakfast to-
gether. He simply couldn't wait until later to see her.
“I thought I could, but I can’t. And I know a wonder-
ful place on the North Shore.”
“Kit, I've just had my coffee, and the day nurse hasn’t
come, and the night nurse burned her arm, and Yo-
landa’s gone swimming.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing that I can think of.”
“Well, not any of it counts with me. You're going to
have breakfast with me. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”
PAR re el?
There was no answer. He had hung up the receiver.
Jacqueline was thrilled by his high-handedness. She flew
upstairs, stripped off her morning frock of blue linen,
and got into a skirt and sweater of white wool.
She gave breathless orders to Marta about the family
breakfast. “TIl not be back. You and cook must see to
things.”
As she stepped out of the front door, she met Joey.
He too, had been for his morning swim, and was wrapped
in his bathrobe, with his pale gold hair plastered close
to his head.
“Darling,” Jacqueline said, all flushed and radiant,
“Tm running away.”
“Where are you going?”
She put her hands on his shoulders, “Joey, I am go-
ing to be married.” [Turn to page 130]
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
129
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130
So absorbed had she been in her own happiness that
she had not considered the effect of her abrupt an-
nouncement on Joey. He had been smiling his bright
confident boy’s smile, but her words swept the smile
from his face—‘You mean—” his voice caught, “you
are going to be married—now?”
“Oh, no, Joey. But Kit has come back and I am hav-
ing breakfast with him this morning.”
“I don’t think I—like it. Does it mean you’re going
away?”
“Yes. To India.”
Then he said a strange thing for a child to say, “My
heart aches.” But Joey had the maturity of the poet-
mind; and this was no pose. Not another soul would
miss her as would this slender lad who had been for
so many years so close in spirit. Now he said,
“Oh, well, Aunt Jack, you’ve got to be happy.”
And when the car came he shook hands with Kit,
and said, with that odd air of maturity, “The
only thing I’ve got against you is that you’re go-
ing to take Aunt Jack away.”
Kit said, heartily, “I had to. But what about
your coming out to us some day?”
“To India?”
“Yes. It would be a tremendous lark, wouldn’t
it?”
Joey was lighted up. “TIl say it would!”
“Well, then that’s settled. Our boats are al-
ways going back and forth—a slow voyage, but a
stunning one. We’ll plan for next year—it won’t
hurt him to lose a few months from school, will
it, Jacqueline?”
“No, he’s far ahead of the boys of his age.”
The big car slid away, with Joey waving, and
when they were out of hearing, Jacqueline said,
“Kit, how do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Settle things with a gesture. Joey was so un-
happy, and now he’ll dream all day of coming
out to us.”
Kit laughed. “If I could have settled you with
a gesture, Id have done it long ago. To even
things up, I'll have to rule you for the rest of
your life.”
They came at last to the place Kit had chosen,
the house of a retired skipper, who, with his own
hands, cooked the food he served his guests;
and there they had Rhode Island corn bread, and
crisp small pan fish and clear strong coffee.
go SITTING there in the sweet and shining
little room, with the sound of the sea in their
ears and the sight of it in their eyes, Kit poured
out his heart. It was a long history of a man’s
loneliness, of a man’s constancy. “Now that I
look back, I wonder how I did it. I wonder why
I didn’t come and carry you off; but something
always warned me. There was a part of you
which didn’t belong to me, that would never be-
long until you called me back, and so—I went on
living as best I could—and waiting—and there has
never been any other woman.”
Then, before she knew it, she was asking. “Did
you ever love—Sue?”
He gazed at her for a moment in silence before
he asked, “What makes you ask that?”
“Well, there’s that heart by the fireplace in
your old house, and your initials and Sue’s in it.”
“Who told you I carved it?”
“Miss Phoebe.”
“Why did she tell you?”
“T don’t know.”
“And you—thought I had—cared?” There was
a touch of sternness in his voice.
“What else could I think?”
His face softened. “I know. And here’s the
story. It was Valentine’s Day and Sue and I, just boy
and girl, were popping corn over the coals, and making
rhymes to fit the day; Sue borrowed my knife and cut
the heart, and I put in the initials; and we laughed, and
it was all a great joke, and that was the end of it. I
never thought of it again, until one night Sue came to
the library and—” he stopped.
“And what Kit?”
He laid his hand on hers. “She wanted to dig up what
she called our old romance . . . and there wasn’t any
. never had been.” He shook his shoulders as if he
shook the thought away from him. “But why should
we waste our time with this, my blessed one? It’s past
and gone—forever.”
Stuart would not, under any circumstances, have
called Yolanda, “My blessed one.” He didn’t think of
her that way. He thought of her as challenging, charm-
ing, arousing his man’s sense of conquest by her sudden
flares of independence. But of that spiritual quality
which drew Kit and Jacqueline together, he knew noth-
ing. He was apt in his most melting moods to call Yo-
landa, “Dear thing.” It was the best he could do, and he
WILD WIND
[Continued from page 128]
did it now. “Dear thing, what about the New York
trip?”
“Aunt Jack is going down to buy clothes and I am
going down to sell myself to you!”
The impudence of her! “If you meant that you
wouldn’t say it.”
“I do mean it . . . You've changed a lot, Stuart.
You're spoiled. And you’re too good to go to waste like
that. What you need is a friend who knows your faults
and tells you of them. But you don’t look upon me as a
12 GOOD REASONS
FOR LEAVING HOME
Because You Can Take Along
“RADIO ROMEOS”
By Mary Margaret McBride
The stranger-than-fiction romances
of stars who grace the air
“MEN ARE SO SIMPLE”
(When a girl is 18)
By Fannie Kilbourne
“WOMEN ON THE SHELF”
By Elizabeth Jordan
An answer to the question of retired wives
and mothers: “What is there for me to do?”
A southern girl hitches her wagon to
_ a Broadway star and rides
“ROUGH ROADS IN HEAVEN”
A rollicking story
By Edwin Dial Torgerson
“IN MINIATURE:SUE POLLARD”
Hostess to the South at twenty-three
By Selma Robinson
“HANDS OFF!”
By Elinore Cowan Stone
These six—and a half dozen other
brilliant features appear in the
AUGUST McCALL’S
friend . . . you just list me with all the other lovelorn
lassies who wait for your smile . . . ” she shrugged her
white shoulders; “and I’m not. That’s why I’ve got to
sell you the idea of friendship, with a very large F. It
is really a lovely relationship, Stuart.”
“But just what do you mean by it?”
“Oh, companionship, confidences, but no kisses.”
“Nothing new about that—but it isn’t my fault if you
go to your grave unkissed.”
“No,” she had been tending the toast, and now ac-
cepted his offering of bacon on a slice of it. “No, noth-
ing new. But something defined. Otherwise we might
drift.”
“Drift where... ?”
“Away from each other, precious.” She tossed a crust
into the flames of the little fire, and gave him a long
level glance from beneath her lashes, “away—away—
away.” Her white arm seemed to wave him to some
distant spot on the horizon. “Another girl for you—
another boy for—me!”
“There isn’t going to be any other girl for me.”
“Well, there might be another boy—for me.”
McCALL’S MAGAZINE JULY 1930
“Cut that out, Yolanda.”
“Why?” Coolly. “It can’t go on this way, Stuart.
Crumbs from the king’s table. You’ve been handing out
your favors to me lately, as you handed me that strip
of bacon, casually; and I won’t have it.”
“Oh, look here, Yolanda.”
“Well, last night on your boat. Four girls—one every
fifteen minutes and saying the same things to all of us.”
He laughed. “Jealous?”
She nodded her head. “Yes. I missed the friend who
used to be mine.”
There was a shake in her voice, which brought him
to his feet. “I am all yours, if that’s any satisfaction to
you.” He was very much in earnest, his fair face
flushed. “That’s why I want you to go to Wales. . .
why mother wants it. She likes you a lot,” he
drew a deep breath, “and I want you to marry
me, Yolanda.”
She sat still as a statue for a moment, then
turned to him and said, “You darling . . . ” and
wept a little on his shoulder, as her mother and
grandmother had wept before her.
N THE days that followed, Jacqueline saw lit-
tle of her niece. The child was forever up and
away, going and coming in a sort of rushing ex-
citement. And it was not until the two of them
were in the train, on their way to New York and
their shopping adventure, that she noticed Yo-
landa was very pale and quiet. Even when they
reached the hotel by the Park, and came into the
rooms which Joel had engaged for them, she
showed little enthusiasm. Yet when the telephone
rang and she found Stuart at the other end, she
was lighted as by a flame. “He’s downstairs, and
wants me to have tea with him, Aunt Jack.”
“You might tell him that Kit has invited the
three of us to dine with him.”
“Here?”
“Yes,”
Yolanda having relayed all this to Stuart, went
down to meet him, and Jacqueline stood looking
out of the window at the peaceful scene below.
Except for the noise, and the castellated line of
skyscrapers beyond the Park on the west, she
might have been miles away from the metropolis.
Jacqueline told Kit about it all later. He had
come up to her sitting room, and they were wait-
ing for Yolanda, who was not dressed, and for
Stuart who had not arrived.
A door opened, and they turned to see in the
threshold Yolanda. The room was lighted only by
lamps, but Yolanda shone with an effulgence
which spread a glory round about her.
“Aunt Jack says we’re going on to a play
afterward. You were a dear to ask Stuart.”
“I did it in self-defense. No Stuart, no Yo-
landa.”
“It’s not as bad as that. Aunt Jack and I are
going to run around alone all day tomorrow.”
“No, you're not. Your Aunt Jack it going to
lunch with me at India House, and nobody is
asked but ourselves.”
During the hour that followed Yolanda was
brilliant, gay, whimsical. Stuart delighted in her.
In the dining room and in the theater people
turned to look at her; and she knew it, and
played up to their admiration with a somewhat
regal air of remoteness.
After the theater, she and Stuart went off to
dance, and Kit and Jacqueline had a few minutes
alone in the lounge of the hotel.
Jacqueline had been for a long time in bed be-
fore she heard Yolanda come. She did not open
the door between the rooms, and Jacqueline fell
asleep thinking of the child’s affair with Stuart.
It was fast and furious; but nothing would surely come
of it. They were both so young.
When she waked in the morning, she went in to see
Yolanda and found her awake and propped up on her
pillows. “I’ve ordered orange juice and coffee sent up
for both of us,” she told her aunt, “and toast for you.
Aunt Jack, I’ve got to tell you. I’m going to marry
Stuart.”
“Marry—Stuart !”
“Yes. Right away. Oh, Aunt Jack, haven’t you seen it
coming? I love you and I love Mother. But I love
Stuart more than either of you. And Stuart isn’t like
Kit. He loves me, but if he can’t have me . . . he'll find
somebody else. And I won’t—lose him. There’s no rea-
son why if I get married, you should have to stay at
home. I know you'll say that Mother needs one of us;
but it isn’t Mother’s life we are thinking about, is it,
but yours and mine? Of course if Mother means more
to you than Kit, then you’ll have to stay with her; but
Stuart means more to me than anyone else in the whole
wide world, and that’s why I’m going to marry him!”
[Concluded in Avcust McCatt’s]
No. 237—Typical two-piece
suite from the Standard Qual-
ity group. Large sofa of ser-
pentine design and extradeep
cushioning. Smart button-
back chair tomatch. Covered
all around in rich taupe mo-
hair withreversible cushions
of colorful jacquard mo-
quette. Same suite available
in many other beautiful col-
ors. Kroehler non-warping
hardwood frame and patent-
ed Spring Steel Undercon-
struction. Davenport bedin
place of sofa at small extra
cost. Thetwopieces pricedat
only $150. Extrachair to har-
monize, where three pieces
are desired, $48.50 ....-
"150
All prices slightly higher in Western
Canada
No. 939—Kroehler’s finest
quality. Luxurious sofaand
button-back chairto match.
Covered all around in rich,
silver taupe mohair. Rever-
sible cushions of jacquard
moquette. Kroehler non-
warping hardwood frame.
Patented Spring Steel Un-
derconstruction. Daven-
port bed in place of sofa at
slightly higher cost. May
also be had in a choice of
many otherattractivecover-
ings. The two pieces, $230.
Lounge chair No, 8956 in
figured green tapestry, $75.
230
3 Now being displayed by Kroehler dealers everywhere
Super-Value Living Room
Suites—
each offering the utmost
of proved quality at the
quoted price
ERHAPS you are considering your need for
new furniture in the living room—and hesi-
tating because of the expense. If so, the Kroehler
dealer in your locality has a surprise for you.
He is displaying Kroehler’s new value stand-
ards—three new and amazing groups of Living
Room Suites at standardized prices—which have
completely revolutionized “values” in living
room furniture of recognized quality.
Each of these groups represents the utmost in
good qualities at the price quoted. Never before
has such value-per-dollar, in style, comfort and
long wear, been offered.
Famous Kroehler Features
Each of these fine looking suites, regardless of
price, hasthe two features upon which Kroehler’s
reputation forsturdy construction has been built.
(1) A non-warping frame of finest hardwoods
(2) The patented Kroehler Spring Steel Under-
construction in place of ordinary webbing.
Only Kroehler’s vast resources, purchasing
power, and modern manufacturing program
could offer so much fine furniture quality at
these decidedly moderate prices.
One typical suite from each price group is
illustrated, described and priced here. Many
other styles are being offered by your dealer.
Make these new value standards your buying
guide —your standards of comparison. See them
today. Ifyou do notrecall the location of a Kroeh-
ler dealer, write us at once. We will send the
name and address promptly—also a copy of our
booklet, “Enjoyable Living Rooms by Kroehler.”
KROEHLER MFG. CO., CHICAGO, ILL.
or STRATFORD, CANADA
Factories at: Chicago, Ill.; Naperville, Ill.; Kankakee, Ill.; Bradley, Ill.;
Dallas, Texas; Binghamton, N.Y.; Los Angeles, Calif.;San Francisco, Calif.;
Cleveland, Ohio. Canadian Factories: Stratford, Ont., and Montreal, Que.
LIVING ROOM FURNITURE & DAVENPORT BEDS
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© 1930 The C. P. Co.