.Sbedtime story*
* THORNTON^B^^ESS^P
PETER DISCOVERS LINNET
IT DIDN’T take I’eter Rabbit long
to Und the sweet singer whose
happy trills hael caught his atten
tlon. lie spied him sitting on the
top of a fir tree in Farmer Brown's
yard. I’eter didn't elare go over
there for ulrnytdy It wns broad day
light. But he didn’t have to, fot
the sweet singer flew over to the
Did Orchard and alighted Just over
Peter’s head. “Hello, Peter I” be
cried.
“Hello, Linnet 1“ cried Peter. “1
was wondering who It could be who
was singing like that. I ought to
have known, but you see It Is so
Hello, Linnet!” Cried Peter.
long since I’ve heard you sing that
I couldn’t remembet you. song. I’m
Just dying to talk to somebody.”
Linnet the Purple Finch, for this
II who It was, laughed right out.
“1 see you’re still the same old
Peter,” said he. “1 suppose you’re
Just as full of curiosity as ever, and
Just as full of questions. Well, here
1 am, so what shall we talk about?"
“Yes," said Peter promptly.
“Lately I’ve found out so many stir
prising things about my feathered
friends that I want t«, know more.
I’m trying to get it straight In m.v
head who Is related to who. and
I’ve found out some things which
have begun to make me feel that
1 know very little about my feath
ered neighbors. It’s getting so that
I don’t even dare guess who a per
son’s relatives are. If you please,
Linnet, what family do you belong
to?”
Linnet flew down a little nearer
to Peter. “Look me over, Peter,"
said he, with twinkling eyes. “Look
me over and see If you can’t tell for
yourself.”
Peter stared solemnly at Linnet.
He saw a bird of sparrow size
whose entire body was a rose red.
j ’joYou Know—
-,
| That an average-size tree
i with a spread of 50 feet of
I foliage under normal condi
j ditions throws off five bar
* rels of water a day in the
form of vapor. This is at
tracted to the clouds and re
turns to the earth as rain.
by McClure Newspaper Syndicate
WNU Service
brightest on the head, darkest on
the back, and palest on the breast.
Underneath he was whitish. His
wings and tall were brownish, the
outer parts of the fentTiers edged
with rose red. His bill was short
and stout. Before I’eter could reply,
Mrs. Linnet appeared. There wasn’t
so much ns a touch of that beaut!
ful rose red about her. Her gray
lsh brown bnck wns streaked with
black. Her white breast and sides
were spotted with streaks of brown.
Had she not been with Linnet, Peter
certainly would have taken her for
a sparrow. She locked so much
like one that he ventured to say, “1
guess you belong to the Spnrrow
family.”
“That's pretty close, Peter, that's
pretty close," declared Linnet. “We
belong to the Pinch branch of the
family, which makes the Sparrows
our cousins, but they never can
mistake me. There Is nobody else
my size with a red coat like mine.
Hello I Here comes Cousin Chlco
ree."
©. T. W. Burgess.— WNU Servlc#.
THROUGH A
W>maris Eyes
By JEAN NEWTON
SOMEWHERE, EVERY DAY
<t r> KITE It take coats along."
D "Coats 1 Why It’s a warm
summer flay I”
•‘But you know how the weather
changes—you're going up Into the
mountains In an open car—"
"Oh mother If you'd only stop
worrying I"
The weather did change. In fact
a violent storm broke, and the young
people were none too comfortable
or safe from chills, driving through
torrential rain In an open car—In
spite of the wraps which were the
result of persistent nagging on the
part of a mother who worried Intol
erably about the most preposterous
things. For Instance—coats on a
day when It was 78 In the shade 1
The same mother, or one of her
clan, makes herself obnoxious on
the back sent of a car on such occa
sions as night driving on wet roads
—and even In broad daylight when
there’s a bit of traffic or the road Is
winding or narrow.
“Not so fast," she keeps saying.
“If you had to stop short on this
wet road you’d skid."
“But I don’t have to stop. Now
why should I worry about stop
ping!"
"You might have to—If a car sud
denly came out of that side road
we Just passed—or one of those
foolish drivers came tearing down
the middle of tills narrow road—”
“Oh mother, you take all the Joy
out of life. If only you’d stop wor
rying I"
It has been said that even worry
has Its good uses—that Is, some
thing that Is frequently called wor
ry. It Is really foresight. It Is
really Imagination, considering con
tingencies which are not In. the or
dinary routine of things but which
happen, somewhere, every day. If
It were not for accidents, compe
tent swimmers would never lose
their lives In the water. Yet they
do. If It were not for the unexpect
ed. for the outrageously unexpected
behavior of some other driver, few
people would he hurt In an automo
bile. Yet thousands every year are
killed In tills way.
True, we cannot provide ngalnst
everything. But we can make past
happenings serve us to prevent
trouble, we cnn use our imagina
tion for protective foresight And
If that Is worry, then It Is a good,
a valuable kind of worry.
©. Belt Syndicate.—WNU Service.
r Muscle Man Learns to Be an Actor
MUSCLh MAN, young son ot Chlel Loud Voice ot the l'uscaroras, Is
here seen rehearsing the port be Is to play In the pageant drama of
Old Fort Niagara, the great historical presentation which Is to be one
feature of the Four-Nation celebration at Niagara, September 8 to 1
Muscle Man Is one of 500 Indians In the pageant drama’s full-costumed
cap* of 8,000.
|
Here’s the Fireless Steam Locomotive
I> hlUAltOKD Ht drst as a were whimsy ot u ruucitui inventor, W. ,1. Kretner's tireless steam locomotive It
being successfully utilized In the Brooklyn Navy yard. This latest product of the machine age dlspensei
with the conventional tire box, but boasts Instead a water tank. Capable of moving at 12 miles per hour,
the engine has treble the power of other engines Its size.
I IP A IP A KNOWS-I
“Pop, what It boredom?"
“Dog under stove.”
<0). Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service
Question Box
By ED WYNN
The Perfect Fool
Dear Mr. Wynn:
I have Just arrived In America
from my home In Ireland. I al
ways heard this was the land of
opportunity. In fact, since child
hood I have heard you can pick gold
up In the streets In this country.
When 1 got off the boat yesterday I
saw something shining on the
ground. 1 picked It up and, sure
enough, It was a flve-dollnr gold
piece. 1 was going to put It In my
pocket whtn 1 noticed a man hold
ing his hat In his hand and a sign
on him read: “Please help the
blind”—so I dropped the flve-dollar
FAVORITE RECIPES
THE following recipes have been
chosen from prize dishes or cher
ished recipes:
A Prize Salad.
lake one pint ol shredded cab
bnge, one can of vhlti cherries, one
can ot sliced pineapple, one pound
of blanched almonds, one-half pound
c fresh marshmallows and one
pint of whipped cream. Cut the
cherries Into halves. Dice the pine
apple, shred the almonds, quarter
the marshmallows and mix all to
gether with the whipped cream with
a few tablespoons of any good salad
dressing.
Almond Soup.
Blanch one-fourth of n pound of
almonds by dropping them Into boil
ing water and after ten minutes
drain and add cold water to cover,
l'ut the almonds through a food
chopper. Mix with two hard cooked
egg yolks nnd add a quart of beef
or chicken stock. Mnke a paste of
a teaspoon of (lour mixed with a
little cold water and add to the
broth; cook slowly, season with salt
and pepper and add one cup of
cream. Serve very hot. Top with
whipped cream and sprinkle over It
a few shredded almonds.
Prune Dressing.
Take two cups ot cooked prunes,
one-halt cup of cooked rice, using
the prune Juice in which to cook the
rice. Add six large chestnuts
blanched and .-hopped, butter, salt
and pepper tq^season. Mix well and
stuff the fowl.
Piquant Cocktail Sauce.
Take four tablespoons each of to
mato catsup and white grape Juice,
one tablespoon each of lemon and
orange Juice, oue-fourth teaspoon
of cinnamon, and one-eighth tea
spoon each ot salt, paprika, sugar
and cloves.
Eggnogg.
Separate the egg white and yolk
and beat both well, mix and add one
pint ot hot milk, beating well. Fla
vor as desired.
© Western NewwsDsr Union.
gold piece Id his lint Did I do right;
Truly yours,
M. E. GRANT.
Answer: You did the right thing
giving the gold piece to the blind
man, because you can see to pick
them up.
Dear Mr. Wynn:
i live In the country and am
twelve years of age. My boy churn
of the past four years doesn't play
with me any more. \ had a fight.
He says that my father went over
to his father's house nnd stole the
"gate” from In front of Ills father's
house. If this Is true why doesn't
his father say something to my fa
ther for taking hit father’s "gate."
Truly yours,
IGO BAREFOOT.
Answer: The reason tils father
doesn't say anything to your father
for taking his father’s "gate" Is
that his father Is afraid that your
father might take "offense” (a
fence).
Dear Mr. Wynn:
1 know you are an actor nnd a
student of the theater. Can you tell
me when the first theatrical enter
tainment took place and where?
Yours truly,
IMA THESPIAN.
Answer: The first theatrical en
tertainment was In the Garden of
Eden when Eve appeared for Adam's
benefit.
Dear Mr Wynn:
I am a schoolgirl and my English
teacher wants me to write a sen
tence with the word "nnd" live
times In succession, and still write
It sensibly. Can you help me out?
Yours truly
l. TALI.IAN.
Answer: That Is very simple. Say
that you were having a sign
painter paint a slgr which should
read “Silks and Sntlns" nnd say the
sign painter connected the whole
thing like this: “SILKSANPSAT
INS" and you wanted him to palm
GIPUGteP I I
rv n
"The man next door hasn’t had
to cut his lawn,” says observant
Olivia, since he bribed the family
doctor to tell his wife that pushing
a lawn mower was a wonderful re
ducing exercise."
© Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service
PETUNIAS
By ANNE CAMPBELL
THE fragrance of petunias
Drifts od the morning air.
They summon me In memory
To lovely gardens where
Grandmother grew in days gone by
Those sweet old-fashioned blooms.
Their presence brings remembered
springs
And quiet, homelike rooms.
The humming rirds came every year
To Grandmother's bright flowers.
The brown bees zoomed In the per
fumed
Enchanting quaint bowers.
Moss roses graced a hollowed log.
A locust tree Hung high
Glamorous boughs against the house.
White clouds mlled In the sky.
1 never see petunias
Without a thought of home.
Their spicy flowers recall the hours
I wandered (happy gnome!)
Down paths 1 would be glad to see
Bathed In the present's glow.
On happy feet I’d run to meet
The friends I used to know 1
Copyright — WNU Service.
It over so It woulo be right. You
would say to him: I'alnt this sign
over and he sure to leave a space
between “silks" and "and” and
'and" and "satins.”
©. the AssnHatetl Newspapers
WNU Service.
Silk Crepe Turban
Auue Magel chooses u smart tur
>an of nnvy silk crepe for wear with
ter sheer navy afternoon frock. The
title of this softly draped tlirbnn
s enhanced by a nose veil which
ends fascination to the eyes. The
tell also may be worn turned back,
'ornilng a lacy frame for the face.
A Big Welcome Awaits Business
1
I .. ...
TO LOVE!
TO LIVE!
86
By R. K. WILKINSON
©. Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service.
EVER since she could remem
ber, Edna May had loved
Henry Appleton.
Of course, at first It wasn’t really
love. Not the way sophisticated
people thought about love.
It had all started with a girlish
admiration, a sort of worship.
For Henry was truly a hero to be
worshiped.
Even In grammar school he was
an outstanding figure In boyish
•ports.
And later In high school when he
begun to feel his maturity he was
elected captain of the football
team, and was prominent In all so
cial activities.
A tall, handsome figure, decided
ly masculine, yet finding time to
bask in the warmth of the worship
Edna May and other girls bestowed
upon him.
Afterward, Ednn May entered
Smith and Henry went to Harvard.
She could only see him occasion
ally then.
But the newspapers played him
up big, predicted he would be the
coming gridiron star.
And through It all Edna May’s re
gard wavered not at all.
The girlish feeling of admiration
ripened and grew Into what must
be love.
No other word could explain the
thrill she felt when Henry asked
her to a sophomore hop.
Edna Mny remembered that hop
vividly.
She went over big, and tills
seemed to please Henry n lot.
Like all college men he had been
afraid of being stuck with a flat
tire on his hands. She'd only danced
with him twice during the evening.
And after It was over four couples
of them went home together In the
same automobile, and Henry had
left her at the door of the dormi
tory where she was staying with a
hurried good night and the merest
truce of n hand squeeze.
• « •
But he must like her, she told
herself.
He must, or he wouldn't have
asked her to a big event like the
sophomore hop, with dozens of oth
er girls willing and eager to go.
On three other occasions during
the four years of college she had
gone to Cambridge and attended
Harvnrd functions with Henry.
And during her Junior year he
had been her guest ut the prom.
But their relations had never got
beyond the brother and sister stuge.
That was the trouble.
Henry had always acted more
like n brother to her. That sicken
ing "big brother’’ stuff.
Just because their families were
friends and they hud been brought
up together In the snme town, had
attended the same public schools,
played In the same sand pile.
Henry probably thought, she re
flected bitterly, be had n duty to
perform. That's why he took her
around some—out of respect to the
families.
After college Henry came home
and went to work in his father's
bank, and Edna May lived with her
folks and snid she'd like to stay
home for a while rather thnn travel
In Europe for a year nt her mother's
suggestion.
But the renl reason for It was be
cause she wanted to he near Henry.
Surer than ever she was now
that she loved him.
That feeling that had grown and
ripened and turned from ndornttnn
to admiration and then to respect
couldn't be explained any other
way.
* • •
They saw each other frequently.
They played tennis together nnd
swam nnd danced at the Country
club. But Henry's attitude re
mained the same—a sort of casual
Indifference, a brotherly regard.
If he saw that she had developed
from a gawky girl Into full and ap
pealing maturity, the elmnge failed
to Interest him.
He talked to her freely about oth
er girls, called her attention to any
attractive females who appeared
from time to time at the club
dances. Infuriated her by paying
court to the young Mrs. Morgan,
whose husband had died of pneu
monia two weeks after their mar
riage.
It angered her to feel this way.
She knew It wns useless, hope
less.
And because of tills knowledge
she maintained a careless Indiffer
ence toward him.
It was only when she seemingly
became interested In Bob Somer
ville that Henry’s nttltude changed.
“Keep away from him, kid," he
advised.
"Bob’s a good scout, hut he's not
for you. He has a trick of getting
girls all haired up about him and
then leaving ’em tint."
• • «
Edna May's head began to whirl.
Was this why Henry had never paid
any attention to her before? Was
It because she had acted goofy
about him, never appeared lnterest
ad In anyone else? Was this the
key to his affections?
Thereafter Edna May became
more attentive to Bob than ever.
She spent four or five nights a
week with him. And when Henry
asked her to accompany him to a
club dance she Informed him sweet
ly that she had already promised
liob.
And It worked!
Henry grew alarmed.
He cautioned her about Somer
ville again, and received a cold re
tort to the effect that Edna May
was now old enough to take care of
herself.
The effect upon Henry made her
deliriously happy.
He became angry.
At last she was making some Im
pression; at last Henry was begin
ning to realize she was something
besides a kid sister.
She consented once to go out with
him, and Henry spent the evening
handing her brotherly advice, to all
of which she stniled sweetly and
looked wise. Henry raged and took
her home In sullen silence.
Edna May found difficulty in con
trolling her emotions.
Henry was waking up.
He was, she was sure, beginning
to fall. She could tell.
Every girl can tell when she Is
making an Impression on a man. And
the thought made her deliciously
happy. Her happiness couldn't he
any more complete than on that
morning, two days later, when she
came to the breakfast table and
picked up tlie early edition of the
Reporter that was lying there. She
glanced casually at the headlines
and flipped the pages to the society
section.
Right then her heart stopped
beating and the breakfast table and
room and everything began to swim
and sway crazily.
At Orst she couldn’t believe her
eyes. But she rend It again, and
then a third time. There couldn't
he any mlstnke. It must be true.
And there was Henry's picture and
the widow Morgan's. And there
were the black headlines staring
back at her, “Banker's son elopes
with young widow.”
* • •
Ednu May got unsteadily to her
feet and somehow reached her room
without uttering a word.
Even then she didn’t cry.
Her hurt was too great. She Just
sat before her window and stared
out and saw nothing.
She wished she was dead.
How easyjt would be to die now.
It would simplify mutters so much.
It would spare her all the years to
come, years of torment and misery.
Eilna May suddenly stood up and
went into her bathroom and took
down a bottle of Iodine. . . . I.ater
she opened her eyes and became
conscious of a burning sensation In
her stomach, and decided she wasn’t
dead.
Her mother was there, bending
over her with anxious eyes.
She wondered why Edna May
had taken such a large dose of
cough medicine, and Edna May shut
her eyes and didn't attempt to ex
plain.
She'd have to try again, she told
herself. She couldn't go on. She
couldn't.
At noon Edna May got up and
dressed and went out for a walk.
At tlie corner of Fisher and Spruce
she turned and crossed over to de
tour around a roped-off area where
some construction work was going
on.
She remembered hearing the
wnrning cry, but her mind was too
occupied to give It much heed. Then
she saw the heavy crane swinging
toward her, and screamed. Death
stared her In the face, and she tried
to avoid It.
Death I A few hours before she
had sought It. And now- she
screamed and rnn and prayed that
It would not claim her. . . .
• • •
“It's a pity,” the doctor was say
ing, “she’ll be scarred for life . . .
such a good-looking girl, too . . .
even though they do get damages,
It won’t do much good . . . dam
ages won’t remove that scar. ..."
Edna May opened her eyes and
looked at the doctor and her mother
and father, and smiled.
There was pity and sorrow In
their faces, but Edna May still
smiled.
She reached for her mother's
hand and drew her toward the bed.
“It can't be as bad as that,” she
said. “It could be so much worse.
I—I’m lucky to be alive.”
After a while she thought of
Henry and wondered If he wns
happy with the widow Morgan.
She hoped he was. She wanted
every one to he happy. There were
so many Important things to do.
Life meant so much.
It wns so good—so good to Just
be alive. To feel that you had
years and years to live. How fool
ish she'd been to try to crowd It all
Into so short a space of time, to
have had but a single purpose In
mind.
Edna May closed her eyes again,
but the smile lingered. She shud
dered, remembering how nenr death
she had been. She sighed. Life—
just to be alive—was so sweet.
It was selfish to waste life away.
. . . So many things far more Im
portant and necessary than love.
Edna May at last had found her
self.
250 Different Cherries
There are more than 250 varieties
of cherries generally classified as
sweet and sour. As with apples, tha
composition varies with the variety,
and the flavor is Influenced by the
climate and soil In which they ara
grown.