{ title: 'South New Berlin bee. (South New Berlin, Chenango County, N.Y.) 1897-1965, January 28, 1922, Page 2, Image 2', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061740/1922-01-28/ed-1/seq-2/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061740/1922-01-28/ed-1/seq-2.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061740/1922-01-28/ed-1/seq-2/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92061740/1922-01-28/ed-1/seq-2/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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T SOUTH NEW BERLIN BEE. imiitfttinHiitiiiiniiiiiiifiinmnmmiiiiiitfiiiiiiifnifiiifiniiiiiiniiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiffifiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiHiitiitiiiiiifUit HARRIET PIPER OouyrKht by KatMewi Norrl* By KATHLEEN NORRIS ROYAL BLONDIN Synoos.ls.—Harriet Field, twenty- •igrht years old, and beautiful, is the social secretary of the flirta tious Mrs. Isabelle Carter, at \Crownlands Richard Carter’s home, and governess of seventeen- year old Nina Carter. Ward, twenty-^four years old and impres sionable, fancies himself in love with his mother's attractive secretary. Mrs, Carter’s latest “affair\ is with young Anthony Pope, and the youth [is taking it very seriously. Preaidttng over the teacups this summier afternoon, Harriet is pro foundly disturbed by the airrival of a visijtor, Royal Elondin. Next day, at a [tea party in the city, Blondin makes. himself agreeable to Nina, and /leaves a deep impression on the |insopfeistlc«,ted girl. Im iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiH iin iim u iiiiiiiiiiiin iiiiiiim iiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin iiin iu ii iiiiiiiii? press agent to a Swaml who wanted to be introduced in America, and after he left I rather took up his work, Yogi and interpretive reading, ‘Chitra’ ^nd ‘Shojo*—^you don’t know them?” She shook her head, sufficiently at ease now even to smile in faint de rision. “And what’s the future In it, Roy?” Now that the black dread was laid, she could almost like him. “The pre.sent Is extremely profit able,” he said dryly, “and I suppose there might be—^well, say a marriage in it, some day—” “A rich widow?” Harriet suggested, simply, “Or a little girl with a fortune, like this little Carter girl,” he added, lightly. Harriet gave him a swift look. “Don’t talk nonsense! Nina’s only a chilQ!” “She’s almost eighteen, Isn’t she?” The gin walked swiftly on for a full minute. “You weren’t—quite—a child at eighteen,” he reminded her. The color flooded her transparent dusky skin. “That’s—exactly—^what I was!” she said dryly. “But talk to Nina, If you don’t believe me! Everything that is school-girly and romantic and undevel oped, is Nina. She is absolutely inex perienced; she’s what I called her, a child ! It’s—^preposterous!” “I suppose,” the man drawled, “that that is a question for the young lady, and her parents, and myself to decide.” Harriet bit her lip. This was utterly unexpected. Into her calculations, up to this point, she had taken only Royal Blondin and herself. If his words cov ered any truth, then the matter did not stop there. Nina was involved, and with Nina, Ward ^ d Nina’s father and Isabelle— The complications were endless; her heart sickened before them. And yet, the conviction that Royal dared not betray her had been flooding Harriet’s heart with exquisite reassurance dur ing this past half hour. She was safe; her life at Crownlands took on a new and wonderful beauty with that knowl- CHAbTEn HI. went straight from ►he t tea table, which was al- 5eserted now. Harriet saw him |Tng, and she knew what hour had e. She stood lip as he reached and they measured each other fnari'owly, with unsmiling eyes. There was reason for her paleness I today, and for the faint violet shadows I about her beautiful eyes. Harriet had I lain awake deep Into the night, toss- ling and feverish. She had always I thought that he must come back; for years the fear had haunted her at every sftreet crossing, at every ring of Bfnda’a doorbell. At first It had been but a »hivering apprehension of his i clalm’R, an anticipation of what he might expect or want from her. Then came a saner time, when she told her- I 'self that she was an independent hu man being as well as he, that she might meet his argument with argu ment, and his threat with threat. But for the past year or two her “I^senlng thoughts of him had taken new'Yorm. Harriet had hoped that when they met again she might be in a position to punish Royal Blondin, to look down at him from heights that even his audacity might not scale. That time, she told herself in the fever of the night, had not yet come. Her pitiful achievements, her beauty, her French and Spanish, lier sober book reading, and her littla affecta tions of fine linen and careful speech, all seemed to crumple to nothing. She seemed again to be the furious, help- ^eventeen-year-old Harriet of jjtown days, her armor inef- that suave and self- Jsencg.-» forced herself to unbind Igs, to look at the olfil I had gone in spirit to that parlor to which Linda and Rrried Josephine’s crib late It, and where sheet music Bed from the upright piano. Vith the young husband and fery, tumble-head girl of fif- Jixteen, who helped with her looking and housework, who lie baby, who planned a future lage, or as a great painter, or reat writer—the means mat- pt so much that the end was Ind wealth and happiness for [ had brought Royal Blondin in Rper one night, and Royal had jed with the others jit the spirited waitress who delivered herself of Pndous decisions while she came ^ with plates, and forgot to ^ake off her checked blue apron when she finally slipped into her place. The man had been a derelict then, as now. But he was nine years older than Harriet Field. He had had the same delightful voice, the same pen etrating eyes. He had brought poetry, music, art, into the sordid little parlor of the Watertown apartment; he had helped Harriet to tame and house those soaring ambitions. She felt again tho4e kisses that had waked the little-girl heart into passionate wom anhood ; she shut her eyes and pressed her hand tight against them. So young —so happy—so confident!—^plunging headlong into that searing blackness. And. now Royal Blondin was back again, and she was not ready for him. She could not score now. But he could hurt her irreparably if he would. Isabelle was an Indifferent mother, and an incorrigible flirt, but at the first word, at the first hint—ah, there would be no arguing, no weigh ing of the old blame and responsibil ity! If there was the faintest cloud of doubt, that would be enough! Harriet had shaken back her mane hair, had hammered furious fists together up on the dark balcony. It wasn’t fair—it wasn’t fair—^just now, when she was so secure and happy! I5he had flung her arms across the railing, and burled her hot face on t>.em, and bad wept desperate and an- Zry tears into the silken and golden tangle that .shone dully in the star light. She did not refuse him her hand when he came to the tea table, or ber e.ves, and there was friendliness, or ' the semblance of it, in the voice with which she said his name. That he was waiting, .perhaps as fearfully as she, his cue, was evidenced by the ^ 'lick relief with wh^h he echoed the familiarity. Harriet! I J i ^ y o u again. been waiting all this time to find you! I’d heard Ward speak of ‘Miss Field,’ of course! But it never meant you. to me. I’ve been thinking of you all night.” “I’ve been thinking, too,” she said, simply. “It’s after six,” Blondin said with a glance about. “We can’t talk here. Can you get away? Can we go some where?” Without another word she deserted her seat, pinned on her hat, and picked up her gloves.' “There’s a very quiet back road straight down to Crownlands,” she said, considering. “We might walk.” “Anything!” he assented, briefly. Guided by Harriet, who was familiar with the place, they slipped through the hallway, and out a side door. They had no sooner gained silence and soli tude tlian the man began deliberately: “Harriet, I have not thought of any thing else since I came upon you yes terday, after all these years. I want you to tell me that you—^you aren’t angry with me. You knew—^you knew how desperately I tried to find you, Harriet? What a hell I went through?” If she had steeled herself against the possibility of his shaking her, she failed herself now. It was with an involuntary and bitter little laugh that she said: “You had no monopoly of that, Roy.” “But you ran away from me!” he accused her. “When I went to find you, they told me the Davenports had moved away. Won’t you believe that I felt terrible—that I walked the streets, Harriet, praying—^praying !— that I might catch a glimpse of you. It was the uppermost thought for years—^how many years? Seven?” “More than eight,” she corrected, in a somewhat lifeless voice. “I was eighteen. My one thought, my one hope, when I last saw you, in Linda’s house,” she went on, with sudden pas sion, “was that I would never see you again! But I’m glad to hear you say this, Roy,” she added, in a gentler tone. “I’m glad you—^felt sorry. Our going away was a mere chance. Fred Davenport was offered a position on a Brooklyn paper, and we all moved from Watertown to Brooklyn. I was grateful for it; I only wanted to dis appear! Linda stood by me, her chil dren saved my life, I was a nursery maid for a year or two—I never saw anybody or went anywhere! I look back,” Harriet said, talking more to herself than to him, and walking swi:^ly along in the golden sunset that streamed across the old back road, “and I wonder I didn’t go stark, star ing mad!” “Don’t think about it,” he urged, with concern. “No; I’ll not think about it. Royal, don’t think that all my feeling was for myself. I thought of you, too. I missed you. Truly, I missed what you had given ray life!” A dark flush came to the man’s face, and when he spoke it was with an honest shame and gratitude in his voice that would have surprised the women who had only known him in his later years. “You are generous, Harriet,” he said. “You were always the most generous girl in the world!” More stirred than she wished to show herself, Harriet walked on, and there was a silence. “Linda and Fred made it hard for you?” he asked. “Oh, n o ! They were angels. But of course in their eyes, and mine, too— I was marked.” Silence. Royal Blondin gave her a glance full of distress and compunc tion. But he did not speak, and it was Harriet who ended the pause. “Well, that’s what a little girl of eighteen may do with her life!” she said. “I have been a fool—I have made a wreck of mine!” “You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” Royal Blondin said, steadily, “you are established here, they all adore you! Why do you say that your life is a wreck?” “I am the daughter of Professor Field,’* said Harriet, \and at twenty- seven I am *the paid companion of Mrs. Richard Carter’s daughter! Oh, well—^I was happy enough to have the opportunity. What of yourself? Where have you been?” But he was not quite ready to drop the personal note. ' “Harriet, now that we have met, we’ll be friends? My life now is among these people; you’ll not be sorry If we occasionally meet?” “In this casual way—^no. we can stand that!” she agreed. The fears of the night rose like mist, melted away. It was bad enough, but it was not what her inflamed and fantastic apprehension had made it. He was no revengeful villain, after all. He did not mean to harm her. “I’ve been everywhere,” he said, an swering her question. “I made two trips to China from San Francisco. I was interested in Cliinese antiques. Then I went into a Persian rug thing, with a dealer. We handled rugs; I went all over the Union. After that, four years ago, I went to Persia and India, and met some English people, and went with them to London, len I capie back here, as a sort of “A Rich Widow?” Harriet Suggested, Simply. edge. And if she was fit to continue there, Nina’s companion, Isabelle’s confidante, guide and judge for the whole household, could she with any logic warn them against this man? He had her trapped, and she saw i t To tljreaten his standing was to wreck her own. Her eyes looked beyftnd him darkly; the girl was young and innocent, greedy for flattery, eager to live. What chance had little Nina Carter against charm like his—experience like his? “I may never be asked to the house after tomorrow night,” said Blondin. “She won’t be here tomorrow night. This may be the beginning and end of it. All I ask Is that if I am made wel come here, on my own merits, you won’t Interfere! The mere fact that you’re living here doesn’t mean that you have the moral responsibility of the family on your shoulders, does it?” “No-o,” Harriet admitted, in a troubled tone. “Of course not! You live your life, and I mine. Is there anything wrong about that?” “You know you would never look at that girl except for her money, Roy!” she burst out. “Nor would anyone else!” he amend ed, suavely. Harriet gave a distressed laugh. “Come! You and I never saw each other until this week,” Blondin urged. “Tha.t*s the whole story.” Before she answered, the girl looked beyond him a t the splendid stables and lawns of Crownlands. It never lost its charm for her, her castle of dreams; she had longed to be part of just such a household all her life! Now she actually was part of it, and— if what Mary Putnam had hinted was ti^e. If her own fleeting suspicion only aj few evenings ago was true; then she might some day really belong to Crownlands; in good earnest! Harriet‘made her choice. “Very well,” she said, briefly. “I un derstand you. I turn in here. Good night!” “Just a second!” he said, detaining ber. “You won't hurt me with any of tliem. Ward or the girl, or the father?” The girl’s lips curled with distaste. “No,” she said tonelessly. In another second she was gone. He saw the slender figure, in its green gown, disappear at a turning of the ivied wall. She paused for no back ward glance of farewell. But Royal Blondin was satisfied. CHAPTER IV. Again Harriet fled through the quiet house as if pursued by furies, and again reached her room with white cheeks and a fast-beating heart. Nina was not there. She crossed to the win dow, and stood there with her hands clasped on her chest, and her breath coming and going stormily. “Oh, he’s clever!” she whispered, half aloud. “He’s clever! He never made a threat. He never made a threat of any kind! He knew that he had me—^he knew that he had me just where he wanted me! And what he does hefe, in making his way with this family, doesn’t concern me! Nina is old enough to decide for herself.” Nina bad been experiencing what were among the pleasantest hours of her life. A school friend, A m y HawheS, who was romance personified, under a plain and demure exterior, had ob served Nina’s long conversation with Royal Blondin, and had found an arch allusion to it so well received by Nina that she had followed up that line of conversation, ever since. Amy was to sleep with Nina, and Harriet realized, as she superintended their fluttered dressing, that she, Har riet, would be obliged to go to their door five times, between eleven and one o’clock that night, and tell them that they must stop talking. There was a modest knock at the door, and Rosa came in with a box. She smiled, and put it on Harriet’s desk. “For me?” the girl said, smiling in answer, and with some surprise. Rosa nodded, and went her way, and Har riet went to the box. It was not large, a florist’s box of dark green cardboard; Harriet untied the raffia string, and investigated the mass of silky tissue paper. Inside was an or chid. She opened the accompanying envelope, and found Ward’s card. On the back he had written, “Just a little worried because he’s afraid you’re cross at him!” ' Harriet stood perfectly still, the or chid in one hand, the card crushed in the other. AVard Carter had sent or chids, no doubt, to other girls. But Harriet Carter had never had an or chid before from a man. She put the card into her little desk, and the orchid into a slender crystal vase. Then she went back to advise Amy and Nina as to gold beads and the arrangement of hair. But a little later, when she was in the big house keeper’s pantry, where several maids were busy with last-minute manipula tions of olives and ice and grapefruit. Ward came out and found her, soberly busy in her old checked silk. “Why didn’t you wear it?” “AVear it— you bad, extravagant child I I’ll wear it to town tomorrow.” “No; but—” he sank his tone to one of enjoyable /jonfidences—“but were you mad at me? You looked so glum at breakfast.” “Well, you had nothing to do with it!” she assured him. In her big-sis terly voice. “And it was the first or chid I ever had, and I loved you for It!” It was with something like pain and impatience In his tone that Ward said gruffly: “Yes, you do! You like me about as much as you like Nina or Granny!” “I like you—sh! just a little better than I do Granny!” Harriet confided. “Don’t spoil your dinner with olives, Ward! Don’t muss that—there’s a dear! Dinner’s announced, by the way. It’s quarter past eight.” “I’m going!” he grumbled, discon tentedly. “At any rate, I love the orchid!” Harriet said, soothingly. He was laughing, too, as he disappeared, but something in his face was vaguely troubling to her none the less, and she remembered it now and then with a little compunction during her quiet evening of reading. Well, she would see Linda on Saturday, and have Sun day witn ner and __the chiidreii. aud that meant always a complete change and a shifted viewpoint, even when, as frequently happened, Linda took the older-sisterly privilege of scorning. * •* ♦ • * * AVhen Harriet had chaperoned Nina and-Amy to the Friday aftemojon^ mat inee, and had duly deposited Amy aft erward in the Hawkes . mansion, and had escorted Nina to her grandmoth er’s apartment, she was free to direct Hansen to drive her to the Jersey tube, and to spend a hot, uncomfort able hour in a stream of homegoing commuters, on the “V ay to Linda’s house. She mounted the three cement steps from the sidewalk level, and the four shabby and peeling wooden ones that rose to the porch. On this hot sum- mei afternoon the front door was open, and Harriet stepped into the odorous gloom of the hall, and let the screen door bang lightly behind her. Immediately, in the open archway into the parlor, a girl of fifteen ap peared, a pretty girl with blue eyes and brown hair, a shabby- but fresh little shirtwaist belted by a shabby but clean white skirt, and a napkin dangling from her hand. “Oh, Mother—-It’s Aiint Harriet! Oh, you darling—!” Harriet, laughing, went from the child’s wild embrace into the arms of Linda herself, a tall, broadly built, pleasant-faced woman with none of Harriet’s ow n xmusua! beauty, but with a family resemblance to her younger sister nevertheless. “Well, you sweet good child!” she said warmly. “Fred—here's Harriet! Well, my dear, isn’t it fortunate that we were late! We’d hardly com menced !” The remaining members of the fam ily now streamed forth: Fred Daven port, a thin, rather gray man of fifty, with an intelligent face, a worried forehead, and kindly eyes; Julia, a blonde beauty of twelve; Nammy, a fat, sweet boy of five, with a bib on; and Pip, a serious ten-year-old, with black hair and faded blue overalls. Fred was a newspaper man, one of the, submerged many, underpaid, over worked, unheard, yet vaguely gratified through all the long years by the feel ing that his groove was not quite the groove of the office, the teller’s desk, or H:he traveling salesman’s “beat.” Here in the little suburban town his opinions gained some little weight from the fact that he had been ten years with a New York evening paper. Mrs. Davenport was interested in ev erything her sister had to say; knew the Carters, and even some of their closest friends, by name, and asked all sorts of questions about them. Later in^the evening Fred was at the piano. It was a poor piano, and he was a poor player who smoked his old pipe while he painstakingly fingered Mendelssohn’s “Songs With out Words” or the score of “The Geisha.” But Linda loved him. “He will putter away there, per fectly content, for an hour,” she told .Harriet. “And at ten you’ll see him starting to get Josephine. They’re great chums—she thinks there’s no one in the world like Daddy!” Harriet’s thoughts had wandered. “How’s David?” “Lovely. He always comes to us for Sunday dinner,” Linda said. “And he always asks for you!” she added, with some signficance. David Daven port, Fred’s somewhat heavy and plod ding brother, a successful Brooklyn dentist, had never made any secret of his feeling for the beautiful Har riet. “I like David!” Harriet said, in an swer to some faint indication of re proach in her sister’s tone. But im mediately afterward she added, in a lower voice: “Ward Carter has had Royal Blondin at the house this week!” Linda’s rocker «?topped as If by shock. There was an electric silence. When she spoke again it was with awe and incredulity and something like terror In her tone. “Rojral Blondin! He’s in England I” “He was,” Harriet said, dryly. “He’s been in New York for two years now.” Linda shuddered. “I know—^I remember!” she said In a whisper. And she added fervently, “I hoped he was dead!” “You love me and I love you -isn ’t that all that matters?” (TO BE CONTINUED.) A DISTRUST THAT WAS MUTUAL Charles Dickens Did'n’t Admire Boat, and Pilot Had Little Use for the NoveiisL When the, Connecticut river was more navigable than it Is today Dick ens rode by steamer from Springfield to Hartford. We are to suppose he got little pleasure from the trip, for in describing the steamer in his Ameri can Notes, he wrote; “I am afraid to tell how many feet short this vessel was, or how many feet narrow. To apply the words length and width to such measurement would be a contradiction in terms. But I may state that we all kept to the middle of the deck lest the boal* should unexpectedly tip over.” But if Dickens was critical of the boat, says a writer in the Springfield Republican, the pilot was no less crit ical of Dickens. In venting his opiniop of the novelist he characterized hiffi as a / ‘fussy dude who was afraid to step up on the gangplank for fear /It would break, who kept his head out of the window for fear tlie boat would run against something, and who wor ried for fear his baggage would be lost.” In fact the pilot declared that he was so disgusted with the novelist that he never would read any of his. stories. The Soya Bean. The soya bean is largely used by the ' Chinese. The white cheeses you see at Chinese stores are .made of soya bean curd. In France, a liquid made from the soya bean has been used as a milk substitute. It is not good for that purpose, because, like all beans. It is largely starch. The soya bean Is a valuable food, but it is inferior to p e to ts. They contain much fat, which beans lack. Lines to Be Remembered. Truth is the root, but human sym pathy is the flower of practical life.— B. H. Chapin. MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS Read This Letter from Airs- W> S, Hughes Greenville. Del.—\ I was tinder thes impression that my eldest daughter had. ' ■ .......... .1..—^ someintemcdtrouble as ever since the firsts time her mcknessap^ peared she had to go to bed and even had to quit school once for a week. I always^ take Lydia E, Pink- ham's V e g e t a b l e Compound myself so^ I gave it to her and. she has r e c e i v e d great benefit from it. You _______________ m can use this let ter for a testimonial if you wish, as X cannot say too much about what your medicine has done for me and for mjr daughter.” —^Mrs. W m . S. H ughes ^ Greenville, Delaware. Mothers and oftentimes grandmothers have taken and have learned the valuer of Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Com pound. So they recommend the medi cine to others. The best test of any medicine is what^ it has done for others. For nearly fiftjr years we have published letters frouL mothers, daughters, and women, young: and old, recommending the Yegetablo^ Ck>mpound. They know what it did for* Giem and are glad to tell others. Li- your own neighborhood are women who* know of its great value. Mothers—daughters, why not try it T Remembrance. I once wrote a verse to my lady’s^ eyebrow. It was beautiful, a charming bit oY poetic fancy. Everybody admired it. Now, five years later, this little- poem has grown enormously in value.- . My lady herself treasures it—a sort or memento, I suppose, because— She has no eyebrow to speak of.— Wayside Tales, Thousands Have Kidney Trouble and Never * Suspect It Applicants for Insurance Often - Rejected. Judging from reports from druggist® who are constantly in direct touch with the public, there is one preparation that- has been very successful in overcoming: these conditions. The mild and healing: influence of Dr. Kilmer’s Swamp-Root soon realized. It stands the highest for* its remarkable record of success. An examining physician for one of th< prominent Life Insurance Companies, ii an interview on the subject, made the as tonishing statement that one reason why so many applicants for insurance are re jected is because kidney trouble is so> common to the American people, and the- large majority of those whose applica tions are declined do not even suspect- that they have the disease. Ihr. Kilmer’s Swamp Root is on salfe at all drug stores in bottles of two sizes,, medium and large. However, if you wish first to test this great preparation send ten cents to Dr. Kilmer & Co., Bingham ton, N. Y., for a sample bottle. Whem writing sure and mention this paper. Advertisement. Attack Premature. “Why did you strike this haber dasher’s clerk?” “Your honor,” said the large, un couth person, “he showed me a collar and said It was a ‘perfect dear,’” “Well,” snorted the judge, “what di^ you hit him in the store for? Couldn’t you wait until after closing time and catch him in an alley?”—^Birmlnghan» Age-Herald. MOTHER, QUICK! GIVE CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUP FOR CHILD’S BOWELS j Even a sick child loves the “fruity” taste of “California Fig Syrup.” K the little tongue is coated, or if your child is listless, cross, feverish, full of cold, 01 has colic, a teaspoonful will never fail to open the bowels. In a few hours you*can see for yourself how thoroughly it works all the constipa tion poison, sour bile and waste frona the tender, little bowels and gives yots a well, playful child again. Millions of mothers keep “California. Fig Syrup” handy. They know a tea spoonful today saves a sick child to morrow, Ask your druggist for genuine \California Pig Syrup\ which has di rections for babies and children of all ages printed on bottle. Mother! You must say “California” or you may get tn Imitation fig syrup.—Advertisement. The Unpardonable Sin. “What’s this’ I hear about the Smythes planning a divorce? j thought they were wonderful pals _ that she took up golf just to be with him; and all that sort of thing!” “Yes, that’s just the trouble; she now plays a better game than he does.’' —Judge. How to Tell. The way to tell the difference be tween a Japanese statesman and a wooden image is to watch for the ex pression on the wooden image’s face S S S S l l S /
