anaheim-gazette 1934-02-08

Anaheim, Calif., Feb. 8, 1934 The Dollar Bride by Mary Imlay Taylor FOURTH INSTALLMENT To get fifteen thousand dollars to save the family honor, Nancy Gordon promises to marry the well-to-do Dr. Richard Morgan. Her beloved brother, Roddy, has come home from New York to confess that he has taken that amount from the bank where he works—because a woman needed it—and that he will be jailed if he is found out before he returns it. So Nancy, in love with the penniless Page Roemer, decides to borrow the money from Morgan, and pledges herself to marry him in return. He agrees to the bargain, feeling sure he can make her love him. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY "Nancy, you don't quite hate me—do you?" She blushed; she remembered suddenly her cry to her father: "I hate that man!" And she was going to marry him. She felt ill and weak and trembling, but she remembered her father's ashen face in his sleep. "N-no, I don't hate you!" she answered faintly. "I—oh, don't ask me, Richard." He did not; he was silent for a while, looking at her, and then he remem- Nancy sank down again into her chair at the table. Every nerve in her body throbbed and quivered, she heard Page Roemer's voice, then Richard's, then the movements of the two men out there in the hall. Richard was sending him away and she felt like death. If Page came into the room, if he dreamed what she had done—her face burned with shame. Horror seized her, she clung to the arms of the old mahogany chair in which she sat. It seemed to her that she had lost all power of thought and action. Then she heard the front door shut and Richard coming back alone. She did not look up, she could not. He came in slowly and stopped beside her room. "Nancy," his voice was kind, but there was emotion in it as deep as hers. "I'm going out now—to the bank. Stay here, please, with Mammy Polk, I'll bring it straight back—the sum you need." She tried to answer him but she could not. She had risen and was standing weakly, and he made her sit down again. His touch was gentle and his face close to hers, flushed and paled almost like a woman's. Their eyes met, and for the first time, he kissed if he knew. The passion died out of them, but the ness. "I'd come if I could Nancy?" She shook her head, sed for flight, and he waited let her go unquestioned. Fear winged her feet ran down the long strenuous possessed with a horror late, of having done it. Her imagination, a vivid at best, pictured Roddy's she entered—or worse his way to New York tives. She turned the corner of the old house and under the fine old tree breath of relief. When the gate she saw Roddy down inside the liliae restlessly, but with a projected gait. He wanted but there was no escape road. He had promised go until she came back might be too late. Nancy was thankful alone. She could tell more easily than she did parents. They were less. "Roddy," she breathed gasps, "I ran all the money—go to New York back!" Roddy, utterly amazed blankly as she thrust the age into his hands. She looked smaller or more pale face a little drawn citemt missing her her lips touched with trembling. She must have thought soberly. "Take it, take it, Roddy—bonds and securities are you can cash them, take quick, quick, before He took the bundle, contents and stared a "Nancy, you don't quite hate me—do you?" She blushed; she remembered suddenly her cry to her father: "I hate that man!" And she was going to marry him. She felt ill and weak and trembling, but she remembered her father's ashen face in his sleep. "N-no, I don't hate you!" she answered faintly. "I—oh, don't ask me, Richard." He did not; he was silent for a while, looking at her, and then he remembered. "I'm going to get that money for you, Nancy. Fortunately, I have it here in the bank, in such shape I can get it, the whole of it, today. But it's only eight o'clock, the banks aren't open, won't be for an hour. Will you breakfast with me? I've only got Mammy Polk here, but she's a good cook. Come to breakfast with me, Nancy, for the first time." Then she raised her eyes involuntarily to his and her heart seemed to stand still. How his face had changed! She would never have known it. She trembled. If he loved her like that it was terrible to treat him so; to come into his life and wreck it—for—for—money! Every noble instinct in her nature revolted against it, and yet there was Roddy and her mother and her father! Suddenly she covered her face with her hands and groaned. "Oh, Richard!" He was startled; he felt a change in her, and his flush deepened. Something almost like hope quickened in his heart, but he did not speak. Neither did she, they had no time. Mammy Polk came to the door. "Breakfas' a' ready, Mist' Richard." She was a tall, old black woman, gaunt and erect in her striped purple calico and her long apron. "Mammy Polk, we've got company to breakfast," said Richard quickly. "Miss Gordon is going to eat breakfast with me." Mammy Polk courtesied. "Howdy, Miss Nancy? We've got waffles an' coffee; de doctah, he don' eat noffin mornin's. Can't I drop yo' egg on a bit ob bacon, Miss Nancy?" "No, no! I like waffles, Mammy Polk. I'll take anything you have." Mammy Polk smiled. "I reckon you'll like de waffles," she said proudly. "Mammy's famous for them," said Richard. "Come, Nancy, let's go out to breakfast." He bent over her, his face aglow offering his arm. Nancy took it and tried not to look at him. Together they walked into the dining room, following the tall figure of Mammy Polk. Richard led her to a chair opposite "Nancy," his voice was kind, but there was emotion in it as deep as hers. "I'm going out now—to the bank. Stay here, please, with Mammy Polk, I'll bring it straight back—the sum you need." She tried to answer him but she could not. She had risen and was standing weakly, and he made her sit down again. His touch was gentle and his face close to hers, flushed and paled almost like a woman's. Their eyes met, and, for the first time, he kissed her. "Nancy!" She was trembling violently and she could not raise her eyes.. He held her close, pressed to his heart, and she felt his breath soft and warm on her check. "I'll make you love me!" he said again. "If I thought I couldn't—I wouldn't dare—but I will, Nancy, I will!" Her head sank lower and there was a little silence more eloquent than words. Then she gasped. "Please don't — not now, Richard! I—I can't bear any more." "I know—forgive me!" He was up and half way to the door, then turned back, his heart in his eyes, hot with wrath. He was thinking of Page Roemer. But something in her attitude, in the appealing profile, the air of grief and helplessness, went to his heart. He did not speak; he opened the door and went out. To Nancy the shutting of that door snapped the tension. She sank lower in her chair, her eyes fixed on a space of sunshine outside the window where she could see the soft green turf, and here and there the yellow flame of a crocus. Those yellow crocuses out there leaped up like tongues of flame, she watched them, fascinated. If she could only get out of that window and run away—she caught her breath at the thought It would be so easy! Could she? But there was Roddy to go to jail, and her father! She remembered and shuddered, hiding her eyes. She heard Mammy Polk's voice, but the words were blurred, the old woman was babbling about Richard. Nancy's ears were strained, listening for his step coming back; she heard instead, the clock strike, a single flute-like bell, half past nine. Mammy Polk set a dish down and turned quickly. "Clare t' goodness, dere'e Mist' Richard coming back now!" she exclaimed. Nancy sank lower in her chair; a deep blush mounted. Then she rose slowly to her feet, gripped the edge of blankly as she thrust the age into his hands. She looked smaller or more pale face a little drawn citement misting her her lips touched with trembling. She must he thought soberly. "Take it, take it, Roddy—bonds and securities are you can cash them, take—quick, quick, before He took the bundle, contents and stared at mouth open. "Where in mischief Nance?" "I—I got it—" she sighs against a tree, breathes pale that her blue eye "It doesn't matter—I can have it Roddy." He was turning the bonds and securities amazement deepened as assured himself that all Fifteen thousand dollars sum—from the gods! He of heaven—? He stares the red glinting in her eyes. "What have you been in the world did you go he demanded hoarsely." "I didn't steal it!" she voice. He turned on her. "In!" he cried almost seemed to be no gratitude in him. He stared at thought her a thief, she cruelly. Her face crimsoned "It's mine!" she repeats lips. "Don't stand there at me, go back to No Roddy, go before it's too A light broke over face. Relief or something." "Oh Lord, I'm thanked, folding the envelope at her." "I'm going—but on earth did you get it that!" cried trembling. "I—I too. Don't ask me why..." "No, no! I like waffles, Mammy Polk. I'll take anything you have." Mammy Polk smiled. "I reckon you'll like de waffles," she said proudly. "Mammy's famous for them," said Richard. "Come, Nancy, let's go out to breakfast." He bent over her, his face aglow offering his arm. Nancy took it and tried not to look at him. Together they walked into the dining room, following the tall figure of Mammy Polk. Richard led her to a chair opposite his own. Nancy sat down weakly, hardly daring to lift her eyes, she was afraid the old negro woman would see the traces of tears. "Try to eat something, Nancy, you'll be ill if you don't," she heard Richard's voice. "Indeed I can't eat, Richard!" She felt his eyes on her and tried to hide her own, toying with her fork. Her lips trembled. Was he wondering why she wanted that awful money? "Don't ask too much, Richard!" she cried, agonizingly. He shot a look across at her, and his own color died away slowly. "I wish you'd try to eat—see these waffles," he offered Mammy Polk's best. Nancy took one and sat looking at it, her lips still trembling. "I don't want to cry into a waffle," she said in a choked voice, "don't watch me, please don't!" "I can't—there's someone at the door now to see me." Richard rose. "I'll send him off in a jiffy—why, it's Page Roemer!" Nancy sprang up, her face white. "Oh, Richard, don't let him come in here!" she gasped. Richard, who had started for the door, turned and looked at her, his heart in his eyes. For a full minute they stood thus, looking at each other, and Nancy's pitiful little secret told itself. Richard knew it. He seemed to hesitate, to be thinking hard, and his strange eyes deepened and darkened wonderfully. "I sha'n't bring him in here, Nancy," he said quietly, and went into the next man was babbling about Richard. Nancy's ears were strained, listening for his step coming back; she heard instead, the clock strike, a single flute-like bell, half past nine. Mammy Polk set a dish down and turned quickly. "'Clare t' goodness, dere's Mist' Richard coming back now!" she exclaimed. Nancy sank lower in her chair; a deep blush mounted. Then she rose slowly to her feet, gripped the edge of the table and stood, swaying a little, her face turned toward the door, waiting for this man who was so soon to be her husband! Richard had brought the money, all of it, and he had asked no questions, not even when he saw the haste that invaded her like a tempest, the secret haste that she wanted to hide from him and could not. "Richard, I've got to go home!" she DOROTHY DARNIT if he knew. The passion seemed to have died out of them, but there was tenderness. "I'd come if I could help—could I, Nancy?" She shook her head, speechless, poised for flight, and he was generous. He let her go unquestioned and undelayed. Fear winged her feet; she almost ran down the long street; she was possessed with a horror of being too late, of having done it all in vain! Her imagination, a vivid, restless thing at best, pictured Roddy's arrest just as she entered—or, worse still, he'd be on his way to New York with the detectives. She turned the corner, had a glimpse of the old house and garden, quiet under the fine old trees, and drew a breath of relief. When she opened the gate she saw Roddy walking up and down inside the lilac hedge. He paced restlessly, but with a dragging, dejected gait. He wanted to escape it all, but there was no escape—except by the road. He had promised Nancy not to go until she came back. And then it might be too late. Nancy was thankful that he was alone. She could tell him so much more easily than she could tell her parents. They were her real problems. "Roddy," she breathed in catchy gasps, "I ran all the way—here's the money—go to New York and pay it all back!" Roddy, utterly amazed, stood staring blankly as she thrust the bulky package into his hands. She had never looked smaller or more childlike; her pale face a little drawn, tears of excitement misting her blue eyes, only her lips touched with red, moist and trembling. She must have gone mad, he thought soberly. "Take it, take it, Rod! It's all right—bonds and securities as good as gold, you can cash them, take them and go—quick, quick, before it's too late!" He took the bundle, glanced at its contents and stared at her with his Lemon Marketing Success Pointing Way For Oranges Paul Armstrong Control of Surplus and Marketing "Magna Charta" of Fruit Business The results obtained by California lemon growers during the past decade are everywhere regarded as the most successful example of surplus control of an agricultural product, and the Exchange lemon agreement marks a milestone in cooperative progress and is the "Magna Charta" of the fruit business, Paul Armstrong, general manager, California Fruit Growers Exchange, told the citrus department of the Santa Barbara county farm bureau at its annual meeting at Santa Barbara. "There has been just as much, or more, surplus of lemons as of oranges, but the crops have been better marketed and the surplus better controlled," said Mr. Armstrong. "For the past five years an average of 4,000 cars or over 20 per cent of the lemon crops have been removed from the fresh fruit market and converted into useful by-products, chiefly citric acid, lemon oil and pectin," he said. In spite of these constant surpluses the grower's return per acre has been protected and the average lemon grower has received a good reward for his labor and investment, so much so that everyone wants to acquire lemon acreage in preference to the other varieties." Mr. Armstrong, an orange grower himself, says growers agree that their citrus properties have fared better and are still more promising than most other investments of recent years. Lemon sales to date this season (since November 1) are the heaviest on 23 Anaheimers On 1934 Jury Panel Anaheimers selected on the 1934 trial jury panel of the superior court Thursday by Judge H. G. Ames are: Mrs. Roger C. Dutton, John O. Reed, August E. Maas, Ernest Zitzmann, Clinton R. Nelson, William Jackson, A. B. Coffman, Rodney Chamberlain, Lawrence Kelly, L. F. Pomeroy, Alfred H. Hansen, John Neuschafer, J. M. Gunnett, J. E. Baker, Roy Mabee, Mrs. Laura K. Dominguez, Estella Fisher, Mrs. Alice McCann, Mrs. Cordella Phogley, Mrs. Inez Yeats, Mrs. H. J. Fay, Mrs. Liola Kler, and D. W. Gregory. NOTICE INVITING SEALED PROPOSALS FOR ELECTRICAL EQUIPMENT Notice is hereby given that sealed proposals will be received by the City Council of the City of Anaheim at the office of the City Clerk of said City up to the hour of eight o'clock P.M. of Tuesday the 27th day of February, 1934, for furnishing the following material to said City in accordance with list and specifications adopted January 30th, 1934: 2 — Automatic Indoor Type Voltage Regulators 4 — 800 amp. 7500 volts single-pole double throw switches 2 — 400 amp. 7500 volts single-pole single throw switches. Alternate on above: Automatic step voltage regulators must be so they can be used on 3 phase 4 KV 50 cycle in future. Prices to be F.O.B. City of Anaheim warehouse. Prices to come Rail or Water blankly as she thrust the bulky package into his hands. She had never looked smaller or more childlike; her pale face a little drawn, tears of excitement misting her blue eyes, only her lips touched with red, moist and trembling. She must have gone mad, he thought soberly. "Take it, take it, Rod! It's all right—bonds and securities as good as gold, you can cash them, take them and go—quick, quick, before it's too late!" He took the bundle, glanced at its contents and stared at her with his mouth open. "Where in mischief did you get it, Nancy?" "I-I got it—" she stopped, leaning against a tree, breathless. She was so pale that her blue eyes looked dark. "It doesn't matter—I borrowed it, you can have it Roddy." He was turning the papers over, bonds and securities and cash. His amazement deepened as he counted and assured himself that all were genuine. Fifteen thousand dollars—the whole sum—from the gods! How in the name of heaven—? He stared at his sister, the red glinting in his wine-brown eyes. "What have you been doing? Where in the world did you get this, Nancy?" he demanded hoarsely. "I didn't steal it!" she said in a low voice. He turned on her. "Don't rub that in!" he cried almost fiercely. There seemed to be no gratitude, no response in him. He stared at her as if he thought her a thief, she had hurt him cruelly. Her face crimsoned under his eyes. "It's mine!" she repeated with stiff lips. "Don't stand there, don't stare at me, go back to New York. Oh, Roddy, go before it's too late!" A light broke over his perturbed face. Relief or something akin to it. "Oh, Lord, I'm thankful!" he breathed, folding the envelope up and staring at her. "I'm going—but—Nance, where on earth did you get it? I must know that!" cried trembling. "I—I must go alone, too. Don't ask me why!" In spite of these constant surpluses the grower's return per acre has been protected and the average lemon grower has received a good reward for his labor and investment, so much so that everyone wants to acquire lemon acreage in preference to the other varieties." Mr. Armstrong, an orange grower himself, says growers agree that their citrus properties have fared better and are still more promising than most other investments of recent years. Lemon sales to date this season (since November 1) are the heaviest on record with one exception, and prices are satisfactory, he said. And he had not asked. Suddenly his voice and his eyes were kind, as Her eyes darkened suddenly, she choked back a sob. "I'll never tell—unless you trust me and go—right away." Roddy stared, his jaw dropping, he turned white and then red. "Nancy Virginia, did you tell—to get it?" Nancy, who felt his shamed misery, threw her arms about him. "I didn't—I vow I didn't, Rod! I just borrowed it." "Borrowed it—on no security? Lord, Nancy, how can we pay it back?" Anger welled up again in Nancy. She had suffered and he took it this way—without thought of her! "We'll do it somehow, Rod! Can't you trust me—I won't tell, I won't truly! Oh, Rod, do you want to go to jail? Can't you wake up, take it and go—go!" Their eyes met. She was clinging to his arm, pushing him away, urging him to go, and they were very close together. "I did it for father," she said flatly. "it was killing him. Now go—go. There's a train, you can just catch it!" He hesitated, in an agony of shame. He wanted to fling the borrowed money back, to say he'd face jail first, but his courage ebbed as the temptation pressed against his heart, he held the package gingerly, but he knew the money was there—the money to save him! Continued Next Week Wake Up Your Liver Bile —Without Calomel And You'll Jump Out of Bed in the Morning Rarin' to Go If you feel sour and sunk and the world looks punk, don't swal- Wake Up Your Liver Bile —Without Calomel And You’ll Jump Out of Bed in the Morning Rarin’ to Go If you feel sour and sunk and the world looks punk, don’t swallow a lot of salts, mineral water, oil, laxative candy or chewing gum and expect them to make you suddenly sweet and buoyant and full of sunshine. For they can’t do it. They only move the bowels and a mere movement doesn’t get at the cause. The reason for your down-and-out feeling is your liver. It should pour out two pounds of liquid bile into your bowels daily. If this bile is not flowing freely, your food doesn't digest. It just decays in the bowels. Gas bloats up your stomach. You have a thick, bad taste and your breath is foul, akin often breaks out in blemishes. Your headaches and you feel down and out. Your whole system is poisoned. It takes those good, old CARTER'S LITTLE LIVER PILLS to get these two pounds of bile flowing freely and make you feel "up and up." They contain wonderful, harmless, gentle vegetable extracts, amazing when it comes to making the bile flow freely. But don't ask for liver pills. Ask for Carter's Little Liver Pills. Look for the name Carter's Little Liver Pills on the red label. Resent a substitute. 25¢ at drug stores. ©1931 C. M. Co. ALL RIGHT DO IT THIS IS AN EASY DIME YOUR SHOES ARE SHINED. DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ANY THING ELSE? YES FILL MY FOUL PEN, ILL GIVE YOU QUAR A.B.C. BUSINESS DIRECTORY For Quick Reference Look Under Alphabetical Classification of Business or Profession You Are Seeking. You'll Find This Anaheim Gazette Business Directory Reliable. Convenient and Profitable. USE IT. Funeral Directors Ambulance Service—Day or Night Phone 8209 Backs, Terry & Campbell FUNERAL DIRECTORS H. P. CAMPBELL. Resident Director 251 No. Lemon St., Anaheim, Calif. Physicians & Surgeons Phone 3212 Open Eveings Sunday by Appointment DR. OSHER PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Dentist—Painless Extraction. Oculist—Glasses Fitted. 107½ E Center St., Anaheim, Calif. Telephone 4105 DeLuxe Ambulance Service HILGENFELD'S FUNERAL HOME South Lemon at Broadway ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Office Phone 3213 Residence 887 South Los Angeles St. Residence Phone 2610 Hours: 11-12; 2-4; 7-8 J. W. Truxaw, M. D. PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Golden State Bank Bldg. Cor Center and Los Angeles Streets ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Sh and Doors Nagel-Gohres & Co. 118 S. Lemon St., Anaheim 2403 HILGENFELD'S FUNERAL HOME South Lemon at Broadway ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Golden State Bank Bldg. Cor. Center and Los Angeles Streets ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA sh and Doors Nagel-Gohren & Co. 118 S. Lemon St., Anaheim 2403 ANAHEIM FEED AND FUEL CO. Dealers in GRAIN FLOUR SEEDS WOOD COAL HAY Phone 3210 W. D. GRAFTON, Prop. Public Weighing Scales SALESMANSHIP IN PRINTING Your card, letterhead, envelope or statement is more than just a piece of paper — it is your representative. Its effectiveness as a message bearer may be increased, as well as adding salesmanship via favorable impression, when printing is properly done. Gazette Printing Pays Both Ways THE STATE OF VERMONT GETS ITS NAME FROM THE FRENCH, MEANING GREEN MOUNTAIN. FLORIDA GETS ITS NAME FROM SPANISH PASCUA FLORIDA MEANING FLOWERY FEAST AND SO WE COME TO THE END OF ANOTHER DAY BOYS-LET'S GET BACK TO OUR HOMES. THE STATE OF VERMONT GETS ITS NAME FROM FLORIDA GETS ITS NAME FROM SPANISH PALSCUA THE FRENCH, MEANING GREEN MOUNTAIN. FLORIDA MEANING FLOWERY FEAST THE TROPICAL SPICES (Cinnamon & Others) WERE, BECAUSE OF THEIR YIELD IN EXTREMELY HIGH ESTEEM. THE MANDAU INDIANS ALWAYS SACRIFICED THE BEST OF ITS KIND TO THE GREAT SPIRIT. SUCH THINGS WERE SACRIFICED AS THE BEST ARROW, THE FAVORITE HORSE ETC. AND SO WE COME TO THE END OF ANOTHER DAY BOYS-LETS GET BACK TO OUR HOMES. By Charles McManus YES FILL MY FOUNTAIN PEN, AND ILL GIVE YOU A QUARTER GEE OUT THIS IS DIRTY WORK