anaheim-gazette 1934-11-01

LOVE Lightly by Margaret E. Sangster THIRD INSTALLMENT SYNOPSIS . . . "Prelude" . . . "Love Lightly," Mrs. Church warned gently, and Ellen wondered why? Posing for her talented mother, first as a new baby, then a bubbling child, then a charming young girl, Ellen had lived always in a make-belleve land of beauty. Of the outside world her knowledge was meager . . . While posing in the garden one day, Ellen now 17 learns from her mother the story of the broken life. The chance meeting, the stolen kiss, marriage . . . then years of loneliness. As the mother waited for her husband, to share with him the secret of Ellen's coming, a message came, saying he would never return. So through the years Ellen and her mother lived alone. A few weeks after learning the story of the mother's broken life . . . another message arrives . . . tragedy, telling of the father's death. The shock killed Mrs. Church. Bowildered . . . alone . . . warned to "Love Lightly" Ellen arrives in New York. . . Now Go On With the Story. "Ellen," she said, "dear. Get your hat and take this, at once, to the post-office in the village. And send it special delivery, and register it." Ellen, even in the face of her mother's tragic hurry, couldn't quite grasp the seriousness of the letter. Her mother's sudden illness seemed so much more important. "Too bad I didn't ask the boy to wait." she said. "He could just as well have taken a letter back." "I couldn't," said her mother with a great effort, "have trusted it to anyone else, this letter! You'd have had to take it, anyway. . . And I'm glad—read. And then, suddenly, she was lying on the floor, beside her mother's bed, sobbing out all of her heartache and her disillusionment and her pain. For the letter, written with brutal frankness, in an untaught hand, was from a woman. A woman who told of a man's death in a cheap lodging house, in another state. "Toward the last," wrote the woman, "he spoke of you, often. But still and all, there wasn't any reason why he should have seen you! He'd stopped loving you—and he did love me. Maybe he thought you were well to do—and, at the end, he hadn't anything. And after all, you were his wife; for there was never any divorce. And now that there's no money for funeral expenses—well, of course, if you want charity to bury him. . . But a grave and a marker and all the rest —" here she named a sum of money, a sum that Ellen had seen her mother write upon a check. "I don't suppose, though," the letter ended, "that it matters much, now. Only he was sort of proud, always. . ." Ellen, sobbing, understood at last. But Ellen was never to know the details of her father's final degeneration, or of his burial. All that she ever knew was that the last check her mother had written was returned, duly endorsed by some distant firm of undertakers, to the bank. She never knew the final chapter of her mother's tragic story! But she did know, at last, why her mother had crept away from the city, from people—why she had tried to shield her only child from cities, and from people. The darkness, creeping ghostlike into me. And I said, 'I'm at posing.'" A man without a beard reason some years older Vandyked one, spoke. "And so you are!" he told never knew anyone who an idea the way you do heaven I could keep you time. Not that I wouldn't have you in the studio all Ellen shrugged. "I don't eat artists," she even raw ones like Sandy, even good ones like you! One of the girls laughed sharp laugh, rather. "I'm not so sure of this Ellen." I'd say, for all you and your raised eyebrows were a regular man-eater come-on game— "That," interrupted the Sandy, "that doesn't come Ellen's come-on game some fails to arrive!" Ellen laughed ever so surveyed her guests throw hanging haze of their toll the two girls? They — it, in her mind — weren't Just models like herself names behind which they h commonplace labels. Gay shorter one, with the a framed in red hair. She was for magazine covers. Gay cent eyes were a guard periodical of its faith with Claire Tremaine — the tall, who posed for fashion with her boneless, curveseless just a little passe in this fashion elegance. They weren't of much these two. Just white off to a stiff froth. Not a g substance, or nourishment. Sandy Mackintosh? So though his work sold read he had a real flair for ex belonged with the two girl Ellen, even in the face of her mother's tragic hurry, couldn't quite grasp the seriousness of the letter. Her mother's sudden illness seemed so much more important. "Too bad I didn't ask the boy to wait," she said. "He could just as well have taken a letter back." "I couldn't," said her mother with a great effort, "have trusted it to anyone else, this letter! You'd have had to take it, anyway. . . And I'm glad—remember that, always, Ellen!—that it is just about all the money I have. I'm utterly grateful that there was enough. And — I don't want a doctor. I'm not ill. I'm never ill. . ." She rose again. She turned heavily away, toward the house. And Ellen, with no other word, but clutching the envelope, went out of the garden and started townward. She walked so fast that she didn't have time to wonder about anything. But she reached the post-office with a good margin of minutes, and followed her mother's instructions soberly, and started back home. The way back led past the doctor's square white house. He wasn't in. But she left a message with the doctor's aged housekeeper — who eyed her with a frank curiosity—and hurried on. "Mother'll be cross," she told herself, as she scuffed her feet along in the dust of the road—"because I've asked the doctor to stop by. But she can't go on, having these funny spells! I wonder who the letter was from?" The letter! Ellen couldn't help being curious about it — couldn't help feeling that it held the elements of mystery. It didn't, of that she was sure, relate to business, for what business dealings cuold have to do with such a large check? It must be something strange and ominous. It might almost go back, across the years, to her father. And yet... The house lay in the last light of the setting sun, it was her world. Its four walls bounded all of her life, and her childhood, and her fragile store of experience. It was her home — surrounded by her garden. Down the path she went, with its border of fading beauty, in through the wide opened door. In the hallway she paused for a moment before a dim mirror and automatically fluffed her hair. Suddenly, without knowing why she did it, she was calling wildly, was running toward the stairs. Screaming— "Mother! Mother darling! Where are you? Where are you—" There was no answer, only a whispered echo from quiet rooms. Ellen, with the cold fingers of dread touching tans of her father's final degeneration or of his burial. All that she ever knew was that the last check her mother had written was returned, duly endorsed by some distant firm of undertakers, to the bank. She never knew the final chapter of her mother's tragic story! But she did know, at last, why her mother had crept away from the city, from people—why she had tried to shield her only child from cities, and from people. The darkness, creeping ghostlike into a room of sadness and death and despair, brought with it a swift memory of the garden, the garden as it had been a month before. Through that darkness Ellen could hear the approaching rumble of the doctor's Ford. But she was aware of it subjectively. The only actual sound that she heard was the echo of her mother's voice, speaking. Saying— "Love lightly. Don't get intense about love. Don't give anything. Take everything, but don't—" Oh, it had been a magnificent lie! Ellen's hand, wet with her own tears, reached up to touch her mother's chill fingers that had been clenched upon a cruel letter. "And so," said Ellen, "Little Goldilocks came to the big city. Or perhaps I should say Little Red Riding Hood. As I remember it, I did wear a red beret! With just exactly twenty dollars in the pocket of the old tweed coat—but with all of my bille pald., and the homestead still unmortgaged. You didn't know, did you, that I am a landowner? That I, whose knees shall be known to posterity, am the possessor of an estate." The man with the Vandyke beard reached, through the cloud of his pipe smoke, for her hand — which Ellen carefully removed from his vicinity. He shrugged, and reached instead for the glass that stood at his elbow. "For such a red hot, red capped little person," he said "you're startingly chill! Know that, Ellen? A," he laughed, quite alone, at his pun, "a Church—and why should a church need fortifications?—with battlements and moats and a drawbridge!" One of the two other girls was speaking. "Shut up, Sandy," she said. "You're just about as funny as a wake! Say, Ellen," her voice was shrill, "why don't you throw a party up at your place, some weekend? The crowd of us could make perfectly swell whoopee." If a shadow crept across the carefully rouged little face of Ellen Church, she velled that shadow with a slim, raised hand. Her answer came with Claire Tremaine — the tallest woman posed for fashion wishing with her boneless, curveless just a little passe in this fashion elegance. They weren't of much these two. Just white oil to a stiff froth. Not a grit substance, or nourishment. Sandy Mackintosh? So though his work sold readily he had a real flair for ex-belonged with the two girl herself. His essays at always bordered on the coast. He was always ready to put one of his careless, charming tions, however, always read her a dinner at some place food was good, and the low, and there was wine for her. The older man, Dick Tremaine wasn't a lightweight! He pend upon charm to put him over. He didn't even care; his paintings would interest rather than sell them! Ellen creeping about the room, of affection as her eyes on his face. For it was to迪kad first gone, quite by cheek quest for work. A elim, child, in a scarlet cap and ionable topcoat, she had cing at his studio door. A curiosity written in every face, had let her into the squirrel room in which he painted. "So you want to pose?" questioned. "I fancy, from that you've just run away with an old copy of The Cocktucked into your pocket. Need a model. But you'll be unromantic work!" Ellen had answered hard cover the shiver in her heart in her soul. "I've posed all my life," him. "I know it's not easy used to it!" Dick Alven's practiced sonal yet oddly impersonal run the length of her shi He sighed. "You're such a kid," he "Do you pose for the figure?" Ellen felt the blood moan her cheeks, pounding into But she answered with a goredness. Continued Next W Down the path she went, with its border of fading beauty, in through the wide opened door. In the hallway she paused for a moment before a dim mirror and automatically fluffed her hair. Suddenly, without knowing why she did it, she was calling wildly, was running toward the stairs. Screaming—"Mother! Mother darling! Where are you? Where are you—" There was no answer, only a whispered echo from quiet rooms. Ellen, with the cold fingers of dread touching her heart, found herself running up the flight of stairs that led to the second floor. Ellen knocked, not too softly, upon the panel of her mother's door. And then when she heard no sound from within, she jerked the door open and paused, panting, upon the threshold. At first, as she stood there, she knew a great sense of relief. It was as she had supposed—her mother was lying on the bed, resting! As she tiptoed across the room, Ellen thought that her mother was really asleep. For her lips were smiling very beautifully, with their old magic; and her eyes were softly closed—it was as if, in truth, she were the sleeping beauty. At first Ellen thought her mother was asleep. And then suddenly she knew completely and utterly, and with an overwhelming sense of aloneness, that her mother was not sleeping. Perhaps it was something in the sweetness of her mother's smile. Perhaps it was something in the chill magic of the room. But Ellen knew surely... And yet, knowing, she did not touch that still figure, and neither did she cry out. Instead she walked very close to the bed. And as she came close, she saw that her mother's fingers held a letter, ever so slightly crumpled. It was the letter that had come only the space of a few hours ago. Ellen, scarcely knowing what she did, reached over and took the letter from her mother's hand. She smoothed out its wrinkles very methodically, and one of the two other girls was speaking. "Shut up, Sandy," she said. "You're just about as funny as a wake! Say, Ellen." her voice was shrill, "why don't you throw a party up at your place, some weekend? The crowd of us could make perfectly swell whoopee." If a shadow crept across the carefully rouged little face of Ellen Church, she velled that shadow with a slim, raised hand. Her answer came with almost too much nonchalance. "I haven't been near the place," she said, "since I turned the key in the lock and went out into the storm, with neither a wedding ring nor a baby. I'd have to have considerable of a weekend—and I mean my head!—to take you all up there. Why,' even at twenty Ellen couldn't quite control the sudden tremor in her voice. "Why, the place is full of ghosts. . .." The man with the Vandyke beard puffed away in silence for a moment. "You were telling your life story," he reminded Ellen, at last. "Not that it's such a whale of a story, at that. There hasn't been a starvation, or a temptation, or a ruination, yet." "And," the tremor had quite gone from Ellen's voice, "there won't be either. Not while the old brain sits firmly just above the well known shoulders. Well, to make a short story long, I got in touch with the only soul I knew, believe it or not, in New York. A person who had sold my mother's work. Sort of an art agent, you understand. Mother — she did all of her selling second hand, she wouldn't see art editors herself. You have to be pretty swell," there was a note of pride, a defensive sort of pride, in Ellen's voice, "to sell your stuff that way! But anyhow," the pride was gone from her voice, now, "anyhow, I went to this agent and asked her advice. And she tried to help. 'Perhaps you'd better be an artist,' she said. 'It's in your blood.' 'But it's left out of my fingers,' I told her. 'Well, what can you do?' she ask- ANAHEIM GAZETTE DEMOCRATS AND REPUBLICANS regardless of registration or primary vote, may vote for any candidate in the general election, November 6. NOTICE OF SALE BY TRUSTEE NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN that on the 26th day of November, 1934, at the hour of 10:00 o'clock A.M. of said day, at the North entrance to the Hall of Records, in the City of Santa Ana, County of Orange, State of California, the BANK OF AMERICA NATIONAL TRUST AND SAVINGS ASSOCIATION, a national banking association, as Trustee under a certain Deed of Trust executed by JESSIE A. LOTTON, a married woman, and recorded April 29, 1931, in Book 472, page 414 of Official Records of Orange County, California, which was given to secure a promissory note for the sum of Eighteen Hundred and No/100 ($1800.00) Dollars, with interest at the rate of eight per cent per annum, principal and interest being payable in 128 monthly installments of $21.00 each, on the first day of each and every month, beginning May 1, 1931, in accordance with the terms of said deed of trust, and in compliance with a notice of default and demand for sale of the property in the said deed of trust and hereinafter described, recorded on July 26, 1934, in Book 688, page 450 of Official Records of Orange County, California, executed by the owner and holder of said note on account of the default in the payment of the installment which became due and payable under the terms of said note on November 1, 1933, and all payments due subsequently thereto there being a WHEREAS, JAMES E. STEWART, and DORA P. STEWART, husband and wife, by Deed of Trust, dated October 6th, 1928, recorded October 13th, 1928, in Book 206, Page 239 of Official Records of Orange County, California, did grant and convey the property therein and hereinafter described, to the Orange County Title Company, as Trustee, to secure among other obligations, the payment of one promissory note dated October 6th, 1928, payable to Home Mutual Building and Loan Association of Santa Ana, or order, for the principal sum of $11,000.00, with interest at the rate of 7.8% per annum, principal and interest due in monthly installments of $137.50 each on the 1st day of each month beginning December 1st, 1928; and WHEREAS, default has occurred in that the installment of principal and interest due on said note on January 1st, 1933 has not been paid; and WHEREAS, PACIFIC STATES SAVINGS AND LOAN COMPANY, then owner and holder of said note, heretofore demanded that said Trustee sell said property and on July 21st, 1933 duly recorded in the office of the County Recorder of said County, in Book 622, Page 364 of Official Records thereof, a notice of said default and of its election to cause said property to be sold and more than three months have now elapsed since the recordation of said notice. The amount of $7560.93 principal and interest thereon from December 5th, 1932 is now due, owing and unpaid on said note and there is also secured by said Deed of Trust the Trustee's fee and expenses of sale, estimated at $309.00. NOW THEREFORE, NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN that the said Orange County Title Company, by virtue of the authority vested in it as Trustee under said Deed of Trust, will sell at public They weren't of much importance. These two. Just white of egg, beaten on a stiff froth. Not a great deal of substance, or nourishment, there! Sandy Mackintosh? Somehow, although his work sold readily, although he had a real flair for expression, he longed with the two girls, Ellen told himself. His essays at love-making always bordered on the comic, for her. He was always ready to put her into one of his careless, charming illustrations, however, always ready to buy or a dinner at some place where the food was good, and the lights were dark, and there was wine for the asking. The older man, Dick Alven? He didn't a lightweight! He didn't end up charm to put his drawings on. He didn't even care, always that paintings would interest dealers—other than sell them! Ellen, her gaze keeping about the room, felt a thrill affection as her eyes rested upon his face. For it was to Dick that she had first gone, quite by chance, in her best for work. A elim, frightened old, in a scarlet cap and an unfashable topcoat, she had come knocking at his studio door. And he, with curiosity written in every line of his face, had let her into the square, somber in which he painted. "So you want to pose?" he had questioned. "I fancy, from your looks, that you've just run away from school, with an old copy of The Common Law booked into your pocket. Well, I did need a model. But you'll find it hard, romantic work!" Ellen had answered haughtily, to ever the shiver in her heart, the quake in her soul. "I've posed all my life," she told him. "I know it's not easy. But I'm ready to it!" Dick Alven's practiced, oddly personal yet oddly impersonal gaze had on the length of her slender body, as sighed. "You're such a kid," he told her. So you pose for the figure? Ellen felt the blood mounting into her cheeks, pounding into her temples. It she answered with a certain dog-likeness. Continued Next Week Lot Nine (9) and the Easterly fifteen (15) feet of Lot Eight (8) in Block "A" of the Lorelei Tract, as per map recorded in Book 29, page 24 of Miscellaneous Records of Los Angeles County, California, or so much thereof as shall be necessary to pay the principal, interest, advances, charges, costs and trustee's fees due and unpaid at the date of said sale. Dated October 29, 1934. BANK OF AMERICA NATIONAL TRUST AND SAVINGS ASSOCIATION, By R. D. Fuller, Trust Officer. And W. Dale Bell, Assistant Trust Officer. 11/1-8-15-22, 1934. STOP FORGETTING Use Magazine sealed blades. Entire clip alps into razor handle. Then forget new blades for a long time. Nothing else like it: 20 blades in a clip for 75c. That's economy! Ask to see the Schick Repeating Razor. At all dealers (6), (includes clip of 20 sealed blades). Schick Repeating RAZOR NOTICE OF ABANDONMENT OF HIGHWAY Notice is hereby given to all freeholders in the Third road district that the hearing of the petition of LEONARD EVANS et al., filed on the 17th day of October, 1934, to vacate; discontinue, abandon and abolish a certain private road in the Third Road District, in Orange County, California, has been set for Tuesday the 20th day of November, 1934, at 10 o'clock A.M., at the room of the Board of Supervisors in the Court House at Santa Ana, California. Said private road is described as follows: All that certain real property situated in the County of Orange, State of California, being a portion of "Anaheim Investment Company's Tract," as shown on a Map recorded in Book 7, pages 33 and 34 of Miscellaneous Maps. NOW! GENUINE BAYER ASPIRIN AT DRASTICALLY REDUCED PRICES! Big Price Cut on Bayer Aspirin! POCKET TINS OF 12 NOW 15c PAY NO MORE ON SALE AT NEW LOW PRICES AT ALL DRUG STORES NOW—Pay Less and Get Real BAYER Aspirin! So as to put the reliability and quick action of Genuine Bayer Aspirin within the reach of everyone, the price you pay has been drastically cut. Cut so low that nobody need ever again accept an unknown preparation in place of real BAYER Aspirin. 15c Now For 12 25c Now For 24 For instance, the pocket tins of 12 real Bayer Tablets have been cut to 15c. The popular 24 tablet bottles have been out to 25c. And the big, family size, 100 tablet bottles have again been reduced. So—Always Say "Bayer" When You Buy These new low prices make it a folly to accept unknown brands in order to save a few cents. So—never ask for Bayer Aspirin by the name "aspirin" alone when you buy, but always say B-A-Y-E-R ASPIRIN and see that you get it. ALWAYS SAY "BAYER ASPIRIN" NOW WHEN YOU BUY NOTICE TO TAX PAYERS Notice is hereby given that the taxes on all personal property secured by real property, and one-half the taxes on all real property will be due on the first day of November, 1934, and will be delinquent on the 5th day of December next thereafter, at Five o'Clock P. M. and that unless paid prior thereto eight percent will be added to the amount thereof, and that if said one-half be not paid before the Twentleth day in April, next, at Five o'Clock P. M. an additional three percent will be added thereto. That the remaining one-half of the taxes on all real property will be payable on and after the Twentleth day of January next and will be delinquent on the Twentleth day in April next thereafter, at five o'Clock P. M., and that unless paid prior thereto, three percent will be added to the amount thereof. All taxes may be paid at the time the first installment, as herein provided, is due and payable. Said taxes are payable to the undersigned, in the City Hall, in said City of Anaheim, between the hours of 8 A.M. and 12 M., and between the hours of 1 P.M. and 5 P.M. J. M. BACKS, County Clerk of Orange County, and ex-officio Clerk of the Board of Supervisors of said County. 10/25, 11/1-8, 1934 HIGH FIDELITY ATWATER-KENT RADIOS FEARN ELECTRIC SHOP 1935 Models — Prices $25.90 to $250 273 East Center Street — Phone 8111 BUSINESS DIRECTORY Ambulance Service Phone 3212 Open Evenings HIGH FIDELITY ATWATER-KENT RADIOS FEARN ELECTRIC SHOP 1935 Models — Prices $25.90 to $250 273 East Center Street — Phone 8111 BUSINESS DIRECTORY Ambulance Service Day or Night—Phone 3209 Backs, Terry & Campbell H. P. CAMPBELL, Resident Director 251 No. Lemon Street ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Phone 3212 Open Evenings Sunday by Appointment DR. OSHER PHYSICIAN & SURGEON Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Dentist—Painless Extration Oral Hysterectomy—Glasses Fitted 107½ E. Center Street 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 St. ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Telephone 4105 DeLuxe Ambulance Service HILGENFELD'S FUNERAL HOME South Lemon at Broadway ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA Sash and Doers Nagel-Gohres & Co. 418 S. Lemon St. ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA ANAHEIM FEED AND FUEL CO. Dealers in GRAIN - FLOUR - SEEDS - WOOD - COAL - HAY Phone 3210 W. D. GRAFTON, Prop Public Weighing Scales 242 W. Center St. ANAHEIM FEED AND FUEL CO. Dealers in GRAIN - FLOUR - SEEDS - WOOD - COAL - HAY Phone 3210 W. D. GRAFTON, Prop Public Weighing Scales 242 W. Center St. PAPER AS WE KNOW IT, ORIGINATED IN CHINA. IT WAS IN USE AS EARLY AS THE SECOND CENTURY B.C. THE PERSIAUS HAVE A CUSTOM OF PRESENTING ONE ANOTHER WITH EGGS ON NEW YEARS DAY- THE EGG TYPEFILES CREATION, THE BEGINNING OF LIFE. TIMES MEN HAVE USED ENABLEMENTS NATIONALLY. THE EGYPTIAN US CARRIED AND CROCobiles INTO BATTLE... PUBLIC STREET, AN Owl-Persiaan, An Eagle. HOW LET'S DIS UP ONE MORE FACT BEFORE RETURNING TO OUR HOMES. AT ONE TIME, IN ENGLAND, PEOPLE WERE TAXED ACCORDING TO THE NUMBER OF WINDOWS THEY HAD IN THEIR HOUSES....