Mountain View Times (Mountain View, Okla.), Vol. 22, No. 41, Ed. 1 Friday, February 4, 1921 Page: 3 of 8
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THE MOUNTAIN VIEW TIME?
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The Shadow of the Sheltering Pines
A New Romance of the Storm Country
By GRACE MILLER WHITE
Copyright by the H. K. Fly Compuit
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TONY’S OATH.
Byno^ets.—IjOnely and friendless,
Tonnibel Devon, living on » canal
boat with a brutal father and a
worn-out. discouraged mother, wan-
ders Into a Salvation army hall at
Ithaca, N. Y. There she meets a
young Salvation army captain,
I Philip MacCauley. Uriah Devon,
Tony's father, returns to the boat
1 from a protracted spree and an-
nounces he has arranged for Tony
to marry Reginald Brown, a worth-
less companion. Mrs. Devon ob-
jects, and Uriah beats her. Their
' quarrel reveals that there Is a se-
1 cret between them In which Tony
is the central figure. Tony refuses
to marry Reginald and escapes a
beating by Jumping Into the lake
Tony finds a baby's picture with
olTer of reward for Its delivery to
Doctor Pendlehaven. She delivers
the picture and the doctor visits
her mother.
*•' 1 ----- . ~ *
CHAPTER VI—Continued.
—5—
In another moment the girl hnd
stripped off her wet clothes, had
Mown out the lijrht and was In bed
beside her mother.
When Edith was assured the girl
slept, she crawled out of the bed and
lighted the lamp. She tried to collect
her thoughts, to lay a plan for the fu-
ture for herself and husband. John
Pendlehaven hnd been there! Pendle-
haven, the one man in the world she
dreaded the mention of! And Tony
had said ho would come back tomor-
row 1
She turned and looked at the sleep-
ing face, half-hidden in the blankets.
She had stolen this child from her
father, and now she hnd to escape the
consequences of her wicked deed. She
had to go away, and that quickly. If
she hnd dared to face her husband's
wrath, she would have, then and
there, communicated with Paul Pen-
dlehaven.
She reached out and touched Tonnl-
bel’s face.
“Baby, dnrlln’, wake up,” she said,
"I want to ask you something!”
Tony opened her slumber-laden eyes
and smiled.
“Don’t go to sleep again,” exclaimed
Mrs. Devon, hoarsely. “Tell me this.
Do you honest believe what you said
about that thing on the card? About
It bein’ holy?”
“Yep,” asserted Tony, with droop-
ing eyelids.
“You don’t want to hurt Uriah and
me, do you, honey?”
The girl shook her head slowly, and
a doubtful shadow settling In her eyes,
seemed to make her wider awake.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, darlln',” she
replied at length, “but sometimes,
when daddy’s heatin’ you, I feel like
whackin’ the life out of him. Why,
today—”
Edith stopped her by a trig at her
sleeve.
“If you swore by that enrd you
brought, I mean If you took an oath,
would you keep It?” she asked hoarse-
ly.
“You bet I would.” There was
amazement, surprise and eagerness In
the young voice.
“Didn’t you tell me the feller said
Jesus was a holy bird?”
Tony nodded.
Mrs. Devon gripped her fingers
about the girl’s arm.
“Mebbe he’s In the Dirty Mary here,
only you can’t see him, baby dear?”
The woman’s voice was slyly toned,
but she shivered In superstition.
“He’s right here,” affirmed the girl,
thinking of a hoy’s earnest uplifted
face and vibrant assurances.
“Then say after me what Pm
thinkin’ of.” said Edith.
Tony lifted her eyes to her mother’s,
but drew back when she discovered
how terrible she looked, white like a
dead person.
"I swear hy the Ifvtn’ Jesus,” began
Edith, and then she paused. “Say it,”
she hissed.
“I swear by the livin’ Jesus,” Tony
repeated fearfully.
“I swear to my mummy never to
say nothin’ mean against Uriah De-
von, my daddy,” went on Mrs. Devon.
Tony repeated this, too, almost
frightened Into fits. She had never
»een her mother look and act so mys-
teriously.
“Now say this, keepin’ in your mind
you’ll he Wasted to hell If you hreak
your word, ‘I won’t never tell that my
father heat my poor mummy, or that
he’s n thief and a liar—’” A thick-
fearless sob burst from the woman’s
lips and brought an ejaculation from
the girl.
“I swear to It all, honey mummy,”
she cried “You believe me, Edie,
dartin’, don’t you?”
“Yes, I believe you.” replied Edith,
dully. “Crawl Into bed, and go to
sleep, baby dear.”
Shlverinely Tony Devon got back
under the blanket.
Then for more than an hour there
was silence on the canal boat, silence
that was broken only by the night
noises outside.
Then, extremely weak, the woman
prepared herself to go out. It took
her a long time to write a note she
had to leave for Tony, and when that
was ‘Wished, she divided the money
the doctor had left and stole softly
from the boat.
• ••••••
It was In the full Maze of a morning
sun that Tonnibel opened her eyes and
looked around the cabin. The other
bunk wns empty, and her mother was
not In the cabin. In her night clothes,
Tonnibel went to the deck, shouting
the name, “Edith,” her strong young
voice repeating Itself back from the
woods in echoes. Then she went down-
stairs again and began lo dress
hastily, and every moment her fear
wns growing. She spied the note
pinned to the lame hnndle and stared
at it mutely ns if dreading to know Its
contents, but she unpinned it with fin-
gers that seemed to be all thumbs.
Her legs were shaking so she had to
sit down to read It.
“Tony dear,” It began.
“Pm going to look up Uriah. I took
pnrt of the money. We might need
some. You can go to work some-
wheres if I don’t come back. Maybe
some day you’ll see ine. Leave the
boat where she Is so your daddy can
find her. I love you, darling. Remem-
ber about your swearing not to tell
on your Pop, and don’t tell I’m gone to
find him. MUMMY.”
Tonnibel gave a gasping sob. They
had all gone nnd left her stranded in
a land of strangers. Because It was
no longer her home, she began to love
the silent old cannl boat, and to wish
with all her soul that Uriah and Edith
would come walking down the cabin
steps.
For a long time she sat thinking,
looking out over the water, sometimes
with tears flooding her lids, sometimes
dry-eyed with fright. After n while she
got up, took Gussie to the lake, where,
much to the little animal’s disgust,
she washed her with a scrubbing
brush nnd soap. Then she carefully
washed herself, letting her feet nnd
legs hang over the end of the dock
until they, too, were as clean as her
little friend.
It wns while she was sitting there
with the pig in her arms that a canoe
A Canoe Slipped Under the Overhang-
ing Trees.
slipped under the overhanging trees
and came toward the cnnal boat swift-
ly. She watched it coming with no
show of interest. Directly in front of
her the paddle remained suspended,
and the boat came to a stop. Tonni-
bel’s heart thumped, then seemed to
fall to the pit of her stomach. Here,
right before her, wns the Salvation
man.
“How do you do?” he said, smiling
at her. “I see you're having a nice
time.”
Tonnibel shook her heal.
“No, I ain't, and Gussie ain’t,
either,” she replied nlroost sullenly.
By a skillful twist of the paddle,
Philip MacCauley drew the canoe close
to the dock.
“Is this the boat you told me you
lived on?” he asked, climbing up be-
side her and holding the canoe fast by
a rope.
“Yps, the Dirty Mary,” answered
Tonnibel, with a little catch In her
voice. “Now- I live on her, I mean to-
day.”
“What do you mean hy ‘now you
live on her?’ ” he asked. “Isn't this
your home? Didn’t you tell me that?”
The girl's dark head drooped, nnd
the shower of curls almost covered
Gussie to her short hind legs. Tears
dropped silently.
Philip touched her gently. “Where’s
your mother?” he questioned.
She lifted her head and looked at
him through her tears. She wanted
to confide in some one—yes, she did
want to tell him, but the oath she’d
taken on the gentle Christ flashed into
her mind.
“She ain’t home Just at present,”
she replied in a low voice.
Oh .how stie wanted to ask him If
he knew of any work she could do!
As If he had read her thoughts, he
asked abruptly. “Can I do anything
for you? I brought you this.”
She made a slight movement with
her head but acecpted the card he ex-
tended.
Then there drifted over the quiet
summer day the tolling of the chimes
from tlie university clock on the
campus of Cornell. She bent forward
to listen. It struck one, and drawing
her feet from the water, she got up. j
She had promised to be at Pendleha-
ven place at two o'clock.
“I got to go now," she snld npolo-
getlcally. “Much obliged for bringing
me some more salvation, mister I
Mebbe I’ll see you again some time.
Mebbe I will."
“When?" demanded Philip, the blood
running swiftly to his face, lie felt
a sudden renewed Interest In the sol-
emn girl, and he didn’t want her to
leave hjjh at all.
"I dunno," she answered, putting
Gussie under one arm. “I mightn’t be
home when you come."
“Can I come tomorrow?” the boy
urged.
“Yep, you can come,” said Tonnibel,
with filling throat, “but If there’s any
one around, don’t stop."
Tills was all the warning she dared
give him. Then she paused long
enough to see him Jump Into the canoe,
and for a few minutes she stood
watching the craft as it danced away
on the water toward Ithaca. Then slia
started for the doctor's.
CHAPTER VII.
Tony Finds a New Home.
Many a person turned in the street
nnd looked at the bareheaded and bare-
footed girl as she made her way
through the city with a little pig snug-
gled in her arms. Tonnibel was hurry-
ing to Pendlehaven place, for she lmd
promised Doctor John she’d come to
his office at two o’clock that after-
noon, and, If she didn’t, he might take
it into his head to visit the Dirty
Mary.
When John Pendlehaven came In
and saw her he noted how pale she
was.
"Your mother,” he begnn—
"She’s gone away visitin’,” gasped
Tony. “I don't know where she is.”
"Didn’t you see her this morning?
If she was able to get up, then she’s
better. Isn’t she? Is she?”
Tonnibel bobbed her head.
“I guess so," she mumbled. “When
I woke up, she was gone. I guess she
went to And—” She hesitated, then
ran on, “to see some one we know. So
me and Gussie come to tell you she's
better."
“Sit down," urged the doctor.
Again the curly head shook nega-
tively.
“I got to go,” she told him, swallow-
ing hard. “I just got to go.”
Then as her homelessness pressed
down upon he», she began to tremble,
convulsive sobs shaking her from head
to foot. The doctor forced her Into a
chair.
"There,” he said sympathetically.
“Now tell me what has happened."
"I can’t," came In a gasping sigh.
“But mummy’s gone away, mebbe for-
ever, and I got. to find work. And—
and I don’t kuow how.” *
Doctor Pendlehaven looked at her
thoughtfully. All through the night
the vvnn face had haunted him.
Suddenly Tonnibel put her hand In-
to her blouse.
"I brought back what’s left of tile
money,” she said, holding it out.
“Mummy took some. You don’t care
about that, do you? She needed It aw-
ful, mummy did! But I couldn’t keep
this because I dickered with you last
night about the picture, and you done
your share.”
“Keep it,” exclaimed Doctor John,
huskily.
“No,” said Tonnibel. “I couldn’t
ever sleep a wink if I did.” And she
thrust the roll of bills into his hand,
giving a long sigh as if she were glad
to be rid of it.
It might have been this action on
her part that brought to quick fruition
the resolve that had begun to live the
night before when Doctor Pendleha-
ven had tramped along the boulevard
to Ithaca. From what she had told
him now, she had been left alone. Then
there was no one to nsk permission of
to help her.
“Where's your father?" he said,
abruptly.
"I dunno,” answered Tonnibel, a lit-
tle sulkily. She didn’t Intend ever to
speak of Uriah to anyone.
“Then you are all alone, now that
your mother's gone? Do I understand
you haven't afiy relatives?”
"Not anybody," she hesitated, "at
least, not now. Not anybody but Gus-
sie-Piglet here.”
She touched the little animal with
exquisite tenderness. Doctor Pendle-
haven leaned over and, placing one j
finger under the girl's chin, raised her
face to Ins. “Come with me,” he said
softly.
Tonnibel followed him through what
seemed to her long miles of halls.
When he ushered her Into a room and
closed the door, she stood a moment
taking In all Its magnificence. The at-
mosphere was laden with a heavy per-
fume of flowers, and then she saw
something else. A man lay partly
propped up In bed, his burning gray
eyes staring at her.
‘‘There! Now I'U teach yon
to bite me again.”
<xo be Continued j
The Kitchen
Cabinet
PLAITED SKIRTS ARE
AGAIN THE STYLE
t:
1®. 1921, Western Newspaper Union.)
1 would not If 1 could repeat
A life which stul is good and sweet;
I kepp in age. as In my prime,
A not uncheerful step with time.
And grateful for ull blessing sent,
1 go the common way. content
To make no new experiment.
-J. U. Whittier.
HAVE YOU A FIRELESS COOKER?
Any housekeeper In country or city
cannot afford to he without n cooker.
The p n tent e d
ones m n ile to
hold the heat for
roasting nnd bilk-
ing are of course
the best, but one
may make one
from n box, a
candy pull or an
old trunk. The outside cover should
he tight and the packing material, any
pneknhle nonconducting material, like
paper, excelsior, cork, sawdust or even
hay. In these dnvs of economy a bale
of bay was placed In the woodshed of
one country woman, she cut out a
place for a good-sized utensil with a
tight cover, made a cushion of hay and
used that home made cooker all the
season, then the cow ate it. Surely
this is a good type of economy.
If a box or pail is to he used, pack
the lining (irmly around tin* utensil lo
be used. One which Is tapering to-
ward the bottom removes better from
the well. Make n collar of cardboard
to fit the top and leave space to slip
(lie pall in and out easily. For a
cushion use any of the above material.
If the well or pocket to hold the pail
Is lined with asbestos paper It will
save bent.
Cereal cooked in n tireless if one 1ms
soapstones to put into the cooker or
If not set Into n dish containing l oll-
ing water, will he cooked much better,
tastes bettor nnd is much more whole-
some than the twenty minutes to a
half hour usually given such dishes on
the stove. Get tlie cereal cooking at j
night and when boiling hot put Into \
the cooker. In the morning just re- i
heating Is all that is needed to serve
a hot well-cooked food. The soap-
stone disli which may he used in the
fireproof cookers increases the heat
ns it can lie heated hotter than the
boiling point nnd when shut up in the
cooker retains heat six lo eight hours.
Let It get very hot hut not red, for
fear of cracking. Place one at the
bottom nnd one on top of n dish of
meat nnd one may bake any roast to n
turn. Breads, pies, puddings and
cakes may be baked equally well.
Let me laugh when my heart Is dis-
couraged,
Let me laugh when the thunder
clouds roll,
And th! Joy that I fling to the earth
as 1 sing
Will return and give peace to my
soul.
rpHERE was never a more eneerim
A outlook for separate skirts than
the season just ahead of them. They
have more than met all our expecta-
tions as to wlmt the spring would
bring after their Irit qih of last sum-
mer, and the models ! southern tour-
ists foretell another s< ton of delight-
fully cool and dainty skirls for sum-
mer wear. In the meantime there are
models for sports and street wear be-
tween seasons that meet every re-
quirement that the most exacting taste
can make. They are made of wool ma-
terials In stripes and crossbars, and
apparently the patterns have been wov-
en with reference to the dominant
feature of the styles, which Is plaits.
It Is plaited skirts again with all I lie
emphasis possible on “plaited."
Most materials show a plain stripe
alternated with a fancy stripe, and
they are made up usually In box
plaits with the plain stripe inverted.
There are box plaits of all widths from
an Inch to six Inches across and the
striped nnd barred materials offer
unending opportunities for ingenuity
In managing plaits. In the skirt pic-
tured the material Is woven In very
wide stripes of two colors, and both
box and side plaits have been used.
The pockets and belt are well man-
aged and finished with very large,
handsome buttons.
Any one who is ambitious to pre-
pare for summer in advance of its
coming may make up skirts of baronet
satin, wash satin, tricolette, crepe de
chine or other suitable weaves In
white or white and a color. Not ull of
I hose are plaited. A plain skirt of
\\Idle wash satin has four gores In
yellow satin sei In, one at the front
and back and one at each side. They
are Jointed at tlie top, about seven
inches wide at the bottom and termi-
nate at the hip line with on embroid-
ered arrow head. Widths of crept* de
chine In white nnd a color are sewed
together—four of each—alternating
tin1 color, for skirts that are side
plaited or widths of plain and fancy
weaves In silks are managed In the
same way. Among the newest and
prettiest Ideas appear little coats witn
lints to match, made of gay cretonne,
to he worn with wool skirts In quiet
colors. Ribbon In the prevailing color
in (lie skirt, borders the coat ami trims
the hat.
Luxurious Furnishings
Let me laugh when I lose my posses-
sions,
I-et me laugh at the grasping of men;
For the heart that Is Btrong will not
suffer the wrong
But will turn and reclaim them again.
—George Liddell. •
WHAT TO EAT.
When planning the meals for the
week, the following may prove sugges-
tive:
Timbales of Chicken —
Take one-lmlf cupful of
cream, whites of four
eggs, one-half table-
spoonful of truffles, fine-
ly chopped, two cupfuls
of cooked white meat of
chicken, with salt and |
pepper to taste. Chop
the meat very fine, and pound it to a
smooth paste. Add the cream grad-
ually. When well mixed, season and ,
add the truffles. Then add, one at a
time, the unbeaten whites of two of
the eggs, mixing the first with the
paste until it has disappeared before
adding the second. Beat the remain-
ing whites to ii stiff froth nnd stir
them carefully into the mixture. Fill
greased timbale molds half full of the I
mixture, place In n pan of water—the j
water should come up as high ns the
mixture In the timbale and hake thir-
ty minutes in a moderate oven. Serve
with mushroom sauce.
Cabbage Imperial.—Trim nnd fold
hack ttiree or four of the outside leaves
of a firm head of cabbage. With a
sharp knife remove the center, leav-
ing only a thick wall. Take one cup-
ful of cold meat well seasoned, one
cupful of sliced potatoes, one cupful j
of sliced carrots nnd enough of the
cabbage to fill the head. Add salt t
nnd pepper to taste and a few table- j
spoonfuls of butter. Press the mix-
ture well into the cavity. Tie in a
piece of cheese cloth and steam or
cook in a small amount of water un-
til the cabbage is tender. Cut In ple-
uhaped pieces and serve on a platter. '
Reliable Marshmallow Frosting. _
This has appeared before, but is so
good that It bears repetition. Put the
unbeaten white of an egg, seven-
eighths of a cup of sugar, three table-
spoonfuls of water In the upper part
of the double boiler. Have the water
underneath rapidly boiling, set the
sugar mixture over the rater und
with a Dover egg beater, begin to
beat: after seven minutes add twelve
marshmallows, remove from the heat
ami heat with a spoon until the mix-
ture Is smooth and cool enough to
hold Its shape. Use to frost little
cakes and cookies.
rrVICSE lovely and Intensely ferni-
JL nine ladles of old romantic times,
In their wide skirts nnd many furbe-
lows, appear to have fascinated the
artists of their day and all those that
have come after them. Everywhere,
in luxurious furnishings, we see the j
ideas that pleased them, surviving all
the years that have passed nnd even
themselves portrayed in miniature to I
grace tin* homes of the most modern
of Eve’s daughters. The silks and
satins and gold luce nnd blossoms that
they reveled in, reappear In all sorts
of pretty things—in picture frames, j
pincushions, covers for perfume bot-
tles and powder boxes, hud vases,
trays, lamp nnd candle shades and
no end of other small furnishings.
Just now the miniature ladies them-
selves are used to cover and tone
down electric lights, or to conceal tel-
ephones. The figures shown in the
picture above Include three tall beau-
ties made to cover the telephone, and
one shorter one for screening a light.
They are ail clad In lovely clothes
made of ribbons—with laces and flow-
ers hearing the rieh fabrics company.
The shops have on sale the founda-
tion for their ornaments, the china
or bisque busts and arms attached to
whatever wire frame may be required,
and each individual may dress the
lady of her choice, as she will, copy-
ing to the last detail the costume she
selects.
Wide ribbon also serves for cover-
ing the handsome pitlow shown, in
which plain satin and u metallic
weave are combined It is completed
by two flowerlike rosettes of the
same ribbons, one posed at each end.
A perfume bottle, powder box and bud
vase finish the group of fancies in-
spired by beautiful ribbons; they etn-
| ploy gold laee and tiny flowers, and
I are made to match There is hardly
an article used on the dressing table
j which may not be covered or adorned
; In this way.
conraoHT *» *bib» onkm%
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Forgy, F. E. Mountain View Times (Mountain View, Okla.), Vol. 22, No. 41, Ed. 1 Friday, February 4, 1921, newspaper, February 4, 1921; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc914194/m1/3/: accessed April 19, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.