New Britain herald., 1924-08-20

Sentimentality! She wanted sweet heart, and she didn't want him. If anybody could figure out what wo- man really did want, the Wreck was willing to listen.
 A couple of the boys drifted in for late supper. along with Charley McSween. Timothy hung around the kitchen. The Wreck finally gave up the job and went out. He'd be hanged if he'd wash the dishes; let Timothy have fling at it.
 Sally finished her work and went off to bed. She was still angry. Listeners never hear any good of themselves" kept running in her head. That was not exactly true in her own case. Probably the things she overheard were compliments; she had heard them before and al- ways so regarded them. But
 "so Bob Wells is marrying cook, is he?" she muttered as she turned off the light in her room. I'm a smart girl and I'm pretty: oh, yes. But the cooking is the main thing. It's downright important. and neces- sary: it's the foundation. Oh, wait till I see him.'
 Downstairs in the big living room there was an earnest conversation in progress between Chester Underwood and his father. It dealt with dis covery. Chester, roaming about after supper in hope of word with Sally Morgan, and failing to get it, had drifted idly down among the out buildings, He had observed before that one of the little sheds, commonly used for storing tools and various odds and ends, was locked. It was unusual to lock anything around the ranch, but he had paid no particular attention to the fact. Now it aroused his curiosity.
 The paddock would not yield to a pull He tried several keys, but none of them would manipulate the lock. Then he picked up stone and began hammering at the hasp. Eventually it loosened under the attack and he managed to wrench it out of the wood. Rusty hinges groaned as he swung the door back.
 A dusty flivver stood inside the shed. He stared at it for while, wrinkling his forehead and trying to remember whether anybody at the ranch possessed such a thing. He stepped into the shed and walked slowly around if. The place was getting rather dark which was not favorable for detailed observation. So far as he could see, however it looked just like any other flivver. But no; there was a front wheel missing, on the left side. A soap box had been placed under the axle. He looked around the shed, but could not find the wheel. It struck him as peculiar that anybody should put flivver under lock and key, particu- larly one that had only three wheels.
 Presently he steppedI outside again and paused for another view of the rear end. His glance rested upon a license plate and became fixed there. There was a vague stirring in his memory. Then, with look of astonishment on his face, he hurried off in the direction of the ranch house.
 All this he had been relating to his father as they sat in the living room, and Jerome Underwood had been shooting questions at him that began in incredulty and developed into genuine curiosity.
 You say you can remember the license plate?" demanded his father.
 No; l didn't remember the num- Der, of course. l never took any note of it: wasn't near enough the other night. l didn't notice the state. either But it just has the general look. I think maybe it's the color that stuck i1l.rf1y mind.'
 And it's a one-seater?"'
 "Yes.''
 Hin. Well. there are millions of them, of course. You ought always 10 remember license numbers in any kind of emergency"
 (Continued in Our Next IssueD