The Washington times., 1937-02-01

were casting lung Sl1duOWS' AAl0
carlton was booming Lead,
Kindly Light"
Sne was not often alone, these
days. Perhaps that was just as
we'll. Sonia had been a precious
darling, had taken her into the
shop and given her a chance to
be busy; useful, too.
This afternoon, perhaps because
OF fatigue, Phyllis was gradually
Slumping into a mood Of detection
such as she had not experienced
for many weeks. The future looked
gray. Her awareneSs Of being ut
terly bereft swept her all the way
through. Impulsively she decided
to attempt a brief glimpse Of the
dean. Happily for her, only one
caller remained in the reception
parlor and in few minutes her
case was dispatched. Mr.. Talbot
came in, smiled pleasantly, and
said, You know the way"
She entered, slowly crossed the
already ShadoWed room, and, with
out speaking, raised the hand he
offered her and held it tightly in
both Of hers, pressing it hard
against her throat.
Somebody been hurting you?"
he asked gently.
She did not answer for a mo-
ment, but stood with doWncast
eyes slowly rubbing her soft chin
against the back Of his hand.
Then, suddenly Frightening, she
shook her head and seated herself
opposite him.
'Everybody's been good to me" "
she said, forcing smile. Sonia
especially. Sonia's wonderful .
think these warm spring days
make one restless. 1 can't remem.
Der ever having been 500 Gagged.
Does one grow restless, in spring
time, as one grows older?"
No. It is a physiological phe-
nomenon," replied the dean play
fully, common to later adoles-
cence. BY thirty, the attacks are
said to be quite harmless. I think
the actuarial figures on sad spring
poetry report that the peak of
production is reached on the four
teenth of April by persons in their
twenty-second year."
Phyllis pulled a pensive little
smile and shook her head.
"Twenty-three," she corrected.
Going on twenty-our .. Going on
going where, going on doing what,
going on being what? Are
you ashamed Of me?"
"No-not ashamed muSed the
dean, "but I presume you should
be quarantined until you get over
it. It's contagious"
Speaking of quarantine, I've a
long letter from Grace"
80 have I. Good place for her,
down there. Valuable institution.
There ought to be more of them.
Perhaps there will be, some day
. . should like to see a number
of walled town built where peo-
pie may go who can't bear the
racket and confusion Of the mod
ern world. They could study, med
itate, create new art forms, COM
pose music, verse, plays, literature.
And raise their own vegetables"
How does one get IMP" in
quired Phyllis, falling into step
with his whimsical mood.
Il was just coming to that.
Whenever any man declares that
the world is, in his opinion, going
to the dickens, and expresses his
belief that the times are out Of
joint, he could be sent there for
an indeterminate period, exactly
as we put people away who suffer
from any other serious hallucina.
ton"
But" queried Phyllis, remem-
bering the Brook Farm" expert
ment and other similar sequestra-
tionS, do you think these malad-
juSted people, who can't get along
in the world, could be entirely
happy penned up at close quarters
with one another?"
Probably not; but that isn't
the point. They would not be at
large, communicating persons who
are free Of the complaint . My
thought is," soliloquized the dean,
that all our restless people-par-
ticularly those given to expressing
their views in public places
should be requested to decide
whether they wished to be consid-
cred a component part Of the So
cial order, believing in it, hopeful
for it, sharing its risks, burdens,
joyS-not as spectators and re-
porter but participantS-under-
standing its wistfulness, it's in
firmities, its internal contest Of
the angel and the tiger-or pre-
ferred to withdraw behind some
walled enclosure and say, Go by,
mad world
TO Be Continued)
Copyright, 1881. by Lloyd c. Douglas.
Distributed by King FeatureA