mT ==
Bellefonte, Pa.,, November 27, 1981.
AT THE TOP OF THE ROAD.
“But, lord,” she said, ‘my shoulders
still are strong—
I have been used to bear the
long;
load so
“And see, the hill is passed, and smooth
the road—"
“Yet,” said the Stranger, “yield me now
thy load.”
Gently he took it from her, and she
stood
Straight-limbed and lithe, in new-found
maidenhood.
Amid long, sunlit flelds; around them
sprang
A tender breeze, and birds and rivers
sang.
“My lord,” she said, ‘this land is very
fair!"
Smiling, he answered: ‘Was it not so
there?”
“There?” In her voice a wondering
question lay:
“Was I not always here, then, as to-
day?"
He turned to her with strange deep eyes
aflame;
“Knowest thou not this
my name?’
kingdom, nor
“Nay,” she replied: “but this I under-
stand—
That thou art Lord of Life in this dear
land”
“Yea, child,” he murmured, scarce above
his breath
“Lord of the land!
ed me Death.”
but men have nam-
THE ETERNAL MICROBE
Love, according to some French
scientist, is a disease, and a contag-
jous disease at that. If this is so,
the germ that waylaid Patterson
Noyes certainly worked fast. For
at eight o'clock of an August twi-
light, when Pat sat down to a semi- |
formal dinner, he was perfectly nor-
mal. Before nine he was some- |
thing else again.
For that Nancy Pray was respons-
ible. East is East and West is—
where Nancy came from. So she
had informed Pat. He took a deep
breath.
“The West is a wonderful place,”
he assured her.
Pat was thinking of the Grand
Canyon and Yellowstone National
Park. He had never seen them
but he had now seen Nancy. She
made them comprehensible. Marvel-
ous!
He had had only part of one cock-
tail, so it couldn't have been that.
Nancy smiled. “I doubt if you'd
find Slogan City very wonderful,”
she commented.
“Slogan City?” he echoed.
“That's where I came from. I
know the name doesn’t sound prob-
able.”
Pat swung back into his stride.
“It sounds ever so right,” he as-
sured her. And added, audaciously,
“It's the place where the slogans
come from, of course. I can under-
stand that. “The skin you love to
touch’ and—"
“And ‘Often a bridesmaid but nev-
er a bride,” offered Nancy helpfully.
Pat was visibly shocked. But
Nancy was not impressed. She had
been warned to look out for Pat.
The semi-formal dinner was given
by the Taylors at Montauk. Nancy
was the guest of the daughter of
the house, Estelle, whom she had
known at college. She had arrived
that afternoon with overnight bag,
one hatbox and just one evening
frock.
She had mentioned that one frock
to Estelle at once. “You should
have warned me!" she protested.
“I never dreamt you dwelt in marble
halls.”
To her the Taylor summer place
was overwhelming. The sort of
house she had read about in books,
seen pictured in magazines and
movies.
But Estelle
merely shrugged.
“Don't worry; I can lend you any-
thing you need” And added,
“You'll do, anyway.”
By that she meant that if Nancy
had only one evening frock she had
other things. A ripple in her cop-
pery hair, for instance. And two
ripples in her golden-brown eyes.
“Besides, you're a novelty—that
always helps,” she told Nancy.
Nancy grimaced. “A novelty?
Something from the Five and Ten?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Just make
yourself at home.”
TL: room assigned to Nancy rep-
resented the ultimate perfection that
unlimited money intelligently spent
could achieve. And she had been
simple enough to think she would
share a room with Estelle!
“TI wish IT could feel at home,”
she confessed. “But at the moment
I feel more like a fresh-air funder
who—""
“I tell you what I'll do,” Estelle
broke in. “I'll hand you to Pat
Noyes. He'll make you feel at
home.”
“Pat Noyes? Is he the tennis
player?”
Estelle nodded. “Nothing else but
He's playing at Southampion; every-
thing is tennis this weel."”
“I'm an awful dub about tennis,”
Nancy warned her.
“Oh, Pat doesn’t talk shop;
always finds much better things to
talk about,” Estelle assured her.
“You'll adore him. Only don't fall
in love with him.
on it. Everybody who knows him
knows that.”
Pat;
'Swiftly, but with cool
she did not realize it.
/to know everything about her. That while.”
And so Nancy was prepared for she was the product of a small mid-
for the line that was so en- western city he al
gaging but never led to an engage- her father was the owner of its lead- ter college,
: - CTT a _—r oY - ETT Tam TTT
a swift, whimsical smile and charm- received this bid to visit her, and
ing manners. He had, naturally,
met quite a few pretty girls, flirted
with most of them and kissed a
reasonable number. In the modern
manner, that is. His intentions
had never been matrimonial.
The reasons for that were basical-.
‘ly financial.
“I've got enough to keep me in
the Spartan style to which I have
been accustomed, but it can't be
stretched to keep two in any style
at all,” was the whi fo disposed of
any suggestion that he marry.
ing ancestor had made
it possible for Pat to enjoy a scant
ten thousand a year, which was
practically poverty among the peo-
ple he played with.
“You might try working for a
living,” a privileged friend had sug-
gested bitingly.
“And became a captain of indus-
try? You know darned well I'd be
more apt to find myself a high
private in the rear rank.”
And that was the trouble with
Pat. He never took anything ser-
jously. Bonds or advertising—at
both of which he had tried his
hand—or even tennis, which he play-
ed very well.
This Nancy was to discover pres-
ently. In the meantime:
“Tell me all about yourself,” he
begged.
He did it well, thought Nancy,
almost as if he meant it. But, be-
ing forewarned, she merely widened
her eyes maliciously.
“Oh, but you are supposed to tell
me all about myself,” she countered.
“Estelle promised you would. She
said you were—"
“Don't you believe a word she
said,” he protested.
“very nice,” continued Nancy
wickedly, “but that you rushed every
girl you met,” she finished demure-
ly.
YDon't you believe it!” began Pat.
But he had the grace to pause and
consider. “Not that I don't know
what she means,” he confessed.
“And I'm waiting to be rushed,”
mumured Nancy.
“Rushed!” breathed Pat.
His eyes met hers and for a mo-
ment she was taken. She almost
believed something; almost wanted
to believe it.
Then she remembered. “You do
it very well,” she commented. “And
who was it said practice made per-
fect ?"
Pat swallowed something. A de-
sire to wring Estelle's pretty neck,
to begin with. And a second later,
the impulse to assure Nancy that
Estelle was all wrong. He couldn't
yield to that, because Estelle wasn't.
So he merely grinned a bit crook-
edly. “How long are you staying
here?” he asked.
“A week.”
“Are you going to let me see
something of you-—despite my repu-
tation?"
“I have not the power of making
myself invisible.”
“You know what I mean,” he per-
sisted.
Nancy did. And again it took
all the power at her” command to
remember that he was good at this.
He seemed so-—something or other.
“But aren't you playing tennis
this week?” she temporized.
Pat grinned. “Part of this week,”
he corrected. “I survived the first
round today and I may survive the
second tomorrow. But I won't get
past the champion, of course. I'm
really not”"—he still grinned but
there was a curious tinge of bitter-
ness in his voice—"a world-beater,
even at tennis.”
Somehow, that touched Nancy.
“Few of us are awfully good at
anything,” she reminded him. “I'm
not myself.”
The dinner, surprisingly enough,
was nearing an end. Pat had no
idea what had been served and, for
that matter, neither had Nancy. It
isn't every day that a girl from a
place like Slogan City meets a man
like Pat. He did his stuff so well,
even if it didn't mean anything.
In brief, Nancy was sorry dinner
was over so soon.
Pat did not know that. For a
second he struggled with what to
him seemed breathless temerity.
Then:
“Can't we duck off somewhere?”
he pleaded. “I've got a car.”
Nancy ‘hesitated. “I'm just a
simple little girl from Slogan City,”
she remarked lightly, yet meaning-
ly. “I don't really care to—-well,
to flirt or—"
“I should hope not!” he assured
been overwhelmed.
“1 still feel like Cinderella,” she
confessed.
“Think of how Cinderella cleaned
them up,” he suggested.
This was the sort of stuff he had
drawn from her. Hardly enough
to give basis for any belief that
Nancy was a girl in a million. Yet
that was Pat's idea of it as he
drove back to Southampton after
midnight.
It was late when he arrived there,
later still when he finally got to bed.
Even then, he did not go to sleep
at once. He was thinking of
Nancy. She was so sweet, so simple,
so unspoiled. And so forth and so
on. The lover's litany. The clock
struck two before he finished with
it.
It may have been that which
caused his elimination in the sec-
ond round, although Estelle diag-
nosed it differently. She and Nancy
had gone with others to Southamp-
ton and seen him vanquished.
Nancy had found herself wanting
'Pat to win terribly. When she saw
him congratulate his conqueror she
wondered if, under his bonhomie, he
minded awfully.
Apparently he didn't. When he
joined them he was cheerful enough.
“I'm sc sorry,” she murmured.
“I'm not,” he retorted I can
play tennis any time, and I'll get
him next time.’
He did not say, “when you're not
here to play with,” but that was in
the air. She felt it as one feels
unsaid things.
“Are you awfully keen on seeing
the rest of the matches?” he asked.
At any other time she would have
been. What was old to him was
new to her, and it was very colorful.
Besides, the champion was yet to
play. They did not see him, how- |
ever, for, “Oh, not terribly,” replied
Nancy.
So they slipped away, followed by
a satirical glance from Estelle. The
latter offered no protest then, but
four days later she did speak her
mind.
“I've hardly seen you at all,” she
said. “What are you doing to Pat,
anyway? I never saw him rush one
girl so steadily; his idea usually
seems to be that there is safety in
numbers.”
“Oh, I'm young and naive and so
I probably amuse him,” suggested
Nancy. “And he's good company.”
But she could not help blushing
when Estelle gave her a searching
glance.
“Well, I warned you,” Estelle re-
minded her.
As if anybody could be warned
about such things!
Not that Nancy admitted any-
thing, even to herself. It was just
that it was pleasant to be with Pat.
He was so different from most men
she knew. If it was all a line it
was a good one. Mostly a nice!
warmth and a flattering interest in
her.
Besides, he knew Long Island, and
because she liked Long Island he
had been showing her the best of it.
Stretches of road flanked by great
estates. Little huddles of build-
ings that should have been ugly and
yet were incredibly picturesque, per-
haps because they bespoke the sea
which hovered as a background.
Bays and inlets and ships, from
fast-flying outboards to princely
yachts and weather-beaten coasters
at anchor.
At first Nancy had felt she really
ought to appear at Montauk for
meal time, anyway, but Pat had
laughed at that.
“No one expects you to do any-
thing except what you please,” he
had assured her. And in the end
she had succumbed. He had a way
with him. And there were so many
places he wanted to show her.
They came to one at dusk of the
fifth day of Nancy's stay. It was
perfect. A table for two had been
set on a terrace overlookng the sea.
Another memory to take back to
Slogan City, Nancy might have said.
The rest of the summer was going
to be dull, she realized. Ww :
This was all so different. It was
like a play. Or almost like being |
in'a novel. Even Pat. He didn't
work at anything, just played tennis.
He had a line, but he didn’t marry.
The first man of that sort, certain-
ly, she had ever met outside the
pages of a novel.
“It's all so lovely,” she murmured.
“It makes my part of the United
State look insipid. The West may |
be golden but - Slogan City Tsn't—
'
|
her, as shocked as Sir Galahad him- Very
self would have been.
thought that
night"
This was indisputable. And so
Nancy went for a wrap and met
“T just
it's such a nice
Estelle. “Fools rush in!" remark-
ed Estelle, guessing where Nancy
was
I'm a perfect angel,”
her.
“Then he'll try to pick your wings
off,” Estelle replied cynically. ‘Men
are like that—the way children are
with flies.”
This did not deter Nancy.
Pat's car was a roadster, a pow-
erful one. He had bought it from
one of his rich friends.
“It eats up the miles, but it also
eats up gas,” he remarked.
Nancy liked the way he drove.
competence.
And he made no effort to pluck her
wings. He was just sweet.
They talked as they drove. Estelle
| derided that afterwards, when Nan-
he
cy told her, but it was true
“Anybody would think you were
‘going to write my biography,”
| Nancy had protested to Pat at one
He's got a won-
derful line, but there isn't any hook |
stage of the conversation.
Another symptom, that, though
He wanted
knew; that
ment. Estelle had made that clear. ing furniture store came out as
Fair enough! To Nancy and, on
his past record, to Pat.
Pat was twenty-eight,
deeply tanned face, very white teeth,
| they drove.
“Not that that means much—in
going.
, but he's been assured that
Nancy told
“You are coming back East for
college this fall?" he asked.
Narncy nodded. :
“What are you going to do after
college?” he added.
“I ‘wish I knew,” she answered.
“It isn't the easiest thing for a girl
to get sométhing. A man—"
“Can pick and choose,” filled in
Pat. His lips twisted wryly. “Or
can he?”
| “But you don't have to work,
‘anyway,’ ventured Nancy.
“I live not' by the sweat of my
brow but the sweat of my paternal
grandfather's,” he acknowledged.
| “Who, I suppose, turns over in his
grave at the thought of me. He)
believed in the gospel of hard work.”
“Fortunately for you,” said Nancy.
“Do you really think so?” i
Nancy didn't, of course. Slogan
| City standards again But she was
‘saved the embarrassment of saying
SO
i
“The trouble with me, I suppose, |
lis that I can theoretically pick and
choose a job,” Pat was saying.
never had to hustle for one.
into bonds, although in a way I
did. T tried
“What happened?”
| “Nothing much.
seemed to be selling bonds. When
{do just that.
matter how much money he
' might
“I've |
4!
‘had inherited a business I would |
‘have stepped into it. But I inherit- |
ed bonds. And one doesn't step
selling them for a
It was just ati]
and everybody I knew |
bonds to live.
ned ruefully. “And so I didn't sell
many.”
aw
it there are other things be-
‘sides bonds,” Nancy suggested.
“I know. I've tried several. Ad-
vertising, for instance; writing copy.”
“My sense of humor,” he
replied. “It seemed to me a farce
they were all playing with deadly
seriousness. I don't mean adver-
tising itself, but the way they went
at it. It seemed to my untutored
mind that all that was necessary
was to find out how good an article
was, and then tell the world about
it. But, believe me, that’s only the
beginning. There's psychology and
atmosphere and a whole lot of stuff
that seemed like bunk to me.
“I tried to play the game their
way, though, until I was put tc
work on some copy for a mouth
wash. ‘The stuff was all right and
I thought the copy was. But it
wasn't. It lacked something. Guess
what.”
Nancy couldn't.
“Sex appeal,” he told her grimly.
“You've got to have that in every-
thing nowadays. No matter what
you're advertising, the thing to do
is to work in a girl who looks like
Miss America. You must have no-
ticed it.”
Nancy had. “Still, they are ex-
perts and they've studied it.”
“They certainly have. They can
tell you just what the average con-
sumer is, and how he reacts. Well,
maybe I'm not an average consumer.
But I do buy things. And so far
as advertising is concerned, if some-
body should advertise an automobile,
for instance, and say, ‘This isn't a
fi v e-thousand-dollar car. for one
thousand but it's as good a car as
we can build for one thousand and
stay in business. Com~ around
and look it over,’ I'd be tempted to
It would at least
sound like sense to me.”
Nancy saw his point and did not
disagree with it. Yet there was
something in her mind that could
not be put into words. Slogan City
stuff. Suppose she should return
home and announce that she was
engaged to a man like Pat who just
played tennis. “Father would have
apoplexy,” she realized.
In Slogan City men worked. Her
father would have been ashamed not
to work when he was Pat's age, no
had.
This was in her mind, when:
“Isn't there anything you'd like to
do—except tennis?” she asked.
“I should like very much to feel
that I was doing something that you
approved of,” he said deliberately.
Nancy blushed beautifully. But he
saved her from even a momentary
awkwardness by signaling the wait-
er. He glanced at the check and
placed some bills with it. Then he
turned to Nancy, smilingly. “Shall
we move on?"
She acquiesced. As they drove
‘he talked casually of many things
Then
all the way to the Taylors’.
he brought his car to a standstill.
“Aren't you coming in?" asked
Nancy.
“Not tonight,” he said.
He did not explain. But Nancy
did not stir. She had the feeling
that they had come closer tonight
than they ever would again unless—
“Is—is this part of your usual
line?" she heard herself asking ina
voice that sounded odd even to her.
“What do you mean?”
manded.
“Oh, love them and leave them,”
said Nancy recklessly.
It was the sort of thing that
be said lightly, flippantly.
That had been her toationy Pe %
came out it sounded horribly flat.
She felt her cheeks burn.
“I'd better go,” she announced.
“I-—-good night.” She would have
slipped out of the car but he caught
her.
“It's not been a line at all, not
from the start,” he was saying, al-
most savagely.
“Well, what was it, then?"
asked.
“I wish I had the right to tell
you,” he said. “If I were in any
way worthy of you!"
“Don’t be silly! It's no question of
being worthy of me. I'm not any-
thing much. But I do think you
could do something better than just
play tennis.”
“T feel that way myself,” he ad-
mitted. “Some before I met you—
terribly since. Because I knew you
wouldn't be satisfied with"
“You must be awfully gone
think I'm anything special,”
protested.
This time his arm went swiftly
around her.
on his shoulder.
he de-
she
to
And just in’ time.
Presently he spoke. “That wasn't |
I haven't the right to—yet.'
fair.
But I couldn't help it.”
“Neither could I,” said Nancy.
“You darling!” he breathed. Then,
his eyes adoring her, he went on, “I
thing to say is
that I'd Sweep streets or something
believe the usual
like that for you. And I would,
but perhaps I can get something
better than that.”
“I know you will,” she prophesied. |
| “Something you'll like, foo.”
It was after midnight when Nancy
finally went in. She hoped
would not meet Estelle. |
she must look like an angel whose
wings had been all torn off.
angel, in fact, whose hat was a bit
off-side and whose hair was rumpled.
A very rosy angel, she might have
added, could she have seen herself
stealing in.
Estelle did. But she was not
satiric. She had a telegram for
Nancy. “It came for you just be-
fore dinner,” she said.
Nancy took it. Tt must be from
home and she felt foreboding.
Your father has just had
a stroke. We hope for best but
doctor advised wiring you.
“Not bad news, I hope,” said
T went after a prospect it was like a | Estelle.
| college reunion. The picking wasn't
wi | Slogan City,” she told him frankly. so awfully good for anybody, and
Ar college Vine had met Estelle and | well, ‘Some of the others had to sell
‘ i
Nancy handed her the wire.
“Could somebody drive me to New
| York?”
|
I didn't.” He grin- |
she
Somehow her head was |
She ' shut her!
eyes—and her mouth. Quickly.
she
She knew
An
Somebody did. In New York she Nor was he in any mood
to
had to wait for a train and she had been his first experience with a
hastily wrote Pat, enclosing the furniture store. And he felt that
telegram. it was not to be wondered at thata
In Chicago there was a wait be- man who had spent his life in one
tween trains and she got her moth- should end up with a stroke. Fur-
er on the long-distance. niture in a home might be cheerful
“He's resting comfortably but his but in the mass it had struck him
whole right side is paralyzed,” her as curiously
mother's voice said. “He's con- “A cross between a
scious, but he's worrying about the an orphan asylum,”
August sale.” first impression.
The August sale! Nancy could re- The man temporarily in charge
member that annual event from might have been the first gravedig-
earliest childhood. It was a yearly ger in “Hamlet.” “Business has
Rubicon to be crossed. Her father been very poor for several years
always wrote the ads himself, toil- now,” he assured Pat.
ing over them incessantly. “What's the maiter? Aren't peo-
Yet they never varied much from ple still buying furniture?”
year to year. Not even the head- “They're buying automobiles more,”
ing: replied the manager dolefully.
“Well, the majority aren't living
in them yet. They must buy some
furniture. How did the sale go last
August?”
OUR ANNUAL AUGUST SALE
And then something about “Great-
est in Our Histol. Prices Slashed.
Unsurpassed Values. The Opportu- «poorly, ve rly.”
nity of a Lifetime.” Pat could understand that, any-
Tr.n a page of such items as W2&Y- He felt that a furniture store
“$275 Three-piece Mohair Living- Was not the place anybody would
room Suite—a bargain at $169. Odd Visit unless he definitely wanted
lots of Dinner Sets at 1; Price. $75 furniture. As for an August sale—
Solid-mahogany Poster Beds at well, Pat could not blame the citi-
$39.50,” and so on. The beating of 2éns of Slogan City for not feeling
a feeble drum to arouse Slogan City i gam on such dog
lo action. “And try to give this stuff
And now her father was worrying be ull sex ap-
about that! peal,” he mused. “Even a flock of
“I could almost write them my- Miss Americas wouldn't help. Peo-
self if he'd let me,” thought Nancy, he might come but they'd look at
as the train took her on toward her girls, and the big idea is to
destination. have them look at the furniture.”
Slogan city! The train came to a oF ile, he himself was doom-
pause at the familiar station. The The O Jooh 2 on Piece » piece.
\ rom
poste: assisted her from the car floor to another. one
“Pat 1" “These were offered last "
Pat!” she gasped. year,” he
Her eyes were at their widest. Snuounced Sismally, stopping before
It was like seeing a ghost. Why, 3 jai 0 vencal oak dressers.
Pat—Pat was back on Long Island. In e Beyer sell them. I don't
She had been reckoning that she dit y Mr. Pray ever bought
couldn't hope for an answer to her
letter for a day or two unless he
wired. Yet here he was.
sy did you get here?” ae wag the sort of stuff he was
“Chartered a plane and flew,” he or for. After (Boiss ro
explained, taking her bag and hail- himself to that Herculean task.
"en To thought of that.” SO I A ot 2.
* - O
But it was sweet to have him brought to him. i Jats ad Kan
here! i In the taxi her fingers clung aside, There Waa no inspiration in
0 , m, No reco -
“That was my idea of it,” he com- cesses. He I eae t wae
mented. ‘One of the times when a Henry Pray and Son—the ori
ello needs § Hed the 4 ov Pray being long dead and orginal
Pat ve aed “Last night ‘and RICHRE From # stivke Weed was
again this morning. Your father is acles in stock at the moa’ wi.
better. xu he needs now is a com- “I wonder if it would be any
Pte reanal in (he one thing heilheow to Wile an ud foran Acgost
won't take, ever,” mourned ney hE estos, Je murmured,
“Mother Sid he was worrying about people in—make them Fito ne
the Augus e, even now." (the gravestones. Of course, he
Pat hesitated a moment. “Idon't meant the furni ’
think he is so much-—mow. I told that— ture. ‘Something
bang.
idea,
him I was an advertising man and He came to his feet with a
" : An idea had hit him. A mad
“You didn't!” gasped Nancy. but at six o'clock his ad was writ-
“But I was," Pat reminded her. ten. He had worked harder over
“You mean that Father is going it than he had ever worked over
to let you write the advertising? anything before in his life. But
Why, he never in his life let any- he did not care to discuss that ad
ved It Elo sow rpeisuuaivel SH Naucy yet. And he had a bad
"A | mom when N wist.
I can be-—sometimes,” put in Pat. fully: QuyTemaried
Nancy blushed. “I suspect I do,” “Perhaps if the August sale should
she retorted. “But were'nt they come out well Father would go to
surprised to see you? How did you California. The doctor doesn't say
explain?" Da AE
“I didn't have too—much,” Pat shock.” he fears a second
grinned. “Your mother seemed to It struck P
think it wasn't so unnatural that, Pray might os eT oc ry
having met you, I should fly half soon unless he bestirred himself. “I
across the country to offer assist- suppose your father will want te
ance. And why not?" know what the ad is like," he sug-
Nancy blushed again, then realiz- gested. '
ed she was home. “You're so “If you knew Father as well as 1
sweet!” she murmured,.with a rush do you wouldn't ask,” she replied.
of Teuling And as Pat did not “What have you up your sleeve,
dismiss driver, she added quick- anyway?"
ly: “Aren't you coming in?" “You talk as if I were a magi
He shook his head.’ “I'm going cian,” he protested. “I need to be
back to the store. I've got theads at that, but it's not up my sleeve
to write. The sale starts Monday, It's being put into type. And I'll
you know." come around in the mo and gc
And this was Saturday. over the ad with your father
3 my-
“But I'll see you soon?" self.” Before she could oo hrnk, Be
“Try to escape me!” he suggest- added swiftly: ‘Please let “forget
. : ' business now." xAat paw
They did. But it was not after
midnight when . y returnec
home. Not'in Slogan City.
| There was but ohe utijay 1
published in Slogan City "
body read It. ‘It was
the Pray home before breakfast anc
Tears again filled her mother's
eyes. “He won't be able to see | Nancy saw it without even a cup o!
you,” she warned Nancy. “He's not Coffee to prepare her for what me
blind, but something has happened Der eyes. She blinked and hastily
to his eyes. It's only temporary, Sat on the paper. Her mother wa:
the doctor says, but—" coming.
"Her father was in bed. He had Your father seems much bette)
always seemed old to Nancy; the this morning,” her mother announc
that €5is And now— ed BOpPIY. re they fmishe:
Yea ” ; - 4 . ey
Ite Nancy, fluttered her moth breakfast. Nancy saw his roadste:
His expression hardly changed. sop sd slipped from her seat tc
Ran But as Nam me tothe | “Oh, Pat!" she protested. “I wisi
bed’ his left hand moved a little, As YOU hadn't written it! That way
she took it in hers and impulsively I mean.”
kissed it she was surprised at the hy not?” asked Pat.
‘vigor with which he held on to her.| “Wh, it's enough to give Fathe
She realized a great deal in that another shock. He'll hate it!
hat makes it unanimous,” said
Pat—but to himself.
she
Nancy's mother was at the door.
“Oh, Nancy!" she sobbed. “It's
‘just that it's been such a terrible
strain,” she explained presently, wip-
ing her eyes.
“I know. Can I see Father?"
asked Nancy.
er
second. Tt sent her to her knees _ Then, let's not say anything abou
i his it to him,” suggested Pat. ‘I've
Foi the bed, her cheek against his | - re ye &
i k with Special benefit. I'll read it to hin
Ine, Sie hag another ta) th ana he'll never know the differ
| “The doctor wants us to go to ence.”
| California for the winter,” her But of course he will! Why
‘mother announced worriedly. “But everybody will be talking about it!
I'm so afraid your father won't. Pat eyed her quizzically. An
Business hasn't been doing so well is that such a bad thing?
of late years—" “But you practically tell then
“And yet you sent me to college, that—" ;
gave me everything,” broke in Nan. Her mother interrupted. ‘Mr
y. Pray heard the car; he wanted t
“Your father was set on that, I know it it was yon,” she said t
don't think anything could have Pat. “And he wanted to see you.
changed him.” Pat gave Nancy's hand a littl
| It was after seven when Pat ar- Squeeze. “Don’t worry! he whis
‘rived. “T've rented a car and I'm pered.
‘taking you out for a little ride,” he | As if she could help it! :
| announced. | They went up to her father
| “Have you written the ad?” ask- | room. And there Pat read hir
led Nancy, as they drove off. something not at all like the cop:
| “Tt will be in tomorrow's paper,” Nancy had seen. If was somethin;
he assured her. | Boney Pray might have written him
|= ight bring self. In fact:
Le OR opt YOR WIE g “Sounds like my last year's ad,
Pat grinned. “Like a proud par- jhe murmur, almost as if he wer
exhibi ring?” he disappointed.
i Bc a tonint. © Tm a| Nancy's mother had left the room
tired business man and T didn't to help the maid clar up, probably
| bring you out to talk shop.” (Continued on page 8, Col. 3.)
| |
C