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Show t :Dy ELINOR MM WELL o J 0 ARCADIA HOUSE PUBLICATIONS WNU SERVICE CHAPTER X The script of "Their Son" had reached Mary the second morning after the drive to Westchester with Phillip Buchanan, and the very sight of the long envelope in which it came, and the printed rejection slip that automatically had been enclosed, en-closed, sent a wave of nausea over her. There was a small fire burning burn-ing on the hearth in the living room, the March morning being chill; and Mary, seeing that Aunt Linnie was engrossed in her mail, stepped to the hearth, and dropped the script on the burning logs. "That's tnat!" she told herself. "I never want to see the thing again. It'll only remind me of how futile my efforts are." In that same morning mail, there had come a letter from Janet Lor-ing; Lor-ing; and Mary, seeking what pri- A united howl from the inmates had set up the moment Phil's car had pulled into the driveway. Oscar, feeling he had been betrayed by his master and this girl who had allowed al-lowed him to lean so comfortably against her, slunk beneath the car and, for exactly ten minutes, steadfastly stead-fastly refused to budge. Eventually, tney wheedled him out, Doctor Horner having produced some bait in the shape of a very large hunk of round steak. Finally, assured by the veterinary that Oscar Os-car merely had a cold and would probably be in the pink of condition condi-tion within a few days, they told the I dog good-by, and, followed by his f,nii" eyes, made their way to the coupe. it was nearly midnight when Mary reached home. Lelia had Just got in, and was rifling the ice-box; while Miss Cots well, propped up in bed, was reading. I The older woman, discerning the girl's unrest, studied her lovely young profile. "What's the matter, dear? You haven't received bad news from home, have you?" : "No, everything's all right. I ' simply feel restless. I won't be gone long." Linnie Cotswell, sympathetic to something she could not fathom, continued to search the girl's face. "All right, my dear," she finally said. "Run along, but don't forget we're leaving for Journey's End at eleven. Jerome's car'll be here promptly on the hour." "I know," Mary murmured as she left the room to get a hat and coat. And to herself, she was saying, "Journey's End Oh, my Cod! How can I stand driving out there today filling myself with rich food being be-ing shown those thoroughbred horses and dogs talking fool noth- "Come on In here, girls," she called from her bedroom, "and bring some cheese and crackers. Where in the world have you been, Mary?" Mary stepped into the bedroom. "Why, Aunt Linnie, didn't Addie .CHAPTER IX Continued f 9 Jpood Lord!" Phil Buchanan exited ex-ited incredulously. "You're re not crying! My dear child, e don't take this thing so se-illy. se-illy. After all, The National fkly's not the only magazine in ,) York." fary af erted her face, and gazed lrily out of the window. "No," " finally managed to say, "The lonal Weekly's not the only mag-ie mag-ie in New York, but if you say ,dr Son' is trite, and lacks con-ion, con-ion, there's no use in my trying jiarket it anywhere else. And t a fool you must think I am! 'Dg because you don't like my ft I I bet I'm the only woman ever bawled in your office." ichanan grinned, showing those ag teeth that looked so startling- ihite compared with the tan of : (ace. "Well, perhaps you are, let's forget it." !ary smiled through her tears, ybe you can, but I'm sure the "jory of my making a fool of itlf before an editor will haunt rja my dying day! Mr. Buchan-:: Buchan-:: '4 !?, Mary?" throw that script in your waste set!" ! :;hy, can't do that. It's your erty, you know." ,nevef want to see it again!" ,Io, I won't. It'll be mailed to Jin proper form. Now tell me, :ft the new tale about? And do "feel that you've allowed your-.enough your-.enough time on it?" ttry looked at him with troubled "Why, I don't know. I worked 1 con$tantly for two days and ;f and, after all, a short is only ousand or so words in length, u think I'd better take it back tV jo.. Leave it here. I'll glance it, myself, instead of submit-it submit-it to the regular routine. Then, eel It Should be improved upon, return it to you for revision e putting it through the usual Ing procedure. Are you having -picture taken this afternoon, "e way?" jrj glanced at her watch. "Yes, and it's time I was getting e photographer's. Thank you, Buchanan. You've been nice, fm sorry I acted so silly." :il Buchanan followed her to the vacy she could, seated herself in the wing-chair by the window, and slit it open with a hairpin. Mary Dear: I am getting more and more worried about Dad every day. He la so terribly discouraged, and as yet not one ray of hope has come our way concerning a position for him. Also, he Is not well, and has contracted a hacking cough that keeps him awake night after night. I've urged him to go see Doctor Cragg, who's back from his honeymoon, you know, but Dad always says, "Oh, it's nothing. I'll be better tomorrow." I know, however, the truth of the matter Is he's afraid of what the doctor will tell him, and also he feels he can't spend the money even on such a necessary neces-sary thing. He won't tell me how much money we have left In the bank, but I know it must be practically gone after Pete's operation two years ago, and what Dad's had to draw for expenses lately. Morning after morning, he leaves the house right after breakfast, Just as he's done for twenty-five years, when there really was some work to be going to. Each morning he bathes and shaves and dresses so carefully, and there actually actu-ally seems to be some hope in his face; but he always comes back to noon dinner, din-ner, and again for supper, with no news to tell us, and a look of defeat in his yes. I've come to the conclusion that we ought to tell Linnie about our affairs, ask her for a loan. Five hundred dollars dol-lars would be a life-saver for us right now would give Dad some relief until he can find a position; but when I mention men-tion this to him, his face gets red, and he says, "No, Janny. We haven't come to that yet. I don't mind your sister's sending you valuable presents, and giving giv-ing Mary a lovely time in New York, but I can't allow you to ask her for money to feed us." People don't seem to like Chris Cragg's wife very much. I saw her at Sullivan and Ourwerda's the other day, and she was being positively rude to poor Miss Ackley about their line of chintzes. I overheard her sav. with a Ings!" The days wore on fruitless, sterile ster-ile days for Mary. She longed with every fiber of her being to write, but the words would not come. It was futile to try, she finally told herself, until after she had learned the fate of "Concerning Anne." If Phillip Buchanan accepted it, her belief in herself would be restored. The dried well of her mind would again gush forth. Until then, she must go on in this helpless daze eating, bathing dressing; attempting attempt-ing to sleep; attending farewell parties par-ties given for Linnie and Lelia. It was now the twelfth of March, and they would be sailing in three days. Maybe, after they had gone, and she and Addie were left alone in the quiet of the apartment, she'd be able to think. Maybe ... It was early in the afternoon of the twelfth that, coming home from a dull luncheon at the Ritz with some of Linnie's friends, she found a letter from The National Weekly on her dressing-table. Her heart flooded with hope when she saw that it was thin and flat that it could not possibly contain a script. With clumsy haste, she tore off one end of the envelope, and snatched out the single sheet of paper it contained. con-tained. "Why, it's in longhand," she said to herself. "How strange! Did Mr. Buchanan write it, himself?" Yes, there was his signature, "Phillip "Darling, you're not falling in love with him, are you?" Buchanan," scrawled at the bottom of the page. Then, with joyous anticipation, she began to read: My dear Miss Lorlng, I've Just finished reading "Concerning Anne," and, my dear child, "Their Son" was a gem in comparison. It, at least, had possibilities that is, perhaps, for some magazine other than The National Weekly. What has come over you? Why can't the girl who wrote "At Sea" produce pro-duce another perfect short? It's In you, Mary Loring. It Is only something about which I can't possibly know is destroying your beautiful talent. Please try to overcome it, or shake It off, or forget it. I feel sure you can do it. I have absolute faith In your ability. That Is why I am writing you these words which, in all probability, vou will little toss of her head, "I'll simply have to go to Chicago to get what I want. Why, I can't even get a decent haircut hair-cut or manicure." We're so excited over the news that your story will appear in The National Weekly next month. Mr. Chickerlng called up the other night to get the details, and he's going to print a nice article about you in the evening paper. To think my daughter should be a successful suc-cessful authorl Have a good time, darling, and as long as Dad is so adamant on the subject, sub-ject, don't let on to Aunt Linnie In any manner, shape or form, that we are so frantic about finances here at home. Mary read the letter again, her heart heavy with compassion. "Have a good time, darling" "Don't let on to Aunt Linnie" "To "Well, there's something you t do to ah make up for hav-loored hav-loored me just a bit there for toent," iy smiled at him obliquely, tfwhat is that? Never darken doori again?" i) the contrary. I have to drive it up to Westchester this after-s after-s and I wish you'd go along." icar?" ,.n't jtcll me you've forgotten ;.! My dog, you know. He's Jbg up an attack of something jer, jknd I want to get him to feterinary's before he breaks -ith distemper or the rickets, or 3ver preat Danes have. We ' Call for you at the photogra-, photogra-, if Jou'll go; then, after get-tecarjsettled, get-tecarjsettled, drop in at Trudi's Boston Post Road for a beef-ji beef-ji dinner." y hesitated. She had accept-invitation accept-invitation with Count Balianci ftoner somewhere, and one of usuai walks, but an evening .Phil 1 Buchanan suddenly ap- fai more desirable than an with the suave Italian. She phone Balianci; cancel her ement with him. lov to go with you and Os-ihe Os-ihe finally said. "I don't imag-i imag-i photographer will keep me ihan'an hour, do you?" thance! Shall I call for :0y. at five?" I give you my message? I telephoned about five, but you weren't in, and I told her to tell you I was driving to Westchester with Mr. Buchanan. He had to take his dog to a veteri-nary's, veteri-nary's, and asked me to go along." "Heavens! How domestic and unexciting!" un-exciting!" "But it was fun, Aunt Linnie, really! real-ly! We stopped at Trudi's on the way back, and had beefsteak and German-fried potatoes, and pancakes. And we sat in front of a big log fire in a room that can't be a day less than a hundred years old. No one else was there, and after Trudi served our dinner, he and his wife, who cooked it, came and sat with us, and we talked." "Sounds cozy," commented Lelia, entering the room with a tray of food. "Phil Buchanan loves to hobnob hob-nob with all kinds of people. Perhaps Per-haps that's why he's so successful; he knows every phase of life. Half the policemen in New York have named their first-born son after hin." Miss Cotswell regarded her niece with speculative eyes. "Darling, you're not falling in love with him, are you?" The butter knife with which Mary had been spreading some cheese clattered to her plate. "No," she said coldly. "I'm not falling in love with him, and a darned lot of good it'd do me if I were. He's inter- consider brutal. "Concerning Anne" Is not being returned re-turned to you by mail. I don't want anybody In the office to see It. Instead, will you lunch with me at the Brevoort Saturday the fifteenth, and talk things over? Sincerely, Phillip Buchanan Mary never knew how long she stood there at the dressing-table, staring blindly at Phillip Buchanan's Buchan-an's letter. A dull pain pounded at the back of her neck, and, for a while, she thought she was going to be sick. The frankness of his words was reacting upon her with physical violence. Her mouth felt dry and hot. Automatically, she moved towards the bathroom, took the peach-colored glass from its niche in the wall, and turned on the cold water faucet. (TO BE CONTINUED) think my daughter should be a successful suc-cessful author!" The brave, pitiful sentences danced about in her tired mind. "Poor Dad!" she thought. "Poor Mother! So gallant so defeated! de-feated! Wanting me not to tell. Wanting Want-ing me to have a good time. Thinking Think-ing me a successful author, when 'At Sea is probably my one and only story that'll ever see itself in print." Suddenly, unable to bear her thoughts in the narrow confines of Aunt Linnie's home, she jumped to her feet. "Aunt Linnie," she began, be-gan, and her voice was breathless. "I'm going out for a walk." Miss Cotswell glanced up from the announcement of an art exhibit "Why, Mary! So early? It's only nine o'clock!" r a uuyy uj- ,as, by the grace of a friendly ,toan4 waiting for her in his Joig Coupe when she came out Ibuilding at five minutes after .Oscar, looking regal in spite ose jthat was definitely drip-'?ccuied drip-'?ccuied the rumble seat. I? hastily slid in beside Bu-and Bu-and slammed the door. "I know anybody short of the itCoukl park on Fifth Avenue!" f-( THow's Oscar?" 'jst a decided case of .nei," Phi replied, looking iorf ed. "and Spike says you erar sort of wheeze in his itiikean organ in a country when the organist misses a ,f turned about, and looked at J dog through the back win's, win-'s, seems to be enjoying pt now," she reported. "Sit-I "Sit-I vv straight and regard-traie regard-traie with enormous inter- loves people," the man Hfonflly, "and I bet he'll be with me when he finds I'm W hfrn at the dog hospital." MUauy, they arrived at Doc-Jners Doc-Jners Country Retreat for Jgs, amd, cramped and cold 1 from the car. Mary could wugh the gathering dark watch mgntj a rambljng J'ing. once a barn, so Phil pn ! informed her-now a -.hospital for canine pets, t I ested in me as a writer not a woman. And not so terribly interested, inter-ested, at that! He turned down "Their Son' today said it was trite and banaL" "Um," murmured Linnie, and bit into her cracker. "Well, I can't say, my dear, that I can shed any tears over that. The sooner you discover you were never meant to be an author, the better it'll be for you. Something will have to wake you up to the advantages of marrying marry-ing Jerome Taylor." Mary placed her plate on the tray with a bang that was almost fatal. "I'm never going to marry that silly old man. Aunt Linnie, and you might as well know it right now. Also, I wouldn't have Umberto Balianci, Bal-ianci, with his brilliantined hair and perfumed cigarettes, for a gift. I'm sick to death of their fatuous glances and their silly speeches. It was wonderful simply wonderfulto wonder-fulto spend this evening with a man who never once mentioned my so-called beauty, nor attempted to kiss me. No, Aunt Linnie, I'm not falling in love with Phil Buchanan! And heavens knows, he certainly is not falling in love with me. In fact, there are times when I feel quite sure he doesn't even like me that he secretly thinks I'm something some-thing of a fool!" And. leaping to her feet, her eyes Burning with unshed tears, she flea from the room. |