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Show 4 THE WEEKLY REFLEX TllAT,! The Farm That OTHiSlIElM IPliCTa OUR COMIC SECTION Youthful Enthusiasm By STANLEY CORDELL (Associated Newspapers foster is young Her Inter varied and admlra tion ' (or successful artists, composers, baseball players, tennis players, actors and actresses and writers and others too numerous to mention, is fervent Brenda's favorite writer is Elliott Rice. Brenda especially likes the endings of his stories. He has a way of summing things up with sat Isfying completeness In a few brief concluding sentences. In a word Elliott Rice is a trick" ending writer, and 90 per cent of his popularity is undoubtedly cjue to this charac- Brenda teristic. Perhaps Brendas passion for trick ending writers Is due largely to her own fondness for clever solutions. Indeed, she had always thought that If she ever had the opportunity to talk with Elliott Rice she could provide him with 4 wealthof material of her own origin. Of course her Immediate family and many of her more Intimate friends have ridiculed the Idea, as they are apt to ridicule most of Brenda's plans. They think her too enthusiastic and self confident However, last summer the miracle happened. She was presented to Elliott Rice at a party at the Mountain View Country club. Brenda, In company .with her mother and father and two brothers, were on a motor trip through the mountains and bad stopped off at the club for the night Elliott Rice had arrived the week before for a fortnight of golf. It was before the season was well under way, and comparatively few guests were at the club. But among the few was 'Ten know, Mr. Rice, I have sev- eral Ideas for stories Im sore you could ' use.M one, Anson Reynolds, an old business associate of Brenda's father, who had struck up an acquaintance with Elliott Rice. Mr. Reynolds insisted on giving a dinner party for his old friends the Fosters, to which he Invited the famous author. The Fosters were quite thrilled, though they were aware of Brenda's devotion for Mr. Rice and the anticipation of how she might react to personal contact with him, was, especially to Mrs. Foster, faintly disturbing. "Remember," she admonished, "dont ask him a lot of silly questions and dont try to give him Ideas for stories. Whatever notions you might have would never do as story material." Brenda nodded and smiled knowingly. She had her own ideas on the subject, and she didn't Intend being deterred from carrying them out. Elliott Rice proved to be an oldish man, rather thin and tired lookHe wasnt the least bit roing. mantic looking and there was a perpetually bored expression In his eyes. Brenda contrived to sit next to him at the table, and seemed not at all distressed because of his age or his lack of beauty. Her eyes watched him adoringly; she hung on every word he uttered, seemed timid about expressing an . opinion of her own. In fact, by the time the last course had been served Mrs. Fosters fears that her daughter might embarrass the entire family were practically dispelled. They were Idling over their coffee when the thing happened. Brenda turned abruptly to Elliott Rice and said: "You know, Mr. Rice, I have several ideas for stories I'm sure you could use." A faintly annoyed look came into Elliott Rice's eyes and he seemed to sigh. Across the table, Mrs. Foster tried desperately to get Brenda's attention. Mr. Foster and the boys shifted uncomfortably In their seats. But Brenda was oblivious to the lack of response on the part of those present, and went ahead with the telling of her idea. She finished and Elliott Rice stood up, excused himself hurriedly and left with a suddenness that brought the color to Mrs. Fosters cheeks. Had it not been for the presence of Anson Reynolds, Brenda would then and there have been told a thing or two. JTheparty adjourned to the club lobby a few moments later and en route, behind Mr. Reynolds back, Mrs. Foster glared darkly at ber daughter, a glare that was far more Impressive than speech. Brenda felt guilty and might have considered escaping to her room, had it not been for the tact that at the Elliott Rice joined them. He Ml - mo-me- at By U. LOUIS RAYBOLD (McClur Syndicate WNU Service.) It is understood, Miss Andrews, that ypu will keep an the place' and show it to on eye prospective buyers. I might add that in addition to your fee as caretaker, Mr. Gerrish will allow you a nominal commission if the farm is disposed of through your efforts." Lawyer John Pangbum buttoned his fur coat snugly about him and turned away. A touch on his arm arrested him. "Its rather a pity, Isnt it, Margaret Andrews questioned him, "for the last of the Gerrishes to let the 1 w goij property go out of the family? . hve you and tout 5 "Yes, young lady," admitted Pang-bun us. buU-"it Is, undoubtedly. But, Lord, "to Oh, pardon these young chaps nowadays a, ),o- a and acres bunch a few whats of cows compared to the subway rush and the bright white lights? Henry seems to think he can set Wall street on fire with the proceeds from the sale of the farm. Left alone, Margaret watched her recent visitors car growing smaller along the- ribbon of road that threaded the Woodbridge hills. But her thoughts were elsewhere with old Henry Gerrish, who a few days before bad gone to join his fathers on the hill; with young Henry Gerrish, whom she had never seen until the day of the funeral, and then only at a distance. For Henry .had gone out to an uncle4 ranching it in the West some months before Margarets arrival in 'Woodbridge and bad not come home "When I iav until summoned by the death of his father. Immediately after the brief chicken I wished I hr "Well, my po reading of his fathers will, he had Instructed Pangbornjto put the old the wishbone; jontsi 1 homestead on the market. ing." As time passed, however, and the place remained unsold, Margaret came to feel for it k continually increasing fondness. Watching the spring sowing of fields rented to a neighbor, tending the small flower gardens about the doorways, opening the windows to flood with sterilizing brightness the unused house, dusting the quiet rooms all these activities developed in her almost a sense of part ownership with Henry Gerrish. And more and more she waxed indignant with him for wishing to dispose of his inheritance. Would-b- e purchasers happened along now and again, but for one Farmer Yore hai reason or another departed unimyew ever done aty two pressed. One year passed City Man I val i three. years instead of with ttj ) Then one sunny afternoon In April Farmer Huh! II into John Pangburns dingy office butters-i'round hetf stalked a youth with worried lines about his eyes. "Look here, Mr. Pangbum, he began without preamble, "Im hard up. Things havent panned out as I hoped. What I get in from the farm hardly pays the taxes. The house wont rent. Why the deuce doesnt the place sell? Pangbum shook his bead. "Henry, I dont know. Its the dickens of a ways for me to travel down with every' Tom, Dick, and Harry, but Ive wondered sometimes do you suppose that Miss Andrews queers the deal? Shell lose her Mrs. Borden m little income if she sells the farm." been boarding silt Henry nodded. "Guess youve hit eggs. She tlwijJ T--, It. And she stands tor get the comdoesnt keep bosidei4 mission in the end. Listen, now The New Pve got an idea. The girl doesnt takes boardenkk She know me. Send me down to look them. keep size up It over as a buyer and the situation." "Good scheme," said Pangbum, "a confounded good scheme. One afternoon the last of the Gerrishes (pro ten.) followed in amazement Margarets slim figure and marveled at the words which fell How "unfair- had from her- - lips. Pangbum been! "Cant you see it? she was de"Those forty acres in manding. west com, the twenty in alfalfa, that for celery, the timdrained swamp ber lot cleared and yielding a little ready cash, good utility stock in the "Gentle spring chicken runs, a few grade cows we can go oot. to start with" lambs." "This line of talk, mused Henry P0' Are VOU to himself, bewildered, "should have nailed every customer. Aloud, "I wonder why-th- e present owner doesnt keep It? he said. "Why does he want to sell?" JJ'T'HEN 1 WNU Service.) seemed to hqve reconsidered and forgiven Brenda her boresome conversation. Unfortunately, however, Brenda's enthusiasm was not the kind that is easily suppressed. She Is too vivacious and wholeheartedly sincere. Twice more during the evening that followed, she managed to get within speaking distance of Mr. Rice, and each time gave voice to one of the Ideas she was "sure he could use in one of his stories. And on both as occasions Mr. Rice arose though fearing Brenda would begin again, and excused himself, returning several moments later. At length, Mrs. Foster, chancing detection, drew Brenda aside as casually as possible and ordered her to her room. "Youve insulted the man three times," she said. "I declare, ybur father and I are em- - . barrassed to death." "But, mother" "Go to your room at bnce," Mrs. Foster hissed in a fierce undertone. And Brenda went. On the following day the Fosters departed. They left earl)C' thankful to be off before other guests were astir so that Brenda could not further insult Elliott Rice with her silly Ideas. Poor Brenda. She was still young, and disillusionment was a bitter pill to swallow. Being a temperaments) soul, she spent the remainder of the Journey brooding and condemning herself for being such a trial to her parents, though as yet she could not understand the cause of their Irritation. Two months later the Fosters were home and the Incident at Mountain View practically forgotten. Brenda was once more her enthusiastic self, though her family were now more than ever conscientious about suppressing the childs . silly notions. Even after the letter arrived and and was read, they were still for many minutes, due, of course, to habit, a good deal septical. The letter was from Elliott Rice, and accompanying it was a check of three figures, made out to Brenda Foster. The letter read as follows: "My dear Miss Foster: I was so disappointed last June to learn that You you had left Mountain View. seemed to have such a fund of ideas for good stories. I had hoped to see more of you. When a writer gets as old as I, you know, he is apt to find himself In dire straits ofttlmes for fresh material. Frequently, when meeting people such as you, who have Ideas, I find myself embarrassed. Most folks, you know, are Inclined to think of a writer as somewhat dramatic. I therefore always leave the company to Jot down my notes in private, rather than make a show of It when others are about, and In so doing frequently obviate embarrassment. I was afraid that the ideas you had given me might escape my memory If left to simmer. I fcl that the enclosed check is rightfully yours. Thank you for your efforts In my behalf. Please try and call on me sometime when you are traveling In this vicinity. Gratefully yours, Elliott Rice." - -- y. P O P I n By J. Millar Watt WNU m Plastic Autos Taking Shape Quite Rapidly Plastics compose only about 2 per cent of the sleek 1942 model cars, but the percentage will rise gradually, according to a Detroit designer. car will Eventually the predominate. "By using plastics we not only save valuable materials," he said, "but wq also achieve durability and beauty at the same time." The car you're driving doubtless has a plastic steering wheel, a semiplastic instrument panel. The grille work on the radio you tune as you press down on the accelerator is plastic. So Is the receptacle into which you tap your cigarette ashes. Approximately 40 per cent of the instrument panels of some cars now are plastic. Although plastic reduces weight by one half, the designer said, it's a . - - "Because, s'aid Margaret prompt"hes an idiot! On his return to town Henry cast feet a bombshellat Pangbum "Heavens, man," he cried. "Shes made the place so darned attractive Im' going to farm It myself!" One year from the day she met him Margaret Andrews married Henry Gerrish and came back from the little Woodbridge church to the mistake to assume that the material lacks toughness. Suppose you ly, banged a plastic fender in trying to squeeze into a tight parking space. What would happen? Walker said the plastic bound right back into shape and you scarcely could notice the dent. If you were driving a car with a plastic body and smashed against a telephone post. It would be a different situation entirely. I'or one thing, the plastic would break. But the job of replacing it wouldnt be "too dif- old house she had tended. "Funny," ruminated Henry, "old Pangbum thought maybe the place didnt, sell because you ran It down, ficult You'd just have it patched up with new plastic panels, and no one would be able to tell the difference. Plastics have great potentialities when it comes to color. Color can be an Inherent part of plastic, and that means it won't chip or scratch. The color schemes? Dark reds, browns, tans, greens, blues and black. Pastel shades. popular with promen motorists, would have to be ' painted over the other colors. use Probably the first large-scal- e of plastic in automobiles, the designer said, would be In the top. A clear plastic top would give the driter better vision, admit healthful ultra-violrays and keep out harmful Infra rays.' et Wouldnt Sell RUSH SEASON Opportunity Mrs. Smyth was making the final arrangements for her elab' orate reception. the to said her old ser"Bridget." vant, "for the first 30 minutes after six oclock I want you to stand at the drawing room and call guests "My friend Todd says he cant names as they arrive." catch up with his winter orders." Bridgets face lit up. "Is he a manufacturer?" "Very well, maam." the replied. "Oh no. Merely a man with a Tve been wantin to do that to wife and five .grown daughters." some of your frifends for years." HONESTY "Can you write shorthand?" "Yes, sir; but it takes me longer.' IP08 for clothes, TJ You somethin! "Oh, thafi .jaw. or something of the sort" Margaret was silent a moment Then, Maybe," she confessed slowly, "he was risht. You see. I hated to see old Henry Gerrisha sen squander the work of years and generations. Not that I ever actually said anything only, well, I could have been more enthusiastic I" "But why, demanded Henry, puzzled. "did you praise It to the skies to me? You didnt know It was I ' "Didnt I?" laughed his bride of Here an hour. "Do you suppose, Henry Gerrish, I could dust the photogrsph of a man with a dimple in his left cheek every few days for three years and not recognize him when I saw him? 1 |