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Show by Margaret Weynuoulh Jackson WNTJ Service (3 bj Bobbs-Merrtl Co.) THE STORY Renewing a childhood attachment, attach-ment, Ernestine Briceland, of a wealthy family, Is attracted by Will Todd, newspaper artist, CHAPTER I Continued 2 He looked down at her, the light from the drawing room window streaming on to his face, and Ernestine Ernes-tine paused, surprised. She was Allied with an Inward dismay for she had never seen him like this. His face, usually complacent, was keen now, his blue eyes were brilliant sparks, his whole countenance quickened and fired. His voice, when he spoke again, bad a barely perceptible quaver. "Why were you running, Ernestine? You're still a kid half the time. When I heard you running, I knew It was you, because my heart began to run. too." J" "Nonsense," said Ernestine briskly, ' bnt he was persistent. "I was just going away, disappointed disap-pointed that I hadn't seen you, and here I have you alone for a moment at last I've been wanting to tell you how beautiful you are, since you're grown. Where have you been? your face Is shining. I could see It luminous in the dark street. Ernestine don't be silly. I'm trying to tell you I care for you I " She pulled away from him with de-ytermlnatlon. de-ytermlnatlon. . "You're the silly one," she said Impatiently. Im-patiently. "And dumb, as well." She passed him quickly, .and closed the door behind her, shutting out his hand-Home, hand-Home, desirous face. In her room, dressing for dinner, she was furious with him for intruding intrud-ing on the enchantment of her hour with Will. Didn't he know that he had made himself conspicuous, all last year, with his attentions to Lillian? He was not her lover. What was the matter with him? Lillian came in from her room, which adjoined Ernestine's, and the younger sister looked at the elder one with old but ever-fresh admiration. "Lorlng was kidding me," she told herself. "Of course he's crazy about Lillian." Lillian was ash blond, and very lovely. Her eyes were a kind of deep violet, serene calm eyes, and her Hps were thin and bright red, beautifully beauti-fully cut. Her nose was patrician, patri-cian, her skin a clear milky white, and she 'wore Just enough rouge to give her a fulnt rose color and make her eyes more lovely. The two girls plunged at once into the conversation conversa-tion of sisters, without beginning or end. "I've been to the matinee with Sadie and Juel. Sadie's seen Delancey's show ten times. She's as crazy as she can be. Imagine falling In love "" with an actor. She's written him letters let-ters and letters. But he won't see her." "She Is kind of old for that line," said Ernestine, perched on the edge of her bed, a silk stocking in her hands. "I saw Will Todd today." "Will Todd? Who is he?" Ernestine reminded her, and Lillian Lil-lian admitted that she remembered. "He's charming," Ernestine said. "I thought I'd ask mamma to Invite -t-iS "Why Were You Running, Ernestine?" him here for tea some afternoon, or for dinner, some night whcu he doesn't work." Lillian stared, then laughed. "If you want to see him ngain, it you want an affair with him, don't tell mamma," she advised Ernestine, "or that will be the end of it. A little lame boy about the house one summer Is quite a different matter from an at-J at-J tractive grown man. Mamma will make him miserable." Ernestine considered this. "I don't see why," she said stubbornly. "Certainly you see. darling," said Lillian. "We are not to have any Irregular Ir-regular affairs now. We are to marry." "Well," said Ernestine, "what of It? You can't marry unless you're asked. I . can be friends with Will without marrying him, can't I?" "I doubt It," said Lillian calmly. "You always go to such extremes, Ernestine. You are always blundering blunder-ing around, taking such awful chances and making wild friends. You've been spoiled and have had your way about lots of things. But this Is one thing you can't have." Ernestine pooh-poohed Lillian, but felt at the same time that she would say nothing about Will just now. "Beth's going to be married. She's going to marry Johnnie Allison." "I'm not surprised, are you?" asked Ernestine, thinking of Will's gestures the way he moved his hands continually. con-tinually. "No, I'm not surprised. It's Just what she wanted. One ought to know what one wants. I do. We talked about it today." "I can tell you what you want without talking to you about It," said Ernestine with sisterly decision. "You want a house In Hubbard Woods, or else one of those big co-operatively owned apartments on the drive, near downtown. And you want a limo-sine, limo-sine, and a rich handsome husband; You've got it all planned out" "In detail," agreed Lillian, unperturbed. unper-turbed. "Pretty much as you named It. I want Loring, for myself " "Why don't you ask him?" exploded Ernestine, her feelings a confusion of resentment that Lillian had showed her the fallacy of her own dream, of hurt for her sister, that Loring should have been such a fool, of scorn for these plotters. "1 probably won't need to," Lillian answered, and went on, before Ernes tine comu interrupt ner again : If not Loring, then somebody much like him. I merely mentioned him as an example. After I've been married a few years, I want a son, and if I get along nlceiy, I wouldn't mind a daughter. daugh-ter. I want everything right. A man who Is already a member of good clubs, so that the money he makes will take us in the right direction, and we won't have to stand and wait. All right, go on and hoot. I know what I want, anyhow, and that's more than you know." She looked at Ernestine with some severity, and added darkly: "What's more, I'll get It. Watch me." Ernestine could see Lillian as she had planned It all out. A correct house, a correct husband, perhaps even a correct baby or two. The same old business over and over, with correct people coming and going and Loring stalking handsomely about. Not for her. She knew what she wanted. She wanted love! She wanted something not mentioned on Lillian's list. She wanted passionate, romantic love. She wanted adventure, adven-ture, an inevitable great adventure. Suddenly she stood trembling, her heart beating with great strong strokes. She was terrified with the intensity of her feeling, with the vivid, almost material picture of Will Todd's violent personality before her. One person, one In all the world, and never anybody else. She wanted love, and all her wakening Instincts warned her that she had found it. CHAPTER II The Lady Promises Again and again Ernestine resolved to tell mamma all about Will, but again and again her confidences faltered fal-tered before mamma's bright energy, before mamma's slaccato bosslness. It was really her first secret from her family, and she did not feel right about It. Of course she was old enough to have a friend If she wanted one, a friend of her own choosing, but Lillian's attitude that she was having an "affair," a romance on the side, purely for the thrill of It, dismayed her. Yet she couldn't tell mamma, and an Incident occurred which sealed her silence. She had called Will on the telephone the next morning after her encounter with him on the street, and that had been the beginning of an absorbing intimacy. He worked in the afternoon and at night six days a week. He had nothing better to do with his forenoons fore-noons and his luncheon hour than share them with Ernestine, lint the very time of these engagements made Ernestine safe from curiosity. It was a time of day exclusively the property of women In mamma's world It would never have occurred to mamma that a love affair could have proceeded pro-ceeded during a succession of forenoons. fore-noons. And a love affair was what It rap-Idly rap-Idly became. Ernestine could not prolong pro-long the time witli Will enough 10 suit her, and his eagerness soon matched, then outrode, her own. His enthus iasm, his energy were compelling, and Ernestine felt the rousing and stirring stir-ring of her own personality in touch with his. Within a week she was desperately des-perately In love. She had no room for any thought and feeling but those which concerned Will Todd. Presently Present-ly she realised that the termination of their friendship would he a true catastrophe, and with this realization she began to practice secrecy with skill uud determination. One blowy, gusty Sunday morning In December she had escaped church and met him and talked, hand In hand, as they always talked, quickly, starvedly. Eventually a little silence fell between be-tween them, and In Its magic, without speaking' a word, they turned and kissed each other, and smiled a little dimly and leaned together. The touch of lips, and then the pressure of cheek to cheek was magic. His arms slipped about her, and for a long, long time they sat In a swing of Joy. There was no word spoken, no promise, prom-ise, but Ernestine knew now that she must tell mamma. The family was home from church when she reached the bouse, sitting In the big living room, all of them engrossed In gossip. Mamma looked at Ernestine sharply. "Why didn't you come to church?" "I went for a walk," evaded Ernestine, Ernes-tine, and her face flamed with color, for they all looked at her, and she felt that Will's love-making was visible upon her. Mamma said no more, however, how-ever, and Lillian turned to her with the news. "You remember I told you Sadie Hall was in love with the actor, Lon Delancey?" Ernestine nodded, and Lillian Lil-lian said with some satisfaction, "Well, she finally succeeded in meeting him, and they were married last night. Every one was talking about It in church this morning." "Well, what of it?" said Ernestine. "She can marry him, can't she?" "Ernestine!" said her father sternly. stern-ly. "You know It Isn't suitable." He was a big man, a little too stout, with a handsome florid face. His brown eyes were warm and kind, but his big nose was acquisitive, his mouth stern and hard, a man of brilliant mind, but limited by prejudices. "It is her money he wants," said papa, "and nothing else. The girl's a fool, and was not brought up properly, prop-erly, or she would never have done such a thing." Loring put In his oar. He was always al-ways there on Sundays, thought Ernestine, Ernes-tine, who was tired of having him around. "Any man who urges a girl to keep her love affair a secret from her folks is a blackguard, and a girl may as well realize it first as last No real man would do such a thing. He would be honorable." He looked at her when he said it, with such meaning that Ernestine felt a faint dismay. "But how ridiculous," she exclaimed "You all know, every one of you, that if she had told her folks of her Infatuation, In-fatuation, they would have carried her off to Europe, or had him forced out of town. They would have separated them Instantly." "But that's why she ought to tell her people," said papa. "No girl can trust her own judgment, when she gets out of her own class. Her people know best, and she should confide In them." All this while mamma had been watching Ernestine. Mamma was so pretty, with her violet eyes, and smooth fair hair, and her slender vigorous vig-orous body. But mamma was sharp. "Neither of my girls would do such a thing," she said now in her soft quick voice, but with a meaning that Ernestine and Lillian both sensed. "I am sure that neither of my little girls would do such a thing to me have a secret love affair. Would either of you?" "Don't be nutty, mamma," advised Lillian, and Ernestine was silent. Later, alone, Lillian turned to Ernestine eagerly. "You'd better come across. I think the folks are on to you." "You haven't told them?" "Of course not," said Lillian Impatiently. Impa-tiently. "It's your own business. But, Ernestine, you aren't really going to fall in love with him, are you? Papa would be furious." Ernestine shook the bright tears from her eyes and smiled at Lillian. After a moment, Lillian went on uncertainly. un-certainly. "Loring saw you yesterday morning. He asked me who the young man was, and I told him, but asked him not to mention It. Still he may tell. He's awfully fond of you, Ernestine. He's always telling me that you are Just like a little sister to him. lie might feel it his duty to tell papa about you and Will." "But there's nothing about Will that anybody could object to," protested Ernestine. "I'm not engaged to him, but If I should become engaged. I don't see who could care. He's fine and good and gentle. He's brave, too, a real man." Lillian shook her head. "It's your funeral," she said, with the heartless laissez-faire of her generation, gen-eration, which feared, above all things, that It might become Its brother's broth-er's keeper. "But you know just how-papa how-papa would react to Will Todd. He's the son of papa's old carpenter. He's poor, and he hasn't been to school, and he's not very strong there's nothing hut objections to such an idea, Ernestine. Anyhow, I can't see why you could let yourself even think of such a thing as getting engaged. Imagine taking a chance like that!" Will said nothing about marriage. Ue was full of talk, overflowing with his own vitality, enraptured with Ernestine's beauty and dearness. One day, however, when they had gone for their usual walk north along the lake shore, he seemed oddly silent and thoughtful, and at times he looked at her, as though wondering whether to speak his mind or not. When he left her, he kissed her again and again, and said oddly, "Remember me," as though It were farewell. "I'll see you tomorrow," she whispered whis-pered to him, and turned her fur collar up against the wind. But she did not see him the next day, although she waited at their rendezvous for an hour past the time. Nor the next day. By the third day she was filled with deep dismay and fear. All sorts of questions whirled through her mind. Perhaps he had tired of her. It might be that the affair had run out for him, that he had never Intended to make more than a sweetheart out of her. But she had only to think of his bright honorable face to know that there was some other reason behind his attitude. She had only to think of his eager kisses to know that he eared. She called him on the telephone tele-phone at his home, at ten o'clock. His mother answered and said, in a low voice, that he was sleeping. "Would you waken him. It's Important," Im-portant," she said, and stood shaking in the telephone booth, until she heard his voice, husky with sleep. "This Is Ernestine," she said, trembling. trem-bling. At once there was an electric silence, si-lence, and then he said, in a voice now thoroughly awake: "Well?" She could have cried. "What's the matter, Will? Aren't you going to see me again?" "Where are yon? "I'm at the drug store, at Wilson and Sheridan." "I'll be there within an hour," he told her. He had not had breakfast, he said, shaking hands with her formally when they met. They went into a little white tiled coffee shop, and he ordered his breakfast and sat opposite her in silent waiting. He looked terrible. His face, often white, was ravaged, and his eyes burned. But he was calm. He had reached some decision, and Ernestine knew that the initiative rested on her. "What's the matter, Will?" she asked him, trembling again, and hating hat-ing herself for It It was awful to be such a slave. "Your mother phoned me yesterday." yester-day." "Mamma!" "Sure she asked me to come there to tea this afternoon. I told her I had to work. Didn't you know she was going to ask me? I thought perhaps you told her to invite me," said Will. A little light dawned In Ernestine's mind. "Is that the trouble?" she asked. "Do you think I ought to have invited in-vited you to my home?" "Well," he said slowly, "why shouldn't you unless you were ashamed of me?" How could she explain without wounding him? "But you see, Will it has nothing to do with being ashamed. My first thought was to tell the folks, but then, it seemed they might disapprove of our friendship, and I want to keep it. And then" "But don't you see, Ernestine, I can't meet you any more, like this out on the street, and in the library, and In restaurants and tearooms? I can't do that to your parents. If they don't want you to go with me, I can't coax you to do It clandestinely." "Your mother's been telling yon U this." "Yes," he said. "I confided In her. She showed me how It looks." "Well, then, that's all there is to it You aren't willing to make the effort to be friends that I am. You don't understand how they'd be. They'd ba so nice and so reasonable and they'd separate us. Just as sure as fate. You don't know them as I do. It wouldn't be your character they'd object ob-ject to, or your folks. It would be your position and your lack of money and such things. Anyhow, it seems to be a little late to to " she faltered Into silence. Will looked at her with agitation. "W:hat do you mean it's late, Ernestine?" he demanded. But she could only look at him. II he did not understand, she could not explain. "You mean you care?" he asked a little breathlessly, and she smiled tremulously. "What did you think?" she asked him. "I didn't think, I guess," he said. "I never meant to make you love me it was so natural. I shouldn't have touched you." "But you did, Will." "Let's go," he said, and paid the bill. They walked out, swept now Into a unity which had been increased, not broken, by their talk. They walked a I i "But You Know Just How Papa Would React to Will Todd." half mile or so and came to a deserted de-serted boathouse, where they sat down side by side upon an upturned row-boat. row-boat. "You see, Ernestine," he told her solemnly, "we Just kind of Jumped into it all. But it's real with me. It's love and marriage, with me. I never thought much about such things just took you at what you were willing will-ing to give. Everybody has dates out around town, and I didn't want to go to your house especially, nor think about that. And then, we got to caring car-ing and as soon as I began to think about you as my wife, I began to think about all these other things: your money, your family position, and the darned Briceland pride that I know more about than you do. And then, I wondered why you never took me home. And finally I talked to my mother. And I made up my mind to quit." "Without even giving me a chance?" she asked him. She was In his arms now, and he said to her: "Will you marry me, Ernestine?" "Of course. Today, if you like." "You'll have to tell your folks first," he Insisted. "Oh, Will," she cried. "Don't stand with them against me. They'll separate sep-arate us. Why do you suppose they asked you to the house today, if not to find out about you and how lntl-mnte lntl-mnte our friendship had become, and to begin the business of breaking It up? I know." She told him what papa said about Sadie Hall and the actor Delancey. His arms grew slack about her. He sat a little away, now, distraught, silent. (TO BE CONTINUED.) |
