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Show rSAJy-AWVAvViyWW !.'! Leave It to r.', :; Cupid ' By LEETE STONE '' is vVvW-Z-AVt V'AA, 'i. Vvi ''v j) (C',,yilKM.l BETTY LKE found the "Public Notices" No-tices" In the paper the Sunday Khe was eighteen. Hers wiih a magazine-cover magazine-cover profile, and she was the daughter daugh-ter of strict parents. Their home was In Gniiigiirvllle, a Hudson river hamlet. ham-let. All week she typed letters In tier father's real estate office. Sundays she revelled In the world of her dreams New York mirrored for her eager, supple mind by the Sunday paper. l'.etty retrieved the ficnttered sections sec-tions of the paper afler her father had flung It on the door four ways from his Morris chair, sorted It Into sectional sequence, and carried It to a silent, leafy dell In the woods nearby. Sparkling eyes rejoiced with "Peachy J. Flagg of Borough of Manhattan," Man-hattan," . w hose address was wanted by Glasgow solicitors. Waiting at the lawyer's office, surely, was a good-sized good-sized golden plum for Peachy from a renegade uncle, perhaps, whose family fam-ily had burned his picture when he skipped -with the church funds and lost himself In the diamond fields of Klmhcrloy. Keenly Imaginative, Belty never missed these public notices. They were .her first dramas. She built a story round each one. complete, with cast : of characters, fitting sequence nnd a climax, sad or glad, at the dictum dic-tum of her mood. Ever since reading the story of Dorothy Bktlnc, describing how Yates Chandler, famous young illustrator, had found her pale and hungry, .crouching .crouch-ing on a sulrway bench, and lifted her to such fame as a model that her face became, a familiar feature of every newsstand and library" table in the land ever since then Betty had resolved re-solved to go to New York and become an Illustrator's model. And, if possible. pos-sible. Yates Chandler's model. It would he so much more inspiring than typewriting. ' How to do this without estranging her parents? They definitely disapproved disap-proved of Betty's dream, and there had been many a family "scene" over It. An Idea popped Into her head from a bright, blue sky. Why not write him frankly and simply and explain her dream? Send him one of her high school graduation pictures which every one. admired! -Finally, ask him to have 'a heart-to-heart talk with dad when dad went to New York next, time. Both letter and photograph were posted to the Chandler studio address. For a week Betty tremulously anticipated antici-pated a reply: But no response ! A month after her disappointment Betty . and her friend, Miriam, were motoring In Miriam's small roadster one Sunday afternoon. The lacing of low hills that' fringed the tiny valley town on the river was the color of a gorgeous carpet of Bagdad, for autumn au-tumn was early. The girls were nearing a sharp, dan-' dan-' gerous downgrade curve. It had been sprinkling " for ten minutes and the road was ripe for skidding. Miriam, driving, approached the splay of the curve carefully, her right side wheels in the gravel shoulder of the road. Suddenly tlie rear end of a long roadster was disclosed just ahead, Its nose jammed into an immense pine tree that towered majestically aloof from its neighbors on the exact edge of the highway. . Miriam :s1ioved Both brakes Into tight grip, knowing that the shoulder of the road would prevent skidding, and choked off her gas. Their little car stopped, in- thirty feet, almost touching the rear of the' big roadster, which was skewed out at an angle well Into the roadway. Quite evidently a narrow turn, sudden sud-den braking, and a s-wift skid, with the pine tree for a bumper, was the answer to .this accident. ' ' 1 "Hello, there !" A somewhat unsteady un-steady voice reached the girls as they hurried from their car. They saw a tall, well-dressed man ' rising rather shakily from the low underbrush behind be-hind the big pine. "I call that stupid driving. don't you?" He smiled and came to them. "Chucked ' me "' right "over the. windshield! wind-shield! Wonder if you girls could squeeze me in with you and take, me to the nearest garage?". Betty's heart almost stopped before it sent the blood thrilling through her body In a wild, enthusiastic rush. This fine face she recognized in the fading light belonged to Yates Chandler. Chand-ler. As they started off in the little car, the artist regarded Betty with close scrutiny. "Haven't I seen you somewhere?" "1 sent you my picture six weeks ago. I'm Betty Lee of Grangerville," Betty answered simply. "What luck!" Yates Chandler positively posi-tively beamed. "Let's bow to the great god of Coincidence! 1 was on my way to call on you and your moth-er moth-er and father this -afternoon when.! met the pine tree sp forcibly. I could-see could-see from your picture that you were an unusual type, and I want you for a new series of illustrations." Chandler's charm and sure sincerity won Betty's parents- to happy acquiescence ac-quiescence In her dreami before supper sup-per was over. Later the artist and his new model strolled together down the quaint Lover's Lane that followed the broad lead of the moon-lit rhrer, and a companionship was commenced that soon called for the loving care or ' Cupid. |
