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Show The IHIonorabSe Uncle Lancy- By ETHEL HUESTON O Bobbt-McrrHI Co. WNU Strvlct CHAPTER XVII 18 Aunt Olympia, becomingly gowned and beaming rosily, received the gentlemen of the press that afternoon, after-noon, in ample time for them to get their stories in for the morning papers. pa-pers. She smilingly but firmly re- istcd their pleas for five minutes, three minutes, Just a look then, at the girls. "No," she said in her most motherly moth-erly voice, "I am sorry to refuse you anything. But you do not understand un-derstand a mother's feelings. The campaign is important; yesl But the health and the nerves of these children come first with their Uncle Lancy and me. Remember the terrible ter-rible ordeal they were dragged through. They need rest. They need quiet. They have stood all they shall be permitted to stand. But, I must say that three more gallant, public-spirited young citizens never lived than those children, mine and the Senator's . . . Tired, nervous, suffering with chills and fever as she was, Helen she's the oldest she's twenty-one got up this morning morn-ing and took the six o'clock plane out to Iowa to vote. She's a resident resi-dent of Iowa. Exhausted, worried, sick, she Just rallied her forces and out she went to exercise the sacred franchise." Olympia went to her desk and shuffled among the photographs. "This is Helen," she said. "She's very studious. She graduated from college with au Kinds 01 honors when she was only twenty. This shows her at work at the Senator's table making out her grocery list, I fancy . . . Adele and little Limpy are more playful. Here's a nice one of them together in the big swing at Commonwealth Park. Sweet, isn't it? Here they are raking leaves for a bonfire on Halloween. This is Limpy; named for me, of course, and some people think she looks like me, too, in a small way." The girls spent the day quietly upstairs and amused themselves very well with the papers, smirking over the photographs, which were surprisingly good. Limpy was not so well pleased with the verbatim report re-port of her speech. "I see what Aunt Olympia meant," she mused. "It doesn't pay to be too extemporaneous." Flowers came for the girls, telegrams, tele-grams, letters, small gifts; and for Limpy a big ivory donkey, handsomely hand-somely autographed in green ink: i "Limpy for President in '58, "And for Campaign Manager, Your Old Pal, ! Jim." ' Aunt Olympia, her weariness forgotten, for-gotten, her ill humor dissolved in contentment, was deliriously happy. She, too, received flowers, telegrams and gifts. She read the basketful of congratulations. She cooed into the telephone. She crooned over the girls. She almost felt satisfied with the Senator. The Senator made his final appeal over the radio on Monday night and an effective Job he made of it; speaking with quiet dignity, restraint re-straint and reasonableness, pointedly pointed-ly ignoring personal phases except for one paragraph, which the entire staff had a hand in preparing. "My friends, I address you tonight to-night on the issues of this campaign. cam-paign. I speak only of the issues. The sad infringement of the sanctity sanc-tity of my home is not one of these issues. My personal feelings in that tragic matter are relegated to the background at this time. But to those thousands of you, my friends, who have written, telephoned and wired solicitous inquiry as to the health of my young wards, and whether they have suffered serious ill effects from the physical and mental anguish of their tragic and deplorable experience, I am happy to relieve your fears. The children chil-dren are young, but they are brave and high-spirited. In the safe serenity se-renity of my home at Maysville, in quiet seclusion, they are recovering from the brutal shock to their innocent inno-cent trust and confidence which was even greater than their physical discomfort. dis-comfort. And the eldest of them, Helen, has arrived safely in Iowa by plane where on the morrow she is to cast her first vote as an American Amer-ican citizen." Tuesday, the eighth of November, was election day. The Senator and Mrs. Slopshire had planned and made public pronouncement to that effect that after casting early votes, they would spend the day quietly at home with the children, having a large family dinner a pre-Thanksgiving, it was, really in the middle of the day, and in the evening, from six o'clock on would be at home to their friends with a buffet supper and listen to the returns. re-turns. In the Governor's Mansion on the other side of Maysville, the Opposition Opposi-tion was to be entertained at an evening reception with light refreshments. re-freshments. "They'll be light," said Olympia, reading the announcement in the paper. pa-per. "Very light. Almost too light to lift. He's already begun cutting down ever since Adele pointed out the handwriting on the wall." Olympia, although she wanted desperately to have the pride of takinf 'he girls with her to the polls, finally decided against it They couldn't vote, and she was a little afraid it would look like "putting on." She wasn't above "putting on" all she could, but she didn't want it to look obvious. This, she felt, would look obvious. And then, at the last moment, she had cause to regret her restraint Ben Baldy had drawn the big car up to the west veranda to convey them to the voting place. The Senator Sen-ator was waiting, hat and gloves in hand, Limpy and Adele were there, dancing a tiptoe with excited farewells, fare-wells, speeding them on to victory. Dave was stolidly planted in the front seat with Ben Baldy. Aunt Olympia, having kept them waiting only fifteen minutes, came out in a rosy flush. She kissed the girls and permitted the Senator to assist her into the tonneau and seat himself at her side. "Come along, Cece!" she boomed Joyously. "Oh, I'm not going!" said Cecil Dodd. "I'm not a resident of this state. I can't vote here." "Well, why don't you go home and vote then? You've time enough to make it!" "I can't. I was so worked up over the campaign I forgot to register." reg-ister." "Well, come along anyhow!" said Olympia, sudden anxiety darkening her happy eyes. "Come along and watch us." "I can't!" said Cece desrjeratelv. I "I've got to shave." "Shave!" she boomed angrily. "Shave! If you aren't shaved already al-ready yes, and half an inch below the surface then I've lived with whiskers for nothing." "Okay, Ben!" said the Senator cheerfully. "Good-by, girls! Be good children now." And the big car rolled away. "Isn't everything lovely?" exulted Limpy. "Isn't everything sweet? Aren't you happy?" "I am right now," said Cecil Dodd. "But it won't last They ought to make voting more difficult and more prolonged. It ought to take at least as long as making out your income tax." "Oh, well, make the most of the minute!" said Limpy. She caught a hand of Adele's, one of Cecil's, and led them gaily back into the house. "Let's do something to celebrate! Something exciting! Something naughty, if possible." "It's exciting for me Just to be able to look where I want to," said Cecil Dodd. "And nothing naughty about it, either." "Think of something naughty!" urged Limpy. "ifo, let's not," said Adele. "We've been naughty enough. And I feel responsible, with everybody else away. You'd better keep your eyes on me, Cece." Hilda entered the room with a tray. "I brought some cider for you gir ladies," she said crossly. "And a little pick-up for Mr. Dodd. It's customary to drink the health of the polls." "Oh, that's nice! Maybe we should have a pick-up too, Adele! That would be very naughty . . . Hilda, come here! Where are you going? Don't you drink to the health of the polls? How irreverent you are!" Cecil filled the glasses. Hilda, acquiescent ac-quiescent but indignant, accepted her glass and stood by in angular disapproval, clicking her glass with the others as they drank their toasts. "Sloppy for senator!" "More votes to Sloppy!" "Slower votes for Sloppy!" from Cecil Dodd. "Down with Wilkie!" "Up with Olympia!" "Bigger and better eyes for me," said Cecil Dodd, doing very well with those he had. When they had finished, Limpy made them all hold hands and dance around the low coffee table that held the cider pitcher and the siphon and glasses. "Here we go 'round the mulberry bush," she sang. "Let's give Sloppy a landslide push," suggested Cecil Dodd. And they sang it gaily. "Time flies fast and we'd better hush pronounced like bush," said Adele. And they sang that. "I got to go now," said Hilda. "I forgot to tell you, Mr. Hardesty called up and says he feels the same and he's as good as out of a Job right now and he'll be here for breakfast tomorrow." She stalked away. "Adele, dear Adele," said Cecil Dodd. "Poor Len! Think of his his anguish ... I know my anguish ... Pity him in his distress. Not only has he nothing to look at, he has no job. Don't you think you should go and call him up or write him a note or just go off into some remote silence and send him a tender ten-der thought?" "I do not think any such thing," said Adele, laughing. "I think I shall be an assistant Aunt Olympia and stick around . . . However, I am going out on the west veranda to pick a few of those late chrysanthemums. chrysan-themums. And as soon as I hear the car coming I'll be right back on the job again." She went out laughing. "She's a swell gal," said Cecil Dodd. He went then and sat on the arm of Llmpy's chair. "The trouble is," he said gravely, "that I'm the only person on earth who realizes how old you are." "Well, you can't say I haven't told them!" said Limpy indignantly. Cecil started to put his arm around her. Then he stopped, stood up, moved a few steps away from her. "Another trouble is," he went on gloomily, "they've nagged at me so much and harped on it so consistently, consist-ently, I'm beginning to think maybe you are young." Limpy frowned at that. "Well, Just remember that I've got a job as campaign manager for '40 and that's more than any of you antede-luvians antede-luvians can say!" Cecil frowned, too. "That was a funny thing . . . And they couldn't get his name . . . But I daresay you know who it was." "Certainly I know who it was. In about twelve hours he's going to be the newly elected Republican Congressman Con-gressman from our district in Iowa. And Helen's going to marry him when they get around to it" Cecil broke down then. He threw both arms around Limpy, and kissed her, on the ear. Then his lips crept along her cheek and arrived at last, timidly, at her lips. "I'll tell Aunt Olympia," she said finally, not having hurried him. " 'A-tisket a-tasket' " sang Adele warningly before she entered the i : "I am the only person on earth who realizes how old you are." room. "I hear the hum cf returning return-ing votes. Where's your razor, Cece?" "A swell girl! I always said so," said Cecil over his shoulder, already al-ready on his way upstairs. Aunt Olympia's first words were, "What's Cece been doing?" "He said he had to shave," said Adele. Her eyes, and Limpy's eyes, went guiltily to the low coffee table. But Hilda, tidily and unobserved had removed re-moved tray and glasses. The rest of the day passed in comfortable com-fortable quiet Ben took the big car and Martin the two-seated Ford to help round up delinquent voters and deliver them safely to the polls. The girls played tennis between showers show-ers with Cecil Dodd, under the watchful eye of Aunt Olympia sitting sit-ting near by in a large camp chair, sheltered against both intermittent rain and sun by a large umbrella. Dave Cooper treated himself to a well-earned nap on the library di van. Hilda, reinforced by two assistants, as-sistants, had a hard day making preparation for the evening buffet which, as Aunt Olympia said and said it ungrudgingly, too had to be worth a month's salary. At five o'clock she began laying the tables. Hilda was adept at this. She had learned from experience that while the spread must at all times look bountiful and even lavish, an abundance must be held in reserve re-serve for belated arrivals. But the provision was ample for any contingency. con-tingency. There were roast turkeys, baked hams, sliced tongue, and pickled pick-led pig's feet for the more aristocratic aristo-cratic constituents who liked to go plebeian on election night; there were sandwiches, salads, baked beans, deviled eggs and aspics; there were cheese, candies, nuts, cigarettes and cigars; there were ices, teacakes and pies. And on a small table, beautifully decorated and lighted with candles, stood the Victory Cake, two feet high, three feet in diameter. Aunt Olympia was glad she hadn't canceled that order. By seven o'clock, when the polls closed, the household was in readiness. readi-ness. Uncle Lancy looked suave and senatorial; Aunt Olympia beamed like a sunburned and over-nourished over-nourished favorite of Jove; Cecil Dodd took advantage of the occasion occa-sion to present himself in white tie and tails but Dave stuck to his sack suit, and at the last minute decided against changing his shirt. The girls were a little distressed about the still unworn wind-up costumes, but Aunt Olympia decided they were a little too autumnal for an indoor reception re-ception and recommended graceful and becoming though old chiffons. Exactly at seven, cars began streaming into the grounds, and laughing, joyous, congratulating guests were soon drifting through the house and lining up at the tables. ta-bles. Only in the library the doors were closed and silence was maintained, main-tained, for there the elect were to listen to the returns. Loudspeakers had been set up in other parts of the house, too, but not much attention was paid to them, except that every mention of "Senator Slopshire" brought cheers and a demand for one more toast. Adele, catching Limpy's eye, summoned sum-moned her to a corner of the corridor corri-dor with a suggestive lilt of silken lashes. "Darling," she whispered, "everybody "every-body says it is a landslide for Uncle Lancy. Len must be sick just sick! The Governor is out and Len will not have a job and don't you think, darling, it would be nice for me to slip over to the Governor's mansion a minute and sort of cheer him up?" "You'll get your picture taken!" warned Limpy. "Oh, no I won't I'll change into my wind-up costume; nobody's seen that; and they don't know me so well over there. I'll wear a dark veil. Only Len will recognize me and he'll hold them off." "Well, as a holder-off, I wouldn't call him tops myself," said Limpy. "I feel so sorry for him, darling. I've made it awfully hard for him, and even Aunt Olympia says it wasn't his fault. Maybe my conscience con-science hurts." "Maybe it's just your heart," said Limpy. "There's some kind of tie-up tie-up between them." "But think how much better he would feel just to see me and know that everything's going to be all right." "You're wanted on long distance," interrupted Hilda crossly. "The both of you. It's Iowa." "Helen!" The girls raced upstairs to the study telephone. Adele, being older, old-er, took the receiver. "Hello darling!" dar-ling!" she said. "Adele, is Limpy there? . . . Are you all right? . . . How is the Senator Sena-tor coming along?" "Oh, fine. A landslide, they say." "Listen, darling. Get Limpy close to the 'phone, so she can hear, too. The returns won't begin coming in here for three or four hours, but Brick and I are going to get married. mar-ried. Right away, girls. I wanted you here, but we want to do it now, so we will be together however it goes. At eight o'clock, girls. So at eight o'clock, you slip off and say' a little prayer for Brick and me, will you? You'd better not tell Auntie Aunt-ie till tomorrow. I Qjm imagine what a wreck she is! Wasn't Limpy's speech great? Everybody is crazy about it out here . . . Adele, I know you and Len will get together again, but tell Limpy she is to come and live with us. Brick wants her, too. It may be Congress and it may be the same old grocery store. But we want Limpy. Don't forget, girls. At eight." The girls waited. And a little before be-fore eight, they went upstairs together to-gether and closed the door of their room and locked it. They both stood up, holding hands, and at eight o'clock, Adele said, "God bless Helen Hel-en and Brick," and Limpy said, "Amen." And then they wept, but happily, in each other's arms. As a matter of fact, Helen was not married till a full hour later, for the girls had forgotten the difference differ-ence between Eastern Standard and Central time, but already their loving lov-ing prayer had gone winging on its way. Then Adele, wrapped in a long dark cape over her expensive wind-up wind-up costume, with a dark veil shielding shield-ing her face under the jaunty felt hat, kissed Limpy and smiled. "Adele, if I could only go with you!" pleaded Limpy. "It makes me very nervous for you to go off alone on such an exciting night " "You have to stay, darling. If Auntie sees you she won't miss me. I shan't be gone long; just long enough to tell him it's all right." "The reporters'!! catch you if you don't watch out." "I'll watch out. Anyhow, it's too late now to lose the election." Adele slipped quietly out and Limpy Lim-py was left alone; alone, except for the Senator and Aunt Olympia and the reporters and publicity men and some two or three hundred noisy guests. But she felt very much alone. She went in and stood close to Aunt Olympia. She looked small and her impish sparkle had faded to a plaintive wistfulness. "Don't you feel well, Limpy?" demanded de-manded Olympia, in sudden fright. "You look pale. You'd better go to bed. You'd better take an aspirin. Del! Where's Del? Tell him to call a doctor." "I feel all right, Auntie," said Limpy, sadly. "I just feel lonesome. lone-some. I just feel like being as close to you as I can." Tears came to Aunt Olympia's eyes. "Limpy!" she said fondly. "Such a week as it's been! You wait, Limpy. We'll make it up to you. We'll go someplace anyplace you want you and Adele can decide de-cide it . . . And you can play and dance and have a good time. Here, sit here by me. Give her a pillow, Cece . . . You can go now, Cece . . . She's tired; she can't talk. Hilda! Where's Hilda? Bring her a sandwich, Hilda." In the grounds surrounding Shires, in the streets, and all through the town of Maysville, sirens shrieked, horns blared, excited voices roared approving cheers. (TO BE COXTIWED) |