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Show PRELUDE to CHRISTMAS By PEGGY DERN McClure Syndicate WNU Release INSTALLMENT I Aunt Jane looked up from her book and said comfortably, "You look very sweet, my dear have a nice time!' Chloe, poised for flight in the doorway, door-way, the chiffon skirts of her frock billowing above her high-heeled sandals, san-dals, wrinkled her white nose disdainfully dis-dainfully and said darkly, "I'll have a perfectly poisonous time and you darned well know it!" Aunt Jane looked up in shocked reproof. "Chloe!" she protested. "How can you be so ungracious? This party is being given in your honor " Chloe made a little impatient gesture. ges-ture. "Oh, I know, Aunt Jane I know. Everybody's being very nice to me and all that only I'm so bored!" Aunt Jane's gray eyes were a little lit-tle chilled and her manner was stiff. "You are a very badly spoiled little lit-tle snip, Chloe Sargent," she stated coldly. "I think your father should be ashamed of himself for sending you north to be educated, where you could acquire all these silly ideas about things and people. If you had stayed here in Oakton as I wanted you to do " "Within sight and sound of the acres of buildings that mark the Sargent Textile Mills, which will some day be mine and which mark Oakton's chief excuse for existence sure I know, darling," said Chloe. "I've been away three years and that makes me a 'furriner.' " "If only you weren't so pretty," Jane smiled. "Are you still planning to spend Christmas with your friends in Bermuda, Chloe?" "But of course, darling. Why would I change my mind now? It isn't every girl, I can tell you, who gets an invitation for a month's cruise in the south aboard the Pear-sail's Pear-sail's yacht!" There was the barest moment, of hesitation before Aunt Jane said carefully, "It will be lonely here without you, dear." "Sorry, Aunt Jane, I'm late now and I must hurry. See you about daybreak, I imagine. 'Night!" By the time she reached the big white house on the hill that was her destination, Chloe had succeeded in forgetting the tiny twinge of compunction com-punction that she had felt at Aunt Jane's words. There was a string of cars ahead of her, and the house was ablaze with lights. Rufus, the chauffeur, who had, when he was young, been the coachman, let her out on the steps and as she mounted them, the door opened and Margaret Mar-garet Graham, plump and blonde in a smartly cut gown of baby-blue velvet, vel-vet, came to greet her. Chloe was drawn into the group of young people about Margaret. Introduced In-troduced here and there. There was an excellent orchestra. The floor was glassy smooth. As Philip Graham, Gra-ham, brother of her hostess asked her to dance, Chloe's experienced eyes swept carelessly over the stag line and found only one man who held her interest. She told herself it was because he was in a business busi-ness suit of navy serge while the other men in the room wore evening clothes. His eyes held a cold, aloof, appraising glance that made her say to Philip, almost before she was conscious of the intention of asking: "Who is that man in the stag line? The one in business clothes? Do you see him?" Philip grinned down at her. "I don't have to see him. The only man in Oakton who would have come to this party tonight in business clothes is Scott Kelvin. He's a doctor. He has just finished a year as interne in a big New York hospital and could have had his pick of several good openings around town. But it seems his mother and father worked in the mills and somehow, by superhuman super-human industry and thrift, I imagine, imag-ine, they managed to put him through medical college. The mother died two years ago, the father has been dead six months. And so Scott has come back to well, to sort of pay oft a portion of the debt he owes his parents by service to those in their walk of life. He's pretty dull. J.'m warning you." Chloe's eyes traveled across Philip's Phil-ip's shoulder and again settled upon Scott Kelvin's lean, brown, rather stern young face. He was twenty-five twenty-five or six maybe a year or two older. But bis stern expression made him look older. His eyes met hers gravely, steadily, as if he were taking her measure. And then her eyes widened a little and she gasped as she saw him making his way across the dance floor towards her, moving with an effortless, purposeful purpose-ful stride that brought him to her a few seconds after she realized his intention. "Sorry, Philip cut, please," said Scott Kelvin as he touched Philip's shoulder and took Chloe into his arms. "I don't bother with 'monkey-suits,' 'monkey-suits,' " said Scott quietly. "In fact, I don't go to parties where other people wear 'monkey-suits' and I wouldn't have come here tonight ex cept that I was a little curious to catch a glimpse of the Little Crown Princess. I suppose you had a perfectly per-fectly glorious time in New York?" "Heavenly," said Chloe, glowing a little at the memory. "And I'm leaving leav-ing before long to join my friends for a southern cruise over the Christmas holidays. I can hardly wait. Christmas is such a stupid, boring season! It'll be fun to get away where I won't even have to think about what a girl friend of mine calls "The silly season." " Scott looked down at her, studying study-ing her narrowly as if he had never seen her like before. "You honestly think Christmas is a silly season?" he asked as if he could scarcely believe his ears. Thanksgiving Day, in this sheltered shel-tered southern climate, was little more than Indian Summer weather. Chloe had spent last Thanksgiving Day at the Pearsalls' country home in Connecticut. But this Thanksgiving Day was to be completely different in every possible way. She had been afraid of it, and the day before her worst fears had been confirmed when Aunt Jane had come bustling into her room about ten o'clock and had said reproachfully: "Not dressed yet? We want to reach Chi-naberry Chi-naberry Grove before dark, you know." "Oh," wailed Chloe in frank distress. dis-tress. "We're not going to Gran's?" Jane stiffened a little and her eyes chilled. "And why not, may I ask?" Chloe stood up and made a little defensive gesture. "O.K., Aunt Jane, let's not have a lecture. I'll tumble into something and be with you in a minute!" she said wearily. Aunt Jane studied her for a moment, mo-ment, and then as if restraining her comment with an effort, she turned on her heels and walked out, disapproval and annoyance in every line of her straight back. Her father smiled almost shyly at her. He had sent her away, an awkward young thing at the coltish age, all elbows and skinny knees and taffy-colored hair in a thick "Sorry, Philip cut, please." braid swinging down her thin back. She had come back to him a delightfully de-lightfully rounded, graceful young thing with the taffy-colored hair smartly waved and tucked into a roll at the back of her well-poised head. She was a stranger to him, this beautiful young daughter who was beginning to look disturbingly like her lovely mother who had died when Chloe was eight Howell Sargent's mother still oc- cupied the old family home called Chinaberry Grove, set in the midst of six hundred acres of fertile farm land. Although she was past seventy, seven-ty, Melissa Sargent was far from being old in her own mind. This afternoon, when the car rolled into the drive through that mile long double row of stately Chinaberry Chi-naberry trees, they found Melissa waiting for them on the porch. Chloe got out of the car and Melissa eyed her closely as she leaned forward, offering her check for Chloe's dutiful duti-ful kiss. It was the first time she had seen Chloe since the girl left for the North three years before. "So this is Chloe," she said, holding hold-ing her off so that she could look her over intently. "What a great girl you've grown, and pretty, too." Melissa looked at Chloe shrewdly as she came into the dining room a half-hour later, and said to Howell How-ell severely. "That child's too pale. Better leave her down here for a month or two and let us put some flesh on her bones and a little color in her face." "Don't worry about my pallor. Gran, I'll get a beautiful winter tan in Bermuda," said Chloe sweetly as she took her place at the table. "Bermuda?" snapped. Melissa. "Who's going to Bermuda?" "I am," answered Chloe quietly. "I'm meeting the Pearsalls in Mi ami on the 18th, and I'll be gone a month or six weeks." "You're going to be away for Christmas?" insisted the old lady sternly. Chloe looked up and her blue eyes, stormy and dark, met those of the old lady and for a moment their glances clashed. "Of course," said Chloe. "Why not?" Gran broke open a hot roll. Thrust a pat of sweet butter into it and closed it again, dropping it on her plate with what she wished had been a thud. A day or so after the return from Chinaberry Grove Chloe came in late one afternoon in the chill dusk to find a telegram awaiting her. She slid a thumb beneath the flap of the flimsy envelope, opened it and unfolded the sheet it held. MEET US JACKSONVILLE THE SIXTH PLANS CHANGED A LITTLE LIT-TLE BUT STILL HOLDING FOR A CHRISTMAS CRUISE ONLY A LONGER ONE ALL THE WAY TO RIO WIRE IF POSSIBLE TO LEAVE IN TIME BETTY She gave a little gasp of pure joy. Aunt Jane, coming down the stairs, seeing the yellow slip in her hand said quickly, "Bad news, dear?" "Oh, no! Grand news. My friends want me to be in Jacksonville on the 6th, instead of the 15th we're going all the way to Rio for Christmas. Christ-mas. Oh, Aunt Jane, isn't that glorious?" glo-rious?" she cried swiftly. She turned towards the door without with-out waiting for Aunt Jane's little protesting, startled cry. "Chloe! You're not really going? So soon?" Chloe stared at her, caught by surprise. "But of course I'm going. Aunt Jane. Any sane girl would leap at a chance like this! I'll have the most glorious time " There was the sound of a car in the drive. Her father came up the steps and into tha house. He looked swiftly from Jane to Chloe and said quickly, "Why, what's wrong?" "Nothing, Father, I've had a telegram tele-gram from Betty," explained Chloe quietly, avoiding Jane's eyes. "They want me to meet them in Jacksonville Jackson-ville on the 6th. Their plans have changed a little. They are going all the way to Rio de Janeiro and they want me to go with them. Aunt Jane thinks I shouldn't go." Aunt Jane said, "It was only that I thought you that is, we would miss her " Howell said, "Of course we shall miss her, but that's no reason why we should be selfish and hold her here. Run along, child, and wire them that you will be in Jacksonville in your very best bib and tucker." Chloe said unsteadily, "Thanks, Father," and fled. Of course she could easily have telephoned her message to the telegraph tele-graph office, but somehow, she wanted to get out of the house. There was a look in Aunt Jane's eyes that made her uncomfortable. Perhaps, Per-haps, she told herself as she sent her small roadster hurtling recklessly reck-lessly down Monte Sano Avenue, she was being selfish in going away, but Betty's invitation offered such a gorgeous gor-geous good time! And Oakton was so dull! A Christmas that would be a repetition of Thanksgiving she shuddered and jammed her foot a little harder on the accelerator. Ahead of her a warning bell jingled jin-gled and a traffic light turned to the cautioning amber. Recklessly, in no mood to be delayed, Chloe shot the little roadster ahead and turned the corner on two wheels. Just as she did so a man stepped from the curb directly in her path. Her foot jammed hard on the brakes, but it was all over before she even realized what had happened. hap-pened. There was an impact as she struck the man that shook her hard. The man went down. The car went forward for-ward with a sickening jar and the jammed brakes did their work. She fell forward over the wheel, sick and horrified as a crowd formed about the roadster. Eager, pitying hands lifted the broken body from the wheels. A policeman seemed to pop up from nowhere. There was a dazed interval of questions, of excited testimony. tes-timony. As from a vast distance she heard somebody saying angrily, "I saw the whole thing. Thedizzy little dame was trying to beat the light and she turned the corner doing do-ing about sixty." Chloe, shaking as with an ague, told herself with an almost detached interest that that was absurd, she doubted if the roadster road-ster would do sixty "You're Miss Sargent, aren't you?" The policeman recognized her. "This man seems badly hurt" There was the sharp clang-clang-clang of an ambulance and, as she saw the two white-coated internes lift the broken body and lay it on the stretcher, she caught for the first time a glimpse of the man's face. It was Scott Kelvin! "Oh-ho, she's fainted!" said someone some-one in the crowd, and the policeman police-man dropped his book to catch the girl as she fell forward over the wheel . . . (TO BE COSTISIED) |