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Show FICTION SITTING AT THE WINDOY 1 " ' ' By RUBE GOLDBERG 1$F 1 t Cot net 1 'jLaL i ACE HAWKINS and Sam Mc-Quade Mc-Quade were discussing Grace Leland. Ace and Sam were the two roving philosophers of Milldale. The beautiful Autumn sunsets and the changing colors of the poplars entirely en-tirely escaped their unimaginative attention. They asked nothing more of life than the privilege of peering lazily through doors and windows and making casual deductions about what was going on inside. That's how they happened to see Grace Leland. "Gosh, that's Grace, all right! She looks faded," observed Ace. "What's she doin' back here, anyway?" any-way?" asked Sam. "That's what I'd like to know. She don't see nobody but the butcher boy and Chic Myers, the postman." "The way she used to traipse around I thought she'd grab herself a millionaire or something'." "I calc'late she wasn't the'sort to settle down. Fact is, I heard somewhere some-where she's been 1 leadin' a pretty fast m, . life these last fifteen IfllS or twenty years. Week's Been associatin' with stage people Best and such." . "Then what's she Fiction doin' back here?" "That's what I'd like to know." Ace spat on the sidewalk and screwed up his face in a knowing grimace. "Maybe she's waitin' for one of them rich fellers. Keeps look-In' look-In' out the window all the time." "Let's mosey over to Chefs and get a cup of hot soup. Gets kinda cold waitin' around for somethin' to happen." Grace had come back to Milldale after an absence of eighteen years and had rented a room in a small white house next to the drug store. Her friend, Thomas Slater, would soon return from Europe and then she would not have to hide any more. Meanwhile, it was very quiet In Milldale. As she sat at the window she thought of her son's brown wavy hair, the slight tilt of his nose and his six feet of muscle and sinew. She was desperately anxious to make up for the fact that a headline head-line - making divorce case had smashed the Leland home and left sensitive young David deeply hurt end fatherless. Her love for him was not a sufficient answer to the questions of his classmates who wanted to know about the big, black headlines and his folks. She must give him all the wordly things the other boys had and more, too. Sweaters, pictures for his room, an electric phonograph and tails. She sent him an overstuffed chair. And cakes and a set of evening studs. It was all simple and exciting until David said he wanted a car. DAVTD must have a good car fn which his friends could ride and sing and forget to ask questions. Once David had made the request she knew It must be granted. She "What's Grace doing here?" asked Sam. "She keeps lookin' out of the window all the time." must keep giving until she made up for the one thing that was lacking. She found herself more and more noticing automobiles on the street. Some were well-proportioned. Some were clumsy. Some drivers steered easily and naturally. Others drove as though they were the lineal descendants de-scendants of the fool Icarus who scorched the aborigines of Africa with his celestial juggernaut. David would drive gracefully David was David. She looked in a large display window win-dow on Broadway and saw the car. A long, light-blue sedan with the smooth curving sides of a yacht and a tan collapsible top all fresh and youthful and clean like David. But the price was three thousand dollars! There was only one person to whom Grace Leland could go for three thousand dollars. Thomas Slater had been her friend since the days when no massage was required re-quired to smooth out the puffy little bags under her eyes. She called up Thomas Slater's office and was told he had gone to Europe. Grace looked at her thin wrist where once dangled a wide diamond bracelet. If only she had that bracelet brace-let now. She went around to the display window on Broadway and again looked at the long, sleek, light-blue sedan with the collapsible tan top. She saw David at the wheel. She saw him driving places where he could meet the fathers of his friends and feel the bracing contact con-tact of a masculine arm around his shoulder. Each time she went back to look at that car she was fearful it might have been bought by another an-other mother for another David. A rash resolve was born of her desperation. des-peration. She knew what she would do. She studied the signatures on the many letters Thomas Slater had WTitten her. Then she signed his name to a check for three thousand dollars. It wasn't forgery because she felt she could explain everything to Slater when he returned from Eu-rope. Eu-rope. There couldn't be anything wrong about what she was doing. j When she received David's letter ' telling her she was the grandest mother in the world for buying him the most beautiful car in the world j she choked up with emotion. She decided de-cided to go quietly to Milldale to I await the return of Thomas Slater. He would understand. Grace Leland was looking out of the window, absently musing over the boy and the car. Ace Hawkins and Sam McQuade stood on the sidewalk. A man walked up the front stoop of the little white house and tried the door. It was open and he walked in. GRACE opened the inner door and saw the man in the hall She thought it strange he did not remove re-move his hat. "Are you Grace Leland?" Le-land?" he asked abruptly. "Why, yes," she answered not quite prepared for the Interrogation. Interroga-tion. "Well, here's my badge," he said, pulling aside his outer coat. "I'm from headquarters. You forged the name of Thomas Slater to a check for three thousand dollars and cashed It at the Textile Bank and Trust Company. I'm afraid you'll have to come along with me." Grace's face went white. It could not possibly be as serious as all that. The man Just didn't know what he was talking about. "This is a terrible mistake," she almost screamed. "I had to sign Mister Slater's name to the check. There was nothing else to do. He will straighten it all out when he returns re-turns from Europe. He has often loaned me money. He's a fine, sweet and I used to be " "Madam, save your breath. Mister Mis-ter Slater died In London last week and the bank has taken charge of his affairs." The man put his hand In his coat pocket and Grace heard a metallic rattle. "Look," said Ace Hawkins. "Here they come out together." "And holdin' hands, too, chuckled chuck-led Sam McQuade. "Same old Grace." |