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Show jMarry No Fisherman Bv LEALON MARTIN JR. McCluie Syndicate WNU Features. "rLOSER we get, 'fraider I am ot how she'll take it," said Hans. Delphine looked up at his blond tallness. "Me, too," she confessed, and squeezed his hand. For the thought of her mother was still between be-tween them. Delphine remembered what she had said and her worry grew. "We'd better be ready for the worst," she told Hans. "You know Mama always said: 'My Delphine, she's never going marry no fisherman.' fisher-man.' " Hans looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, I know," he said. "Look, maybe I'd better not go to the house with you. Maybe you better break it alone." "No." Delphine was firm. "It's best you come now. I want she should know we're not ashamed of what we've done. And I'm proud of my husband, no matter what he has been! " "Well, I'm not exactly a fisherman fisher-man now, even if I still own my shrimp boat and jus' leased her." "Of course not." Delphine tossed the shiny black curls. "And it's time for Mama to know." The shrimp trawlers at the docks faded behind them as they went down the leafy street toward her home. "Mama'll be by herself," Delphine said. "That's good, though I wish Raoul could be there. He'd side with us.-y "Your brother would help," Hans sighed, "but the army's got him too far away." Delphine's mind was busy. She remembered just how she and Hans had met, that very first time, nearly three years before. She had been In her father's store, helping during school vacation of her senior high school year. The young man had walked in to ask for information. Blond hair, yellow in the slanting sun as he doffed his cap, and tall and fair, with the widest shoulders, Delphine had thought, she'd ever seen. "My name's Hans Olsen," he said, "and I've come from Florida in my trawler. Heard the shrimping's good over this way. Can you tell me where I can find a boarding place?" "But yes," she answered him. "Madame Broussard will be glad to have you." And she directed him, walking. to the corner to point the way. He'd been back several times. In fact, he'd made it a point to come and always they found something to talk about. Delphine was sure almost from the start that he liked her. And soon the whole town was talk-in talk-in it ahnnr. the voune Swede fisher- man. One of those East- coast shrimpers from Florida, they said, who sure knew how to get the fish 'way out. A hard worker, too, you bet. More than one Timbalier mama would have been glad to have him come calling. But Hans Olsen went only to the LeBlew store, where there was Delphine. Del-phine. And Delphine had been glad, oh, so glad! She shuddered, remembering re-membering her mother's tirade. Any of her friends' parents would have been happy if this sober, industrious young man appeared to have serious intentions toward their daughters, but not her mama. "Ever since you been big enough to go with boys for the dates," she ranted, "I been afraid this happen. You know why I nevair let you go out with boys from the shrimp boats. Always I don' wan' you marry no fisherman. Look what you get! Nothin' but to be sorry!" "Yes, Mama." "You know a shrimper, he's nevair make nothin' hardly. When he catch good, he throw away the money, gamblin' or somethin'." That had been so unfair to Hans that she'd spoken up: "But, Mama, Hans is not like that. He's different." differ-ent." "Different, eh? Non, all shrimpers, shrimp-ers, they're alike!" And that had settled that. She couldn't see Hans at home. Their surreptitious meetings had been few and far between, but for her it would always be this tall, fair young man. The months became years. He went back to the Atlantic and she thought him lost forever. But he returned, explaining that he'd taken his trawler over because of the extra ex-tra good fishing. Thpn war had come and. after a time, she'd gone to Houma to work in a defense plant. And Hans was on the East coast. She hadn't seen him for nearly six months when he'd walked into her cousin's home in Houma one Sunday. They'd been married the next week and this, after aft-er their all too short honeymoon in New Orleans, was her homecoming. Delphine gripped Hans' fingers tighter as they turned into her yard. "This is it!" she murmured and they smiled at each other. "Mama, this is my husband. Hans Olsen," she said, and waited for the storm. "We were married last Friday. Fri-day. He's on leave from Camp Shelley." Shel-ley." "Husband . . . husband," her mother said, and her brow clouded. Then she gazed hard at Hans. Del-. phine saw that he braced his khaki-clad khaki-clad shoulders. "Ah, Delphine," she said. "Me, I'm glad you didn' marry mar-ry no fisherman . . . but a good soldier of the United States like Raoul Come, my son and daughter." daugh-ter." She held out her arms. |