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Show -fillV McClure W.N.U.Senlc'e .. INSTALLMENT FOURTEEN The Story So Far Laura Maguire, wife of happy-go-lucky Mike, editor and mayor of Covington, Is mother of four children, hit by the depression: Tom, who separates from his wife, Mary Etta, when she refuses to give up her secretary job, to join him in the smaller town after his real estate job peters out. Alec, who, out of a job. had been running run-ning around with a flashy divorcee and who becomes interested In Lou Knight, the town drunk's daughter. Her father died rescuing a crippled boy in a fire. He takes her to his mother's home. Shirley, engaged to Jaird Newsum, who is also out of work and whose mother wants him to marry Connie Mays, the banker's daughter. Kathleen, who against her will. Is becoming be-coming interested in Ritchie Graham, who is also a newspaperman and aids her father in angering the banker. The latter causes the paper to lose Us advertising. ad-vertising. Shirley pawns her ring to buy a hamburger ham-burger stand. Jaird also comes to buy it. two. It shone from their eyes. Laura, with Lou's aid, was setting set-ting the table for dinner when Shirley Shir-ley and Jaird came in. Their faces were a revelation. They did not need to say anything. "You're married! And you didn't tell me!" For a minute Laura felt she couldn't bear it. She had tried never nev-er to fail her children. And yet Shirley, her beautiful sweet Shirley had married without a word. In someone else's house. Laura had not even been there, or Mike. It wasn't as if they would have disapproved. dis-approved. Laura was glad, terribly glad that Shirley was married. But it hurt that in the biggest hour of her life she had not come home to her mother and father, had not even told them. And then with a glance at her daughter's radiant eyes, Laura swallowed her resentment. "You see," said Shirley when they had explained about the sandwich shop, "Jaird's mother will be furious. furi-ous. But she can't be angry at you. Mother, because you knew nothing about it. No one is to blame but Jaird and me. And I'm afraid we 1 3 -Ml tv f w CHAPTER XX Shirley took a quick step forward, then paused abruptly, her knees trembling as Jaird went on. "I found a second-hand clothing man who relieved me of my dress suit and studs for thirty dollars. But I've nothing else to sell, Joe. And you gotta be reasonable. A hundred and fifty's all this hole is worth. There it is on the table. Take it like a good boy and call it a deal." "No! No!" cried Joe violently. "Two hundred dollarl Not a cent less." "But, Joe" "No can do." "I'll pay you the rest so much a month." "All cash, no credit." "But, Joe, have a heart." Jaird's voice was hoarse. "You don't know what this means to me. There's a girl. I love her better than she's everything to me. Everything! And I'm losing her because we can't get married. You say there's a living in this place. If a man can make good by sweating his heart out, I will. Maybe she'd laugh in my face if I asked her to move into a dump like this. But it's my only chance. For God's sake try to understand. I'm losing the girl I love and I can't do anything about it." "Two hundred dollars," insisted Joe. "And I thought I'd found the way out," muttered Jaird with something some-thing that was almost a sob. "You have," whispered the girl in the doorway to the rear room. "Shirley!" At first he could only stare. At her radiant eyes, her tremulous trem-ulous lips. "I sold your ring, Jaird, for a hundred hun-dred and twenty-five. Here it is. Give Joe his price and tell him to clear out." She was in his arms. They clung together. "It will be hard work and everybody will laugh at us," he whispered. "Do you mind?" "I don't mind anything when I have you in my arms like this." "Neither do I," whispered Shirley. Shir-ley. Again his laugh rang out exultantly. exultant-ly. He added to the pile of bills on the counter. "Pack up your duds and beat it, Joe. This place has changed hands." They hung out a sign, "Closed Temporarily for Repairs" and visited vis-ited the dollar store. They had some working capital, that precious seventy-five dollars above the cost of the place. Shirley selected pale yellow yel-low dishes and green glasses with a cut crystal effect and glittery new pots and pans that had green handles. han-dles. They bought yellow oilcloth by the yard for the table covers and window drapes. Shirley knew how to scallop them with the scissors. scis-sors. Jaird purchased paint and hammer and nails. They were back at ten. They hired an ancient Negro with a moth-eaten moth-eaten mule to cart off loads of rubbish. rub-bish. They scoured the floors and Jaird painted the walls an apple green while Shirley did the chairs in ivory. They tacked up the yellow oilcloth drapes and stacked the new green glasses and yellow dishes behind be-hind the counter. Jaird solved the bedroom problem by turning the hose on it and leaving the sun and air to do the rest. Late in the afternoon after-noon they moved the furniture back inside and Shirley made up the bed with crisp new sheets and a green crepe spread. "It doesn't look half bad," said Jaird with a throb of pride in his voice. "You aren't weakening, are you. darling?" "No! No!" exclaimed the girl in his arms. Again they clung together. They were going to be married at last, after four years! This was their wedding night. Shirley's heart thudded thud-ded deliriously against her side. Jaird's face blazed with fugitive color. col-or. They locked up the place and walked down the street. Jaird's coupe had gone the way of his dress studs. But he had a marriage license li-cense in his pocket. His hand tightened tight-ened on her arm. And they laughed above the tumult in their pulses. Of course it was nothing like their plans, that quiet ceremony in the old Mctkodist parsonage. There were no bridesmaids, no flower-strewn flower-strewn aisles, no music. It was very still in the old-fashioned parlor. But tiie windows were flung open to the garden. The air was soft and sweet with dusk, the old minister's voice very gentle and reverent. "I do pronounce you man and wife." Shirley's hand closed convulsively on Jaird's. He stooped and kissed her. The old minister's wife wiped her eyes. She wasn't always happy I about the couples who came unex-I unex-I pectedly to be married under her j roof. But tiiis boy and girl had meant it when they swore to cherish ; each other always in sickness or in health, for better or u orse. tiii death did them part. They were wedded to each other's heart, uiose Alec was not too old for a session with the hair brush. It seemed to Laura that on top of everything else, Lou was just too much. Of all days in the year to be saddled with the girl. And such a tongue-tied, nervous nerv-ous little creature. Laura had talked herself hoarse trying to relieve the child's dreadful timidity. But Lou still trembled when Laura spoke, and her eyes watched the door for Alec. Kathleen was dining out. She might have helped. Lou had seemed j less afraid of her than of the others. She shrank every time Mike ad- ; dressed her. He had even less success suc-cess than Laura with the poor little thing. Tom looked tired and depressed. de-pressed. He scarcely spoke at all. Mike had had another run-in with Banker Mays over an editorial in the morning Clarion. Mike detailed the episode with gusto. He thought it highly entertaining. But it worried wor-ried Laura. Mike laughed when he discovered that Kathleen's engagement engage-ment was with Eugene Mays' son. Laura also failed to find that amusing. amus-ing. Altogether dinner at the Maguire house was not a happy occasion that night. Laura was glad when they rose from the table. Mike had a Council meeting. He was gone when Laura finished in the kitchen. Tom, looking drawn and white, went up to his room and closed the door. His haggard face haunted Laura. But it had not invited confidences. He wanted to be alone. She was his mother and she ached with his pain. But she could do nothing. Another woman had his happiness in her keeping. Laura, with Lou trailing after her like a shy dejected shadow, sat down in a big wicker chair on the veranda and leaned her head wearily back. For once Laura's natural buoyancy deserted her. She had a wild desire de-sire to indulge in a few well-salted tears, a luxury she rarely allowed herself. Shirley was married, a bride this night in a hamburger joint. The bride's mother always weeps. Laura felt in the humor to do a lot of that. Only there was Lou, huddled in the porch swing, small, dejected, pitiful. piti-ful. Laura felt like swearing. She couldn't let down even for a minute and be just a plain discouraged human. hu-man. She knew Lou would most likely faint with fright if her hostess put on a sob act. "It's a lovely evening, isn't it?" murmured Laura, trying for the hundredth time to thaw the irksome irk-some ice between herself and her guest. "Yes," whispered Lou. 'At least with Shirley gone 1 needn't inflict you with the couch," murmured Laura, thinking with a pang that Shirley would never again share Kathleen's virginal bed. Lou's small hands clenched. 'Tm going tomorrow," she said huskily. Laura glanced at her quickly. The girl's eyes met hers. They were very unhappy and very apologetic, Lou's big blue eyes. "Alec shouldn't have brought me here," she said. "And I shouldn't have come. I knew you'd hate having hav-ing me." Laura flushed. "I don't hate having hav-ing you, Lou. It's just that I've been a little at a loss fitting you in." "I know," Lou said: "That's why I shouldn't have come. I don't belong be-long here. I've, never had anything or been anywhere. I'm poor white trash and you you're lovely and so kind, but I I'll go away tomorrow." "Where will you go, my child?" asked Laura very gently. Lou looked away. "I don't know." Laura reached over and laid her hand on the girl's knee but Lou shrank away. "You'll stay here till I can work something out for you," said Laura. "I would never forgive myself if I let you go otherwise. And neither would Alec." "He's ashamed of me," Lou burst out in a smothered voice. "He took me to the Airdrome on a bet. But he doesn't like me. He's just sorry for me and kind like you." Laura drew a breath of relief. So there was nothing between Alec and the girl except his instinct to befriend be-friend a friendless creature. Laura remembered how all his life Alec had brought in crippled sparrows and dogs with broken legs and insisted in-sisted on repairing them. "I can't believe Alec is ashamed of you, Lou." she said. "It doesn't ma'ter that you are poor. So are we." "But Alec's so wonderful!" breathed the girl with a little sob. "He's just as far above me as those stars up there, and always will be." She got blindly to her feet and slipped into the house. Laura heard her going up the stairs, heard the bedroom door close behind her, and j knew Lou was crying in that mute ' heartbreaking way she h.'jd. 0 course she was in love with Alec. Laura sinhed. Ar.cl he hadn't cor.-.e r.t;.r her all day. Laura wr.ndfrcd where he was. She suosed he was helping Viyra Boone massacre time as usual. J ILU VI: COSTlMEDl "You're married!" V don't care a lot whether she ever forgives us or not." At least, thought Laura, none of her children had ever said quite that about her. She went upstairs with Shirley to pack her overnight bag. Her other things would be sent on in her trunk the next day. Laura managed to be very gay as she helped Shirley collect her frilly little pink negligee and a demure white nightgown from her hope chest. But Laura was not really gay. It wrenched her heart when Shirley closed the door on her girlhood forever for-ever and came down the stairs to Jaird, but Laura did not betray it. Mike was waiting with his new son-in-law and he kissed Shirley and told her she had never done a smarter smart-er day's work and warned Jaird to expect him to drop in often for a free handout and sent them off with a chuckle. Only Laura knew that Mike's lips were quivering. Only she was there when he turned to her with blurred eyes. The moon had risen when Shirley and Jaird came back to Joe's place. It silvered the oak leaves. Jaird snapped on the lights inside. They gleamed on shining walls and new china and glittering green glass. But in the back room, the moon cast light enough. "It isn't the way I promised," Jaird said, "but I love you, Shirley. And I'll work myself to death to make up to you for everything you ought to have and haven't." "What haven't I?" whispered the girl. "I've the man I love. I've his name and his love and his respect. The right to make him a home and bear his children. The right to live for him and for them. What more can any woman want?" "Darling!" His lips found hers. "I love you, I love you!" whispered whis-pered Shirley who had been unable to say the things that mattered. Back home Laura Maguire wiped her eyes and carefully put away the miniature of Great - grandmother Ashe. It had served its purpose. CHAPTER XXI Alec Maguire did not come home to dinner the night Shirley married. He did not even telephone. Laura found herself wishing that her son A SELECTED STOriY BY A GIFTED AUTHOR j I A |