The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1925-07-03
60 GO e On WITH THE STORY
nv Gilmore Meherin

was to build another; how she was
to escape the exile that grew more
forlorn with the days that passed.
From the room below voices raised
IA anger. Chickie went to the door,
listening. Edith was saying: "Mr.
Scott, you may leave"
Stamping Of a foot, Barbara's
shrill: paul, no! Father wants you
to stay. stay! I wish it,"
ST wish Mr.. Scott to leave. At
once"
Chickie grew GREATNESS; hearing
deep, quiet tones. Then tense feet
ran along the hall. Vibrant with
excitement, Barbara burst into the
room. She was shaking from head
to foot. Her lips moved.
Chickie asked: ibid Paul leave?"
mo! What did that one say to
your"
Nothing much. I should go"
you can't The train is gone"
Barbara walked over to the window
and she, too, stared into the pool.
81 shouldn't risk it. shouldn't
wait. I won't"
Chickie said nothing. Barbara
flung out her hands imploringly.
Say something! What would you
do?"
'It can't hurt to wait. You can
run away tomorrow just as we'll"
Barbara ground her fists. Isn't
she devil, thought Paul and I are
going to be married. Nothing is 60
ing to stop it this time. I told that
to father. Now, maybe he'll have
sense and let me run my own show"
Perhaps that's why he wants to
see him. 1t must be. I don't be-
neve your father will interfere
again."
''He should care! He was twenty
years older than mother and didn't
have cent till the oil boom came.
I'm ashamed to look at Paul. The
things she said"
"He won't care, Barbara.
The girls eyes shone. You should
see the way he faced her! She's
choking with fury" Barbara slipped
her arm about Chickie's waist. "I
don't care-for anything. It's
heavenly-isn't it, CHECKER"
A few moments later Chickie saw
Paul and Barbara going down
through q lane of broom trees. Bar
bara's head half rested against his
shoulder. Their hands were clasped.
Chickie knew that wistful sweetness.
1t belonged to the world that had
vanished like a dream.
But she could feel for Barbara;
hope poignantly; wait with restless
suspense Norp Willman's coming.
At o'clock his car drove up. Be-
fore the engine stopped, Edith
crossed the patio. Red patches
burned on her cheek bones. She
took his arm with her imperious
gesture. He followed reluctant.
They were in the gallery just be-
low. They talked-or Edith did. Her
high voice sharpened. Chickie
caught suddenly:
3 Your stenographer, I say, yes!
Carrying notes"
Every well. I'll see. That1l do.
now Thank you, my dear!'
An utter silence.
Chickie said to herself quietly: "I
look for another job, take it. Ho!'
She ate dinner in her room. Bar
bara had it sent up. She unused. All
her life Chickie had been enorm-
ously curious about the intimate
lives II he rich. She wondered
VIVA. they ate; how they talked; If
they drank, very much; if they were
Kind to their help, or If they really
treated them with arrogant scorn.
She even wondered if they actually
put on fresh sets Of silk underwear
twice a day. This was an ex-
travagance she craved. Well-she
fancied they dwelt in a magical
world with maids bobbing up to
crafty the slightest wish. Why,
even in the midle of the night, it
one were whimsical, little chicken
sandwiches and sweet old wine would
be brought my maids who didn't
require sleep.
Driving out to Winetka, she had
tingled with excitement And i'm
mediately she had found the ap-
pointments disappointing in their
simplicity OF course, the house had
really been closed. And of course
there was this royal old garden
where they even ate breakfast and
might, indeed, have whatever they
wisI-cea
Then the maid ran the water for
their baths and their laundry was
set in the drawers, fresh ribbons in
place. But Jennie had done all such
things for Chtclie. Nothing SO very
thrilling about that.
But it was the pickering, the burn
ing antagonism, the commonplace
talk that disappointed her. She had