Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-01-07

When his novel came out and he
was famous he might he invited TO
the White House to meet the Presl'
dent. Such things were not impos'
| sible. Sometimes he spent precious
moments Of his writing time thinking
| what he would say to the President
and what the President would say 10
him. Altogether H. charming and ir-
responsible fellow. nicknamed "Dabs"
by his wife and his fellows. The name
came from his habit of saying, well
| now. ] think I'll Just take dab at
that
Mrs. Belts made and unmade M
social regulations. She wouldn't have
known how to do 1t in the first place
And in the second place she was
| naturally democratic. She thought
she was leading an extremely social
life whenever she gave a chatting dish
party to group of musicians and
| writer's. II everybody sang and
laughed a great deal she felt that her
party had been completely successful
She liked to be considered original
and had taught Judith, the little girl
to call her Honey" because it sounded
odd and different
aged somehow to meet and get around
things for herself. Honey and Dabs
in her knowledge, were always too
busy or too gay to bother with her
difficulties, and tears bored them. She
was always trying not to bore them
1t was almost an occupation with her
But 1t was surprising how many
thoughts she had of which they had
not the slightest inkling.
For instance, she hated artists and
newspaper men and long haired must
clans and authors~,with a passionate
vigor. At the tender age of 10 she
added to her somewhat sketchy
nightly prayer. And please, dear
God, take away authors and artists
and musicians and dirty dishes and
tablecloths with spots on them and
careers"
together, inextricably mixed like the
served at Honey's parties.
From the time that Judith could
remember anything, the small,
cramped rooms had been overfiowing
with poets in shiny coats and long,
stringy ties; authors with pompous
manners and dirty fingernails, must
clans who objected to jam on the
yellow keys of the old piano, artists
who sketched her mother and sQuinted
down their noses. newspaper men who
made fun of her and smoked brown
paper cigarettes. Along with these
had gone stacks of dirty dishes in the
sink and tablecloths hopelessly
blotched with coffee stains and cigar.
cite burns.
Then, too. there had been careers.
Just at first Judith hadn't the faintest
idea what career was. Whatever
1t was, however, she soon learned that
her father had one and her mother
had one and every one of the greasy
authors and long-haired musicians
and smiling newspaper men. as we'll
She gradually came to know that her
father was an author and her mother
was an artist. They weren't exactly
famous, but they hoped to be. Her
father talked Of "unities" and her
mother of values" They would
blow into gusts of excitement most
Unexpectedly.
Il tell you. Guy, this picture is big
her mother would cry. Its going to
make me famous Then they would
talk and talk
"And if it is hung then we'll show
'em! And I guess we. know how to
get publicity
They would plan a move to a larger
and smarter place. They would talk
of regular maid to take the place of
the slatternly dark Della, who came in
to wash up" after party. They
would even plan clothes
And We'll get Judy a lot of pink
frocks and black slippers and silk
stockings
Ana how many times she had
waited! But by and by she had come
to learn that this was just a sort of
gay dreaming, and with a pang had
resigned herself to the utter impossi-
bility of ever having silk stockings
and pink frocks. After all, it was
nice Of Honey and Dabs to want her
to have the pretty things. She liked
them to be gay and dream. And they
were quite the gayest people she
knew, most of the time. They were
always joking and laughing. Every
little thing was worth laughing about
Once in while there were dark
hours in the dusty. musty little rooms.
Judy dreaded them. These were the
times when her father shut himself
up and could be heard tearing up
papers hour after hour. When he
came out he was hardly the Dabs she
knew at all, but white-lipped, cross
man, with little burrows across his
forehead. Or perhaps it would be her
mother, dashing a brushful of ugly
black paint across her canvas, smudg-
ing out everything and crying as if
her heart would break.
Then 1t was Judy who held the helm
of the family shij, Judy who saw that
meal times were observed. Judy who
bathed her mothers redeemed eyes
with cologne, or sat beside her father,
silent and comforting with her little
warm hand thrust into his big cold
palm.
These terrible hours did not last
long. nor did they come often. In the
main Judy's years were buttonless
and careless. Visitors made a great
deal of her. The authors and must
clans petted her and the newspaper
men joked with her. 1t was nice to
have them like her even if she didn't
like them. Sometimes she felt just
bit in the way of Honey and Dabs.
They seemed to forget her SO easily.
1t was only when there were guests