Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-01-17

~ a dream from which she could
not wake She shifted the
heavy. untidy bundle of sketches
restlessly in her arm. Her cheeks
burned yet at the things that Garner
Fields had said about them Swiftly,
with trembling fingers she had rushed
them back into the protecting paper.
Swiftly. shaking with humiliation, she
had hurried from his studio. And now
s had come numbness, despair,
What had he said about them?
Words etched in acid came up before
her
ITO he quite frank with you. Miss
Betty, they are worse than ordinary.
I could get any one of a half dozen
high school pupils to paint as good
stuff as there is in that entire collec-
ton, There's no use mincing words.
! think you want me to be honestE'
His lifted glance had questioned her.
"Of course" she had managed to
stammer out. And he had gone on.
There's no originality there and very
poor technique. | promised Carter
that if there was a thing in them, any
thing at all I'd give them a showing.
HE wanted to finance the whole
show. but even at that no reputable
artist would care to put his seal of APP
prevail on these pictures. And an ex-
hibition would be a seal of approval
you know" He had paused, looked at
her red cheeks. I'm sorry" he had
said. briefly.
And that was the worst of il, She
knew he had been sorry. He had felt
FOR Honey the stinging pity of crafts
man for bungling amateur. His
words might very well have said, "A
good housekeeper made into a rotten
painter
She stumbled little and the pack
age slid desperately in her arms. She
had a sudden hatred Of the sketches.
She would like to go down and drop
them in the Potomac She hated to
he reminded of Garner Fields. And
then her anger turned to a keen pity.
Poor. poor Honey. How was she ever
going to tell her what she must?
She got aboard bus and sat by an
open window and let the breeze fan
her hot cheeks. How was she ever go
ing to be able to tell Honey?
All the happiness. the lightness had
gone out of her. Her feet were no
longer winged. Nor her heart, There
was a heaviness to her heart that was
like stone. How was she ever going
to tell Honey?
She brought up words and discarded
them. Phrase after phrase ran
through her mind, but they all were
harsh, unbearable. She remembered
the small usefulness of Honey's face
in the darkened hall and her cry. Il
couldn't bear ii If he didn't like them
And now she must bear just that. 1t
was cruel! Cruel!
She would say Honey. he thinks
they are lovely, but he doesn't feel you
are quite ready for an exhibition yet.
But that would only mean putting off
the evil day. And it was quite con-
eeivable that Honey might go to see
him herself, to question him. And she
must never hear what he had to say.
She might say. He didn't seem to
care for them, Honey. They weren't
his style of thingr' But Honey was moi
dull She would grasp something back
of that. How was she to tell her?
She put up her hand and covered her
smarting eyes.
She got off the bus a block below
the apartment. She couldn't explain
to herself why she did 1t. She only
knew that she must have a few mo-
ments to collect herself before she
had to face Honey's questioning,
pleading eyes,
Then her mind, following the track
of it's childhood training, thought of
some form of material comfort to
some sort OF treat.
She discarded the thought of flowers.
They would be cold comfort when the
blow fell. What then?
A good dinner. Plenty of strong
coffee. What delicacy could she fix
for Honeys dinner?
Cream cakes! The very thing. Honey
loved them. She would go and buy
great box of cream cakes. Ii was only
two blocks to the bakery. She set off,
clinging YEARLY to the heavy bundle
of sketches.
In the bakeshop she laid them down
on the narrow counter with a sigh of
relief. The air was fragrant with the
late afternoon baking. Judy became
conscious that she was hungry.
A messenger boy was the only other
customer in the shop. The boys were
!. often in there, for the telegraph Office
was just around the corner. Judy
adored them, their mischief, their
snub noses, their freckles. She watched
this boy now, idly. He was buying
few doughnuts and had already stuffed
almost complete one into his mouth.
Judy grinned impishly, in spite OF her
heavy heart.
What an adorable figurine he would
make, with his tip-tilted eyes. his snub
AOHE+ Dusty, III tleE Ullllu SI16 DpSdI
transferring him to a figurine, thing
of paper, paint, stain. She was still
busy at it when he slammed out.
''G'll take dozen cream cakes" she
told the pleasant woman behind the
counter And her eyes fell upon a
bundle lying beside her own.
oh that boy left his package" she
cried. She ran TO the door and peered
out. but the boy had disappeared.
She came back and picked up the
package And her heart gave queer
little leap, sickening, staggering kind
OF leap For, in a girls handwriting
she read, Mr.. Jack Darien, Sixteenth
street"
She stood holding the bundle, staring
at it DULY. Things didn't happen this
way! Not in real life! Jack Darieni
But she had come a long way from
the mood of the early afternoon. Then
the thought of him had been hearten-
ing. Now. small, Inundated, crawling
home with her story of failure, she
seemed to have no kinship with this
flashing star Of the social sky. He
was a name, man, but he was moth
ing TO her.
She laid the bundle down on her own
parcel. I'm going right by there, .
she told the woman. I'm leave it for
him at his house.
Much obliged" the woman said
gratefully. Them boys are so scat
terbreined they'd leave their heads il
they wasn't tied on. I've been put to
d lot ofstrouble getting their stuff back
to 'eu. / think they go in to the main
Office and say they've delivered tina
things when they've lost 'em. Likely
ehey don't know where to begin lookin'
for them"
She handed Judy her package of
I. f..nr