Evening star., 1927-05-23

old days at Grandmother HOLSTERS 1t
had been rather awful. Once-only
she did not remember this-the milk
man had stopped her nurse on the
street, and little Holly had held out
her hand to him.
Just as if she knew he brought her
her milk!' reported the nursemaid
fondiy.
And you let her shake hands with
the milkman?" demanded Grandmoth-
er HolIister.
"Well, I'm sure if he's clean enough
to bring the milk. he's"
THAT will do" thundered Grand
mother Hollister. Shortly after, the
girl was dismissed, although, of course
this may not have been the reason.
Later on she married the milkman,
too. But that is neither here nor
there.
When Holly was S-that was before
the trouble came-they took her out
of the dancing class because the may
or'S son had been admitted to it.
Grandma was dead then, and Aunt
Margaret was living with them. And
Aunt Margaret had said it was alb
surd the boy was a nice child. Mrs.
Bayne, however, was adamant.
"Once the bars are down. all sorts
of common people will be let in," she
said. Il have told Mrs. Finch exactly
what I think of her."
But those days were rather vague
to Holly now, although they had made
their impression on her character.
Mostly what she remembered was of
movement, of people coming and 60
ing, and of parcels arriving, to be
piled between the fireplace and the
wardrobe, until they were opened.
Sometimes she was even allowed to see
things would be spread out on her
mothers bed, lace shawls and fans
and bright, shiny slippers.
But mostly, after mademoiselle had
gone, she had stayed with Aunt Mar
garet. She saw comparatively little
of her parents. They were almost
always either out, or dressing to go
out. Almost every day Otto, the but
ler, would press her fathers dinner or
dress clothes and carry them upstairs,
and the limousine would come around
at quarter to o'clock. The other
evenings there would be a party at
the house; at o'clock two or three
strange men would take off their coats
in the pantry and begin laying out
china and silver. Aunt Margaret, who
did not always dine downstairs on
these nights, would carry down the
long banquet cloth. bought very
probably from Mr.. Cox; gilt chairs
would come in the back door from the
caterers; and, as if by magic, the
dining room would begin to bloom.
At each place there would be tiny
glass for sherry, a taller one for sau-
terne, and crowning glory of all to
Holly'S childish eyes, a champagne
glass with a queer hollow stem and
flat bowl.
II should think they would SPILL"
she said once to Aunt Margaret.
ITS pity they don't" said Aunt
Margaret tartly.
She had diagram in her hand and
was putting down funny little cards
at each place, each with name on it.
At five minutes to eight mother
would come down the stairs and
father would follow her, and then.
like the dining table. the staircase
would begin to bloom. Ladies in
evening dress would come up, give
their wraps to maid. all in black,
with a neat white apron, and wait for
gentlemen who were laying off hats
and overcoats somewhere else. From
the third floor landing Holly, look
ing down on them. had curious i'm
preston of nakedness. Everything
was lost to her from above but their
bare shoulders. backs and bosoms.
On the hall table Otto had care
fully laid out tiny envelopes. each
with a timer card inside it, and. as
each gentleman went down, he re-
ceived one. looked at the name on the
card. and tucked it into his waistcoat
pocket. 1t was the name of the lady
he was to take in"
Up to the landing would come a
strange medley of odors. perfume and
soup and tobacco smoke, and through
1t came Otto's voice, announcing
sonorously. "Mr. and Mrs. Wrigley."
Miss Van Dusen." "Mr. and Mrs.
Willoughby-Jo Jones' and so on, and
then there would be procession of
queer, foreshortened figures toward
dining ROOM and 1t would be all over.
She W4suM crawl back into bed in
the third aoor front room. to which