Evening star., 1928-11-05

Peters finger usually attacked
door-bells without hesitancy. he
cooked his head slightly to one side
and observed that tentative member
with detachment, as If it did not belong
"Shucks!" he admonished it with a
shake of the head which tilted ms
disreputable soft felt hat even tartner
over one eyebrow. Punch, you idiot,
punch! You can only get kicked OUT.
and Heaven knows, that's no novelty.
The doorway where Peter stood was
rather impressive, as doorwayS go; but
Peter was unimpreSsed by grandeur.
Too many mahogany doors had swung
open to him-Swung open upon SUICIDE:
murder, embezzlement, the downfall OF
ambition, the price of folly. The
glamour and the awe of wealth had
long ago lost all power to affect him
he had followed the same story TOO
often across KhoraSSan carpets ana
Sglintery bare boards. Yet for some
reason Peter was undeniably nervous:
But then, Peter had never before at
tempted formal social call on a
young lady.
What do you say we stay downtown
to dinner tonight and do a ,Show?''
Then you "bummed" two tickets from
the drama editor, and that was that.
But Barbara bothered him. You
couldn't say a thing like that to Bar
bara. Barbara probably went to her
shows in box parties, without the In
tervention of a drama editor. He felt
as uncertain of Barbara as II she be-
longed to strange and probably hostile
savage tribe.
He had no particular respect for her
tribal customs, whatever they were-ln
fact, he had an extremely outstanding
respect for his own; but he had to see
her again. And for the first time in
his varied life, Peter was greatly at
loss as to how to proceed.
Well, the only way to do thing was
to do it. He ought to have asked her
first, of course. But you couldn't very
well say, by the way, may call?'' TO
a girl who has just Slumped to the
running board of a car in dead faint.
Neither the etiquette book which
Peter hadn't read, or the novels which
he had, provided for situation just
like that. Shed probably take him for
a cheeky roughneck. Maybe he vas!
But still, he had to see her.
he couldn't make her out. She kept
playing hide and seek with his imag1na-
ton, at the most inconvenient times;
when he was dead tired and trying to
go to sleep, for instance. or when ne
was halfway through a story that had
to make deadline That was the devil
Of having an imagination If he saw
her again, she'd drop into place and
he'd discover that he'd been making 1t
all up. The best way to lay a ghost
was to face it.
Yes, Sir?"
Peter jumped. The door stood open.
framing q maid done in India ink and
Chinese white. The tone of her voice
indicated that the door had been open
and the maid standing there for an
interval long enough to require patience.
''I'd like to speak to Miss Cavanaugh."
Peter spoke with his best Herald dig
nifty to cover that absurd start.
'sYes, sir. What name shall I give,
sir?"
A small shining tray was whipped
into play before him. Peter had never
possessed a calling card in his life. The
only cards he owned were printed, with
Evening Herald" in large Old English
letters in the middle, and -. A. Piper"
in small block letters in the lower left
hand corner. He looked haughtily past
the small shining tray, damning it into
inviSibility.
"TelI her it's Peter Piper of the
Herald" His tone challenged the In
dia-ink- land Chinese-white automation
to make the most of it. The tilt of
2 cents he'd knock her block of. The
automaton stood her ground, undeterred
by this display of arrogance.
II don't think" she began.
''well. you needn't, need you?" There
was something sudden and disarming
in Peters wide smile. Suppose you
put 1t up to her? I'll bet you two bits
she sees me. Are you on?"
The faintest flicker of responsive
friendliness rippled across the automa-
toms face.
will you come in and wait, sir?"
Peter dropped into the nearest chair
In the hall, and lapsed into unplumbed
depths of discomfort It was like slid
ing down an inclined plane. Peter
Piper of the Herald" had slid from
his lips by habit. What did he want
to say that for? 1t sounded unbe-
lievably silly, like Lord Raven of
Ravenswood."
What had he come for, anyway? He
and this girl had absolutely nothing in
common. CurioSity-that was it!
Curiosity was said to be fatal to cats.
Observation-Disclosures. Alice in Won
derland. The immortal wonder child
of Lewis Carroll's imagination. Was
she really like that-Alice in Wonder
land grown np? Or was he betrayed
by that trick of drawing her fair hair
straight back from her round forehead?
Tie real Alice probably grew up quite
differently. She wasn't mixed up in
a murder, anyway! Lewis Carroll made
fools Of us all-he made you love his
Alice so.
Peter Piper brought himself up with
start. That word was dangerous. H
was walking straight into a danger
danger that befogged your clearnesS oi
vision in mist of Sentimentality
Peter had a deep distrust of sentimen.
tality It was all right to be senti-
mental over Alice; you couldn't very
well help it, and Alice" was safely
out of harms way, in fiction. But thi'
was reality. the twentieth century. anc
Sheila O'Shay was dead and Barbara
Cavanaugh had tainted at the news o.
the discovery.
There wsSc 40 many Barbaras-tht
"Alice" Barbara and the orphanag:
barbara, and the young lady Barbars
with all those strange tribal customs
he knew nothing about. And was ther'
another Barbara deep, clever, wits
about-her Barbara whom he didn'
know at all? Well he had wits of hi
own If 1t came to that
Curiosity Let it rest there I
curiosity made a fool of him, h
wouldn't be the first cat to Succumh
It brought him up in his downWar'
Slide toward despondency to insist Oh
the singleness of his motive. Curiosity
He turned his back resolutely on tina
other, more dangerous word. And sh
couldn't do more than turn him out--il
which case he'd remember to slip tn
black-and- automaton her tw