Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-03-30

I'M Helen settled back comfortably
~ against the cushions Of SylVes-
ter's car and glanced up ut his
clean strong profile. She was remembering
how she had wished, ON the drive over, that
certain things about Sylvester were different
and, as they drove home, she was thinking that
enc Of those things was certainly not his chin.
It was fine, Sylvester's chin. Mighty fine.
"Tired?" he queried kindly, dropping an arm
about her shoulders, and then in his char
acteristicaIIy breezy manner he proceeded to
''Iay away" the evening. =
Now that's what I'd call a swell little party.
Good eggs those friends Of yours, Hon. Darned
good fellows, all of them Il mean the girls
and all" - -
Helen was relieved to- near that It was the
girls who had worried her most. College chums
of Helens they were, and an of them had been
dying to meet Sylvester.
$50 you've annexed a diamond in the rough?"
Vexie Pritchard, being the first to hear about
it, had teaSed her, and proceeded to beg for
his name, style and designation.
Helen had replied sweetly that his name was
Sylvester Bland that he had no style to speak
Of and as for a designatiOn-wel, she imagined
II you mentioned that to Sylvester he'd probably
get all mixed up, call it a discrimination and
say: mo, thank you, wore one In my button
hole once and my own dog didn't recognize
me-"
Tor that was Sylvester'S type. Designation.
discrimination and carnatiOn were an the
same to Sylvester, because his line was bricks
and cement, and paFlor words didn't bring him
any pennies.
And Helen Clark was a school teacher. Ordi-
nation, subordination and coordination each
had separate and distinct meanings for her,
because her line happened to be English.
She remembered distinctly the first evening
she had spent with Sylvester. He used the
word Facilitating" three times, each time pro-
nouncing It "vacksiIIattng." The first time
Helen WINGED slightly, the second time she drew
herself up suddenly and shivered, and the third
time she said, as gently as possible:
"It isn't vacksillating Sylvester. You mean
validating don't you? You pronounce the
C as though it were an s.
ANYHOW, you know what mean, wishy-
washy. don't want people to be vackSillating
like that with me all the time. I want them
to make up their minds, one way or the other"
Helen resolved never to see him again Ger
! tainly person who had such genius for mis-
Dpr0nouncing long words and using frightfuny
wrong words in startingly correct places, was
no proper companion for teacher Of Ian
guage.
But proper or improper, Sylvester insisted
upon being a companion. He would drop
around Unexpectedly the minute he got into
town, say he was just lonesome for q little
company, and before she could think up an
adequate excuse, rush her OF somewhere for
dinner.
And now the college crowd had met him.
Vexie Pritchard, Edith Roberts and Nellis
Hahn, girls with whom Helen had snapped
dance partners and from whom she had bOr-
rowed themes, had looked him over and conn
pared him with their own particular masculine
preferences.
cit was a much nicer party than thought
It would be" Helen replied to Sylvester, not
admitting, even to her herself the dread with
which she had anticipated 1t.
Good guys, those fellows" Sylvesters en-
thusiasm had continued, and Helen wondered
what the intelIectual-lookng persons who went
around with Vexie Pritchard and who was
writing a book on philosophy would say If he
could hear himself so classified. Gilbert Kahn,
too, of Hahn Builders, Inc, and Edith Roserts'
hance, Mr.. Garrison, would probably be fat
tered. Anyhow, Helen was glad SyIvester's
English had behaved so wei, and was little
morning.
~Helen, I think your boy friend is Just 400
Precious" it was Vexie Pritchards voice over
the telephone. THAT bear-trap handclaSp he
gives you when he tells you how glad he Is to
have your acquaintance really ought 10 be
sold"
How dare she laugh at sylvesters mannersI
Helen forgot that she had once laughed at
them herself
cot course, you couldn't take him seriously
anyhow, so there's no reason why we can't
have a lot of fun with him." continued Vexie
Indeed, thought Helen, but said nothing, for
Vexie was chattering right along:
"Mr. Garrison is the man who writes that
MET AbOilt Town" column In the evening