The Washington times., 1931-05-08

he regarded ner WIN Lne
masked look to his face that
would cause her to say over
and over to herself: Little
man, Little man, you. Little
fake Napoeion, you."
Holy righteousness, my dear
Jenny, cannot reside exclusively
among the poor while you are
you."
"Attaboy, Father!" said Jen-
infer, and jammed a pillow
into the cave between the small
of her back and the couch. Il
can forgive a dirty dig if it's
well dug. Can't you, Mother?"
Her mother glanced at her
wrist watch, a singular and
precious one, set into the
plane surface Of, a square
diamond.
'It'S a wise house guest who
is on time for his meals"
cat that late, Jenny, our
average run of them must be
morons."
Life among the Raricks,"
sang out Jennifer, and, hurting
out the pillow, jumped to her
feet and to some inner synco-
pated rhythm, began teetering
on her slim toes down the
great length Of room that led
to an organ at its far end.
Carved down the pipes of the
towering instrument was the
legend of the st. Gregorian
Mass. the meeting Of Abraham
and Melchisedec, and the Last
Supper. A chime, somewhere
in the complicated heart of the
organ, which was rigged with
all sorts of mechanical attach
ments, gave out the half-hours.
To Jennifer's hilarity, it played
the grand operas, stained-win-
dow versions of the action
springing into light above the
keyboards. Fathers folly"
she called it..
"Jennifer, if you turn that
on, I'll scream!"
Keep your well-known equi-
librium, Jenny. I just wanted
to see the fat Brunnehilde, in
purple cheeks and corsets,
heaVe in stained glass"
Full Of SOIace
How small they made him,
these women of his. That
organ, built in at tremendous
expense and effort by tearing
out one entire end of the house,
was as dear as someone be-
loved could have been. The
storied operas, stalking in
stained glass to the pressure of
a button, peopled his solitude;
plunged, in the glory of melody,
through his evenings, Saturat-
ing his thirSting spirit. Chro-
mosque timed music, perhaps,
but full of solaceS.
"Jennifer!"
I'm not! I'm not turning it
on. Surely, if father can stand
his Faust served up to him like
Campbell'S soup, you should be
able to endure a magenta and
majestic trickle of Tam
hauser.'
do you think Gerkes under
stood the dinner hour, Rarick?"
why, Jenny, what is the mat
ter? The man is not even due
for five minutes. I've known you
to hold dinner three-quarters of
an hour without a whimper
when the guests happen to be
yours, as they almost invariably
are"
She's a cave-in from dieting,
father"
That was doubtless true. It
offended him to the point of dis
gust to see this angular woman
responding to a herd instinct
that apparently deprived her of
logic, trying to reduce herself
still closer to her skeleton by
nibbling at meal time on a Spe-
cial fadistic diet of chop and
pineapple slices.
I'm a cave-in, all right" said
Jenny, and stretched her thin
body outright on a divan and
pressed her fingers into her eyes
and barred her teeth in an on.
edge fashion.
An OminOus Silence
Nerves. Underfed," said Rar-
ick, cycling her from the opposite
side Of the hearth.
Nerves, all right. Reason,
all wrong"
There descended a silence
characteristic of their times to-
gether. Taking up an object
here and there, as she wan
dered aimleSSly about the mu-
seum,hka rooaas 4enniteE b.