The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1931-05-25

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she couldn't even know-couldn't
decide which was best In her-to
pray that Irene would break his
heart now or later. That she would
break it, was to Beryl's mind In
evitable.
Would he be thankful for every
year, every day, every hour OF a
FOOLS paradise that Irene gave him?
Would he say some day, well, !
had at least that much out Of life?"
or would it be, II wish I'd known
before"
Lying there worrying, Beryl fast
was undoing the good her days rest
had done her and might have fret
ted herself into a fever had not her
gam come to pay her call.
They came up the stairs and into
her room on tiptoe, but when they
saw her fully dressed and not "sick
abed," they became their natural
selves and told her, "Gosh, they'd
been scared to death she wasn't
goin to sing on the radio any more
and they'd been writin' a song for
her"
Beryl asked TO hear the song. IN
stead, it was brought forth on
piece Of paper.
Beryl was heart and soul in hum.
ming tunes for it (the pain in her
throat seemed forgotten) when her
mother came up with her milk and
egg and shooed the boys out Of the
house.
"The dirt they trapped inl" Mrs.
Everett complained. Beryl did not
hear her-she was on her way back
to the kitchen--so was left to en-.
Joy her thoughts Of the boys visit
without regret.
= e
THEIR song was funny--heavy
l. heart throb stuff that they
wouldn't have admitted to in real
life for WorldS--but they had helped
her wonderfully.
She didn't feel lonely and help
less now, and it was something to
know that when Tommy needed her
sympathy, as he would some day,
she could give it to him.
To stand by and watch Irene
playing with him was like seeing
him go to war. When he came
back she would bind up his wounds.
Suppose Tommy would have to bear
his suffering all alone!
II wouldn't want him to go
through that" she told herself in
spirit of sacrifice.
After that--and remembering the
affection Of her gang--she relaxed
and such thoughts as she had were
uplifting and soothing. She fell
asleep but awoke when she heard
noise.
Was it Irene coming in? She
listened. No.. it was her mother
and stepfather. They were still
downstairs. Not so very late. Beryl
looked at the radiurn dial clock by
her bed A quarter after 10.
Irene had not come home to din
ner. A quarter after 10 wasn't so
late for dinner party. Maybe she
was in--no, Irene wasn't so quiet
as that-at a quarter after 10.
What Beryl was thinking of, and
unable to decide if she feared or
hoped for it, was that Tommy might
walk past the house when he closed
the theater and find Irene with
PrentiSs.
Then she heard Prentiss' car drive
up before the house and stop. No
other with a motor like that ever
stopped there. Had she not been
listening, she could not have heard
it.
A half hour passed, and Irene
did not come in. Were they going
to sit there all night?
IRENE did not mind il they did.
l. She had the situation perfectly
in hand at her own front door. A
girl could be less diffident in the
shadow of the parental rooftree.
And she was beginning to think
she might have overplayed the mod
esty pose. Prentiss had't got very
far with his advances. Had he been
frightened off?
He wasn't Indifferent. That was
plain enough. And there had been
moments at the inn when he sat
across the narrow pine table from
her and she could see his face be-
tween the two big wax candles,
dripping contentedly in their pewter
holders, that she had thought he
was about to say something impor-
tant to her. a
He had checked himself. Was
it the shortness Of their acquai11t-
ance? That was something he
couldn't help, Of course. It would
be risk to try to make him see
that she didn't mind.
She had tabled him as more or