The Washington times., 1932-08-22
CHAPTER l


Macfarlane was a nice little
thing. And pretty, too, with
those big, dark fringed gray
eyes, and that marvelously deli
cate, satin-smooth skin. Still,
there are limits.
DOROTHY! Dorothy"
: WHAT"
7 IT want you. You come right
home"
"oh, nom! Val was just tell
ing us a story!"
Never mind. You come right
home. 1 want you!"
So the Dorothys and Jeans
and Maries of the neighbor-
hood were wont to leave sullen-
ly and reluctantly, and the
little Macfarlane girl would be
left to look after them long
ingly.
But she never protested, and
she never called them back.
The story, an amazing and
highly romantic tale of a beau
tiful young girl who was in
some mysterious way related to
herself, continued with or with
out the audience. Val had been
telling this story to herself
ever since she could remember.
Its heroine, who was some
times herself and sometimes
someone quite different, was
more real to her than any OF
the children who listened, open
mouthed, to the telling.
She liked the audience, but
It wasn't necessary. She never
asked for it. 1t was always the
other children who sought her
out, lured not only by the en-
tertainment. but by a certain
easy hospitality that exuded
from the Macfarlane menage,
along with the strains of dance
music from Mrs. Macfariane'S
phonograph, and the faint,
heady perfume that drifted out
of her half-open door, and was
swallowed up swiftly in the
dim. musty hall.
The landlady, who was really
quite fond of Val and her
mother on account of never hav-
ing to speak twice about the
rent, thought the other roomers
were unnecessarily fussy.
This is a respectable house,
and I wouldn't have anybody
the least-that is-you know
what I mean. I mean, if l
knew it. Because, I always say,
you can't judge by appearances.
Mrs. Macfarlane might have
good many gentlemen visiting,
but in housekeeping room, it
isn't as if it was a bedroom. if
you know what I mean. She
talks real refined. and she GER
tainly brings up that young one
nice. I declare it's a shame
she never has any playmates"
"Oh, children soon forget"
the mothers of the Dorothys
and Jeans and Maries said.
Dreamy Child
But Val Macfarlane never
forgot. She noticed everything,
and remembered everything,
long after she and her mother
had left the shabby rooming
house forever. and gone their
separate, checkered ways.
And in spite of the misgiv-
tngs of the garrulous and good
hearted landlady, she wasn't
unhappy, and she wasn't lonely.
! She was a dreamy, imaginative
child, and she floated all those
first years of her life in
} soap-bubble world of romance.
! Romance of Miles making.
! Millie, the mother. was only
q girl herself then. A fragrant,
[ full-blown rose of a girl, with
! red cheeks and lips made
redder out of a box. With a
song in her heart, and a laugh
on her lips. &. the perfect play
mate! Not in the least like
other little girls mothers.
Lovely Millie
! Other little girls mothers
were nice enough in their way.
though peculiar about not
wanting you to play in their
rooms. But they we're grown
up and uninteresting.
Millie was not like that. She
was young and lovely, and she
| talked to you just as though
you were as grown up as she,
} and let you try on her dresses,
and experiment with the sweet
smelling stuff in the boxes and
jars, and she told you all about
sweethearts, and what fun it
was to be in love.
How old will I be before I'm
in love-"
Millie always laughed at that.
Her rich, throaty laugh, that
bubbled out of her. as if from
some we'll of sec"yt happiness,
way down deep R.side.
| mot very old, if you're like
your mother!"
Millie had married young. II
was only a little girl myself
when I had you. and was left
a widow" she told Val, over
and over.
Looking Ahead
! That was one of Walls favorite
stories, and she privately re.