The Coolidge examiner., 1933-06-02
Till Tomorrow
By ALICE DUANE
g. by Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate.
WkTl Service

man, barring Dorothy's prog
ress across the little foot-bridge that
spanned the roadside brook, "but
I'm here to stay. You see, I'm re-
lated to Charlie Parkins."
We'll, som l. / mean, som l go
Ing to stay, and som 1 related"
Dorothy sat down on the rocky
bank. She looked across the bridge
to the Parkins shack. Paradise-and
she couldn't get TO it.
The young man looked at Doro-
thy. Lovely girl, she seemed, but
he'd be darned if she was going to
put anything over on him.
You see," he repeated, Charlie
Parkins knew l was coming up to-
day. And he warned me against in
truders."
This place practically belongs to
me today Dorothy said. And
think you're the intruder And I'd be
really grateful to you if you'd please
90 away
'I'm staying" Bob Stowe had be-
come stubborn.
A suggestion of tears in the vio-
let eyes, now. Well, reasoned Bob,
probably stage tears. He wouldn't
give in.
Butt suppose you could stop
here and rest bit if you're tired"
he said grudgingly. You seem to
have brought your lunch. I'll take
some crackers and cheese and go
off by myself"
Dorothy watched him out of sight
between the trees. Then she sighed,
picked up her two baskets, and
went over to the little shack and
turned her thoughts resolutely to
the work before her.
Two hours later she heard the
crackle of twigs that announced the
return of the young man.
Well" he said, you still here?"
She did not answer him.
You'll have to go. you know. I'm
camping here for a week"
I'm going" The girl rose from
her seat. 'T'll 90 right away. Do you
mind if leave my lunch? I-don't
want it."
Bob Stowe looked at the lunch
Dorothy pointed to. Spread on a
card table-boned chicken, jelly, a
salad, sandwiches, a vacuum bottle
of coffee. Two places, untouched.
But it's three o'clock-and you've
not eaten. OF course, l don't mind
your having that lunch. But" He
looked closely at the girl-pale and
tired, she seemed. You know, I'm
sorry 1 was rude. l mean-lots of
people picnic here. Charles al
ways having trouble with 'em. That's
why l told you to get out. But"
he looked with embarrassed inter-
est at the tempting lunch-'T wish
you'd stay and finish up. I'll make
it right with Charlie"
I'm sorry" She sobbed. "But it's
just the last straw. I'm just no good
at all. First l came out here and
bring this lunch, and wait all aft
ernoon for Charlie-and he doesn't
turn up. And then-you don't be-
lieve me-"
Poor girl" said Bob Stowe. Tell
me what it's all about"
"Well-give me your handker-
chief, will you? Mines sopping. You
see, knew Charlie pretty well. He
and had date for this afternoon
to come out here. Then we had a
quarrel. He said l wasn't practical
But am. ! made this lunch my
self! And he didn't come"
Don't worry" said Bob. "Char-
lies a good sort. Maybe l can help
straighten things out. You care a
lot for him, don't you?"
"Oh, yesr'
"Well-let's-I mean, you'd bet
ter eat something"
"Yes - let's" The girl smiled
through her tears.
Half an hour later, over cigarettes.
Bob pulled the conversation back to
their absent host. After all, Charlie
deserved some sort of a break.
"See here" he said, we've got to
do something about Charlie. / mean
it isn't quite fair to him. No mat
ter how much of an idiot he's been.
I'll explain. And then"
The girl laughed softly.
But, you see," she said, "Char-
lies my brother! And he thinks
don't know anything. l wanted TO
prove 1 could get a good lunch, but
he didn't come. And he forgot to
tell me about you.'
The air cleared for Bob. Char
lies a BRUTE" he said. "He told
me to come up here for a weeks
camping. And he said to tell any
picknickers I was his brother, or
something. But he forgot to tell
me about you."
"But know about you now," said
Bob. "And will you come up every
day for lunch while I'm here?" He
was helping her pack her things
back in her car.
"Yes!" She smiled. ''Yes, I'll
come-every day."