The Waterbury Democrat., 1934-08-22
i've simpy ust patch the avoe thing up Isabel insisted

| " C Stmpty WUoC PuCCU CUo Wi Hardy would ever take her seri- ously. He's just amusing himself"
 Boots is beautiful enough for any man to take seriously" Isabel said, with heat. My cousin Ma rion-you know, the artist-said when she was here last year that Boots has true classic beauty. i Marion raved about her" Sylvia contented herself by merely lifting her finely arched brows over, her too-prominent, too closely spaced blue eyes.
 "Really!" she said, disposed of Boots and cousin Marion all in one breath.
 And I think Hardy is terribly interested in her if you ask me-" Isabel flared, annoyed at the oth- CTS air. Why would't he be?"
 Well, that's perfectly sweet of you, dear," murmured Sylvia with the tolerant air of one humoring a lunatic. So Isabel went away, wounded and puzzled and worried. If Boots had gone to the Barn with Hardy, on the heels of being asked to reign from the Juniors, that was
 
 All the Juniors knew Mrs Pencils attitude on the subject of the Barn. It was all right, of course, for John Fernell. 23 and dissipated. to go there: but the girls under Mrs Pencils leadership in the Juniors understood the tacit ban on the | place.
 Boots attitude, when Isabel saw her, puzzled her further. This was a new Boots, cool, enigmatic, un- touchable. It was funny, resign ing from the club, wasn't it? she wanted to know. Silly outfit, any way. She had never liked it. I Everybody was so stuffy. 1 But next years dances," Isabel | began, appalled,. "Why, we simply msut patch the whole thing up. It's all so stupid. You want to go to the Thanksgiving dance, don't your"
 Boots smiled a faraway smile and said she hadn't the faintest idea where she would be by Thanksgiving. Isabel, repulsed by the other girls coldness and dis interest, refrained from saying anything about Sylvia, the Barn, or any of the other topics her mind had been churning about. If she had known that, on her departure, Boots flung herself down on the living room couch and burst into frantic weeping she would have re- turned quickly. As it was, they parted with distinct sense of re- serve, almost unfriendliness. Boots, conscious of having been in error when she had gone to the Barn with Hardy, wounded in her pride. Isabel hurt to the quick, stung by her friends unrcsponsivcness and withdrawal.
 II don't know what's getting into me these days" Boots murmured at last, struggling to a sitting posi- tion and mopping her streaming eyes. "I look d perfect fright. What if anyone should come to the door!'
 She bathed reddcned eyes and strengthened her tumbled locks. How could Isabel understand that her adventure last night had been gesture of defiance, directed at her enemies. Why, the Barn had been a horrid bore. Couples re- volving slowly in d smoke-laden room. Indifferent food, sandwich es with dry bread and rancid meat. Hardy, bringing out a flask, and running entirely true to form as the wild young man out for | nights Sayety. Boots had hated all of it and had drawn long breath of reliet when at last she had been set down in her own driveway. But to-day everything was more horrid still. Instead Of pouring out the torrent of sym pathy and indignant championship she had expected, Isabel had come around with stiff, worried air to ask if she didn't mind being left out of the autumn parties! Boots made beds and washed dishes with apathy.s How different the house looked with Mother away! Nothing seemed to gu right. Even the window shades were at crazy angles and no matter how she twitched at them they l didn't seem to respond. Oh, she would get out of here, go over to the club and swim and forget her troubles.
 She went along swiftly, swinging her bathing bag, humming a tune with an ar or caSualHeSS Sne was far from feeling. On the veran- da, magazine in her lap, her eyes on two small figures in the sand sat young Mrs Perry George. one of the Raeburnses neighbors. Boots liked and admired the tall young woman with the fresh color and the friendly eyes. Frances George had been an editors assistant be- fore and after her marriage. Her house was q delicious tumble of books and magazines and flowers, rather unlike the usual suburban interior. Boots liked to go there.
 Hello, there," Frances put down the story she had been reading and beckoned to her. Il hear you're housekeeper. Come and have lunch with us to-day. Wed love it." Boots perched on the arm of the battered wicker armchoir. 'pd adore to. Sure you want me?" There was something challeng- ing about her tone and Frances George elevated an inquiring eye brow. What d'you mean? Of course, we do."
 Boots shrugged her pretty shoulg ders. The old ladies are after my scalp. I'm no longer member of the Larchneck Juniors"