Evening star., 1935-08-31

into hers, promising her everything
his possessions-his heart-his very
soul!
And then John was kissing her
tenderly, whispering, "Oh, my dar-
ling-ny darling!" and it was over.
Every one was talking excitedly. Her
mother and Mrs. Stockton cried q
little and clung together. Barbara
and Jennie rushed up, laughing and
flushed, to Betsy and wound their
arms around her. John shook Mr..
Seymour's hand and the bishops and
took the clapping on his back that
Lee Travers gave him, beaming with
happiness.
After the informal wedding break
fast, when the towering white cake
with the impudent kewpie- faced bride
and bridegroom perched on the top
had been cut and Jennie, crestfallen,
had drawn q thimble-for an old
maid-and Barbara, radiant, had
drawn ring-for a bride-Betsy
slipped quietly upstairs to mothers
room for the suitcases which had
been packed for her, for her hat
and coat, pocketbook and gloves. She
stood In the center of the room, look
ing around, feeling as If she were in
strange place even though she could
hardly remember having lived any
where but right here.
She opened her mothers top
drawer, remembering how as small
girl she had tipped up on her toes,
fascinated by the serene and orderly
condition of mothers possessions. At
first she didn't see the long white
envelope addressed to her. The tears
in her eyes were misting her vision.
But suddenly the bold black letters
of return address of q publishing
house and the neat tipping Of her
own name on the face Of the envelope
sprang into her consciousness. Won
deringly, she picked up the letter. It
had been opened. For the first time
in her life her mother had opened
her mail. She wondered why.
She slipped the letter out Of the
envelope and began to read, her ex-
preston changing slowly. Her novel
was very good, the tipping said. Miss
Everston, editor Of the Woman's Jour-
nal, wanted to run it serially and
would pay $1,000 for the rights. Aft
erward it would appear in book form.
There would be no advance guar
antee on the book sales, however, be-
cause she was a "f1rst-timer." She
might make o lot. She might make
Just q very little. The radio and
motion picture rights were at her dis
posal. Would she send a biography
telling everything about herself that
was interesting-her age, her hobbies.
her birthplace, her education? Also a
photograph. Hoping this offer would
be acceptable and thanking her for
submitting the novel, they were
Betsy had just finished reading this
amazing letter when her mother came
into the room. Mrs. Seymour had q
slim bracelet set with sapphires strung
over her fingers. She said beaming,
Mrs. Stockton wants you to have this,
Betsy. Isn't it perfectly gor-
geous?"
But Betsy didn't hear her; she
didn't see the bracelet glittering on
the gnarled work-worn hands. She
swung quickly around on her slim
heel, her face pale, her lips quiver-
ing-"Motherl Mother! How could
you have done this to me! You
knew about this offer you
knew and you let me 60 ahead
and marry John ."
Betsy ."
"Oh, mother, can't you see! I
wouldn't have had to marry John,"
she sobbed. 81 wouldn't have had
to marry him, loving Marshall as I
do. I :" she broke off abruptly.
For beyond Mrs. Seymour, stand
ing in the door, bewilderment and
pain transversing his bronzed young
face, stood John Storm.
(To Be Continued Tomorrow