Evening star., 1935-08-04
ertinent questions. Impertinent,

| Ing white arc OF the memorial brlQge
and the day was over. After a mo-
ment Raoul cantered of down the
bridal path, glancing back over his
shoulder, calling separate words to
her through his hands-"See you to-
night, Betsy" He said Betsy" as if
he had known her always.
She stood there for while, dream
ing after him. She liked him. He had
helped her over a bad moment, had
restored some of her confidence. Then
she stuffed her hands in the patch
pockets of her coat and started OF
through the wooded park for home.
Home was in Georgetown. small
fiat-front red brick house with three
white wooden steps to a fan door.
Fifteen minutes from the ONCE If she
walked briskly. It was a very old
house. The seven rooms were large
and dark, with high ceilings. The fur
mace was hot air and kept mother with
cloth in her hand wiping the SCOT
| from the walls. The bathtub was
tin Antique. Betsy called 1t. and very.
very special. George Washington had
probably soaked in it. There was
scarcely a house in Georgetown in
which George Washington hadn't slept
of eaten or signed papers. Wooden
plaques proclaimed that to rubber
necking public.
But there was one thing abCslt the
house that redeemed it, that made
it worth the SOS month they had to
pay for the privilege of living in 1t.
1t was the garden in the rear. Just
wee patch OF garden, really. like
bright quilt stretched from the back
door. Still it was large enough for
jonquils and hyacinths and pansies.
1t was large enough for Betsy to love a
very great deal. At the first sign of
Spring she would be out there Sum-
days after church, big fioppy beach
hat on her golden curls. her sprinkler,
her trowel, her spade carefully put by
for use
The family was home when Betsy
opened the door and stepped into the
hall. They were at the dinner table.
Father was telling joke, chuckling,
his round, pleasant face flushing up to
the roots of his silver hair. Mother
was listening eagerly, her soft voice
ripping with laughter during his
pause. This was one Of the nights
when Terry didn't have to wait tables
at the university, and he was there,
too not listening, but gazing at
big lawbook open before him.
Betsy stared fondly at the sunshine
of Terry's golden head. Suddenly q
swift pang of apprehension shot
| through her. Terry wasn't reading
that book, nor was he devouring with
his usual ravenous appetite the pounds
of waf1es on his plate. His fingers
we're nervously rumpling his hair;
there was a scowl on his forehead,
and his eyes were red-rimmed, as If he
night have been crying. Terry crying;
Terry never cried! She was certainly
letting her vivid imagination run away
with her these days! And, standing
there, looking at the three persons
around the table, something pressed
warm and tender against BetSy's heart.
They saw her then.
Terry looked up. Hi, multi!
Terry's voice trying to be gay, not
quite succeeding. Then there was
something wrong after all! working
late or moping around after that bird
who works in your office?"
Betsy thought she had defeated her
nagging worries during that brisk
walk home. The twilight, quaint old
Georgetown not yet robbed of its Co
lonial atmosphere by the bald eff
cheney of progress. But with Terry's
words everything came surging back
over her and she felt weak, even q
little i'll.
Her mother and father were smiling
at her now over the forlorn wax 1ow-
ers that tried to be a centerpiece but
somehow failed. Father didn't stop
telling his joke to speak to her, just
reached out for her hand and squeezed
it. Betsy cuddled to him and put her
arm around his shoulder and waited
for him to finish. She tried to laugh
gayly when he did, her soft voice
mingling with mothers, because she
knew how father loved having his
stories appreciated.
/
still bright with laughter:
Good luck today, Betsy! rented
the third-food front to young law
student. He ought to be moving in
any moment now"
"Oh, splendid" Betsy cried. THAT
means chicken on Sundays and a new
dress for you, doesn't it?"
rrrn 0nf fhrnf10h n
other month without the electricity
being turned off The bills have been
fierce ever since Tommy Collins moved
it. Sitting up half the night writing
poetry!" Her faded blue eyes were
sober now, and Betsy's throat tight
ened. She tried to swallow, but she
couldn't. Some day she and Terry
would do something something
big! /" =" something wonderful! They'd
lift mother and father out of the pow
erty that had been pinching them
ever since she could remember. Not
that that very poverty hadn't had its
points. 1t had drawn them all so close
together, as If they were afraid of
standing out alone, and that was a
very beautiful thing. Just the same
/
The ancient brass knocker ratified
against the door, and her mothers
eyes danced.
"Our new roomer, Betsy! You go,
dear"
Mr.. Seymour got up from the table
and slipped into his coat. That was
one of the things Betsy adored about
him. No matter how poor they were
he had a certain gentle manner about
the little things " F." like his coat, his
bow, the way he shook a mans hand.
She was thinking as she hurried to the
door, We're nice people. There's
something In our blood. We're proud
| and"
She opened the door.
John Storm, that tall, blond young
man who had said that her laugh
was like silver bells, stood there In the
wan moonlight.
(To be continued tomorrow)
|