The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-01-24

Robert Thatcher looked up from the papers before him. "Vicky" he said, T didn't hear you come | in"
 He was @ small man with quick, nervous mannerisms. His hair was graying at the temples. He wore nose glasses on high -bridged nose that certainly was designed for the purpose, and his thin lips were set in an almost straight line. "Of course you didn't" the girl said. You never. hear anything when you're In this stuffy old place. You don't even know when it's time to stop working. That's why I've come to take you home" "But it's 50 carly"
 "1ts after o'clock," the girl every night this week. Come on, Darling. Do as Vicky says!"
 She seated herself on the arm | of the big desk chair, dropped an arm around her fathers shoulder, twisted q wisp of his silver hair into ringlet and looked down at him, smiling.
 Some the forbidding frosti- ness about Robert Thatcher seemed to melt away. "But I have work to do, Vicky," he objected. Just let me finish this list"
 Not another word! Not another minute! Come on-get your hat and coat!'
 Presently they were outside, get ting into q roadster. Vicky drove as she always did-reckless of speed, of traffic regulations, de- lighting in the power of the notwithstanding motor. Once or twice she laughed over her shoul- der, silencing her fathers remon- strances. For 20 years Wcky Thatcher had had her own bliss. ful, badly spoiled way with the entire world and she had no thought of relinquishing 1t.
 
 Throughout the dinner that fol- lowed Vicky was unusually high spirited, unusually thoughtful about her fathers likes and dis likes. The roast was his favorite and so was the dessert. over cof- fee and cigarets Vicky said casual ly, Remember, I told you Kay Stoner and her mother have gone to Havana?"
 "Yes."
 "Kay wants me to come down for a few weeks. She says they're having grand time-swimming and golfing and lots of parties. She won $500 at the races one day last week-and lost 1t the same night at the Casino. And she's met an awfully nice crowd"
 But Vicky, I don't want you running off to Havana. Why, you haven't been home month yet"
 The red lips pouted prettily. "A month? It's been ages! You can't expect me to stay in this horrible mill town all the time without ever seeing anybody or having any fun!"
 Didn't you promise that if you could have the new car you wouldn't ask for any trips?"
 That was last summer. l l the rest of my life."
 Robert Thatcher sighed. "I don't want to say 'No,' Vicky. Just | now, though, times are A little bad | I'd rather you stayed home, but we'll see--oh, by the way, I've | some news I forgot to tell you"
 The girl smoked gloomily, with | out looking up.
 Brian Westmore's home," her l father went on.
 "Brian?"
 "Yes. His mother told me yes- terday. Said he was to get in this | afternoon. I guess l forgot 10 | mention it."
 Brian Westmore's back from Paris" the girl said slowly. You | mean-to stay?"
 Well, don't know about that | But at least for time. I think | he's rather discouraged about be- coming an artist. That's what | Mrs Westmore indicated"
 The girl was on her feet. Tho brown eyes that had been so list less were growing now, animated. I'm going upstairs" she said. "lll be right back"
 A moment later. in her own room, Vicky Thatcher held the | telephone to her lips and gave q number. She leaned forward, | waiting eagerly for the answering voice. (TO Be COntinued)