The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-05-30

The old red brick station with a modern background of up-to-date landscaping lay bathed in a wash of clear late sunshine, Every spear of grass stood separately apart and every single petunia in the round beds blazed with added color. Several stout, weary women with little children in tow sat Imply on the benches in the sta- tidn park. In front of the scarlet painted gas station across the road three or. four shirt-sleeved men sat tilted back in kitchen chairs. Otherwise the little square was deserted at this hour. A smell of frying steak and. onions drifted out from the open doors of "Ye Olde Coffee Shoppe." The movie theater dow n the street had a gaudy display of blue and yellow posters, and Norma { Shearer's name picked out in bulbs over head.
 Michael's car turned right. off Main street, and sought broad street sloping down to the blue water of the Sound, clearly seen ahead. This was a street of big, rather old-fashioned, pretentious houses. Before the ugliest and most pretentious in the block he put on his brakes and jumped out. There were some few hundred feet of grounds about this par ticular house, embroidered and scalloped in a way, to make a In. 1 ksrA n. were rhododendrons, their dark, glossy leaves rich and thick, banked in the background. There were evergreens of every con- ceivaole variety, dwarf maple trees, forsythia and mock-orange and butterfly bushes, crowded to- gether. The screened, porch, rum ming across the full width of the house, was crowded with wicker chairs and tables and swinging couches. Everything was lavish and completely lacking in taste.
 Michael rang the bell and a neat middle-aged maid in a maroon uniform came to the door.
 Miss Moon said to tell, you she'd be right down."
 "I-" Michael hesitated ever so slightly. q was to see MT. Moon."
 The maid allowed a flicker of surprise to disarrange her staid features.
 MT. Moon is in the city" she said. "But Miss Moon will be right down."
 Michael drowned, after she had gone. in puzzlement. When he had happened to mention that morning that he had to go to see her father on business some time during the day Sally had said her father wouldn't be home until evening, that he was leaving, probably on the morrow, for long vacation.
 "Why not run in to see him tonight?" she had said, so very artlessly. Sally was 8 friendly lit tie thing. It was wonder peo- pie. roundabout didn't appreciate her. So full of fun and spirits.
 Michael sat down and lighted a cigaret. Something must have gone wrong. We'll, Sally would ex- plain.
 She came in presently, breath less scrap of femininity. with her dark curls tumbled around her face, her voice breaking into con- stant laughter.
 Michael, am so sorry! What ever must you think of me?
 He stood, smiling down at her. at her troubled eyes, at the half earnest. half-pretended serious ness of her tone. A small girl, Sally Moon. although one day she would be on the plump side n smaller by far than girl who had looked leyelly into his eyes that morning, slumped over the wheel of her car, fair girl with eyes that burned darkly blue in delicate face. Michael drowned again, shaking the thought from him.
 Sally pouted.
 He's not even listening to me!' she cried, addressing an imaginary audience.
 1T am sol"
 Sally dimpled. 1t was one of the things she did very well. She had been practicing dimpling. be- fore her mirror, since she was II.