Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1935-04-14
by KATHARINE NEWLIN Burt

firm in New York City. 1t was my
job to take samples of Grapes" and wall
papers to prospective customers and to per-
suade them that as many as possible of their
chintzes and wall coverings were dated. worn,
soiled or unworthy of their owners tastes. In
order to increase my own importance, l at
once, of course. made contacts with the fam
lies of all my college acquaintance, the
friends of my parents and whatever relations
could call to mind. Amongst these last. l
struck out responsive spark from no one
but my mothers cousin, Mrs. Samuel
Arroway.
had not tine faintest recollection of Cousin
Meg Aroway but, from her voice over the
telephone. guessed her to be bright. gen.
ef06s and not over forty years old.
i've two perfectly CHASTITY rooms, Joe,
that must be done over. Honestly your card
came like message from Heaven Do bring
me up some nice cheerful things, won't your
Something young"
Cousin Meg's house was old New York
under spasmodic modern influences. l was
taken at once to one of the "ghastly" rooms,
which l found charming consistently Vic
torian. faded, triae stuffy and overcrowded
perhaps, but 50 comfortable that it was
positively motherly.
As background for Cousin Meg, however,
when, after considerable delay, she crossed
the carpeted floor towards me. it was. if not
chastity, certainly inappropriate. For Cousin
Meg belonged, in all but years, to the jazz
age. only just now beginning to show signs
of past maturity.
Wrapped tightly in parrakeet green
velvet negligee, she toppled towards me on her
high heels. a cigarette in one red-taloned hand
and chain of emeralds looped about the
other. From across the room she had an air of
large-eyed, red-lipped. painfully CONSTRUCTED
youth. But, close up, Cousin Meg looked like
piece of shrivelled fruit done up smartly in
cellophane Her body and face showed scars
as of advancing and retreating tides; the ebb
of dietary starvations. of rubbings, elastic
controls and astringents and the flows of re-
current appetites, ndulgences. relaxations and
fatigues. In greeting me, she dropped her
emeralds and from under innumerable little
red hair dresser's curls, her mascaraed eyes
met mine.
think any lover of dogs would have been
haunted by the eyes of Cousin Meg Looking
into them, recognized at once that all the
pants and pains represented a uniform. not of
vanity, but of service. They were wag and
soft affectionate whine. they were giving OF
the paw and sitting up to beg prettily. She
was, in fact, as lovable and in her way as
lovely as spaniel. Really sweet. Good as
only good dog can be. But young. Oh. how
young she was! In that lazy, humorous Junior
League drawl, she addressed me youthfully.
why, Joe, you great big darling! You
can't be Cousin Helen's little Joe. But. my
dear, you look like Cousin Helen. Honestly =
the sweet thing! But how is she? Sam thought
she was the loveliest old darling he d ever SEEM
But it's been so long - why would she live IN
California? Aren't you clever to 60 in for this
decorating thing? So many people are - l
mean, aren't they? Now, tell me, did you ever
see anything so chastity? And. believe it or not,
the bedrooms worse. It's positively hellish. l
don't wonder poor Sam gets that down-in-the-
mouth, tired husband look the second he
comes in You remember your Cousin Sam!
Oh, my dear, but he's wonderful. Now, look
it all over and show me what you have"
Invent into the bedroom - it was almost
duplicate of the small boudoir - and presently