The Waterbury Democrat., 1935-01-25

Brian really should be with you. know he'll be a great comfort. Of course all of us-I mean his old friends--will be glad to see him."
 She listened for a moment and then went on. "Yes, saw him in Paris, you know last winter. That's why 1t was such surprise when Father told me. I thought Brian was going to stay abroad. Yes? We'll, oh, that's nice of you to say that. Why, of course. I'll be glad to-"
 A minute later she had put down tho telephone, stood staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Vicky's hair fitted her head smoothly like a cap. It was so dark 1t was almost black. She changed the outline of the cap slightly, studied the effect and changed 1t again. Now she was smiling. With elaborate casnalness she took a fresh cigaret from a box, lighted 1t and hurried down the stairs.
 Her father, almost completely buried in a newspaper, sat in a big chair before the fire place. Vicky drew footstool nearer and sat down.
 Robert Thatcher said, "H-m-m." Vicky threw one arm across his knees. "Father-" she said.
 "Yes."
 Father, want to talk to you"
 The edge of the newspaper sa9ged. Thatcher looked down nt his daughter. "Well?" he asked.
 Vlcky's brown eyes were com pletely guileless. II want you to forget what I said about going to Havana" she said. with the Ston- ers. I've changed my mind. I mean I'd really rather stay here with you"
 Robert Thatcher covered her hand with his. Maybe later" he suggested.
 vicky nodded. Maybe later thefe'll be some place I'll want to stay right here. There's one thing, clothes terribly"
 Cant you buy them?"
 You darling! I think I'll run up shopping. I could be back by
 Thatcher smiled. Run along" he said. ''Pm glad you've decided not to go to Cuba. I'm glad you're going to stay here for while"
 Vicky rose from the footstool, crossed the room to where the radio stood and dialed dance band. She was humming to her ,<fN uIt t-h .rtth tho rhythm of the one-step as her fath- CT returned to his newspaper. Pres ently she went upstairs again to her bedroom.
 And thus the day-which had brought important changes In the lives of four persons-ended. Vicky Thatcher planned her trip to New York. the gowns she would buy, the hotel restaurant where she'd drop in for lunch, the amusing friends she must look up
 Steve Meyers, less than mile away, pushed open the door to the Kitchen of the house where nc lived with his mother and entered, walking heavily. Steve carried load of flrewood which he dropped lHIO u DlH DcSluG Inc blONe. Iiio mother called from the next room, Steve, don't forget I'll need some kindling."
 "I'll get it."
 Steve turned, quietly, and left the house. Gale hadn't said she'd marry him. He'd hardly hoped that. she would-right away. But shed told him there was no one else. She'd said that much. And she'd promised to give him an an- swer in a day or two.
 What would that answer. be?
 Steve, healthy, sturdy, was natural optimist. He picked up a piece of kindling wood, broke 1t with loud snap over his knee. Steve began whistling tune he liked. It was good tune. Part of the words went:
 T want girl just like the girl
 Who married dear old Dad"
 Meanwhile Gale Henderson hur- ried along dark street with small box-like dwellings on either side. Gale hoped she'd be able to get in- to the house without meeting any one. She must change her clothes for something dry. She hoped that her father would be in his room, for she didn't want to tell him