Evening star., 1936-08-07
INSTALLMENT III.
THE guests at Layland Cottage
ata tboir doily v,ealc in fou,

edch meal ana Dlack sauna, assisted
by robust Mrs. Kendall, made short
work of marshaling the viands in the
kitchen preparatory to the sounding
of the chimes in the lobby and living
room combined.
A thin-legged colored girl named
Rosemary appeared at the cottage be-
fore each noon meal to attend to the
meager serving required in the dining
room and to help with the dishes. She
performed the same rites in the eve
ming and was supposed to make herself
useful in various capacities during
the interim.
At the time of Deeds McCune's ar
rival, the guests with something of an
air of permanency were the Drs. FL
ledge, Mrs. Lindsay and her daughter
and Gene CASTOR. The others we're
the hardy annual vacation variety of
the few-week species. In order of i'm
portance, their list might have be-
gun with the Rev. Edgar Beckhan1, his
wife and young son Middleton.
The Beckhams were mild and in
offensive pair and their offspring en-
dured the name of Middleton and the
misfortune of buck teeth Young Mid
dleton seldom was seen during the
day save at meal time and then, to the
surprised qualification of the grown
ups, seldom was heard.
A trio of elderly females accounted
for the other transients. Two were
sisters, the Misses Rhetta and Evelyn
Dougherty, respectively private Sec
retary and hotel housekeeper from
a neighboring city. The third was
Miss Myra Anderson, close friend of
the Dougherty sisters and a depart
ment store employe. in the gloves"
was her explanation, if one proved
necessary. These three, as well as
the Beckhams. were but recently ar
rived and an air of polite restraint still
was noticeable when the company
gathered at meals.
Jere Kendall exuding a species Of
forced geniality. occupied the head
Of the board. He was a small, wiry
man, gray-headed and tanned to
rich mahogany shade. Jere inclined to
an easy informality in dress, his posi-
ton as manager-host carrying with it
the apparent right to wear scuffed yel-
low slippers without regard to other
changes in his costume.
Martha Kendall, gracing the foot
OF the table, was stout but faded, with
pale and restless eyes. From the man
ner in which her glances Travelled
from platter to plate, it was evident
that Layland's meals were her chief
concern. She seldom spoke unless di-
rectly addressed and there was an
aimless reluctance in her sparse con-
verSation. Deeds McCune had con-
cluded almost at once that it was Mrs.
Kendall who was mainly responsible
for the functioning of the household
machinery above and below stairs
that Jere's apparent command of the
front" was more or less a self salts
flying pose. 1t was more difficult than
ever, now, to fit Joan into the family
picture.
Deeds also had been gratified by be-
Ing assigned to seat at the lower
end of the dining table, next to his
hostess and with the reserved glove
saleswoman at his other elbow. 1t
gave him opportunity to study the
mixed company at his leisure, but
the really agreeable feature was the
fact that Joan was directly opposite
She was, by far, the most interesting
Of the group.
And, today, Mr.. McCune fiattered
himself that he had made real prog
ress in the matter of acquaintance
there.
When he answered the summons to
the midday meal, he was disturbed to
discover that he was the last to enter
the dining room and that a shift in
the previous seating arrangement had
dropped Miss Anderson into his for
mer place. AS he paused irresolutely,
Deeds looked at Joan and fancied he
detected an amused light in her
brown eyes before she evaded his
gaze. A worried solution was offered
by Mrs. Kendall.
IF you don't mind, Mr. McCune,
please sit up next to my husband
today"
There could be no mistaking the
directions, as the table had but one
vacant chair. And next to it on the
left was the slender figure and golden
head OF Claire Lindsay. Two dark
blue eyes turned to the newcomer as
he seated himself. Red lips smiled a
faint greeting.
I'm promoted, it seems" said
Deeds McCune. Resolutely he kept
his eyes from the other end of the
table.
DO you mind :. dreadfully?"
Miss Lindsay asked it in a soft,
drawing voice, accompanied by q
sidelong glance.
Deeds forced himself to murmur the
obvious answer with what he fancied
was a sickly grin. Reaching for the
salt, he shook the container vigorously
over his bowl of clam chowder.
"You haven't even faster it," came
soft reminder from the left.
IT like salt"
Mrs. Lindsay, seated Just beyond
her daughter, entered the conversa-
ton here. Built upon generous pro-
portions, the older woman was forced
to press herself against the table so
that she could look past her daugh-
ter's profile. She tipped her gray
head slightly and peered over the tops
Of her rimleSs nose pinchers.
And are you enjoying the shore.
Mr.. McCune? 1t is Mr.. McCune, isn't
It? That is very familiar name to
me. Mr.. Castor Genes father
had a distant relative by that.
name. From New England, think
e. I'm not positive. Are you from
New England?"
mo, maam. I think It's great ..
here"
Mrs. Lindsay relieved the strain on
her bosom by sinking back into place,
and Deeds made hasty inquiry Of
Jere Kendall regarding surf fishing.