The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1937-07-23
Its Nine O'clock i'm Cairo

BY MARY sYNoN
IN TWO PARTS-PART TWO
No one in all her lifetime had put
her on a pedestal. tits certainly q
privilege to meet a woman Of the great
Lord" she thought, he'll be quoting
me in a minute that I walk with kings
but keep the common touch. How do
they get this way?"
Suddenly, watching Craigte, she found
answer. The girl had built for her q
magnificent myth Of life, inferring, de-
claring that she worked and played
with men and women who were max
ing the news Of the world. Surely,
any such false background for this
nice boy who so evidently loved her.
Why on earth had she been silly
enough to lie this way? Youth, Nan
decided, in quest Of romance, and par
ried and spared to keep up the llu-
sion. She couldn't let Craigie down. #
Craigie said she'd played billiards with
lizards with Poincare.
Deity she avoided quicksands and
tried to keep somewhere near the truth;
but she sighed in relief when the car
stopped in front of the old house she
had not seen for more than 20 years.
Her father, looking older than she
recalled him but not as old as she had
feared, gave her the same calm well
come he had been wont to give her
when she had returned from girlhood
jauntS to Annapolis and Baltimore. She
chung to him worldlessly for a little
while, trying to bridge their long years
of separation by the understanding
tenderness of her love for him, trying
brace how she had sorrowed with him
for her mothers passing. At first she
could not see the shabby old rooms for
her tears of remembrance. Then, with
misted eyes, she began to glimpse the
aspect of the long parlor, and knew
that, at last, she had come home.
The white marble mantel, with its
low fire of Goals, cleaned just as it had
or the last day she had seen it., the
just as of old, the Staffordshire fig
ures of Wallace and Rob Roy. In the
freight cleaned the old brass and
irons. The same old hurricane lamp
stood on the same old butterfly table.
The same old slave chairs guarded the
old secretary. Nothing, not ever the
worn carpet and the lace curtains,
seemed changed.
Home was, she realized, more than
a place. It was a symbol of peace, of
security, of all the things she'd never
had since she'd gone away from it. Its
serenity flooded her spirit, and she
turned to the others with a sigh of
utter contentment. "Oh, it's wonderful
to be home!"
1T can't look much to you after the
places you've seen," her father said.
1T looks better to me than any pal
ace I've ever SEEM" she insisted, but
she knew that they were, all three dis
counting. her sincerity for politeness.
truly happy she was in this homecom-
ing? How could she batter down this
absurd, ridiculous idea that she wouldn't
be satisfied with their simple pleasures?
How deeply had Craigie infected them
with this silly notion?
She was to find out how good a press
agent her child had been when Cal
vert Town came over the threshold
with a celebrity that suggested that it
had been at its windows watching for
her return. Rodney's mother, who had
gone to high school with her, was the
first to arrive. Nan, rejoicing in the
chance to talk with her about Rod and
Craigie, took the field; but Susie May
drove her into another. "How much of
Ivan Kreuger's money did that woman
in Paris keep" she wanted to know,
explaining that they'd lost a little on
Swedish Match: Before Nan could dis
fairs, financial or sentimental, the
bridesmaids came in; but their COM
ing did not save her, for Sally Steven
son and Lucy Wythe, young as today,
chattering like magpies, whirled into
queries Of their OWL
Didn't Queen Mary like the Duchess
of Kent better than the Duchess Of
Gloucester? Hadn't the Prince of Wales
a ducky smile? What had Mata Hari
told her when she'd cen her in prison?
Had she brought over the autographed
picture that the Archduke Otto had
given her? Whom did she think was
handsomer, the Duke Of Torlonia or
Sir Anthony Eden? What did Dolfuss