The Washington times., 1938-05-19
DAILY SHORT STORY
By ELSIE CHRISTIE

straint Hugh Trumbull colldn
AS soon as they rose, Hugh
went back to the library. Tim
leaped, steps at a time, upstairs
to his own room and telephoned
Eennie.
After he had come through the
wave Of delight that always spun
him over at the first sound of her
voice. ne said, trying to sound firm
and gay, Keep your fingers
crossed for us, now, I'm all set. -.
Yes, Gear, I'll just give reasons. e.
And then III beat it right down
to your house darling "
An hour later. she let him in.
She looked at him with loving in.
tentneSS. Then she said posi-
lively. mo luck"
He said, Right" He put an
arm across her shoulders, and
Just pressed his cheek against
hers. But in a moment the hold
became an embrace and their lips
chung. Hennie was the one to
QTaW away, very SeLlCIy.
JIMS BALANCE
They talked a long time. Hen
ME was a young person OF sense
and decision.
Tins father sat for a long time
after his son had gone out. They'd
mapped the boys path so care
fully, he and Tins mother. The
two older boys had followed an
equally regular one. They had
served the usual apprenticeship of
future vice presidents of corpora
tions and were both suitably mar
ried when, in Tins sophomore
year, their mother died.
Tonight her husband was feel
ing, as keenly as if it were new, the
bereft uncertainty which the one
who is left has to face when a
family crisis must be met by him
alone.
For it did seem a crisis when
Tim said. Dad, the college is 60
ing to try out an experiment of
putting a man right from college
onto farm, with a budget just to
cover the farm expenses. They've
offered the job to me. I'm an av-
erage student, they said, with
enough chemistry and those
things for a start. want to do it,
Dad. I've never been keen about
going on to law school. You know
always said I'd end on a farm.
Tim went on, more nervously.
THE man who gets the job must
have a wife. Hennie's keen about
the farm, too. We want to be mar
ried right after commencement.
I'd have to start right in"
CONSIDERING HENNIE
Hugh Trumbull thought and
said things any father would be
apt to. 1t wasn't that he doubted
Hennie. He was fond of her.
There had never been a break in
her affection for Tim or in his for
her since it began, years ago. But
there were all the practical con-
siderations.
Next morning Hugh awoke
much too early. His eyes sought,
by habit, Laura's picture on the
writing table. A shaft of pale sun,
light lying across it seemed to
put into the lovely face look of
life that Hugh, for all his trying,
could seldom see there. He even
caught a teasing challenge in the
half smile.
Beside the picture stood a cal
endar telling him in large letters
that this was the ninth day OF
the fourth month; and suddenly
Hugh thought, Its Laura's birth
day. And I'd forgotten it, just
as I always did,
He breakfasted too early fer
Tim, and felt that it was perhaps
Just as well.
He looked through his mail, did
several things he needn't have
done, read some very dry reports.
and finally, dismissing his Secre-
tary, went out and lunched early.
Then he set out to do something
he had not done in years; to pay
q visit to the little Brooklyn street
where he and Laura had proudly
set up their home. 1t took a little
especially today. Yet a
curious compulsion gently drove
him.
Hugh found the narrow, curving
streets of downtown" much as he
had remembered them. Even the
routine of those years re
turned family as he rode along.
He recognized the transfer point,
at which he used to fold up his
so that he shouldn't
forget to glance up little farther
on, where there was a clear line OF
vision, to the window Of the kltch-
en- where his dinner was in the
final stage. Sometimes he'd catch
Q flash of Laura's yellow head, or
Q movement of her arm.
SAME OLD NEIGHBOR
At the old corner, he got up and
stepped off. He walked slowly
down the block. Curious that a
n Ell g h borhood should have
changed so little. But it had Away
been independent of fashion-a
place to live. The row of brick
houses, so familiar, three stories
high, three windows wide, with
brownstone steps - there they
were. Number twenty-one was as
neat as he and Laura had kept 1t.
On its lowest stone step sat a 6.
year-old, contemplating the world
In spring.