The Waterbury Democrat., 1938-09-06
:. SERIAL STORY PHOTO FINISH ... s.'."'."T ...~:.' ',.. %.
 BY CHARLES B. FARMER
Norman went to work surily.

"What's come over NormanP" Linda asked, when they were in the house. Then, with an amused start she noted that she, too, was lapsing into the colloquial.
 "That fool Norman?" Uncle Sandy said. He's got religion in his old age. Thinks racing is a tool of the devil" He shot quick glance at his niece. How come you didn't want to sell? could a-run up that Hill fellow--made pretty penny"
 Linda shrugged her shoulders. "Uncle Sandy"-it was hard to ex- plain; she had come home, on im- pulse, to care for him. She wanted to start him out as a breeder again; she found him a horse trader. This wasn't the future she planned for him.
 Maybe-the thought struck her with force-he didn't need her as much as she had thought.
 "Why couldn't we sellp" he in sisted.
 wen make more money racing the horse," she sad.
 How come you hook up so quick like with this Brown Donald?"
 She smiled at his abruptneSs. T had about gone my limit and l wanted the colt"
 He said nothing to that, Just nodded his head. She didn't have the money he thought she had. They moved out to the front porch.
 Maybe-maybe Monte was right, Linda reflected, she should have stayed in New York; sent the old chap the money he needed. It was hard for different generations to live together. But-and great glow came over her at the thought she would never have met him if she had stayed in Manhattan.
 "This hsre Donald, the young fool wants to make lepper out of that colt" Uncle Sandy resumed after bit.
 She found herself defending the idea. What's wrong with that2"
 "What's wrong2 There aint but about three steeplechases in the world that's worth runnin' after. It's @ rich mans game. Every time you send a horse out, chances are he'll come @ cropper and bust his neck at fence. We're going after the Jockey Club Stakes"
 T must see about supper" Linda interrupted and went inside.
 At early dark, she and Uncle Sandy were sitting on the porch when a car stopped at the gate, and a man came Up the walk.
 Anybody home?" It was Bruce Radford's voice.
 Come up, son, come up and set" Uncle Sandy called in hospitable tones.
 Hello, Linda" Bruce spoke warmly, as he took her hand. "You got a great colt today-congratu- lations." He turned to her uncle, and by the light from the hallway Linda saw Bruce take a long envelope from his pocket, give 1t to the old man.
 Found this in the house; thought you'll like to have 1t, Mir. Sandy"
 Her uncle took the envelope. "Oh -er-thank you, son." He got up. Excuse me. Think I'll see if the. colt be bedded down." He went inside.
 "You didn't come to try and buy Golden Toy2" Linka asked coolly.
 "No. And I don't blame you for not selling. Mind if I sit down2"
 "Why not?"
 He sat on the steps at her feet, as a new moon rose over the syca- mores. He was silent for @ time. So was she.
 Linda" There was emotion in his voice.
 "Yes, Bruce" She was matter-of- fact.
 "This reminds me of Barrow street. Remember2"
 They had gone to New York in the same year. She had lived on Barrow, in the Village; he on Com merce. She was on an afternoon paper, he on a morning. On his nights of, they'd go out together; drink Angelina's red wine, eat her tasty antipasto and spaghetti, come back and talk at Linda'S
 Remember the first time we saw the moon over the warehouse roof?" he reminded her.
 T also remember some tall talk, Bruce" she prodded him, talk about a great novel you were writ ing. Sinclair Lewis was going to be a selling-plater alongside you. Re- member2"
 He ran his fingers through his hair. i've told two stories since being back home here"
 TWO? You should have sold two