Evening star., 1939-01-08

lone another across the little table with raised
Lglasses.
'Papa!'
''Mama,"
Miss Maladise watched them. Someone
had sent them, as farewell gift, a harp made
of flowers. They had it on the table between
them, silly cumbersome unartistic thing,
vaguely ridiculous yet oddly pathetic at the
same time Beyond the portfolios, the sea
made the old familiar rushing sound.
"By the waters of Babylon we sat down and
wept," thought Miss Maladise
The rest of her table companions arrived.
Lady Harbinger did not look the part. She
was just girl with scared eyes and mop of
Curls She was dressed in black and had a
wistful air. A widow, thought Lorna Mala-
disc, and dimly remembered some scandal,
some story. She was surprised. though, when
Lady Harbinger spoke. to realize she was an
American, with soft Virginia voice.
-, Next to Lady Harbinger sat a pleasant
young man with thick fair hair and high
cheekbones that gave him vaguely Indian
look. He should have been distinct asset to
Y. l.
Lorna Maladise scornfuly, he was celebrating
something, or drowning something, and what
we shall never know! Poor girl" thought
Miss Maadise, looking at Laurelle Rose.
Not very exciting neighbor for her."
Laurelle Rose wasn't pretty. Nor was she
very young But there was something attrac-
tive about her olive face and her quick smile
that lit it so pleasantly. A queer eager smile,
! it was, but her eyes were sad. Probably going
out to visit rich relations in New York. She
would have success there. She had the svete
distinguished air that America likes She was.
and you knew it at sight, thoroughly nice
woman. The kind wise men should marry. and
so seldom do.
We'll, here we all are, thought Miss Maa-
disc. with our little stories and our hopes
and fears. Turning to one another only our
party faces"
She put hers on for the Captain. The Cap
tain had inserted himself into the seat beside
her. He had that studied social manner that
disguises a great boredom. He was sick of
women of jazz tunes by ships bands, Of eve
ming dress and fatuous small talk.
Yet when Miss Maladise looked at him, her
heart missed beat. He was so like Toby.
The same darling ig-headed chin, long and
obstinate. The chin that argues the hind leg
off a donkey. The same rather weary slate
gray eyes that could look at you so obviously,
not seeing YOU Miss Maladise grew hot with
surprise and delight, and then cold with
scorn. Scorn for her own idiocy.
What fool she still was! For Toby hated
her. Toby had sent her of to New York, on
this slow boat, to get rid Of her. Unfortunately
one cannot do as one wishes with the heart.
To her horror, at the thought of Toby in
London, and the time that must elapse before
she could argue with him again, and the knowl-
edge that he would certainly not write her
line while she was away. the silly floral harp
on the next table swan in mist of tears.
When the mist cleared, she looked about
the table The young man. Erren Steere. was
having trouble with his partridge He chased
it round and round his plate. Someone should
feed him, thought Miss Maladise scornfully.
Such pleasant young man And famous
too F.. Hadn't he recently painted some
royalty or other? He'd best take care, thought
Miss Maladise Much more of this sort of
thing and he'll start painting crowns on
crooked, and we can't have that, in these
days when none of them are too secure!
The Captain was talking. How he got on
to the subject she never knew: I've heard
there are houses in England so badly haunted