The guardian. [volume] (Boston, Mass.) 1901-1960, 1939-05-06
No News Is
Good News
By GEORGE PARSONS
G Associated Newspapers.
WNU Service.


dressed visitor, as she
glanced about the simply furnished,
sunshiny little room, 81 can imagine
your not wanting to work in winter
you always did hate wading
through slush or snow, remember,
and 1t must be sort of nice just to
stay at home and take things easy
while the mercury clings to zero.
But in spring-well, that's different
again"
The bungalow aproned hostess
merely smiled as she reflected that
stocking furnace, shoveling paths,
tending to the supply of dry mittens,
Iegglngs and stocking caps, wool
socks and warm scarfs for three
active children, wasn't exactly "tak-
ing things easy"
You know you can get your old
job back in a minute" declared
Madeline. miss Burke said just the
other day she would be tickled pink
to have you in the French section
once more-that you we're the best
saleswoman she ever had. She even
said that in case you were short of
cash to buy nice chic little dress
for work, she'd make you a special
rate on one of the sample models,
for she said the girls who get mar
rled always are short of cash by the
time they have even one kid, let
alone three"
You better think it over, dearie,"
urged Madeline, drawing her smart
crushed gauntlet gloves over smooth
white hands. ANY time before the
fourteenth, Miss Burke said to let
her know. "My!" suddenly ex-
claimed Madeline, 'it certainly will
seem like old times to be going out
to lunch again with you. And with
Phil on the road three weeks out of
four, you can get off for some good
I times instead of being tied to the
house the way you are now, every
day in the week just like every 9TH
er day, week after week, month aft
er month.
Her visitor gone, Viola Armstrong
looked thoughtfully about one room
after another of the little house.
She wondered if she would be able
to pick up the new dance steps
Phil never wanted to go out eve
nlngs during the week he was in
from the "road"-it would seem
good to go to movie or musical
show once in a while.
Three hungry children, trooping in
from the sand-pile in the back yard,
interrupted Viola's thoughts. Deft-
ly she prepared supper.
AS the children ate, Viola once
more thought of Madeline's words.
Of Miss Burke's offer. And she re-
fiected that all three of the Jolly
brown-eyed youngsters would be
fed and tucked into their beds be-
fore she would be home from the
store, if she went back to work in
town. There would be but cold COM
fort in buying pretty clothes and
expensive toys for the children if she
was never home to see them wear
the clothes or play with the toys.
Supper over, the three laughing
children trooped up the stairs to
make ready for bed. Viola tucked
each child into its own little bed or
crib.
Slowly she made her way down
the stairs and into the silent living
room. Madeline was right-it wasn't
so CHEEKY, this having ones husband
on the road three weeks out of four.
That is, it wasn't so CHEEKY during
the three weeks. The fourth, of
course, was just like a gorgeous va
cation.
That fourth week wouldn't be so
much, though, if she were working
In store in town, Viola admitted
to herself.
Seating herself before the we'll
worn old desk-the desk which had
served Phil throughout his college
years-Viola took out pen and pa
per, just as she did every night
that Phil was ION the road"
Phil wouldn't be home till after
the fourteenth-if she was going
back to work, she must let him
know.
Suddenly Viola remembered some
thing Phil had said not many weeks
before, II never fret about the
youngsters honey" he had told her.
Il know you are right on the Job,
looking after them, instead of tear
ing around like cuckoo fapper. I
suppose its lonesome business for
you, but Pm telling you the kids
are darned lucky to have mother
like you on the job "a hours a day,
every day in the week" O
Forty-eight hours later, certain
gray-eyed young man tore open an
envelope and eagerly scanned the
closely written pages it contained.
Madeline Clarke called - she
looked like million dollars-and
she tried to inveigle me into going
back to the store. No thanks. No
clock punching and waiting on fussy
women who have more time and
money than they have taste. Not
while I've such grand job looking
after the cunningest little house and
the three sweetest children in the
world, to say nothing of writing to
the incest husband who ever lived"
So read the letter which, strange