The guardian., 1940-08-10
Little Apples
90
By CHARLES OWEN
ASSOCIATED Newspapers.)
WNU Service.

of the Deodars cabaret. She wasn't
so old, either, but she had the mis-
fortune, in an age of perverted ad-
mirations, to be tall and largely
built.
Twenty years ago she had been
beauty, with a strong dramatic
voice that, if trained, might have
withstood the havoc of Wagner. AS
it was, she had sung at the top of
her voice to her fathers cows in
her childhood, overwhelmed the fee
BILE vocalization of the village choris-
ters, and come to the city. She had
earned at once, because big women
and strong voices were the mode.
Now she drank coffee-paid her
cover charge - ate Indifferent
French pastries to get away from
herself, and watched half-starved
girls with no features kick and
wriggle to the cacophonies of saxo-
phones and trap drums.
If she had been an educated wom-
an she could have coped with her
conflicting emotions. She did know
the reason she had chosen this rest
less place to rest in. It was be-
cause the doorway boasted a win
dow where a large plate of little
apples, her favorite fruit, were dis
played.
The incessant clicking of countless
high heels on the polished floor ir-
! ritated her nerves. She felt listless,
/ she, who had never had a sick
day in her life. She hated the lack
of beauty in the chorus - beauty
of figure, of face, of voice. She
wished for one moment she could
get up and sing and show what
volume and resonance were (only
she did not use these words, of
course).
She looked down at her feet.
Smaller in proportion than those Of
the thin-legged girls who danced.
Her clothes were rather good. She
sewed well and had fair taste. She
took out the little mirror in her
: handbag and glanced at her face.
"Gosh! I'd like to show 'eml"
she said to herself, and then start
ed; for some one touched her shoul-
der. She turned, prepared to fight.
Her aggressiveness had been at
once her greatest friend and foe.
Maggie Grant! For Pete's sake!
Don't you know me? Gee, but Pm
I glad to see you again. Say, don't
tell me you've forgotten Dan? Dan
Smith of the Pitt farm? Say it's
great to see you, but what are you
doing here? / thought you was
prima donna Che called it pryma)
or something, eh?"
GIVE quit all that, Dan," said the
woman, after startled pause, gath
ering her wits, as it were, and salts
flying herself as to the mans iden-
tity. "Im getting old. Besides,
they don't think I'm good looking
any more" She gazed rather rue
fully at the syncopated steppers on
the floor. "How've you been max
ing out, Dan? Married, suppose
and kids, and e"
''No, Maggie, amt married.
Guess Pm not the marrying kind.
I've done fair, though; can't COM
plain as things are. l bought the
Pierce place when old Tim Pierce
died and it's good land for fruit.
Remember them little apples you
was so crazy about? Well, they
sure do grow good down there and
make me good money. / send 'em
to the city regular. Fact is that
fruit store by this place is a Gus
toner of mine. That's why l came
in, being near by, and because 1
thought being a performer you
might be here or they might know
anyways where you was"
"Say, Dan, l came in here because
l saw the apples. loved them
when l was a kid and l do now,
only everything costs so high in the
city"
Dan was lost in thought. "Say,
Maggie, you mean to tell me those
skinny yellow kids with their paint
ed cheeks are reckoned good look
ing? Say, you'd beat 'em every
time. How's the pipes, Maggie?
Say, wish you could give us a song
right now" With Dan to think was
to act, and before Maggie could stop
him he was off and talking to the
harassed-faced leader of the or
! chestra.
Maggie waited impatiently. This
wasn't farm. What did Dan mean,
anyhow?
"Come, Maggie" he said, taking
her hand, "the leader wants you to
sing, Annie Laurie and Down the
Vale Will you, Maggie? always
did like your pipes"
The old soprano lifted her fine
head and walked gracefully to the
piano.
If there was any empty-headed,
hysterical laughter it soon died
down, for Maggie was a force and
knew how to reach an audience.
Her voice filled the room and sug-
gested that she was using only half
her powers, as, indeed, was the
case. She stood there a Hebe
among automata, a woman among
dolls.