Evening star., 1940-07-12

brunette head on the snowy white
pillow, and her dark brows drawn
together into a ScoWl
1t was GAS by the little French
clock on the dressing table, and a
ridiculous hour for any one to be
aWake-unless she was just coming
in-but there was no alternative to
being awake if you just couldn't
sleep.
And Phyllis couldn't sleep, hadn't
slept more than a couple of fitful
hours all night and she'd gone to
bed at II.
There was a picture on the dress
ing table, right next to the French
clock and the picture explained a
lot of things. 1t was Dick Wieland's
picture and Phyllis, since Dick
wasn't present in person, was talk
ing, with dangerously narrowed eyes,
to the picture.
Anybody with half an eye could
see through that chiseling little Ada
Burwick," she was saying any
body but you, Dick Wieland." She
clenched her teeth and turned away
from the picture. But what do I
Care?" she said under her breath.
Then Immediately she sat bolt up
right and glared again at the picture.
''I do care" she said. Il care plenty,
and I'm going to do something about
it!"
Dora Is Surprised.
Getting out of bed, even at IL or
II o'clock, had always been painful,
disheartening job for Phyllis, but
this morning the sensation of being
on her feet and ready to 60 into
action was a distinct and magical
relief. She swept a satin house
coat from the chair beside the bed
and wrapped it around her graceful
figure. She tucked tiny feet into
fluffy pink mules that waited next
to the chair and with quick steps
she crossed the white-carpeted floor
to her private bath.
At $50, when Old Dora came into
Phyllis room to close the windows,
she found her mistress bed slept
In but surprisingly empty.
Miss Phyllis"
There was no answer from the
bath, no answer from anywhere. Old
Dora tried again. "Yoo-hoo, Miss
Phyllis. Where is 20, chile?"
Still no answer. Old Dora went
to the top of the curved staircase
and called down, quietly but loud
enough to be heard by the omni-
present jeremiah, her husband
and Michael O'Brien's butler.
"Je'miah, you all seen my missy?"
"Wheah you all been, woman?"
came a whisper from the dining
room, followed even more quietly
by the slow-moving figure of the
butler. His frizzled gray head looked
up and broad, white grin displaced
the frown of mock reproach as he
answered. Miss Phyllis done gone
to New Yawk full houah ago. Jes
took her cab and off she CO." He
shook his head, then shuffled back
toward the dining room.
"Je-miah, come heah!"
"Ah's busy, woman. Abs got wuk
t. do. Mist 'Brien be down in fl
minutes. Abs got wuk t. do. No
time fo' talkin'" And old Dora
could get no more information from
him.
Michael on Time.
In minutes time, as jeremiah
had predicted, Michael O'Brien was
at the breakfast table. A tall, good
looking man in his early sos, he had
one overpower;ng devotion, one
eternal and dominating motive in
1ife-and they were Phyllis and
bringing her up the way her father,
his younger brother, would have
brought her up had he lived to do
1t himself. And that was no easy
job.
Michael O'Brien had been in
many kinds of business. He had
been a practicing attorney in his
early days, bank president in his
30s, head of prosperous stock and
bond house at the age of 40, and for
the last 10 years full-time manager
of the fortune he, himself, in those
early years, had accumulated. His
interests were many and his prob
lens were great, but there was no
interest and no problem so perplex-
ing as the problem of his gay, beau