The Wilmington morning star., 1941-02-05
CHAPTER ONE

From the first hour l stepped
foot in Purple Beeches, l felt the
weight of a cloud of mystery and
growing terror hanging over me.
I have wondered if l had known
all that l was to undergo mere
whether I would have accepted ule
position when it was offered to me.
But in all probability l would, 1or
hunger is a r thless master. Not
that I was actually hungry when l
became Cary Essex's secretary
but l could see its shadow loom
ing ahead.
When the long lean years OF de-
preston became a reality, n
Deane money took unto itself
wings and sped away as that OF
countless others had done. From
the prospect of winters in Pine
hurst and summers at Bar Harbor
with their attendant gaiety, l was
rudely jolted into the realization
that if l would eat l must work.
There was just one thing to do,
and I did it. = took my remaining
few hundred dollars and enrolled
in the Gleason Secretarial school.
1t wasn't an easy year, but l felt
that fate was reWarding me highly
when, just before my course end
ed, Miss Gleason called me into
her Office.
Miss Deane," she began in her
brisk b%usinesslike tone, Il have the
filling of a position l think is just
the sort for which you are look
ing"
But am I the sort of person for
the postion?" I faltered. l wanted
a job, any job, but .e prospect
doomed ahead of me more breath
taking than any hurdle l had eve
faced following the hounds.
Miss Gleason smiled.
Don't rate yourself too low,
Miss Deane," she encouraged me.
II think this position was made
. for you and you for the position.
1t is to work with a man who is
compiling a genealogy, and he par
ticularly asks for some one who
can be accepted as a member ii
his family.
LAS you know" she crisply con
tinued, Il never send my girls out
without thoroughly investigating. l
have done SO in this case, and the
family is of the highest social anu
financial rating"
If Miss Gleason so highly ap-
proved, there was nothing for me
to do but prop up my wobbly cour-
age and thankfully accept. Which
l did, hoping my training had en-
tirely eradicated my butterfly ten
denotes and turned me into the re-
sponsible secretary the man had
a right to expect.
If l only had gray hair, wore
glasses or were even cross-eyed, l
mourned, as the train roared
through the New England villages.
How could anyone expect to find
brains and ability under the curly
thatch of that dimple-cheeked brat
reflected in the mirror opposite?
Not that any man would ever
leave his happy home for the face
pictured there! But l certainly
looked more the sort of person who
would dance all night and laze all
day than a sober-minded soul who
had mastered the i%ntricacies of
shorthand and could make a type
writer properly perform. Yet 1
knew I was thoroughly competent
in that respect, and 1 could only
hope Cary Essex of Purple
Beeches, Wetuxet, Cape Cod,
would judge me by the perfection
of my work rather than by my ap-
pearance.
It was splitting snow when the
train pulled out of the South Sta
ton in Boston. It was showing
harder by the time we were half
way to the Cape; and when we
rumbled over the canal bridge the
world was a smother of white.
l smoothed down those curls
which never lie flat, rubbed on
powder and rubbed it off again
I'd better go easy on that until l
learned the p%rejudices of the Es-
sex family-and looked hopefully
in the glass. But what can you do
with a mouth which smiles when
there is nothing to smile at and
eyes which e. Old Man Depres-
sion has failed to soberize?
At the train steps a girl younger
than I was waiting. A girl whose
black eyes danced more than
mine, a girle whose lips smiled
sweetly at me and whose laughing
voice said:
Miss Deane? I'm Kaye Gould.
Welcome to Wetuxet. 1t didn't take
a ouija board to identify you! I'm
willing to bet you're the ONLY
Stranger In town. This is my big,
bad cousin whom you're to work
with. Cary, smile your prettiest for
the lady. She looks to me as
though she we're nearly frozen and
scared to death to boot"
Cray Essex, gray-eyed, grave
faced, tall and slender, came for
ward and shook hands. For an in
slant 1 was fooled by the name
Kaye. Could Miss Gleason h a v e
made a mistake? Was Cary a
woman? My bewilderment lasted
only until my employe seconded
his cousins welcome and led the
way to a huge limousine.
Kaye chartered necessarily dur.
ing the ten-mile drive. It was hard
to distinguish her facts from
flights of fancy, hard to know lust
what was teasing of her sober.
faced cousin, what was intended tc
enlighten me. I did, at least, gain