Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1942-02-13

asked suspiciously.
YEAH" Club stepped into the
| shadow, well, practically"
/ Charles Chalmers!" Grace made a
/ dive for him and hauled him under
the porch light. you've worn that
shirt for two daysi Go right upstairs
Gee, Mom!" Club jerked away, his
| face alight with virtuous protest
you're forever fussing about how
many shirts there are in the laundry!
Then, when I try to save you trouble
you get sore"
Grace Chalmers sighed.
Go up and change, Club"
There was a certain explosive quality
beneath his mothers calmness that
checked the further argument Club
! was about to put up.
| He gave her an injured look. Gosh.
what was the use arguing with moth
ers? You might as well save your
breath. Women had no logic.
Club swung on his heels, gagged the
distance to the stairs and figured he
could make it in two broad jumps.
The first landing was successful,
| though the impact of his 100 pounds
shook the house to its foundation.
Club always claimed that the Sec
ond one would have been all right.
too, if his mother hadn't yelled at
him
Her frantic "Chub! Your white flan-
nels!' distracted him just at the wrong
| instant
Caught off balance, in mid air, he
staggered against the newell post,
clutched it, swung around in a des-
! perate arc, and crashed against the
hall table.
Before his mother could reach him,
he was half way up the stairs, gut
teral mutter, half apologize, half eX-
asperated, floating in his wake.
Grace Chalmers collapsed weakly
against the door jamb. Her husband
grinned at her with amused, affection
ate tolerance.
you're on the wrong track, Grace!'
He spoke as one who had no hope of
making his point Like his son, he knew
that when Nom was sot, she was sot.'
mo use trying to make Club into a
lady's man! Some boys just naturally
stay savages longer than others
And some never get over it," Grace
added with pointed emphasis. I'm not
going to have Club savage or a
boor. Oh, know" she had to laugh
at Phil's comic acceptance of the
thrust, you would let everything drift!
Let him get out of these dances, let
him"
She broke off at the sound of clump-
ing feet on the stairs, but not soon
enough.
The grim satisfaction of planning
how he would get even stayed by Club
all the way to the club. was still seeth-
| ing, as his father dropped them there.
| Let his father and mother gang up
against him! He'd show EN-!
He'd stage a Shutdown strike, that's
what he'd do He could be as stubborn
as his mother. No matter how mad she
got, she would hardly drag him out on
the floor by main force.
Or, would she? Certain uneasy men,
cries began to undermine Clubs con-
fidence. He'd have to be kind OF cagey,
how he handled that Shutdown strike.
"Oh dear, we're late! And I should
| have been here receiving!" Grace
| Chalmers hurried her reluctant son
into the club house. Don't stay too
long in the coat ROOM" she called as
Club turned glumly down the hall.
They're practicing the waltz step
now"
Acting on this tip, Club stayed in
the coat room until his mother sent
one of the boys after him.
Tell her I'll be right out" Club
fumbled with his trouser leg MY
garter's gone fuzzy. I'll be right out,
tell her"
He waited until the messenger had
across the far end of the dance hall,
and out into the comforting darkness
of the porch.
In his haste to escape his mothers
watchful eye he plunged around the
door with such speed that he tripped
and almost went headlong over pair
of black patent leather pumps stuck
provokingly in his path.
What you dom here?"
Club righted himself with gyrations
that were nothing short of miraculous.
He glared at the occupant of the
chair. A fool girl, of course.
"OuchI Why don't you look where
you're going?"
The fool girl leaned forward to
clutch her toe, and glared back at him.
Even in the dim light under the
caves of the porch. Club could see
that she was new one.
Bitterness gripped him once more.
Why the heck couldn't some boys show
up at Harbor Cove for q changer Girls,
girls, girls!