The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1942-11-27

goodhumored voice, evidently re-
peating a question. s'Why, it's a
guardianship case. I'm to turn her
over to Mrs. Porteous Porter on
Monday; she's to do secretarial
work for the old lady"
''If had seen her dress I might
have copied it for tonight" said
Amy with little litter.
Fran and Amy and the two young
men in evening clothes went away
laughing, the big street door shut,
and Judge Marshbanks and Kelly
Coates came back across the hall
and stood chatting for moment be-
fore the artist said that he must
start on his way to Sausalito, and
the judge went off to his bridge
game. But by this time the stair
way was empty, and Cherry was
back in the luxurious, dinnly lighted
guest room, standing perfectly still
at one of the big windows, looking
out into the darkness of the unfa-
miliar world, studying the scene of
the night city with eyes that saw
nothing, trying to think with her
mind and soul one whirl of furious
emotion.
Rage and shame and jealousy and
a hundred other new and wretched
feelings possessed her. Shaken and
throbbing and blinded, she rested
her face against the cool glass of
the window and pressed one hand
against the turbulent pain that was
her heart. 9 @
g Now, for the first time in her life,
the significance of being a Saint
Dorothea's girl swept over her. A
girl to be laughed at and pitied and
despised. It was a place for girls
who, innocent enough themselves,
were nevertheless victims of cir
cumstances that were not innocent;
girls who must stay out of the public
eyes summer and winter alike; girls
who had no home to which to go,
no families to welcome them and
miss them.
A knock at her door made her re-
turn in quick alarm toward the
room. Molly, the nice-looking little
maid, came in and delivered to
Cherry message as she expertly
replaced towels and turned down
the bed:
''The judge sent you up the maya
zines, Miss Rawlings, and says he
was sorry not to say good night,
and will you please have breakfast
with him at half past eight. And
May is to go downtown with you at
ten, if that wasn't too early for you.
And am I to call your"
Cherry, confused, agreed to ev-
erything with a bashful thank you
and good night, and when the maid
was gone took herself seriously in
hand, brushed her hair vigorously,
enjoyed a luxurious bath with ev-
cry accessory in the way of salts
and powders and scents that the
bathroom afforded, got herself COM
Portable in bed and turned maya
zine pages for an absorbed hour.
But when the lights were out she
fell to thinking again, and the hui
initiation and pain of her arrival at
the Marshbanks mansion slowly
came back, detail upon detail.
Fran, Cherry's thoughts ran on,
had seemed ugly at first, but when
you watched the expressions of her
face for a moment, and heard her
voice she did not seem ugly any
more. Much more than Amy she
seemed the sort of person an artist
would like to paint.
And he was an artist, of course
that man with the tremendous laugh
and the tremendous voice, so sure
of himself, as he folded his big arms
and entered into conversation with
the judge, so more than sure of
himself when he lowered his tones,
and when half-smile twitched at
his mouth, and when he exchanged
careless smiling words with Fran.
To have a man like that, at least
know that one was alivel To have
him obliged-forced to admire one
for something, for anything! To call
him by his name and have him
smile when one unexpectedly en-
countered him
It was of Kelly Coates that she
was thinking as she dropped of at
last into exhausted sleep.
The re-encounter with her old
friend Emma and the introduction
to her new home and to her new
employer proved much less of a
strain than Cherry had feared they
would. Her brief visit at Judge
Marshbanks' house had somewhat
prepared her for elegance and lux
ury.
fTO BE CONTINUED