Browning chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1941-1953, 1949-06-17

L Terry, disturbing the quiet of
Sunday afternoon up and down
Fourth street. It wasn't the gentle
slap with which screen doors are
apt to close when released casual
ly. There was revolver-like bang
of one wooden frame forcibly meet
ing another.
In quick succession followed the
whirr of a starter and the clash of
rapidly meshing gears.
well! He certainly left in a
hurry" said Mamie as she re-
moved her apron. "What in heav-
ems name did you do to him,
Marg?"
ooh, he's just an old sorehead!"
replied Marg to her mothers ques-
ton. eve were talking about
something to do for this after
noon, and when I said I wasn't
interested in stalking through the
woods to observe the beauties of
Nature, he got huffy and went
tearing out the door. That's all
there was to it! What's more,
don't care if he never returns"
she added as an after thought.
But it's so unusual for Terry to
act like that" sighed Mamie, as
she eased her rather ample self
into an unoccupied chair in the
Langley living room. MAYBE the
dinner didn't. agree with him."
Mamie was always concerned with
the reaction of others to the per-
lection of her culinary art.
HE sure ate plenty, if that's
what you mean," muttered John
Langley from behind his newspa-
per.
Marg sat on the arm of the
davenport, staring vacantly up the
street in the wake of the depart
ing automobile. She and Terry u
rich had been going together for
three years, had known each other
since high school days. Everyone
expected them to be married some
day, and until last month, Marg
had more or less planned on it
herself. But that was before the
advent of Tom Prentiss.
II shouldn't have been so sar-
castle with Terry" thought Marg
to herself as the family continued
to discuss the somewhat abrupt
departure of her intended, "but I
wish he'd have an original idea
just once. Pm so sick of his small
town ways and hick notions" Her
revery was interrupted by the
syrupy voice of her sister-in-law,
Blanche.
81 think I know where the trou-
BILE lies" drawled Blanche in her
easy flowing, but somewhat ag-
gravating tone. "She's like all the
other girls at church ever since
that new assistant pastor came.
All you ever hear them talk about
is Tom Prentiss. Don't tell me
you've fallen for him too, Marg?"
Blanche, dear, you can be so
tiresome at times" retorted Marg.
"Since you folks are all so con-
cerned with Terry's rude depar-
ture, III leave the discussion with
you. I'm going to take nap"
This wasn't the first time that
Blanche had casually read Marg's
thoughts and feelings. Marg threw
herself across the bed, after turn
ing down the coverlet and kicking
her shoes off onto the floor. How
did Blanche know about Tom Prem
tiss, though? Was it so very
obvious?
The soft breeze of the Indian
summer Sunday stirred the ruffled
dimity curtains which hung at her
window, and Marg thought about
Tom Prentiss.
Rev. Brown had introduced Tom
to the choir members about five
minutes before rehearsal time
eight or nine weeks earlier. He
was the new assistant pastor, and
would have charge of all youth
work, as well as the musical pro-
gram of the church. During that
first hour of rehearsal, the mem
bers of the choir had felt that Tom
was bit overbearing and AFRO
CANT. But the sureness with which
he guided them through the diff
cult passages of the anthem for the
following Sunday made them real
ize that this poised young man was
really topnotch musician.
After they had gone into the
church sanctuary to practice with
the organ, they were more con-
WINGED than ever that the new as
sistant was youthful genius.
Enthusiasm for Tom Prentiss
was contagious. The following Sun
day the congregation buzzed after
services with talk of the new pas
tor. Several said the choir had
never sung SO well, and the young
ladies of the congregation were
aware of his good looks, too.
John Langley was an elder of
the church, so a few Sundays after
Prentiss' arrival, John invited him
to the humble abode on North
Fourth Street to delve into the
wonders of Mamie Langleys cook
cry. And Marg had a chance to
observe Tom at close range.
Throughout the meal, he SPAR
killed. with brilliant bits of CONVEX