ALWAYS HOME

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXIX, Issue 13241, 17 January 1941, Page 3

ALWAYS HOME

THE EVENING STORY

By Sallie Hall Lafon. “So it’s good by.” The tall young man in the grey overcoat stood with his hand on the knob. His brown eyes, usually serene, were those of a hurt boy. She inclined her head slightly and the lamplight gilded the curls piled high on her head. At length she spoke, “It must be good-bye, Hal. I couldn’t let him down now —not after three years.” “Well —you know your own mind, Kathy. But how I wish you were sailing with me to-morrow.” “Must you go? Australia is so far away, Hal. I mean couldn’t you—” He shook his head. “It’s the chance of a life. But, Kathy, I haven’t quite given you up. I’m at John’s apartment until sailing time to-morrow, and if you should change your mind call me. Here” —he took a card from out of his pocket and wrte the number for her. She took it, smiled at him slowly. But her blue eyes were moist as she gave him her hand. “Goodbye, Hal.” He pressed her fingers, abruptly opened the door and disappeared into the wind and rain. Standing there, her back to the closed door, she heard the taxi leave. And never had she felt such loneliness. While the wind continued to moan at the windows, she lay face down among the cushions of the couch and wept bitterly.

Presently there entered from the kitchen a tall, bespectacled girl. She paused and stared at the table drawn up before the fire. At the pink birthday cake and the crystal glasses. “I see you’ve strutted yourself, kid. Wish he deserved it.” Her voice stopped suddenly. “Why—what’s the matter?” As the other girl did not answer but continued to sob into the blue cushion, she reached down and drew a bit of paper from her clenched ahnd. “What’s this —2-2000?”

Kathy raised her flushed face. “Hal’s phone number. Oh, Myrt! He’s gone.” Then chokingly. “He asked me to go with him.” Myrt sat down abruptly in the broken rocker. “Then why in heaven’s name don’t you?” “Why, you know —” She glanced at the third finger of her left hand where a small- diamond gleamed. “Yes, I know. Bill. You’ve turned down a perfectly swell guy who adores you for an irresponsible—no good—” “Don’t It isn’t fair. You know how crazy everyone is over Bill.” “Yeh. I know he’s got a bunch of pals who would cut their throats for him, but what sort are they! They’d cut anybody’s throat, come to think of it.” She jerked the chair close to the couch. “Listen baby. Get wise to yourself. You don’t love Bill.” “Myrt! Of course I love him. Besides —-besides —how could I walk out on him now?” Then, “Oh, if only he didn’t love me so —If only he weren’t so faithful.”

“Faithful, my eye! Where’s he now? Don’t tell me he’s broken another leg just in time to miss his birthday dinner you’ve worked two days getting ready. Faithful, indeed. He’s out with some dame.”

Kathy was forced to smile through her teal's. “On how many occasions, darling, have you said that! And always it turns out you are wrong. Reed every time I think of it. Rememed every timel think of it. Remember? ‘ I called Whlteplaines and found he was off hunting with Don’s brother. And then New Year’s Eve!

the darkness

Bill Never Went Out with Other Girls. The Telegrams Proved It, but They Didn’t Have to Be So Nasty About It

Oh. you knew he was standing me up for some woman that time. And where was he? At Henry’s, unconscious with flu.” “Well —I’ll admit he has his lucky breaks. But —tell you what —I’ve got a hunch he’s really stepping out on you this time. Find out —before its too late —before Hal sails. Honest, I don’t think Bill’s going to get around to marrying you anyway. Three years you’ve been wearing that piece of glass. Come on. See if you can put your finger on him now. Wire his pals. All five of ’em. If the gods are with him this time I swear I’ll never say another word.”

Kathy looked at the clock. It was half-past nine. She took the pencil and paper which her friend handed her from the desk and wrote, “Worried about Bill. Is he there?” and signed her name. Then she went to the phone. And now began the ordeal of waiting for the answers. Two hours passed, two hours silent for an occasional remark and the constant crack of the flames. Kathy stirred uneasily. At length she rose, intent on inquiring whether the messages had been received. But the storm had done its work. The phone was out of order. As she turned back to the fire she heard steps on the porch. Quickly she went to the door, threw it open. A messenger handed her a stack of yellow envelopes and presently turned back into

She closed the door and returned to the table, sat do-vn and, feeling the intensity of her roommate’s gaze, opened one of the missives. An expression almost of disappointment crossed her face. Silently she handed the yellow slip to the other girl, who read aloud, “Bill here in Whiteplains. His mother ill. Signed. Don.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Myrt cried. “The lad’s got a charmed life.” Then, “You win, kid. Guess I’m just an old meddler.” While the other girl drooped miserably in her chair, she toyed with one of the telegrams, slit the envelope and drew out a piece of paper, looked at it absently. Then she jumped to her feet. “Get a load of this From Flushing. “Bill here. Slight accident. Signed, Henry.” Immediately the two fell upon the telegrams, read first one and then another. “Why,” Myrt spoke in a stunned voice, “how could he be all .these places at once?”

Kathy did not answer. She rose quickly. A smile on her lips, she drew on her cloak and started for the door. “Wait!” the other cried. “Where are you going?” “To find a telephone that isn’t out of order.” Then she flung back over her shoulder ‘To call 2,200.”