“The Melody Girl”

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVI, Issue 3442, 12 March 1932, Page 6

“The Melody Girl”

By RUTH D. GROVES.

CHAPTER XXXl.—(Continued.)

Irene lowered her face and looked at her rings. The engagement ring affronted her anew and she felt her temper slipping, but it would never do to show how she felt. She had sense enough to realise this and both Prentiss and the maitre d’hotel were waiting for some expression of approval from her. She swallowed hard and looked up at them. “It’s lovely,” she said with enough feeling to satisfy them. Perhaps they were both so sure that she would like the beautiful little cake that they did not weigh her praise at all. The maitre d’hotel tasted the cake with them and then went back to tell his confreres that “the young Monsieur Gaylord had married the most charming young lady in theese world.” (It was Gallic and gallant exaggeration but it reflected the sincerest opinion of the bridegroom if not quite the maitre d’hotel). And when the ‘bride said she would like to go home and break the news to her family he had no other thought than to comply with her wish. It seemed to Prentiss a thoughtful and considerate suggestion. For his part, of course, he’d rather take her away instantly and keep her to himself, but she’d been wonderful to put his interests above all else and marry him without having one of her friends or a member of her family, present at the ceremony. He owed her much for that. As they left the table she said: “I’d like to telephone Mama before we start.” Prentiss offered to do this for her, but Irene insisted she must do the talking herself. As she hoped, Beryl answered.

CHAPTER XXXII. Prentiss excused himself for a moment while Irene talked to Beryl and thus she was able to say what she pleased.

“I did as you demanded,” she chose to lie, “and you should have heard what Prentiss said.”^ “Yes?”, Beryl answered steadily, though her heart was beating rapidly. “Yes is right,” Irene mocked. “He asked why I thought he would be interested in my ’past so long as he had my present. I told him you had insisted that I tell him everything. Well, I did, and he only laughed.” “I don’t believe you,” Beryl retorted.

“I don’t care whether you do or not,” Irene informed her. “We’re married. Maybe you won’t believe that, either, so I’ll bring the marriage certificate home to show. you. And you can ask mother to pack my best things right away. We’re leaving early in the morning for Oakdale.” She put down the telephone without waiting for a reply from Beryl. She had seen Prentiss coming. “I was talking with Beryl," she said to him sweetly. “I want her to break the news gently to mother.” “You’re a thoughtful girl,” Prentiss said soberly. “I know I’m going to be a happy man, Irene." She smiled at him. “You wouldn’t mind taking some flowers to mother, would you?” she asked. “As a peace offering?” And so she got her orchids, with a bunch of roses for her morher. Beryl was not at home when the bridal couple arrived there. She’d had a battle royal with her mother who stoutly denied any previous knowledge of Irene’s plans. After that she went to find Tommy. Beryl didn’t believe that Irene had told Prentiss about her engagement to Tommy Wilson, but it would do no good to interfere now. Perhaps it it wouldn’t have helped anyway.' If Prentiss believed Irene loved him he’d say she had the right to break her engagement to Tommy. Beryl realised that her own interest in Tommy might have confused her sense of values. She even wondered if she hadn’t hurried this blow by trying to help him.

She got into her car (she still had the old one she’d got in trade for her boat) and drove off at a rattling speed. Tommy was not at his uncle’s home. Neither could she And him at the theatre. Finally, after driving about the town for an hour she glimpsed him in a garage. She stopped, parked, and went back to the place to tell him she wanted to talk to him.

Tommy agreed sheepishly to come with her, expecting she had decided to lecture him. They climbed into her car, Beryl at the wheel, and drove toward the South Shore.

Beryl did not know how to begin what she had to say to him. Her mood disturbed Tommy. Usually if Beryl had anything to say she said it. He decided she did not intend to scold him. He’d been willing to take it, but was glad it wasn’t forthcoming. He’d never been so low in spirit before in all his young life. Now it worried him to have Beryl sitting there looking so gloomy. “The next time you come to a shady tree park the car,” he said at last. "You’ve got trouble to spill. It’s written all over your face.”

Beryl decided that Tommy was right. They’d best stop and talk. “Well?” Tommy invited as she still hesitated after the car was comfortably parked in the shade. She faced him. Her voice showed

(Copyright.)

how wretched she felt. “Shall I let you have both barrels at once, Tommy?” she asked. “Sure. Go ahead.” “It’s pretty tough. Sure you can take it?” “Of course. Shoot!” Beryl drew in her breath. “I can’t get Irene back for you,” she said. “She’s married.” Tommy just wilted. He didn’t say a word or make a move—he just wilted. Tommy’s voice was hollow when lie did look at Beryl and say dully: “Tell me about it." She told him all she knew and was tempted to add what she thought, but appreciated the futility of it. She might as well tell him that he was lucky to be alive as to tell him that he was lucky to lose Irene. She drove back to his home when he asked her to without tormenting him with conversation. When he asked a question she answered it, but did not volunteer further information. “See you later,” Tommy said casually when he stepped out of the car. Beryl watched -him enter the house. After that she went in search of his uncle. When she had spoken her mind to Mr Hoffman he knew that he’d better look after Tommy or answer to a virago. After that she went home. There one stroke of good fortune had befallen her. Irene and her new husband bad departed. Mrs Everett was still greatly excited and, apparently forgetting that hot words had passed between her and Beryl a few hours earlier, insisted on repeating all Irene had said. Irene had this I Irene was to have that! And just look at these orchids l Beryl gazed at the mass of expensive blooms. “Now I know,” she said, “what is meant by beggar on horseback.” Her mother looked at her doubtfully. She did not understand and so could not reply. But there was something she did mean to say, and be firm about it, too. Her voice became sharp. “It wasn’t at all nice of you to stay away and not wish your sister happiness,” she said. “Irene was terribly disappointed/ and I don’t know what Prentiss thought of it.” Beryl’s lips twisted into a caustic smile. “Yes," she admitted, “I dare say Irene was disappointed. A parade’s no good without someone to view It.” She turned and walked away, unheeding her mother’s continued scolding. Alone in her room Beryl had to admit there was satisfaction for herself in the situation. No use trying to deny it, telling herself it was beastly to feel so when Tommy was unhappy. She had not done this thing to Tommy. She had not made the choice of evils for him. And in time he would learn that what had happened was best for him. The light in Beryl’s eyes dimmed faintly. “I’m a fool,” she told herself. “Tommy will never love me. If that were to be, it would have happened before this. No. It will be some other girl. He’ll never care for me.” A little later Mrs Everett called her to come down to dinner. She said she was not hungry. Beryl’s voice, as she called back down the stairs, sounded husky. She stayed in her room all evening. Her mother climbed the stairs to point out something she thought Beryl might have overlooked. It was that Irene would be in an influential position now where she could help Beryl a great deal. “How do you mean —help me?” Beryl asked. “Why, in your career," her mother explained. “Don’t you think you’d better write her a nice little note and apologise?” Beryl smothered the anger that rose within her and laughed. “I guess you don’t know, how funny that is,” she said. “It’s not funny. It’s serious!” “It’s funny. Irene has nothing to do with my career. I’m what lam without her help. And I don't suppose,” she added suddenly, “that you d accuse your darling daughter of meaning to turn my boss against me.” Mrs - Everett answered uneasily: “How can you say such unreasonable things?" However, her eyes avoided Beryl’s. She was thinking of something that Irene had said when she found Beryl gone that afternoon and a large part of her triumph spoiled.

“I’ll show her!” Irene had declared. “I’ll see that she never gets another contract with the Gaylord Soap Company. And it won’t do her a bit of good to be turned down. Other people won’t be so keen about her then.” Mrs Everett sighed, wishing Beryl were as reasonable as Irene.

“Honey, you mustn’t do that,’’ she had said to Irene. “Your father and I need Beryl’s help.” Irene had seen it at once and admitted she was wrong. It was a comfort to have a daughter like Irene —one who could be obliging. It would be a little thing for Beryl to acknowledge her fault as readily as Irene had done and write to her sister.

As usual her argument with her mother was of short duration. Mrs Everett, thinking it over, felt that she had not made the situation any better for Irene. She came in softly the last thing before she went to bed and brought a tray of light refreshments for Beryl.

“Are you sure you’re well,” she asked. Beryl nodded. “I wish you wouldn’t quarrel with me,” her mother said forlornly. “It’s have, to have a child get married and go away. Irene didn’t mean the cross words she said. It was just temper and she was sorry right away.” “Poor little Irene ...” But Beryl hadn’t been thinking of her sister she was thinking of something that frightened her.

(To be continued.)