The Clinton chronicle. (Clinton, S.C.) 1901-current, December 22, 1932, Image 7
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THURSDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1932
THE CLINTpN CHRONICLE. CLINTON. S; C.
• FIFTH INSTALLMENT |done. “Will you have tea, or shall we wo should like to be alone, as it’s so
Synopsis: Pauline, sentimental, j wait for Pauline?” j’onp: since you were here.”
trustful, sincere and loving love, be
comes engaged and married Dennis
O’Hara in the belief that their blissful
happiness will continue unchanged
thru all the years. On her wedding
morning she awakens^ with a strange
premonition that maybe love does
change, a thought buried in her mind
“How long will she bo?” '
“Not long. I think she has gone to
the sht>p.s for something they forgot
to send.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?”
Dennis dragged himself to his feet,
“t’onfound my leg! Wonder how
long it will be before I can walk de
cently. By the way, Mrs. Stark tells
! me she is clearing off tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?” { “Yes. I wanted her to stay, but per
“Only that you refused so steadily i haps it’s as w’ell—I shall have you '
to come and see me all these weeks | all to myself.’/ She snatched his ftand
by a letter from her closest friend,! I thought I should probably find you and kissed it. '
Barbara, the night before. Pauline j had imn away.” “Baby!” Dennis said, smiling. “And
adored Barbara, who had been inar-i Barbara laughed lightly. “You what about tea?”
ried, was the mother of a child which;would have done, if you had com^ tp- “It’s coming now. PH, go an !<ee.
died, but now divorced and living a morrpw, as you originally intended.”,’^auline rushed away, and Dennis
life which some of her friends could| “You did not want to meet me?”
not understand! Between Dennis andj “Oh, no. I merely had a-previous
Babrara is a seeming wall of personal engagement ”
dislike by both. Six months after Pau
line’s wedding, Barbara come.s for a
Denni.s’s eyes darkened. He had
thought about this woman more than
short stay. During this visit Barbara he cared to remember during the past
confesses to Pauline that there is a| tedious weeks, and he had looked for-
man she really love.•^, but she refuses | ward to seeing her with a queer kori
to tell his name. Barbara decides sud jof pleasurable anticipation,
denly to go home and Pauline insists j ^ dream that she had thoughts with a firm hand.
Dennis drive her to the station. 1 | ki<jsed him and implored him to speak “Ungrateful devil!” he apostro-
tnted, Dennis drives recklessly, her? Looking at her now he wasipbized himself an<l turned to greet
th.'y aie in a crash. Baj'baia e.scapes ^ure it must have been. i lior as she came in. What moi^e could
injun l>ut Dennis’ leg is hr()k#n. As
limped over to the window and looked
out at the little garden.
Very' tidy and neat, vory suburban,
he thought, and wondered why it had
never struck him in that light before.
Life was inclined to be humdrum—at
least, his life w’as!
Outside in the hall he heard Paul
ine’s happy laugh, and he checked his
he returns to consciou.^ness ht' learn.-^l
w’ho the I man is that Barbara loves.
It’.s him.self. Dennis spends .several'
weeks in the hospital. Barbara re
turns to stay w'ith Pauline, but on one
pretext or another fails to vi.sit Den-j
nis with Pauline at the hospital. Pau-i
line plans highly for Dennis’ return
home.
Now’ Go Oh With the Story.
Pauline w’as only too ready to obey. |
This headache fitted in nicely w'ith'
her scheme of things. It seemed provi-'
dential when, about half-past three, I
shel peeped into Barbara’s room and |
found her still fast asleep. I
.She was all ready to meet Dennis
—one of the doc-ors v.fs h?-in-ring him
• home in his car, a man named Stoi n- j
away, with whom Denni.s had struck
up u great fricnd-'-hlp, 1
It would be .so wonderful to have]
Tiomt
liuTn *ai homt again., TTu* moments
seemed to drag. Everything had gone
perfectly, the house looked a picture, j
so Pauline thought with pride as she]
wondered, about, unable to settle to
anything.
The little maiii came to her breath
lessly.
"Oh, please, madam, the fi-uit has
not come for dinner, and it’< early
closing today. What shall we do?”
^ Mistre.ss and mui<i stared at each
other aghast; .then Pauline said
firmly:
“I’ll go round to the shop myself.
There’s plenty of time before the
master comes. She went on her er-
;]
‘ i
tJt
•>fy
W tY
4*/
I i
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‘Was it a dream that she had kissed him and implored him to speak
to hof? Looking at her now he was sure it must have been.”
Crandmother^
-J d i
by Vivian Ha'jes
But the memory of her lips on his’one de.sire in a wife? She was loving
w'a.s real enough. land pretty and charming, and yet—
Dennis looked at Barbara’s lips, ar-f “Doughnuts for tea!” she .said gai
tificially reddened, and felt ashamed.
Thank God, Pauline never made her
face up—no rouged cheeks and dark-
r'l’MC .V.\.N afijilsted her ttirs
1111(1 arose, her roiiiid hlack
e.\es |•»>^usill;: lo iue»‘l Ui«
jiileons t;ii/.e (d' the lillh* tdd
lad.v Indore her
“1 know you'll he reiiMdi
.ihle, mother." she eoiieliid
tMl. "iilid see I hill, Ueedilit:
unUie.N as Edwin do(*s rii;ht now n<
eonhin't do ditVer(dill.\ \Vh«>n pii dimi
and Edwin hotmhf this hoiis«-oi \<iii to
ened eyes. Almo.st angrily he con
trasted the two women. Pauline with
her simplicity and wholehearted de
votion to himself, her interest and
mnd with cheerful readiness, almost j happiness in the small things of life,
running down the garden path. her pride in her home, her loyalty and
It was the -slamming of that gate rweetness- -and then Barbara Stark!
that woke Barbara; she started up,| A woman of the world, spoiled and
ly. "You BOO, I remei„l.i-mt how fouclj !
' lelliii;: .yon slji^ riuld here, a.s pc loli'
yon; hnl llie Vl.iMNi is alisointcl.v need
ed In S(d ns on onr led airain and
you are of them,
Dennis allowed her to install him;
in a corner of the couch, submitting!
with good grace to be kissed before
kh€* gave him his tea.
“Where’s Barbara?” he asked.
“She’s ju.st comnig in. .1 think she
thought we might like to have a little
while alone,” Pauline said.
was early astir. Sprigs (if holly
graced the many paneil windows. The
deep iirmcliair had la‘en druwij invii
Ingly ln‘t‘(»rc the tlrciilaciv The plump
and tender turkey was turning an ir
lesistihle lirown. nnUtns, itirnips
Mpiash and potaU*es — while and
“.swci'ts”—were conking merrily. The
cranlicrry .sauce had lH*en straimal and
set to cool upon ihc pantry svindow
sill. nnd. adtu’ring to a long (‘stal»
lislicd |ti*‘c*‘(li‘nt. giundmotluM’ slipped
away to don her t>lack silk dit'ss, lace
cap and snowy .ipron, -
She was l>ccoming a triilc iin\ioU!>
^lt(Mit lu‘r gm*si wlicn .she s|ii»‘d a
raiint lignre coming up tin*, walk. She
llutt('r(*d lio.spitahly to tin* doorw’a>
ami li(‘amcd at the visitor.
“1 di'clare I was geitiug wttjfried toi
fear .\ou wouldn't come, alter all" she
said. * l'(lwin and I'Jlie .\uu liii\e gone
away and ,\(»u re to Imve dinner with
me. ,ril disi* it right *ip
'Hie visitor's ga/.e rnst(med its«*lt
'ilton the loaded kiltie and ftower (•!
speech se«*med to desert tiim
.\t grandiiiolIter s r*‘(|nesf lie dex
teronsly carved flie tnrkev. and liav
'•f.y.
r »»y Hki«kx ^AiSFomi
lEltE was sadness In. the
.lordoii’s cottage on Indian
Hill. Eyen tlie merriment
of an aprpoaching Clirist
mas season could not super
sede tin* fact tliat Foster
.l(trdan was going hliml
ItTlTd" ' '
was laid (Miongti. l>nt Foster
“Oh!” Denni.s frowned. He wished
conscious of having long overslept,, insincere. A “po.seuse” who had been' he could cure Pauline of her senti-
and glanced at the clock beside her | taught by an unhajipy experience, no tnent.
bed—haK-past three! " ; doubt ibrought ab^ut by herself, that Barbara came into the room.
“Heavens! What waste of a life-hife was a bitter jest and that faith-. “Do I intrude? I’m ju.st dying for
time.” She bathed hurriedly, dressed: fulness and loyalty were nonexistent.] tea. .No, please don’t get up, .Mr.
and went tiwonstairs; her headache, And yet once—just for a moment—; O’Hara.”
had not gone, and she felt' a little; he had .seen a glimpse qf tlu* real wo-, “Why don’t you call him Dennis?”
Pauline asked. “ ‘.Mr. O’Hara’ seems
heavy and depressed. ; man hidden beneath all the veneer of
The little maid heard her in the hall ^ artificiality; or' had ^ that been tjie so silly and formal.”
and came from the kitchen. I sham and this the real woman whO| “Well, if he doesn’t mind,” Barliara
“Can I get you anything, madam ? 1 stood ht'fore him now, cool, unruffled, | said with a charming smile.
Mrs, O’Hara said I was to go up pres- almost insolent in her self-pos.se's.sion,, “Delighted,” Dennis mumbled.
ently and see if you were awake.”
“I’ll have some tea, Please.Bar
bara was at the door of the drawing
“Ob, my -dear— Dennis— Dennis—
.<peuk to me.”
Perhaps he had dreamed those
“No doughnuts for me,” Barbara
.said. “I have to consider my figure.”
“Barbie! when you’re as slim us a
witli H cnstinner i('iriiing up riglii iidw
ami willing io.^i.>Jiji; .ciisli welt, 'tw;^^
riottiliig sliTnl of |n'(ivlilciniiil. nntl the
I deed Wits iiDidc out liisi iiiglit."
Stic till Im‘I lip and reddened as she
slmt a fni'live glance al tin* lieiil lig
lire, then rushed ini. ncrvunsly' «M
course yon’ri* to come rigid ovei witti
I ns as .soon as Clirist mas is over. Piu k
! lug n|i will be easy, lor, knowing von <i
I have m> further use for vonr mini
t
tine, I'^dwiii’s Pdd the customer he
could liny it Jnsl as it stood, and. »»!
course, the niom-.v II he .vmirs—a nice
tid.v snni—for Mr. Craig was all car
ried away with your hraided rug" ami
old dishes amt fiiruitiire; said it made
hitn tliink of his hoyliood home.
“lies over lo the Clemlale saiiilail
nm now for his healih g<n neivoiis.
Hl'J.nw such thing. VktdF
1 iiinsi he nishiiig along."
Halting in the doorwa.v, she <allc(|
room. “Why, what lovely flow'ers!” words, perhaps they had been the con-1 willow,” Pauline protested, “Oh, dear hack sharply: “If that good for noih
she said. “.Are we expecting visitors?”
The maid giggled. “The master,
madam! He’s coming home! It was to
be a surprise, and—oty dear, I believe
“The Money’ll Be^Voits*-
, Sum." -
him
juring of a semiconscious mind,| -v/hat is iti?”—for the little maid Ih» hidiher of Edwin's comes ’roiiml
founded on the thing that Pauline had) had appeared at the door, “Very well,| h»*re tomorrow asking for ns. yon send
told him—“She does love soineone-
frightfully!”
there he is, and the mistress outT OTr, | Was htTthe poor devil, then—or the j room. '"TDoraesliic cares, you see!”' she
I’ll come.” ) him ahoiit his hnsincss lively. He can
She put down her cup and left the •mell a Christnins dinner u niileolT."
. dear, what will .she say, not being| lucky man? It all depended so muchi^aid archly to Dennis.*. • Sunshine pour^UJniii the spoilc.s-
tn mpet^im! It’.s long before I upon which way one looWd at"th^ Dennifr^dre^7uddehly,^’At'e^T kT'fi7liT*!rtn, h goMen flood, lingered lov
his time, too.” j'quesTToh. —
She heard Dennis’s voice and thej Dennis O’Hara sighed restlessly
pleasant voice of finother man. | anti .shifted his stiff leg. He wished
Tehlljr'afraid that one doughnut will
spoil your figure?” " r
Barbara laughed. “Not one, but one
hav
“No, I won’t come in, thanks. Youj -^vith all his heart that Barbara had might he the thin end of the wedge
ive seen enough of me during thel ^one away before he came home. She i tQ other thi
last “Tnonth. Some other time. Don’t :wa.s an irritating, disturbing influ-1
things that would.” I
He frowned. “Such nonsense! You'
overdo it, now—good-bye,”
A moment, and Dennis was in the
hall. He did not look ill except that
he was thinner and walked with a
stick. The little maid was greeting
him excitedly.
“I do hope you’re better, sir. It’s
nice to see you home, I’m sure.”
“Thanks.” ^ ,
Barbara waited for him to ask for
across the hall unassisted, slowly and
Pauline. But he did not—he came J attention,
with ••ome difficulty; then he saw) “Steady
her.
Barb^ went foAvard coolly. “Wel
come home,” she said. She gave him
Imt hand. “Pauline w[ll be disconso
late. She has just run out for a mo
ment. Oughtn’t you to sit down ?
There’s a fire in the drawing room.”
“Thanka" Dennis's voice was rath
er grim, but he gave his coat to the
maid and followed Barbara into the
"drawing room. When he was saf^^^
cnaeoaeed in the armchair-he looked
-up at her.
“You Vcame off better than, I did,”
^he said. “Is that wrist a memento?”
“Yes, but only a sprain.’; Barbara
waved her bandaged wrist in the air
what little damage- hndLbeen
cnee. , have a beautiful figure.”
‘Oh, Dennis—darling!” j What the devil had made him say
Pauline burst into the room like a that? “I beg your pardon,” he mut-
whirlwind and flung herself on her
knees beside him. “And I wasn’t here
to meet you! Oh, what a shame! Does
your leg hurt very much? Oh, it is
lovely to .see you back home.”
Her arms were round his neck, and
she was kissing him rapturously;
even his coat came in for a share of
tered sullenly.
“Not at all.’*^ Barbara’s voice was
quite serene, “It's a great achieve
ment to have extracted a cpmplirnent
from you.”
“The truth is not a compliment.”
“I think it is from you.”
“Many thank^,” Deftnis said grim-
my dear child!” Dennis
glanced over his wife’s head to where
Barbara stood, but she had calmly
turned and walked out of the room.
He gently put his wife from him.
“Tou’ll have the maid in the room in
a minute,” he protested.
She sat back on her heela and
looked at him with dancing eyas.
“Aren’t you glad to be home? Isn’t
it wonderful? Oh, Dennis, I could go
mad with joy.” 7
“I shouldn’t do that, if I were you,”
he sidd comically. He took her hand
and pressed it. “Of course I’m glad to
be home. StoiiiaWay brought me in his
car. I asked him iu, but he wouldn't
oonse.”
,, “Wiaa.ratanl I supposed he gness^
ly. “By the way, I feel that I ought f^fital. b«»anl and
ihi:li,v ■•II the hriglit hriihled rii;'s and
chiiiii «;|(iHHts Indeii with willdvvvvarf
chinii and pe'i’tw. The gnindfiith«*i
(dock decked ciMilenleilly In a «i>fiu*r
'riif* kidtle hiiniuied riniwsily. (JIccfiil
the l•nll:^^.v sang one exultant twin*.; aft
er aiHdher.
'I'he table with ita cheertui red dotli
had h«>pn drawn up to the window
dnintily set for grandma's hiin-hcon
It will* the same tranquil siauic a|Miii
which her eyes had rented on him
dreds of other days, and uimui which
after tomorrow, they would never rest
agal , And tomorrow was ('hrisimas!
a day when the frienill.v ghosts ”tnf
all the t'iirislmaHes that were would
steiid lovingly hnck. only to flee In
ilig .Her\ (id liitt lid.sic.'iH, (!<*v(»l»*d
sell iinrcscrK**dl> to eating.
“.My land." mused giandmotiiei
aglia.sl, • llial ereatiiic ninsi liave
heen lasting for a week !"
. .J'lil wlitai the Indian laiddiii};. |iiini|«
kin pie and friilt cake had hiaMi tsiltai
a ad they were picking plaeT7lT'r”al~iTiT
That
.Iordan, swatlied in haiidagcH fnaa the
operation that had failed, knew tliai
Hell'll emild ne\er carry on alone. It
laid heen so e\'peii.si\e, that operathai
tiiat had only served to laonoiiriee his
doom more surely. .\ll their .su\ings
were gone, and what could the nmst
faitlifni of wives do, with u hahy Id
arms, and a hlind hnshamF' The cot-_
tage Would go, too, and then-
lie rous«*d hims«‘lf from these gloomy
' fon'hodings at the soiiiid of her step
at the door. .\ud llml she should not
think him grieving, lo* hegan to sing.
“Foster," his wife called, as the
door opened; “who do you suppose la
here? .My (dd eliiiin I'aiiliiie West-
land! You km»w, ilie eostiiim' de
signer in .\ew York? I'anlina. this is
my hiisliand that I've written you so
much ahoul." ,
*'llow do ,\(*u dll. •Mi'-s WestlaniL
Si»rr> I can't m.\ e.\es. you l.now—”
“t if eour.se, I’m 'so glad to
.vi.ii. .Mr. may I c.ill ymi Foster?
lUdfii tia» |idd me so iiiucli almtil .xmi,.’’
".\iid oh. I’aitliiie.’’ Helen inter-
riiptt'd, ■lifre is .mr lialix Isn't he
ad'iralde'" 'I hen in a whisper, "ho
'•MiU m«ir4“—theeriIII, d.iiliiig' If vou
doll I I'll er> and I iiiii in't do ili it !'*
•‘Tile doctors give you no tiope?"
“None wh.ilever But we'll get
along- .somehow—" Ihdeii dalihed at
lints. 111 e_ g u esi waxed talkative.
"How
i her eyes with fiei: h:iijdkereluef. ‘AFos-
^ter, de;ir," she said oioiul. •'yon were
reiiiiiids me (d home j ringing as we eiiiiie In. NYoii’l you
to apologize for amaahing you up.
“Smashing yourself up, you mean.”
“Well ,you hurt your wrist. Is it
better?’'
“Nearly well, thanks. I’ve had mai^
sage. It’s been a very snull inconveif-
ience. I’m an idle person, you see,
wijth nothing to do.”
“Better for you If you had.”
She looked at him with wide eyes.
“Oh, why,?” the asked.
He met her gaze squarely. ”It would
keep you out of niischief.”
(Continued Next Week).
BUY COLLIER’S
ColHer’s Magasfaa—$2.00 year.
In clobe for $L7S.
JAMBS W. CALDWELL
Can S8 at 12
. J
I'hrlKfniHS cheer!
It must have been the afTecting pic
.tiirc of those disappointed ghosts of
other ('hristmases that lm|»elled grand
mother to sit eriaot. swab her re<l eye
lids, stiffen Her trerablinK chio and
reMdve to thnist her trodhies Into the
background ttl Christmas should be
over “I’ll have a ^rletraas tHnner,”
she planned, “Just as If qothlnx bad
happened and—why. HI Invite Eilwin’s
brother f”
Fevelish with ezciteinent. grand
mother bnrrled te do ber niar4ietlng
and for the rest of the day the old
kitchen |St>ounded with tantalizing
•Miking fKlora,
4*brlsttiias morning
grandmoChe*
ihi.s It
when I wiiH a little hoy — tills room—a
facHimile!—ami you’—how you reiiiiml
me of iiiolher! it uiuhI he great." he
broke off sharply, “for you to have
voiir-own little home all lo yourself—
eh V
The (.'hriKliiias snti was already set
ling, retiiimling gnindiiiother that her
hist day was almost over. NYlIh a
sudden soh she slied her gallant gar
metil o1 pretense, and in an over
powering hunger for syinpalhy. she
quavered out her sad little story.
The gaunt visitor came Hroiind t(»
Her side and took Iter, band
eltinisy tenderness. " i
"I’m not the guest you were expect
Ing hut when I sirw thai dinner—well,
you couldn’t understand imh*Hs you'd
lived for three weeks on prunes and
toast and skim milk. Anyway, I was
ravenous from hunger and 1 haven't
had g dinner of such pure, unadulter
ated bUss since mother cooked it.
What I came.over for today was to
say—er—that—«r—why. my wife flmUt
she wants to live nearer the city, so 1
want you to consider this house abso
lutely yours as long as you need it.
ITI have It put "to writing tomorrow.**
He ahouldered hurriedly iQto bin
coat, then baited Irresolutely in the
doorway. “Maybe, some time,” he
ventured, uncertainly, “you’d be wU-
Itng to teach my wife to cook.
I’ll |day for
t# Sy MsClar* Newspepsr ■rs4lsst«.|
4WNtl S«r^)
Hiii_' for I "a 11 li lie?"
‘ Yes, please itu."
*‘l’m afraid I eafi’f."
••Y**s V41II e:ifi. dear.
>•(*11 ■ .\fid s«i 1ie Hate.'.
.\l last their gu*‘sl ruse ti» gn. “1
Ciin I tell .><111 Imw Fv»* eiijuved ymir
'iMc^s." site .said. "Fill sui glad I
>tupped (>11 (III iii> vvpy hmiie fur the
ht'lidii.v s ■’
“?’((i| Miiisl cdUie a',':lkl." ilelen an
Fvve-ed, "I’va* eiil((>«‘d swiag yon so
mm li." \
••Fill pleased^ Id have iiM'lVnu. Fos
ter, and t ttf :h .vou both a\hh*s.sed
I’lirisiiiiaslide.” \
ha.vs pas.seil. and it was Chrisimiis.
Bri-.:hl and early came a special de
livery letter.
“Deuresi Helen." it iH'gan. "1 have
the grandest news for you! As soon
KH I got home I phoned to JuU .Myers
In New York. He’s staging a new
show that I’m designing the costumes
for and has been simply wild for some
’act to put in the heart throbs.
“Well, 1 talked him into aeeing that
a blluf singer would go over btf, tad
raved about Footer’s voice, so It's all
arranged. 1 am encloslag bis eback
for tflOO, and If' you can ha ready
wfr’II all go ba^ to New York to-
getber.
“With love for a Merry ChiiataMui
PanHna.*
b #. isst. Wvstsrs NewspMsr Uaiea.
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