The Bismarck Tribune Newspaper, November 8, 1928, Page 17

'® HASVOOONAGSUOALGIVORCSUUAESCAEEU Oe OVUUNOEANACHOCETUEEENULNGIUAEACUEGUGSEOAAUSE 1 * Revolution, or the Louvre, or the Arc de HUNUUTNU Ca ate eget tc YT PTOI LULU UI Io _ And of an American Deweghboy Who Trimmed’ Hats for Love By ELEANOR ‘EARLY ALTER GRADY, big and Saad makes the grandest * hats. and ‘petite. And her shop is on the Yue de Rivol, acrous from the Place de la Concorde. Across the way stretch the Gardens of the : "Ts visit this famous scene of the French Ti » yau walk down rue de Rivoli, re Ie, Tourist agencies are near- By. And Rumplemayer'’s, where every American goes for tea. . . So: that the street is crowded with tourists—shopping, jostling—morning, noon and: night. . . . refor Henriette, flaunting a window full Tie wide ahaa gey Set ce me pel ight almost say that is the most popular milliner in Paris—only the French never say. “‘milli- ner,” but “modiste,”” which in our country has come to mean dressmaker. ; This, then, is a story for all that army of tour- ists who have t their Paris hats from Henriette. And for everybody, besides, who loves a sweet love story. It is the romante of Henriette, chic Parisienne, and Walter Grady, American doughboy. It began before the war, when young Grady, still in prep school, visited Paris with his mother. _. Mama Grady, in the fashion of sightseers, wan- Z dered down rue de Rivoli, and dr in at Henri- 4“: ette’'s. She was accompanied by Walter, boyishly Z Z bashful, and disdainful of shopping. Madame was out, and her jaughter—the young Henri mn the Americans. She was upoi strikingly pretty girl, with that-dash of somethi that Madame Glyn « calls “IT.” ‘Since ‘ae is Freach, one it “LE” iad plemty af “LE Aad snsgping Yirown eyes, too, ‘Avel dark bois, drawn simply back, like a Continental school girl. She spoke English hesitantly, and not Hl. ¥. Sid French was prep beer eat Roc ibaa Fee ee Bot Mama Grady chove what, And Waller asked, “Cot “The little Henriette named her price. And the Gradys. took thy bat, and sivay:theyineent. ee ps “ALTER remembers’ that they strolled through the Tuileries afterward. It was his. first day in Paris, but nothing interested him. ‘ Not even a cocktail, at tea time, at the Cafe de la Paix. And that night he did not ‘want to go to: Montmartre. “This French: cooking,” said his mother, “doesn’t agree For she noticed that he wasn’t eating. But Walter knew than that. It was not his stomach. It was his heart. had fallen violently, ecstatically, absurdly in love “Mother,” he her—and poor Mrs. Grady almost droppe: dead with ist—"'I'm going to ask’ for a job in that place 72 AT ye gaaped. “In a iliner’st Why, Wal na 8 A alter, " whe for? What you do?” 3 with you, son.’ had ai his mother. “Est Madame ici?” “Mais non, monsieur,” she him, “Ma mere est.au bord mer.” “Parlez vous But the little French girl so heartily, that, in his discomfort, he could not remember to Ra’ been an art st ‘with love in his soul for beautiful fabrics, and, in his deft touch, a flair for such things. Like a miracle there Lemme MMM a A pin bere, and a pin petite Henvielte. . of her husband's chic chapeaux . make hats” . . s. could not also make love. “Eet ees, in ze truth,” she cried, “une chapeau extraordinaire, n'est pas!” And the little Henriette perched it proudly on her psyche, and strutted, like a mannequin, about the shop. i Then Madame told Walter how little she \ paid girls who learned their trade from her; and of the workroom, where they sat stitching all the day. Les pauvres jeunes filles who worked so . But nothing she said dismayed the young ican. At last he persuaded her to put the, hat he had made. in the window, and to agree, if it brought business, to employ him as an apprentice. Aw. days later he called again. Madame admitted. that the The was a sensation. bea “ag fread . Before: the season was over, it had become -.--an international rage. As popular in New York - asin Paris. Henriette’s famous “Airplane.” Madame was as as her word, and Wal- . his mother to ‘the little Henriette had not been so ‘Walter was learning French, and was ing English, But it proved iff towed her dark head, and told her inly, “I.do not like mens that make ‘the ‘Irish Man,” and « «Oh, Irish Man— ‘and “Irish Man-—that,” giving ia ss i ie tonsigs Wri OF? dirt Betienth her pretty feet « . = Then the ‘Sroke gut. And the Gradye retired to Ameri: ca. tod knew went to the ‘ ic MN an Mi This Is the True Story : RK, Of an International Romance « . Inthe photographs at the right and above'she is wearing three though she once insisted that “mens nevaire . and that if they did they ton AVAN VAUD CONOOAHIHN0 GL MMB SAOGGHLOUEEADEGEUDE DONE te + .al- So that, in fury she answered him, “Why do you not fight? Is America going to let the Germans kill us all?’ The day that Walter Grady received her letter he enlisted, and shortly he was ‘on his way overseas—a buck private in the 310th Infantry. 'N the battle of the Argonne he was fear- fully wounded, and invalided back to Nancy. Four months after the armistice, they sent him home. His face had been more or less blown away, but plastic surgeons did wonders with all that was left. eyebrow, where shrapnel plowed through, is still askew. But, outside of a scar or two, he was good as new. Considerable of an Adonis. Six feet tall, and with an Irish smile. - The had not seen Henriette while he was in France. But he sent a buddy to her mother’s shop. And buddy per- formed for young Grady the service that lohn Alden set out to render Myles Stan- He told Henriette what a fine chap fy ing English. And sent him a I's love. ‘After that*they corresponded occasionally, while Walter, in af speaking, .was growing presentable, Mama Grady bought a hat . . . while her son fell violently in love, made the rash decision to become a miilliner. << aM LA MLO MULL AL of Paris Importing Milliner Grady He called for a piece of velvet, stuck a pin here and there, created the after- ward popular airplane hat fore the eyes of amazed Henri- ! elle, , As soon as he could travel, he made preparations to re- turn to France. It was some months then since he ha heard from Henriette. Arriving in Paris, he decided to surprise the girl he loved, and taking a taxi from the station, went directly to her shop on the rue de Rivoli, Neither Madame nor Henriette were there. “Have you not heard,” the salesgirl asked him, “that today is the funeral? Mademoiselle is in her apartment, The mass is not yet said.” The distracted lover did not stop to question, Only to inquire the address of his adoree. In all the years of their acquaintance, their intimacy had not progressed so far that he knew where she lived. Henriette herself admitted him—a chastened Henriette, in deepest black. With a mourning veil five fect long. edged in cight-inch crepe. “The Irish Man!” she cried. “But mademoiselle—cherie—" he stammered. “There is a death?” “Oh,” she murmured, “c'est Ia guerre. My fiance—he is dead. But I did not love him.” “Your fiance?” he gasped. ‘You were to be married?” “Mais oui,” she explained. ‘Mama arranged it. It is too bad he die. But I did not love him, Irish Man.” ‘And the little Henriette, on t.:0c, threw her arms about the big American, and, drawing his head to her breast, touched the livid scar that ran so realy across his forehead. * 4 T that moment the door opened. Henriette had just time to raise her little black-bordered handkerchief to her eyes, when in walked her mother, with the parents of the dead bridegroom. They wept in one another's arms. Henriette patted their shoulders and kissed their eyes. But her own were dry and sparkling. . And she slipped her hand in Walter's, and whispered, “The Arc de 3 gt mon Irish Man. I will ‘urry to you—apres les funerialles.” Beneath the Arc de Triomphe, where the perpetual flame flick- ered in the gloaming, Walter was waiting. Together he and Hen- riette placed flowers on the Unknown’s tomb. Then, arm in arm, they wan- dered to the Gardens of the Tuileries. The night.was soft and sweet, and full of fragrance. And Wal- ter took the little Henriette in his arms, and showed her that a man who makes hats can, also, make love. “But how,” she demanded, “could I leave mama? She has nobody but me. She is getting old, and comes no longer to the shop.” “And the littie Henriette,” he teased, “is a business woman now? “Mais oui,” she told him proud- ly. “The youngest modiste in all of Paris!” “And how,” he asked her, “would the youngest modiste in all modiste in all the wold?” “But men are not modistes,” she reminded kim. “Mens nevaire 2 mes hats.” = ea t yet, 'e “Not ce. Bad ae ey Presently, to the astonishment of an indigent landlord, he rented f a place on the, rue de la 29. Juillet, and began to brush down the cobwebs. A salon, and a work room—and a parlor, bedroom and bath, besides. . 2. Pe at Fatt elecerad te sheertos ithe aha ie a aste it love, did what wane veveire do! ig Henriette speaks charming English now. And Walter’ crea soiree, PRrat, sateen pcecatat fe diab techg pti: ne tebe b , and lives with his gran ’ x0 TA . 4 of Paris like to marry the only man * Mmmm | i] Mn | UAC AN UHANL ALT Aut eg