Evening Star Newspaper, July 14, 1929, Page 87

K ) agprecrees AN S . Y cacunAan - e e T N 1929—PART 7. THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, JULY 14, come providentially, knowing as he did all about horses, “You can leave the little dog for the mo- ment, Cook. Mr. Swithin will tel us what The white dog, retreating to a cormer, yapped loudly. “What's this?” said Swithin. “A dog?” Se might one, entering a more modern draw- ing-room, have said: “What's this—a camel?” Repairing hastily to the corner, Aunt Juley sdmonished the dog with her finger. It shiv- ered slightly and was silent. Aunt Ann said: “Give dear Swithin his chair, Hester; we want your advice, Swithin. This little dog followed Juley home this morning—he was e lost. Swithin seated himself with his knees apart, thus preserving the deportment of his body and the uncreased beauty of his walstcoat. He said: “Has Timothy had a fit?” Dear Swithin—he was so droll! “Not yet,” said Aunt Hester, who was some- times almost naughty. “Well, he will. Here, Juley, don't s‘and there stuck. Bring the dog out, and let’s have a look at it. You'll have no end of trouble with it.” And he stretched out a ringed hand smell- ing of dogskin—he had driven himself round in his phaeton, Encouraged by Aunt Juley, the little dog approached, and sat cowering under the hand. Swithin lifted it by the ruff round its neck. “Well bred,” he said, putting it down. “We can’'t keep it,” said Aunt Ann firmly. “The carpets—we thought—the police station.” “If I were you,” said Swithin, “I'd put a notice in the Times: ‘Found, white Pomer- anian. Apply, the Nook, Bayswater road.’ You might get a reward. Let’s look at its teeth.” ° The little dog put no obstacles in the way of fingers that raised its upper and depressed its lower lip. “It’s & puppy,” said Swithin, ING its tail so far as was possible, the dog jumped sideways and scurried round Aunt Hester's chair, then creuched with its chin on the ground, its hindg@arters and tail in the air, looking up at Swithin with eyes black as boot buttons. “I shouldn't be surprised,” said Swithin, “if it was worth moneyv. Loo, Loo!" This time the M Je dog scurried reund the entire room, avoiding the legs of chairs by a series of miracles, then, halting by a mar- queterie stand, it stood on it hind legs and began to eat the pampas grass. “Ring, Hester!” said Aunt Ann. “Ring for Smither. Juley, stop it!” Swithin, whose chin was jutting in a fixed smile, said: “Where's Timothy? I should like to see it bite his legs.” The dog. who had no say whatever in the matter, put out a pink strip of tongue and licked her mnose. Aunt Juley had the ex- quisite sensation of being loved; and, hastily, to conceal her feeling, she bore i away. She bere it upsiairs, instead of down, te her reom, which was at the back of dear Amn’s, and then stood, surrounded by mahegany, with the dog still in her arms. Every hand was against her and the poor dog, and she squeezed it tighter. She sat down on her bed, stil hold- ing the dog, while below, they wouid be talking of how to send Pommy to the pelice station or put it into the papeis! Then, noneh::emt white hairs were coming : 11 i i more closely. Having inspected everything ex- cept Aunt Juley, concerning whom #s mind was apparently made up, it lay down under the valance of the dressing table, with its head and forepaws visible, and uttered a series of short spasmodic barks. Aunt Juley under- stood them to mean: “Come on play with me!” And taking her spon § bag, she dangled it. Seizing it—so unexpected—the Mttle dog shook it violently. Aunt Juley was at once charmed and horrified. It was evidently feel- ing quite at home, but her poor bag! Oh! its little teeth were sharp and strong! Aunt Juley swelled. It was as if she didn’t care what happened to the bag, so long as the little dog was having a good time. end; and, gathering up the pieces, she thought deflantly: “Well, it’s not as if I ever went to Brighton now!” But she said, Severely: “You see what you've done!” And, together, they examined the pieces, while Aunt Juley's heart took a resolution. They might talk as they liked. Pinding was keeping; and if Tim- othy didn't like it, he could lump it. The sensation was terrific. Some one, however, was knocking on the door. “Oh. Smither,” said Aunt Juley, “you see what the little dog has done?” And she held up the sponge bag defiantly. “Ach!” said Smither; “its teeth are sharp. Would you go down, ma'am? Mr. and Mrs. James Forsyte are in the drawing-room. Shall I take the little dog now? I daresay it'd like & run.” “Not to the police station, Smither. I found it, and I'm going to keep it.” “I'm sure, ma'am. It'll be company for me and Cook, now that Tomm+v's gone. It's took quite a fancy to us.” With a pang of jealousy Aunt Juley said: “I take all the responsibility. Go with Smither, Pommy!” - Caught up in her arms, the little dog lotled its head over the edge of Smithers and gazed back sentimentally as it was borne away. And all that was maternal in Aunt Juley swelled, beneath the dark violet of her bosom sprinkled with white hairs. “Say I am coming down.” And she began plucking off the white hairs, Outside the drawing-room she paused, then went in with weak knees. Between his Dun- (f /” Aunt Juley, moved by maternal spasms, picked the dog up in her arms. . “P'll take it downstairs myself,” she said. “I shan’t be teased. Come, Pommy!” dreary whiskers, James was telling a story. He stopped to say: “How are you, Juley? They tell me you've found a dog,” and resumed the story. It was H gk f ; E Elmer told her she might play the leading role in his latest play when he found some one _ to produce it for him, and added that in the meantime, she might let him kiss hgg in the third_act instead of the man who never arrived on time. Gloria lsughed agsin, longer and louder. So loudly that the manager came out to see whether she was having another attack of hysterics. “Look!” she said to the manager, “that wants take Jerry's part my act. Can you : g £ was there the minute Gloria walked on the stage, and kissing her was a glorious sensation, footlights, spotlight, mustache and such ad- verse circumstances considered. Remem! Edgar’s tip that the second night, when you were all in and before you became bored with it, was the best time, he insisted that his folks come to see him perform. “I don't believe I could stand such a place on a warm' evening,” said Elmer’s mother, who wasn't much for the whole theairical business, and urged his father to invite the man next door to go with him. - L “Is your father at home?” he queried of Arleen, who was sitting gloomily on the front porch. “No, he’s gone to' a meeting,” she Elmer’s father looked thoughtful. “How'd you like to go over to the State Street and see Elmer perform?” he asked. : E “Oh, I'd love it,” cried Arleen and went for her hat. “Poor kiddo,” thought the man, “guess we've been a bit hard on her.” Tnmufimh.hxnflwmd&e stage. Elmer was to enter from the left. “We'll be able to see him fine up here, won't we?” whispered Arleen. "X;;.mdlfbeluppemwlook.heunnee us, » wméh was exactly what Elmer did. He was : waiting in the wings so that he wouldn’t be another man in Jerry’s class, and being & bit nervous, paced the carpet which extended out from the stage. Suddenly he caught sight of his father. He bo“!bruyh‘ou"hemped,“thetohh & box!” Arleenmsltghflyk_lthem,mdg perhaps the first use of the term: “There’s no body in them.” “You're not goin' to keep this’ dog?” said James. “You don’t know what it might have.” “You're all against me,” she said. - Swithin rose. “Good-by to you all. I'm go- discovered that the woman beside his father was not his mother. That it was none other, in fact, than Arleen. Then his hands grew cold, his cheeks hot. “I won't look at her,” he thought. “I'll keep my eyss om the " ‘Thea: E% :iiii i it i it §x% if ; 3 : i HA T it il il it s ] £F . il E ok i i 11 1 HE : Egzi ' £ : o g.v bt 1 §57E H i i : 8 i g ai§E§§E§E§Ee§' T E";:~§ £ igf E Eggiiggi Eié § ;E Elfi};h ] A éEgggg EE; é 1 3 i L 3 | i HILE it T ‘in 5 g g - o BB g p THROWING outehis chedt, he maeuvered;to ing to see Nicholas. Good-by, Juley. “. ceme for a drive with me some day. l'lt’.' you te the Lost Dogs’ Home." & A has the “door, and could be heard ! the stairs to the accompaniment of the draws ing-room bell. e James said mechanically: “He's a funany. fellow, Swithin!" It was as much his permanent impression of his twin brother as was Swithin's: “He's a poor stick, James!” A Emily began talking to Aunt Hester about the new fashion of eating oysters before the soup. Of course, it was very foreign, but said the prince was doing it. James wouldn't- have it, but personally, she thought it rather elegant. She should see! James had b2gun to tell Aunt’ Ann how Soames would be out of his articles in January—he was a steady chap He told irr et some length. Aunt Juley sat pouting behind her fan. She had a longing for dear Jolyon—partly because he had always_ been her favorite and her eldest brother, who had never glicwed any one else to bully her, partly because h: was the only one who had & dog, and par ly becauss even Ann was a little afraid of him. Sh: sat, longing to heay him say: “You're a parcel of old women; of course, Juley .can keep what she found.” Because The dog had followed her of its” own ffee will. It was not as if it had been a - precious ston? or ‘a purse—which, of course, would have b2en’ very different. 1 Jolyon did come on Sundays, although generai- ly he took litt's June to the 200; and the mo- ment he came Jemes would be sure to go away, for fear of having his knuckles rapped; and that, she felt sure, would be so nice, since James had been horrid about it all! “I thidk,” she sald, suddenly, “I shall round to Stanhope Gate, and ask dear Jolyon. - “What do you want to do that for?” said James, taking hold of a whisker. “He'll send | - “Well, Emily, he said, “youll be ing to get home. We can't keep the i i : 3 i ir]’ iqef i ; | ! ; : ¥ E i arrived! And she waited, making an occa- sional move and stealing glances at that up- right figure in black silk. On no account did she mean to be the first to spéak; and she “There ‘you sit, Anni” . Ve Aunt Ann, countering her giance with those gray eyes of hers that saw quite well ot s “Yorhnrd'hptmaflmd& ~+“I will not turn the,dog eut,” said Aunk Juley. “I will not, and that's flat.” . “It it were a really nice little dog, it wonld not have run away and got lost. Little dogs :u-_i“?“i.‘-".:""“"m‘ g 8 , 1 can you e have' followers, of course.” . Aunt Juley put a finger inte her mouth, sucked it;, took it out, and said: “I'm tired of being treated like s little giel™ - “I think you should take some calomisl— &m::.orummm;m,&wwf 2 . ” i -~ o i b “I-don’t want you to Tuive ‘oné’ now.” aaid Aunt Juley; “I want it for myself, - I—I—* be-—would be too gushing! ; i i “I will put an' advertisement in the paper; if the owner comes, I'll give it up. But it fel- mmugmm And it can live downstairs. need never see it.” : “It will spoil the carpets” said Aunt Annm, “and bark at night. We shall have no peace.” “I'm sick of peace,” said Aunt Juley, rattling the board. “I'm sick of peace, and I'm sick of taking care of things till they—till you—tiig | ] + . (Copyright, 1929.)