Evening Star Newspaper, November 17, 1929, Page 114

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C. NOVEMBER 17,7 1929. This Story Is Given First and Exclusive Wash- ington Publication in The Star’s Sun- day Magazine. Another Story by the Same Author Will Appear in the Magazine Next Sunday. HE exterior of the Beverly mansion was one of solid and stolid magnificence. | It was a double house, red brick, : Georgian, with a beautiful example oi fan-light over the white doorway and a side garden that was walled in by red brick overgrown with ivy to about the height of a man. The street on which stood the Beverly man- 'sion was also one of rather solid and stolid magnificence, old families in old homes, whose children and grandchildren, and in one or two instances, great-grandchildren, had been born under the same roof. It was the sort of street from which the closed carriage and the pair of spanking bay horses had departed reluctantly, as it gave way to the automobile. It was as if the double row of locust trees which shaded it had attempted to form a barricade, shielding the quiet avenue from the encroaching glare and hurry of the growing city. THE Beverly sisters, Linda and Wanda, had been born in the house they occupied. They were an example of great-grandchildren having been born into the same house that had been occupied by their forebears. It was a quiet, austere household now, the entire lineage, in- cluding the girls’ parents, having died out. There were only the two of them now, pale- haired, pale-eyed, rather pale-mannered girls, with the slender wrists and ankles that bespoke good stock, and the repressed and careful bear- ings that bespoke good breeding. There was a portrait of the two girls, done 15 years before, when they had been 14 and 15, seated on a stone garden bench, a small lap dog between them. It had been painted during the last year of their parents’ lives and an ef- « Tcr.ive pair the girls presented. It is true that he bill for that painting still continued to come at regular intervals, even during the fifth year following the death of the paternal Bev- erly. But then, so many bills continued to ar- rive at all too close intervals. What had happened was the not unusual pre- dicament of the heirs to a supposedly large fortune, finding that their inheritance had been a myth. Except for the elaborate home in which they continued to dwell, by untold scrimping and sacrifice, the Beverly girls were practically penniless. It was a cruel fight to keep,up ap- pearances in that top-lofty looking mansion. There were no servants, not even a gardener. It was inevitable, of course, that people should know that the Beverly girls had not inherited the large fortune that had been expected. But no one in town, and miraculously no one on that pretentious street, knew to what extent these two girls secretly struggled to keep up the pre- tense of even semi-affluence. One by one, certain art objects of value had disappeared from the house; paintings, silver, ivories and bronzes. It was said in the neigh- borhood that the peculiar thing about the Bev- erly girls was that although they went about socially practically not at all, they seemed to sleep the greater part of the day. That was true, but for a pathetic reason. It was after the shades of night had fallen that Linda and Wanda ventured to do the house and garden work which there were no other hands to carry Under cover of darkness one could wash indows, scrub steps, scour the beautiful fan- light over the entrance, weed and spade and dig in the garden. The Beverly girls were night workers all right; they beat rugs out of windows, painted cornices, and even, one Spring, painted the entire length of pergolas and trellises in the garden without ever being detected in the act of manual labor. The degree to which they were old-fashioned and pathetically snubbish never dawned upon these two girls. They had been bred in an atmosphere of artificial gentility. They knew no other standards. It was one thing to walk down the quiet lane out into the city, where they were known and respected as “the Beverly girls® It was quite another matter to creep back into the cold, bleak house of empty larders. THERE was one annual ritual, however, which amounted almost to a legend, which the girls performed at any sacrifice. It usually meant long, weary hours of needlework, which they secretly sold to the Woman's Exchange, and the sacrifice of more objects of value from the household, but every Spring, come what might, regular as clockwork, the girls added a bit to their lovely rock garden, and called in the services of landscape gardeners for the extension. The Beverly rock garden was known as the finest in the State. On those rare occasions when the Beverly girls had guests, they served them tea in it, as their parents and grand- parents and great-grandparents had done before them. It was the one luxury in their lives and it cost them dearly. It may tax the credulities, but it is actually a fact that many a night the Beverly girls, after they had con- cluded their day’s work in the darkness, went to bed hungry. But in all the lean years, the rock garden never suffered. New and precious species of roses climbed its walls each year. Orchidaceous plants especially imported thrived in its crevices. What an ironical situation it was! The pair of pale, rather pretty .girls, going to bed to sleep off hunger, while under their very windows, rare and beautiful plants and flowers were manufacturing perfumes. One year, however, the rock garden accom- plished the miracle of actually bringing into the empty coffers of the Beverly girls a little income. The landscape gardeners, in reality a struggling young farmer and his brother, who had taken up this work as a side line, and whose services came cheap, proud of their results, had succeeded in interesting the editor of a garden magazine. The Beverly girls received the sum of $100 for permitting pho- tographers to take pictures which were ulti- mately to be published in a magazine. It was part of the conservatism in which these girls had been born and bred, that their sensitive natures should shrink from even this vicarious publicity, but the young farmer huskies, local boys with ambition, were eagerly insistent and the prospect of the $100 so wel- come, that finally they gave in. The beautiful rock gardem of the Beverly mansion was published far and wide, guests came to drop in more frequently after that for 1he Second [ rony. Continued from Sirteenth Page as it had been with him. Perhaps Susan would fall in love soon and marry. He generously hoped so. BUT he had little time to think of Susan. His mind was filled with the glowing vision that was Celia. In a few hours more she would be pledged to him for life. Celia! He started to whistle as he hurried to the bank. After all 2 man had the right to marry the woman he loved, and if others inter- fered and made necessary such conduct as he had displayed during the past month, no one could object. He had a right to his own life and he had not desired to follow such a scheme, but it had been thrust upon him, he told himself as he attempt- ed to excnerate himself in his own eyes from any sensation of unpleasantness that lurked in his mind. ‘To Celia, whose lips held ardor and whose hair held flame, he was at last privileged to say all of the impassioned words which had burned his tongue that last night of her visit. He would go to*her at once. He would take the night train for Virginia or, better still, would charter a plane and fly to her, he de- cided, as blithely, with the step of a boy, he re- entered the door of his flat. “Well,” he said to the recumbent Maggie, whom he found stretched at ease on the divan, “here’s your bag of silver.” Pulling herself upright, Maggie counted the sheaf of bills which he dropped into her lap. “THANKS," she said, between puffs at a cigarette. “I sure can use it. You're a good sport, Pete, old boy. But so am I. While you were gone you had visitors.” “Visitors?” Reaching for the highball which was on a taboret beside her, she nodded. “Yep. Three of 'em. And, believe you me, I didn't let you down. You told me you wanted your pals to think the worst and it's no fault of mine if they didn't. I lit a fag, poured a drink and gave 'em to understand that I had a first mortgage on you, these diggings and every- thing that’s in ’em.” Somewhat nettled, Ames looked at her with a frown. “Callers? At this hour in the morning? “That’s odd,” he commented. “Oh, it was a surprise visit, they said. They stopped by to take you to lunch. I told 'em you'd be back in a minute, but the ladies took a look at little me and wouldn’t linger,” she chuckled. “Ladies—what ladies?” alarmed. Airily, with the cigarette in one hand and the highball in the other, she continued: “Ladies? You bet they was ladies! The kind that hold themselves above me and my kind! I made them take nctice all right. “There was two of ’em. A Mr. and Mrs. Painter and a visiting girl. A Miss Cartwright, I think her name was. Pretty thing with reddish hair, who'd just arrived in our large city, * * *» Ames was suddenly Ames told us about it later, with his smile of bitter mirth: “And that—the fact that Maggie acted her role so well that Celia would never believe it was a role, but ditched me then and there— that was the second irony.” (Copyright, 1929.) Clarinet Has Great Range. HE clarinet, or clarionet, one of the most popular of the wind instruments now used in orchestral work, was invented in 1690 by Joseph Denner, who lived near Nuremberg, Ger- many. The sound of the clarinet is produced from a single reed. The instrument, which has been greatly improved since its invention, has a num- ber of holes which are to be covered by the fingers, and in addition 13 keys are provided to give additional tones. The mouthpiece is flattened on one side, the reed being laid on the flattened side, where it vibrates when the breath is blown through it. The range of the clarinet is much greater than that of the flute. the privilege of taking tea to the sound of the little we@er falls and for the lovely perfume of roses and magnolias. Indeed, as the girls whis- pered ruefully to one another in the secret reaches of their room, practically all of the $100 had gone in meeting social expenditures that had come with the public celebration of their garden. The Beverly girls, as the years marched on, were growing tired; bone-tired, heart-tired, soul-tired. The struggle was too much. It was one thing to walk out every afternoon as they did, down the broad, beautifully scoured, front stone steps and along the quiet lane of their sedate avenue, and out into the city, where they were knc..a and respected as the “Beverly girls.” It was quite another matter to creep back into that cold bleak house of empty larders, servantless servant quarters, fireless fireplaces, climb into scrubbing clothes, scour into midnight and then creep hungrily, as often as not, into beds whose sheets and pil- lowcases had been washed and ironed by the girls themselves. ONE day something really quite thrilling oc- curred. The mayor of the town approached the sisters, requesting that on the city’s birth- day, when a great local celebration was to be staged, they throw their beautiful garden open to the public. The city would insure them against damage, and since the old Beverly mansion was really one of the landmarks of the community, it seemed fitting that on this anniversary occasion, its famous gardens should be open to the citizens. It was a tribute both to the social position of the Beverly girls and to the lovely old mansion itself. The sisters were moved and impressed and gladly consented to the undertaking. Con- sequently, part of the elaborate festivities of the birthday celebration of the city was the fres inspection of the Beverly rock gardens. Men, women and children filed through the gardens by the thousands, all during the day. Re- freshments, served by the city, were to be had in the beautifully painted pergolas. Sun danced on the flanks of the darting goldfish in the Beverly ponds. The -populace applauded the scene of idyllic loveliness. It was remarked, however, that the Beverly sisters were not among those present on that day. The house stood open, inviting those who would, to enter, but somehow it was not the sort of interior to beckon. There was somee thing cold, austere and homeless about the in- side of the Beverly mansion. It seemed more of a relic, a historic place, than a home. No, the Beverly girls were not present. This is where they were: They were off in a neigh- boring town called Andulsia, in the act of being married to the farmer brothers who were their landscape gardeners. The Beverly girls never returned to the Beye erly mansion. They presented it to the city. No longer do they have to creep back into a cold, bleak house of empty larders and fireless fireplaces; their new home is no relic, no his- toric place, but a house of cheer and hopes and plans for the future. No more do the sisters walk out in the afternoon along quiet lanes and sedate avenues to be nodded to and pointed out as the strange and respected “Beverly girls.” The days of converting precious old art objects into money are gone; the struggle of secretly laboring under cover of darkness, washing win- dows, scrubbing steps, weeding and spading is done. The Beverly girls are farmers’ wives. They live on a truck farm five miles outside the city limits. Their rock garden now is a truck garden. They still scour and sweep and dust and clean, but out in the open sunlight now, through long, busy days that are happy days. o (Copyright, 1929.)