Evening Star Newspaper, December 29, 1929, Page 85

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D'.., ('N’D'FCFMPER 29, 1929. "THINE AND MINE"—By Fannie Hurst A First-Run Story by This Leader of Short Fiction Writers—.A Story of Estelle Winters and Her Daughter—Another Complete Story by Miss Hurst Will Appear in The Star’s Magazine Next Sunday. T scmetimes seemed to Estelle Winters that she could reckon almost to the da " when the first realization that she had reached a specific milestone in her life had rushed‘over her. It was not so much that her mirror told her that she was fading and that the jonquil-yellow of her hair was running to pallor or that her blue eyes were weakening, but there was a toll- ing note inside the heart of Estelle which said, “youth is done,” “youth is done,” “youth is done.” A conspiracy of circumstances brought about Rosalinda moved among the patrons with hot rolls. this conscious termination of the golden glow that had always charaterized Estelle Winters. Life had not been easy for her. Twenty years of singing in the cafes of the large cities of the Far West had exacted their tribute. Twenty years of the solitary struggle to rear in integrity and innocence a girl-child with the beautiful name of Rosalinda had told in strain on Estelle. " The latter she had accomplished and the latter she was willing to regard as her life work. Indeed, Rosalinda was a fair enough monument to anybody. At 20 she was like a flower, slim, lovely, fragile. AND so it was that when Rosalinda was in this early bloom, Estelle Win'ers, her mother, taking inventory, so to speak, of her own face, her spirit, her vitality, came so poign- antly to realize that her youth was done. ‘The following year Estelle, instead of flitting Hke 2 tired bird of plumsge from cone cafe to another, established herself quietly in a San Francisco cafe of first-rate standing as cashier. It was a let-down, but it was a letting-down that somehow warmed and eased the tired, bruised spirit that was Estelle’s. The struggle against the ever-widening crack in her voice was finished; the uneven race against the flesh of years, as it settled on her hips and shoulders, was over. Estelle could sit back quietly, now, no'icing, but unnoticed, and let the years roll in. And more than all of these, Estelle could now keep fastened more firmly her watchful eye on Rosalinda. This girl, whom her mother yearned to pro- tect from the disappointments that had been hers, was now also employed 1n the same cafe where Estelle held the throne of cashier. Rosalinda’s duties were light. At noon she arrived, attired herself in a peasant costume that enhanced her loveliness, and moved with a tray of hot rolls in among the patrons of the cafe, offering her dainties, as she slid by the tables. At 6 o'clock Rosalinda came on duty again, and was free to leave the restaurant with her mother somewhere shortly sfter 10 o’clock It meant that through all the workaday hours her mother's eyes were on her. It meant they arrived together and they departed to- gether. It meant that whatever secret ambi- tions lay smoldering in the heart of Estelle for the daughter Rosalinda, for the present at least, her plans for the future were held in abeyance. Rosalinda was literally under her mother’'s thumb, as well as her eye. And the . girl, sweet and submissive enough at 20, and at the same time regarding her occupation as only a stepping stone toward the thing her heart craved, submitted because of the peace she realized she was able to afford Estelle. THEY were rather a pathetic pair. The hus- bandless Estelle, the fatherless Rosalinda. There had never been a husband. So far as Rosalinda could remember there had never been a father, just the two of them, playing their humble roles with a certain submission, and yet the younger of them with a quality of re- bellion flaming in her blue eyes, that had long since died down in the eyes of the older woman. It was hard to realize, after beholding the loveliness that was Rosalinda’s, that this child had kept her innocence to a degree that was perfection. At 20 she lived like a little girl. At 20 she had never been out in the company of a man without the chaperonage of her mother. And it had not all been clear sailing. The eyes of men veered quickly to the loveliness that was Rosalinda’s. Her presence in a room made them conscious. Seated in her corner behind her cashier’s desk, the eyes of Estelle were re- lentless in their watchfulness. If ever a girl was protected by the bulwark of fierce loving, jealous, panther-like watchfulness, that girl was Rosalinda. There was not a recess of the being of this girl that Estelle did not feel herself capable of understanding. As Rosalinda sometimes ad- mitted to her mother, it was as if the older woman sensed, almost before the girl herself, the nature of her ambitions, secret desires, yearnings. And the secret desires of Rosalinda’s were not just those of the average girl becoming aware of her loveliness. Rosalinda wanted to sing. She wanted to cultivate a voice that was already showing a fluty, resonant quality. That was why Estelle so passionately desired to save her from the wear and tear of performing in the cabarets. That was why, without the slightest sense of renuncia'ion, Estelle was ready to fold away the days of her most garish kind of successes, for the mcre stable remuneration of her work behind a cashier’s counter. Estelle and her daughter were hoarding for the day when Rosalinda might go abroad to preparc her voice for opera. ONE night in the restaurant a man well beyond 50, big, irresistible as a personality, known the country over as a millionaire sports- AT SER AT R (S5 ; A man and art connoisseur, fastened what were frankly delighted eyes on Rosalinda. For the first time in her life, swept by some- thing that was stronger than she was, she ar- ranged a rendezvous that did not include Estelle. For the first time in her life Rosalinda was impelled to agree to see a man without the pres- ence of a third party—her mother. It was not unnatural in the face of things; in fact it would have been more unnatural if it had not happened so, that the youthful and beauteous Rosalinda should finally find herself confronted with one of the emotional climaxes sure to befall a creature of her caliber. Curious, but across the room, within her lair, Estelle Winters knew everything that was hap- pening, just as concisely as if she were present there beside the table of the well known figure of the sportsman-art connoisseur, Hiram Bridges. From her lair Estelle, with her hand to her throat, saw this happening; with her eyes di- lated saw this happening. What is more, she saw happening across the sweet face of Rosa~ linda the first faint flushes of awakening. ‘When Hiram Bridges left the restaurant that night, elated with his conquest of a type that was alluring to him, there confronted him in the corridor the pale, washed-out figure of a woman who caused him to stare. “Yes, Hiram, it’'s who you think it is,” said Revolt. By Louise Crenshaw Ray. O beauty, I have followed you afar Through quagmires where transparent orchids are, Seeing your face reflected like a star Within a pool where bright-eyed death lay coiled ; And paused in fear, my swift attainment foiled, ) Of treasure and illusion both despoiled. And I have drunk the wine of your delight That dulled my cars and seared my aching sight. Leaving my soul a wilderness of night. My hands arc burned with clasping living flame ; My heart has known futility and shame But still I scck, I drink, I clasp the same Pale apparition I have worshipped long . O beauty, lift your spell, unbind vour thong, Or let the insatiate spend itself in song! Estelle could now keep fastened more firmly her watchful eyes on Rosalindes Estelle a little tiredly, none of the melodrama of the moment in her manner or her voice. “Why, it's 20 years, since——" he stupidly. One of those melodramatic incidents that can seem to come out of a clear sky was happening in that restaurant. “Twenty-one years,” she corrected, her glance sliding away toward the remote figure of Rosa- linda. “That makes her 20.” “Who 20?" - “The girl you are meeting later—your daugh~ ter,” said Estelle. said ROSALINDA, radiant, more beautiful than ever in Rer innocence, is study.ng for grand opera in Italy. An internationally known sportsman and ar$ connoisseur, who has never seen her since thap night in the restaurant, is educating her. (Copyright, 1929.) Millions in Fur Farms. UR farming is winning its way into the ranks of important businesses in this coun- try. It is estimated that there are now more than 5,000 fur farms in the United States, with &n aggregate investment of mcre than $20,000. 000. This tremendous total is exclusive of the large areas of muskrat marshes, operated pr- vately or by States, as fur farms. Federal officials are aiding in the establishe ment and development of these farms and mak- ing particular study cf diseases of wild animals and proper diet and correlated questions, Lower Prices for Butter. ITH the wholesale price of butter at the lowest point since April, 1926, and for the month of December the lowest since that month in 1916, it appears that there will be no necessity to stint on this staple for the present. The Bureau of Home Economics takes ad. vantage of the lower prices to eall attention to various desserts, such as pound cake, cream pufls, brownies, rocks, layer cakes and other toothsome foods, which are at their best with & generous use of butter, i -