Evening Star Newspaper, February 23, 1930, Page 92

THE SUNDAY $TAR, WASHINGTON, D."' €, FEBRUARY 23, 1930. Aunt Martha Takes Charge N a rapturous gold-blue morning in July, Dee Flemming, who was almost as famous for making whoopee as Aunt Martha was for making tarts, flounced into the glistening blue-tiled kitchen of the sage of Whipple Hill. Dee was a slim, sun-tanned girl with long- lashed gray eyes, a sheen of blue-black hair and lips that were as red as a pomegranate. Gaiety and daring * were usually her notes, but this morning, as she came in, wearing a green pa- jama robe and smoking a cigarette through a long jade holder, there was a hint of deflance in her eyes. Mare, she looked disgruntled, and not being one to dodge unpleasant issues, she came directly to the cause of her unrest. “Aunt Martha, I suppose you know mother’s reason for wishing me off on you, don’t you?” she asked. As she poured some golden batter into a black waffle iron, Aunt Martha said: “Why, no, I didn’t think there had to be any particular reascn for a visit from my one and only niece.” Hoisting herself on the edge of the table, Dee sat flopping her slim, pajamaed legs to and fro. “No,” with a faint frown on her young brow, “there doesn’t have to be, but in this special instance there’ was. Fact is, I'm rather goofy about a chap I've met in New Orleans.” Wearing the look of rapt interest which won for her the confidence of young and old alike, Aunt Martha turned from the stove. ¢ AND sakes, you don't say! And here, all the time, I was thniking that you and Ken Craig was——" “Well,” shortly, “we were, Ken's a good egg. I like him. Lots. Last Summer, when I first met him here in Linsdale, I was all hot and bothered about Ken. And the parents think he's the garlic, too. Fact is, I don’t think there’s anything they'd like better than:-to see me stepping off the Lohengrin, supported by Ken's hefty arm. But,” drawing deeply on her cigarette, she paused, “a woman’s got a right to change her mind,” she said. Setting a daintly appointed breakfast tray on the table upon which Dee was perched, “Cer- tainly she has,” Aunt Martha agreed. “An’ in these days when folks don't get married more than three or four times and Paris is acting so squittish about givin’ divorces, I think it's a good idea to do as much of the changin’ as you can before you get to the altar.” “That’s exactly what I think,” Dee concurred, “and Mums and Dad needn't kid themselves into believing that shipping me up here away from Cedric is going to make me forget him, either.” “Cedric? That's a sort of out-of-the-usual name, isn’t it?” Aunt Martha queried. . “Well,” airily, “you don’t hear it every day. Cedric Johns-Suydam, pronounced Siftem, is the rest of it. He’'s English, you know, and an actor,” Dee explained. “An actor? Land sakes, ain’t that wonderful. . I've always wanted to meet some of these stage folks. Of course, I know the Seymours who run our little theater here, but somehow they've never seemed like the genuine thing to me.” Nibbling at a piece of toast, Dee looked at Aunt Martha with round, luminous eyes, “Well, Cedric is, I can tell you. He's been acting in a stock company in New Orleans all . He'd have been starred long before . . this if it hadn’t been .. conceited ass who plays : With the warm, alive interest which apfor the- joys, as well as the distresses, of world, “His mother a dancer, and in Madrid?” Aunt Martha exclaimed. “My, my, what a fascinatin’ man your friend must be!™ Dee jumped down from her perch on the table. “v71, that's just it. He is. He’s suave and polished, with a way about him—a cosmopoli- tan, finished air that makes chaps like Ken seem s0 commonplace and prosaic.” Pausing, she looked off with intent, brooding eyes, “I'm mad about him, Aunt Martha. He'’s the cream in my coffee. And Mums and Dad might as well face the fact,” she said. . “I've always wanted to meet an actor. If he wasn't so busy—on the stage and all—I'd suggest your asking him up for one of these week end visits.” AT:WM,MMM;&LM in amasement. “Aunt Martha, you don't mean it!” ghe ex- claimed. Brushing back a tendril of her cloudlike white - hair, Aunt Martha chuckled. “Sure I mean it, If there’s one thing I dote on it's these artistic people who've done things and been places and can talk about somethin’ except crops an’ bonds an’ business deals,” she said Flinging her arms about Aunt Martha's am- ple figure, Dee executed an ecstatic jig upon the kitchen floor. “Aunt Martha,” kissing her first on one plump cheek and then on the other, “you're the dearest thing. No wonder people adore you and run to you with their woes. For, you see, he can come. He is free now. In a letter I had from him yesterday he said that the lead- ing man had gotten so jealous of -him that he ;/had to resign, . “‘He's terribly proud, you know, and sensitive, All artists are. But you'll adore him. I just know it. Mums and Dad are s0 hard and prac- tical they can’t see him for dust. It takes a big-souled, understanding person like you to appreciate his iype,” Dee told her. »w. Nor:did Aunt Martha prove to be lacking-in those finer' nuanees of appreciation for' which the young mod®'H gave her' crodit. - One by one the young couples tiptoed out of the door . .. Cedric Johns-Suydam, care . .. He was an artist. Here You Meet a Character New to Fiction Though Old to Life—IL ovable and Wise Aunt Martha, Who Patiently Straightens Out the Tangled Lives of Her Neighbors in Whipple Hill. moment she caught sight of Cedric Johns- Suydam she was visibly enraptured. The crisp mustache, yellow gloves and malacca cane, which Dee had thought so dashing in the the- ater, but which made her a bit self-conscious in Linsdale, enthralled the elder woman. With her blue eyes wide with admiration, she flushed like a schoolgirl when -the lean, dark-skinned actor, in spats and tight-waisted jacket, swept his hat from his head, clicked his heels together and bowed from the hips over the capable, rougened hand which she extended. “Ah, Madame! Quel honneur! Charme!” he said. Eager for him to make a favorable impression, Dee cut in nervously with: “Save your phrases, Cedric. doesn't know French.” Giving a pleased little chuckle: “Well, even if I don't know what it means, it’s got a pretty sound,” Aunt Martha coun- tered, with admiration that very ‘apparently in- créased as the hours wore on. ¥ , “You're right, Dee. This ain’t no just every- day, ordinary man,””she commented. ' And so appreciative was she of his rarity that the next morning when De# went to 'awaken him for an early morning swim with her and young' Craig, she found Aunt Martha standing like Cerberus, ominously guarding his door. With a finger to her lips: “S-sh, don’t make any noise. He told me last night he don’t like his breakfast before 10 o'clock,” she said. Aunt Martha ROWNING impatiently, Dee made a second move toward the threshold. “Nonsense! Ken’s waiting. He's whistling for us now. Cedric’s had as much sleep as the rest of us,” she protested. But Aunt Martha was obdurate. “Well, the rest of you ain’t anybody in par- ticular. I've read a lot about these tempera- mental people. They're high-strung. “Their work takes the nerve force out of ‘em. They need sleep, and plenty of it, Mr. Sittem says.” Nor was the actor’s repose the only thing upon which Aunt Martha lavished concern. wearing & rough crash, “and cut me that Colum«- bia rose that's bloomin' near the top of the trellis. It just matches thi pink china.” With a twist of perplexity on his bdroad, rugged face, Cralg stared down at the dollies and thin, ‘triangular toast over which Aunt Martha was fussing. “For the love of mud, what is it and who's it for?” he asked. Coldly, with a look that sent him scurrying for the blooming rose: . “It’s cinnamon toast, cut triangular, like my guest, Mr. Sittem likes it, and it's chocolate with marshmallows and vanilla like they serve in Spain,” she told him. Though Ken's “Ye gods!” was uttered in low, smothered fones, it did not escape Dee’s ears. Thus, later in the morning, “Odd sort of breakfast for a man to eat, don't you think?” she remarked when Aunt Martha came into her room, carrying a resplendent mandarin coat of peacock blue and gold. Disregarding her comment, Aunt Martha whispered : “Look here, Dee, at this kimono. It's pretty enough for a bride.” Glancing up from her nails, which she was filing, Dee gasped in delight: “IVs too gorgeous, Aunt Martha! Who gave it to you?” she cried. Again Aunt Martha's finger went to her lips, “S-sh, don't talk so loud. Mr. Sittem is wait- manded. Springing to her feet, Dee cried: “Oh, noth: that it seems to—sort of girly and la-de-da for a man. I can't imagine Ken even owning it!” Dee exclaimed. . Aunt Martha's lips set together im a firm, hard line. By Margery Land May sitting at the piano, did not notice or did not chocdlate.” for the day. NORhadherhumWonmmn. Indeed, *er vivid young face wore a look il i old day I learn that he can and is so nervous about flying uuwc:wndwhflethemtol & plane. “Well,” shortly, “what of it? funeral in that. He ain‘t posing as Lin dy. | Pinching & plece of dough into the | & heart: “That the trouble with you young Ef ix ¢ 4 it i! : people— _always expectin’ the wrong thing in the right place and the right thing in the wrong,” Aunt Martha said. “Suppose Ken does ride and shoot and swim. What of it? He can’t make up x‘trynnduyumthephnoukeur.slm ' With a smothered ejaculation, Dee sprang to Rer feet, X : "Good Lord! Does he do that?” she ex- claimed. Aunt Martha’s expression was aggrieved. “Land sakes, Dee, you sure are & funny girl. It strikes me I've learned more about your friend in & day than you did the whole Winter long. Certainly he writes poetry. And what's more, he's goin’ to say some of it for us at the party I'm giving tonight.” It was while he was saying them—at the party which Aunt Martha gave that night— that a peculiar, stealthy exodus took place. One by one the young couples, whom Aunt Martha had gathered there in the actor’s honor, tiptoed out of the door. " Cedric Johns-Suydam, sitting' at the piano, with his back to the foom, did not notice. Or, if he did, he did not care. He was an artist, and in Aunt Martha’s rapt attention and beam- ing applause he had found what'he had sought vainly in other audiences. e i ’ On and on—saying it to music—he played. And on and on, with an , “My, my, ain’t that wonderful!” Aunt Martha listened through the length and the breadth of his repertoire. And if his creative fancies were lim- ited in number, his views on life and love were certainly not, for he had turned from the piano