Evening Star Newspaper, November 1, 1931, Page 89

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, NOVEMRER l,_1931. Say It With Hamburger By David William Moore The Stofy of aWife Smart Enough to End Her Family Depression With a Pie-Less Dinner for Her Husband’s Boss. Pictures by Ethel Hays In fact, it had started that solemn he and his mother came back to home, feeling very much alone. Mort in by going around the house winding up the clocks. He was a little tot then. He managed by selling newspapers to take care of his mother. Then he was alone again, at 20, and he discovered Madge. And so, right ahead into new responsibilities. Mort loved his responsi- bilities. But gosh darn it! For five years now, he had worked for Jas- per Cartright. Which proved that he could take heaps of punishment. He started Mort in at $8.75 a week. Mort was now making $75 a week! No doubt about it, Mort was a good worker, But he had one great fault—lack of money. And the longer hz went without money, the more passionately he yearned for the things it would buy. UT Mort and Madge had discovered the won- derful fact that young folks with enthusi- asm, and little else, can actually have most of the nice things. Merely by ordering them. Simple, but fraught with installments. And it aggravated their financial hardships. So Mort and Madge had a smart little home; they drove*a flashy little car; they swanked about with some snappy friends, plunging deep- er and deeper into the financial abyss. Mort was quite willing to pay the fiddler so long as there was anything with which to pay. But now—well, Mort had visions of seeing a sheriff’s dainty little message to the world tacked on to the front door of the Andrews villa. Which wouldn't do at all. Just one way out remained. Mort must get a raise out of old Jasper Cartright. Getting a raise out of Cartright would be comparable to skinning a mud turtle with a toothpick. Mort felt that he would almost as soon face the sheriff as the chief. But that was merely a youthful qualm. He was soon in Cartright's office, where he waited patiently for four minutes until his employer nodded him into a chair. Mort could see red lights all over Cartright's face. But there was no stopping now. “All right, young man, what is it?” and Cart- right showed by his sour defensive counte- nance that he knew very well why Mort was there. “I came in to talk with you about—ah——" “Ycu wani a raise, eh?” said the chief. ‘Yes.” and Mort swallowed four times and shifted himself about in his chair. His hunch had been right. This wasn't at all pleasant. It didn't look so good. “You're getting a good salary now,” said old Jasper, and Mort could feel the snow blowing off the hills of Scotland. This made Mort shiver “I know I am,” he replied. “But e “Then why should you ask for more? There are many other pecple depending on this bus- Iness for their livelihood. I cannot give any one employe more than his rightful share of the earnings.” The chief seemed to be studying Mort. Those old deep blue eyes cut clear to the younger man’s innermost secrets. Oh, yes, this old Scot was wise! Mort decided it would be the only safe plan for him to take Cartright into his confidence completely. “I need money desperately, Mr. Cartright. I owe $900 and I have only $160 on hand.” Still there was no reply from Cartright. He . “I'm going to make you Proposition, Andrews. This is a peculiar prop- osition and you'll probably be angry over i Maybe you'll want to quit. I'l advance $900 for your bills and—* “Gosh!" exclaimed Mort. “It will be a loan. You start paying it at the end of & year. I don’t want you to worried.” Mort felt little and mean for ever ha thought of his. employer as a tightwad. “I can't tell you how grateful I—=" he began unceriainly. “Yes; yes. Now for the bumps. There are bumps on all roads. Your salary will be $50 a week!” “Hmph!” and Mort’s enthusiasm vanished instantly. Fine angel this old bird would make! All he needed was a couple of horns. Cartright saw Mort’s suffering. He was really a kind-hearted old hangman. ‘“Fake plenty of time to think it ever. There’s no hurry. The $900 is ready for you at any time. If you accept, remember this condition. You and your wife must live on your income without borrowing & penny. At the end of the year I shall discuss your salary with you again.” BY 5 o'clock Mort had accepted Cartright’s offer and had paid off all of his debts. He didn’t owe a single dollar—except to the boss. Heigh, ho, everybody, heigh ho! As free as a coupen. All he had to do was to hurry home and tell Madge. He sneaked into the house, feeling so small he could have crawled under a tire patch with- out letting out any of the air. Madge heard his slinking footsteps and came on a run. She stood. there, silent, while he told her. Only such a girl as Madge, with red hair and brown eyes and a touch of freckles across the little bridge of her dainty nose, could have shown amazement, relief, courage and love for all at the same time. She reached up and The=a wasn’t a blessed thing on the table except hamburger steak, boiled! potatoes and bread and butter. Madge didn’t hesitate. “Of course, you realize that we have to live strictly on a budget.” AYS wore into weeks. Holes wore into clothes. Dreariness . wore into evenings. Madge and Mort stayed home and enjoyed the wholesome and character-building sport of de- vising ways Lo make pennies serve where dollars had failed. Madge told Mort cne day that she got a great kick out of his staying home all day slumming. < ‘Then, one evening about 10 years along In the eleventh month of their bondage, Mort reached home as chipper as a zoo monkey. “Thirteen dollars in the bank, Madge!” he called. “We’re beating this old game. I feel like paying a visit to the boys at the mint.” Madge tried to beam, but failed miserably. Her sleeves were tearing out under the arms. She needed a new permanent. - Her hands looked like carrots. Her last pair of stockings had more runs than the Philadelphia Athjetics. She was ready for temptation. A tear stole down her patient cheek. “Why so hilarious?” he scolded. “I'm so happy I could cry,” said Modge. “My soul. is getting a deckle edge, Mort. I'm not complaining. I'm just telling you. I need to do The chief's granite features had soft- ened down to limestone. “I'm going to meke you a proposition. I'll advance you $900 for your bills, and kissed Mort “Run and get cleaned up now, dear. Aunt Hattie is coming in an hour. Fifty dollars a week!” They met Aunt Hattie at 6:20—the hour at which she arrived each year. Just the right time for stopping at the Wilton Hotel for din- ner. In the past, it had been their custom to take Aunt Hattie there for her first meal. The old lady seemed to get quite a kick out of it. She lived in a little country town. But tradit.on didn't mean a thing to Mort and Madge on this hectic evening. They wafted Aunt Hattie past the hotel so fast it might have been a deserted hot dog stand. “I left a pie in the oven,” lied Madge. Silly * that she should think of a pie. Now she’d have to keep Aunt Hattie out of the kitchen. Maybe she could say the pie burnt up. Why does one always feel.the need of lying to relatives who have money? Aunt Hattie hmphed when they flashed past the hetel. She hmphed again when no men- tion was made of going to the th-ater that evening. Plainly, her visit was a washout. She left the next morning. Two days earlier than usual Mort and Madge had a good laugh over her. They didn’t need her old money. Didn't they have $50 a week of their own? “From now on I'm hard, like other people,’ muttered Mort. “Why, even that old woman was playing us for saps. I'm going to treat the world like a stepfather. Do you know, Madge, $50 a week will go a long way if we don’t spend much of it>” “Surely,” laughed Madge. “If we didn't spend anything we could save more than $2,500 a year.” » something to snatch back my self-respect. I want to dance and laugh and look pretty.” Mort smiled grimly. “I krnow how you feel, dear. But it wouldn't do any good. There's no place to go, except where we've been going.” “Oh, I didn't mean that we had to go any- where, Mort. But if we could only just dress up—for ourselves, you know.” Sh= looked up at him coquettishly. ‘You'd look awfully handsomne in your tuxedo, old dear.” “Huh?” and he turned on her with the im- patience of a boy about to be dragged to a circus. “What kind of talk is that?” ‘Let’'s go down town and sit on the mez- zanine floor of the Wilton Hotel,” she cried. “It won't cost a penny. Lots of people do it. We could pretend we're waiting for Queen Marie or Half an hour later, Mort and Madge were trying to act as if they really belonged in the Wilton Hotel. Madge leaned over close to her husband. “Really, my gown isn't so dreadfully out of style, is it?” Then she saw Mort staring across toward the other side of the mezzazine. His face changed to a sickly white. He nodded, like a condemned man who lad just heard his death warrant read. Then Madge looked where he was looking and saw old Jasper Cartright, disappearing through a doorway. Mort groaned. “He's probably wondering how we're gettirg along so well on $50 a week. Why, oh why, did we have to come down here and do this fool stunt? He'll never believe me now when I tell him we have lived on our salary.” “You mean—after all these months—after we Mort said nothing. He seemed to think he was doing all the suffering. “I tell you what,” declared Madge solemnly. “You let me handle that old Cartright. I'll take the responsibility for this spree, and I'll see that it doesn’t ruin us.” “What are you going to do?” inquired Mort laconically, “poison him? There isn’t any poison strong enough.” “I'm going-to invite him to dinner!” ARTRIGHT accepted Madge's invitation graciously enough. “I'm always to get acquainted with an employe’s fi " he said. “I{ helps me better to understand his problems.” But Madge didn't answer. She.was leading the way to the dining room, and she seemed to be walking just a little proudly. Mort and Cartright followed along behind. There wasn't a blessed thing on the table ex- cept hamburger steak, boiled potatoes and bread and butter. Mort was red with embarrassment. He wasn’t seeing the sense of this foolishness. He left the direful plot entirely on Madge’s hands. She didn't hesitate. “I thought you'd be tired of big hotel dinners, Mr. Cartright, and that you'd probably enjoy & simple little family meal. Of course, you realize that we have to live strictly on a budget.” “Yes,” said Cartright. He was nibbling a hunk of hamburger steak as if it might have been filled with fish hooks. Madge laughed, just enough, and settled back in her chair. She had done her stunt and she was through. If this didn't fix things up for them, then they could just move to California or somewhere and start in all over again. “I've been thinking about this arrangement of yours, Andrews,” said Cartright suddenly. “You two seem a bit wiser.” “Yes, sir,” said Mort expectantly. The chief seemed downright happy. “Well, your salary is now $100 a week. Your note is canceled, too. All right?” “Oh, I—" from Madge. There were tears in her eyes. She was dangerously near to say- ing ail that they could do now. Then she re- membered. “It will be wonderful,” she con- cluded, “to see how much we can save out of $100 a week. Caug/zt Between Two Fires TBE live stock raiser is caught hetwo-m fires and his position is none too enviable, in the opinion of C. B. Denman of the Federal declining prices for meat have cut the raiser’s income. The grea reduction in price, Mr. Deaman been in the prices paid to gap between consumer and great as ever. He believes The price situation factor hich the live however, for Mr. Denman campaign against meat ganda, he has said, is brought about a reduction in on the grounds that meat is food and that the cost is too regularly He is attempting to co-operative movement to combat ganda. The Farmer's Santa Claus HE far-sighted farmer is about to realise om has been found to yield a very to many a practical farmer. natural sources are available, trees are able to compete successfully, are usually of ajbetter shape for Christen: