Evening Star Newspaper, January 8, 1933, Page 72

No Time For It By /)4”'1'[.(/ [ illiam Moore ]H\bi rated ]3}' Paul Kroesen OROTHY WIMPLE—Brown-eycd lit- tle vixen—sat at one end of the big arcen wicker settee on the big Wim- iwlc porch that faced out upon a lawn of something like 30 acres. She should have been happy about everything in general, being the only daughter of the famous Wimple family, with prg\]xd and i nt and mamma. But, on the con- lt!r]:li:;lgeshc plaof)’:ed like a million dollars after 1t had just taken a good lacing on the stock rkat. maShc seemed to be strugzling against a bad taste in her mouth, the memory of a bad dream, or something equally disconcerting. She was, indeed, in a temper, and she didn’t care who knew it. And at the other end of the setiee sat an- other hunk of unhappiness—Tom Downey. He was about as animated as a cast iron deer. Undoubtedly he was beginning to realize the horrible futility of life. He didn’t seem to be awsPe of the fact that he was face to face with that well-known trio, time, place and girl. He seemed to be trying to think up a good, snappy formula for vinegar. However, there was no doubt mua': he m to aj r eeable to whatever ‘wor to o;pc?torai;e moment, as he gazed obediently at Dorothy and gave forth a painful listie smile. « e Bluzs. ]};ofothy jumped up and stood looking down 2t him with an utterly exasperated ex- pression. “I think this is all silly!” she de- clared. “Yes?" returned Tom, in his gentle manner. wyes” reiterated Dorothy. “All wet, crazy, dumb and idiotic.” Tom just gazed at her helplessly. “You know, and I know,” continued Doro- thy, “that your folks brought you here from Ohio so that you would get acquainted with me, make love to me, and finally marry me! Your. brainless old parents have it all arranged with my brainless old parents that we must be married. " ND isn’t it just too sweet! These two dear children, fulfilling the dream of their fond papas and mammas, after all these years of friendship between the families, after your father and my father were fraternity brothers and your mother and my mother sor- ority sisters. Bah! And, again bah! It makes me, sick.” “Yes,” caid Tom. “Doesn’t it make you sick, ton?” demanded Dorothy. “Well,” and Tom blushed a little, “I can’t say that exactly. But, you see—that is—I know a girl in Ashtabula, and I have sometimes thought that if——" “Of course,” interrupted Dorothy, ‘‘you've got a2 girl. And I've got 2 boy friend. I'm going to marry Phil Arnot some day, when he wins the championship. The folks think he’s a big roughneck. But I think he’s swell. ’em big and rough.” Tom sighed, but his face seeemed to light up a little. “I suppose I'd better go home.” But Dorothy shook her head. “No, we're stuck with a week of this and if we kick over the traces your folks and mine will think up some other smart scheme to bring us together again. The next stunt might be putting us on an iceberg together, and that would be terrible. “There’s only one thing for us to do. We've got to make the best of it.” “All right,” agreed Tom. say.” “I tell you,” saii Dorothy. *“We'll pretend that we’re simple enough to be falling for their trick. But since we have an understanding, that won’t bother us. “There’s no reason why we shouldn’t get through the week without murdering each other. I'm supposed to entertain you. I sup- pose I ought to listen to you read bOOks, or help you work trigonometry problems, or somecthing like that, “But I'm not going to. You've got to do your share of the suffering. Do you play golf?” “A ijittle,” said Tom. “Do you swim?” “A little.” repeated Tom. “And can you drive a car?” He nodded. “I never went in much for ath- letics and outdoor stuff,” he explained. I reckon I never had much time.” “Well,” and she grinned down at him ex- uitantly, “you’re going in for them this week. If I've got to entertain you I'm going to do 1t in my own way. I think you ought to be strong “Whatever you enough to last it t g “Yes,” he admitted. v I lke’ iR He drove, and the ball went lisilessly down the fairway without any special zip. “All right,” and she started for the door, “get your clothes changed and we’ll have a round of golf.” Half an hour later they teed off. Tom stood awkwardly addressing his ball, swinging his club as if it were some sort of class room pointer. Dorothy nearly lost patience with him. “Say, I don't believe you ever had a goit club in your hands before. Here——" and she tried to show him. He watched her with admirable stoicism as she demonstrated stance, swing and follow- througtr. “That looks easy,” he grinned. “I really never thought much about how golf 1is played.” “Well, go ahead and drive now.” E drove, and the ball went listlessly down the fairway, straight, but without any spe- cial zip. Dorothy regarded him with scorn. “You ought to drive that ball a mile, with alt of your bulk.” When they came back to the club house a couple of hours later, Tom was smiling boyishly, and Dorothy was still glum. “If you hadn't been shot through witn luck——" The cards had read: Tom 92, Dorothy 94. Tom had done nearly everything wrong, but somehow the ball had miraculously found the green and eventually the cup, while Dorothy stewed and fussed at him. But as they sat on the club house terrace sipping a cool drink, Dorothy’s eyes were bright, too. She said. “If you'd only take golf seri- ously you'd do well.” “Yes,” admitted Tom. Later that evening they went for a swim 1n the lake. Dorothy wore a red bathing suit, cut low and quite becomingly. Tom, in his plain old dark blue outfit, didn't seem to realize how ridicu- lous he was. He rather enjoyed looking at Dorothy, however. With a long, graceful dive, Dorothy started out. Tom followed, splashing into the water, and chopping with his big hands. He was able to keep near her, however. And again, she was annoyed by him. “I never in my life saw as awkward a swim- mer!” “Yes,” he said. “It’s as I told you. I—" “Of course,” and she started for the house. “You never had any time to practice.” “This Phil Arnot,” said Tom, following drippingly along behind her, “I suppose he does things well—such as golf and swimming and all that” Dorothy didn’t answer for a time. “Phil hasn't time for goif. me swimming, easily.” “Hum,” mused Tom. practice more.” She turned on him as they reached the door. “Why, you! If I were as big and strong as you I'll bet I could do everything” Later they sat on the porch again, staring listlessly at each other. Dorothy’s gaze was quizzical. She didnt seem to know quite what to make »f the big, stolid young man. She had thought, pbviously, that she was going to make him look fidiculous as she demonstrated her superior abilities. But somehow he hadn't appeared very ridiculous. She seemed to be studying his broad shoul- ders, his strong arms, his calm, clear eyes. Per- haps she was wondering just how he might measure up against Phil in a boxing bout. Yes, she must have been having such a thought, for her face seemed to grow a bit more solemn. She probably was coming to the realization Then: But he can beat “Maybe I'd better garded him with scorn. THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, JANUARY 8 1333. straight, but Dorothy re- that Tom Downey, the silly young professor’s assistant from Ohio, could do many things rea- sonably well. And if he were once aroused—— DORO’I‘KY WIMPLE suddenly acquired a secret little ambition that she would devose the remainder of her week with Tom Downey to this business of getting him aroused. Maybe, after all, there would be something to enjoy. That evening, as they played contract, she repeatedly trumped her partner’s aces and for- got high cards, as she thought of ways and means of arousing Tom Downey. Of course, she told herself, she simply wanted to see him knocked for a row of ash cans; she wanted to see some of that indifferent conceit - taken out of him. The very idea of anybody being so darned superior at everything—without trying or caring! So the plan to bring Tom and Phil Arnot together, with proper and ample provocation, was formulated in Borothy’s mind. Maybe to- morrow she would arrange it. She’d have to think a bit more about details. And so came another day, with more golf and swimming. By the time she and Tom were in the water, late that afternoon, Dorothy was fit to bite a nail in two. It was all she could do to keep from trying to drown him. And when she finally came out of the water she strode to the house without even looking back. Tom decided things were getting a bit muddled and that he’d better get away some- where for a little while so he could readjust himself. So he lied to Mrs. Wimple that he wanted to meet an old college friend who was passing through the city. Whereupon, he hurried away. He’d have dinner alone—and think! Meanwhile, Dorothy was grimly deciding to earry out her drastic plot this very evening. She telephoned to Phil to meet her. She wished he could have come to the house, but her parents had always objected to this, and she didn't want any more resentment against him right now. Dorothy’'s mind was concentrating on the Tom Downey problem. So she said to Phil: “Listen, darling. Meet me up there on the Point road at 10 o’clock this evening—you know, at the elm trees. s “There’ll be another fellow with me, a dumb egg who's visiting here at the house. He tags around with me wherever I go. I wish youad scare him off. You know—just get stern with him. He can walk back.” “I get you,” laughed Phil. ing to enjoy this.” And now Dorothy completed her plan by disconnecting a little cable under the hood of her roadster. She knew this cable carried Ithe juice from somewhere to somewhere to make the car run, and when it wasn’t con- nected there could be no mileage at all. But, according to her plan, the car had to run for a time. So she unscrewed the nut that held this cable, so that it barely maintained contact. With a little practice, she found she could touch this nut with her toe and make it drop off. Of course, this meant disconnecting the cable and instantly stopping the car. The trick was so simple she laughed. She’d make old Tom drive; she’d tell him where to go; and then—presto! A Ilittle un- seen touch with her toe—and there would be Phil Arnot to save her. She hoped Phil would do his stuff. Tom arrived back at the house at something like 8:30. And immediately he found Dorothy. His “breathing spell” obviously had done him good, for he seemed bright, almost cheerful. “I think I'm go- 1] Illlmll = A . DORO’!’HY couldn’t think of anything to say except to suggest the memorable ride —or, rather, the ride that was going to be memorable—yet, she didn't want to seem too eager. So she just sat and yawned in his iace for a few moments. _ Then, finally, with a sigh, she said: “Say, this is getting to be a bore. Let’s take a drive.” She led the way to the garage, and ciimbeda into the right side of the seat. “You drive, Tom,” she directed. “I'm tired.” “But——" and Tom appeared flabbergasted— “I know very little about motors. However, if you insist——" “Surely, I insist. Shake a leg.” The car responded readily to Tom's awkward manipulation. Soon they were rolling silently along the shore road. “An automobile is a wonderful thing,” com- mented Tom. Then Tom surprised Dorothy. “I sometimes wonder,” he said, “if I haven't been missing a great deal of life. Really, I've been having a bully time here at your place.” “Yeah?” from Dorothy. Somehow his words brought a thump to her heart, and she was sorry what she was about to do. She thougnt of makint him turn back. But no! It would be good for him, she rea- soned, to have Phil's nimble fists complete the metamorphosis. “Yes,” reiterated Tom, “I think I'll do more of this sort of thing in the future. I think——" But at this moment, the car had reached the cluster of elms on the Point road, and Dorothy, steeling herself against the protesta- tions of her conscience, reached up with her toe. The car coughed a time or two and came to a stop. Tom slumped down in his seat. Something must be wrong.” “Yes,” said Dorothy, with needless severity, “something must be wrong.” Dorothy strained her nerves trying to get sight or sound from an approaching Phil Agnot. But only the balmy evening seemed to be shar- ing their company. So she said: “Well, what are you sitting there for? don't expect me to fix it, do you?” Tom laughed lightly. “You seem to have this car trained well. I never saw a more beau- tiful moonlight scene.” Dorotly, now completely out of sorts at the way her plot was failing, reached into the door pocket beside her and drew out a flashlight. She poked it at Tom. “Here, take this and get busy. If you think I'm feeling romantic, you're crazy—crazier than I've been thinking you are.” He seemed about to say something in reply, but didn’t. He twisted himself down into an awkward position and began to play the light around. Then he raised his head, holding a small ob- ject for her to see. “I found it! And it's a nit. It was lying there on the floor, right by your left foot. Now, if I can find where it fits——" and again he stuck his head underneath the hood. In a moment his head was back in the open and he took his seat at the steering wheel again, But instead of starting the car, he turned to Dorothy. “Do you know, that nut down there has made me realize many things,” he said. “And I “Now what? You Continued on Thirteenth Page