Evening Star Newspaper, April 2, 1933, Page 74

STATIC It Can Ruin the Best Sort of .Radio Pro- gram—and It May Destroy Love, Too. One of The Star Magazine’s First-Run Stories. BY MARGARET DOLLISON N fishballs,” Judy was saying, “you get a l l lot of vitamins for a small cost. I read it on a billboard.” The jubilant June moon threw a spot of blue near the rim of the lily pool, and a frog tested his E-string methodically. And Judy saw herself in the futwre and figured. “Seventeen ash trays,” Judy decided, “ought to give us a start.” “What we ought to do——" Jimmy leaned forward, elbows on his knees—“what we ought to do is wait a year. I've got nothing to my name but three suits of clothes and a laundry bill.” : “And a diploma tied with oramge ribbon,” reminded:- Judy “Plus a job starting Monday as an extra in the Calhoun Chemical lab at the minimum a month.” His hands pushed restlessly through his hair. Judy leaned back into the shadows. The thought of waiting a year for Jimmy sent the bigger splash, waiting a year——" She forced her voice lightly past the tightening in her throat—*if a splash is what you want.” “Listen——" Jimmy pushed away a quiver of moonbeam that moved between them—*"Listen, you little dumbbell—" china-faced clock above the kitchen ,stove pointed to 7 minutes past 6. And Judy, having buttoned herself into a practical apron, set the wire basket of fishballs into the bubbling deep fat and thought about the bills which had come in the morning mail. The twelfth set of bills, and they had been married only 11 months and 3 3 It had been a bad in spite of ear! outside. For one thing tient hours to The kind of party she 3 “Oh, darling, we hadn't a thing in the world |UDY ' arranged the fishballs on a platter with sprigs of parsley, and Jimmy, pulling off his coat, came into the room. “Ye gods, fishballs and mashed potatoes again flavored with brine.” Judy refrained from reminding him that a year ago he was enthusjastic about the idea. “We've got to cut down after last night’s caviar.” “Did ;we have to have caviar?” A quick anger swelled in Judy. She counted 15. “You can't feed a country club crowd ice cream and chocolate cake.” “I'd like to know why you can't.” Judy poured the top milk into a pitcher. Her husband was being dumb and sarcastic because something new and big was gnawing at his sense of responsibility. Judy searched around in her mind, Of course. The mort- gage. Mail Carrier Toys With Death in Blizzard proud boast of the Post Office Depart- ment contained in the famous inscription, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift com- pletion of their appointed rounds,” carved on the City Post Office in New York City, was wel} exemplified in the courageous achievement of a ster rcute carrier in Arizona during the past Win'er. This courjer, a full-blooded Hopi Indian, shou!d live long in the legends of the Post Office Department for his fortitude and devo- tion to duty. Leaving Tuba City, the fartherest point on his 80-mile route, he set out for Flag- staff, the other terminus, taking with him one passenger, a Navajo. All went well until along in the afternoon, as they entered a stretch known as Dead Man’s Flat, a barren, entirely unpr:tected stretch of desolate land, a blizzard bore down on them in sudden and fury. In almost no time the truck was trapped in the heavy drifts of snow and was unable either to proceed or back out of the drift in which it finally came to re:t. “There was nothing for Lewis, the Hopi car- rier, to do but send his passenger on ahead by foot to get help. His rules required that he should not abandon his mail. The Navajo therefore set off and after a terrific struggle managed {n cress a divide some six miles dis- tant and reach a State road camp, where & gang was preparcd to keep the roadways open. Six miles may not seem such a long distance, but any one who has struggled even a half mile through a raging blizzard knows the terrible struggle, the :trength-sapping battle forward foct by foot which such a trip entails. The fear that grips the heart when despair raises doubts of reaching the goal and the utter weari- ness which makes even a bed of snow seem a welcome place to rest must be fought without yielding, and the Navajo fought them to a suc- cessful end. The carrier, however, faced an even worse predicament. He stayed all through the night night stays these courlers from the swift com- pletion of their appomted rounds” was written. THE SUNDAY STAR, W/ Jfimy came into:the mom. Cooking His Way Through BY HARRY HITES. other members of Washington society. OW for the anti-climax: is handled like clockwork. And because he is helping the Salvation Army, he is glad to do the job. This reporter found Mr, Smith in the kitchen at the lodge, superintending the preparation of the afternoon meal, for which 225 hungry men were eagerly waiting. After a few minutes of waiting, he led the way to'a little désk in one corner of the kitchen and there, unemotion- ally and in a matter-of-fact tone, related a story of adventure such as comes to only a few men in a lifetyjme. His only departure from his matter-of-fact recital was when he spoke of his wife and young baby, and the look of longing that appeared in the blue eyes when he spoke of his desire to obtain a job at his chosen profession and “settle down.” According to the story told the reporter, Smith was born in New York City in 1891. His par- ;'George B. Smith Once - Now He Is Chef ifé E George B. Smith, chef and adventu Army E