Evening Star Newspaper, April 7, 1935, Page 94

14 THIS WEEK It's You-You! A love story of the Great War, by America’s number one war correspondent, author of “With Ny Own Eyes” FREDERICK PALMER T WAS as though a premonition that this telegram from France was coming had kept Madge Erwin indoors, an utterly stiil and lone person in a world of delirious joy. “Bravely for his country (Signed) Henderson” 1t could only mean that he had died fight- ing bravely. Otherwise Chaplain Henderson would not have sent the message. But why had he not mentioned which one of the two men was dead, when he knew her and both of them so well? « “Which one?”" beating in her ears drowned the shouting in the streets over the news of “I'm not a fool,” she rallied herself. “‘I am not afraid. He wasn't — neither one was.” She curved her lips, which seemed to have turned to stone, in a half-smile; she broke into a strident, hysterical laugh which was strangled in her throat. If she had been a flirt, as some of her friends said, an inno- cent, instinctive flirt, she could reason that ghe had lost only one man of the two. The other must still be alive. She thought back to the day of our entry into the war, now revealed as fate’s own day for her; IMback of that to Ed Wells and to her first meeting with Wally Green. < With her and Ed it had been the old story, children together, in school together. He was sure of her, she of him; she relished keeping him waiting, but accepted him as the even- tuality. Ed had been with her when another friend brought Wally, who had recently come to town, for his first call. Wally appeared like a boy who had not grown up, his clothes too ample for his lean form. He had a bony face, his lips met in a whimsical smile, and he kept on looking at Madge in a way that would have been embarrassing except for the Illustration by Norman Price curious, wondering twinkle in his eyes before he said to her: “They say it makes you a lot of trouble, but it will happen and you cannot help it. It's happened to me. You're the one I've been waiting for."” “So that's your line,” Madge said. “Do you keep a record of all the girls you've said it to?”’ “Happy thought!”” Wally replied. He took a note book out of his pocket, tore out a page, made a single cross-mark on it with his initials, and passed it to her. “What piffle, Mr. Green!” She crossed the room and dropped the paper in the scrap-basket, and then glanced at Ed possessively. “You might keep it, beautiful lady, just as a collector of scalp-locks — but” — and then Wally’s smile spread in that grin which she came to associate with him in his ex- asperating moments — “I better have a duplicate.” He made a cross on another page of the note book. “I'll let you know when I add the next one,” he continued. ‘‘We can keep count to- gether. As a new resident of this growing town, I ought to average one a week, with an extra on holidays.” She did not know why — “the clown, with his colossal impudence and conceit!” — but later she took the paper out of the scrap- basket and slipped it under some clothes in her bureau. She laughed as she thought she would throw it away when he reported number two. No matter how snippy she was to Wally, he continued to call just to show her, as she said, that he had made no second cross on the duplicate record. Sometimes she went out with him, because she was sorry for him, with that lingering look in his eyes which is not unpleasant to any woman who likes to be loved; and because, too, perhaps, this made Ed more earnest. Ed and she had shared indignation over America’s hesitation after the sinking of the Lusitania. When we broke off relations with Germany, Ed enlisted. But Wally showed no signs of infection by her war-passion. He said he had heard that the regular officers at the nearby army post said we would have to send a large army to France before the war was won, and our withers as well as those of the Allies might be wrung. “From all accounts the trenches aren’t very sumptuous,’’ said Wally. “It's not much fun to be shot at, and you're likely to be killed, which is worse yet. Maybe there'll be a draft, which seems the fair way, and I may be in if I can't slip out.” His grin only heightened Madge’s rage at him. “You call yourself a man — you slacker! If you have no shame, I'm ashamed for you. I never want to see you again.” She turned her back on him, but heard him saying in his quiet voice with its teasing note, which was as irritating as his grin: “But Madge, I'll, I'll come to show you the record — that being a case of slacking between you and me, not between my country and me.” Then came April 6, when all America was swept up with the wave of emotion following the declaration of war. Madge had come in, flushed from enthusiasm and canteen work, when Wally appeared, unabashed, with his; “Just to report there's only one mark on the record yet."” She was without words for the moment in face of the strange fire in his eyes, which seemed to burn her own. Then the tempest of him engulfed her. He seized her in his arms, kissing her passionately, and she struck at him, reviled such caveman stuff and said she hated him. His tempest passed as sud- April 7, 1935 ' fashion. He struck at Wally, who dodged. “Save all you've got in you, Ed, for the Germans,” Wally told him. “Yes, quite so,” said the chaplain, in his cautioning, mellow wisdom. “You ought to rejoice in the evidence she is yours, Ed,” Wally continued as he started to withdraw. In the doorway he paused to add, “Use plenty of soap and water, Madge. The rough soldier apologizes for his movie stuff. By the way, I enlisted this morning, but I'll be no hero, and anyhow, that's be- tween the country and me.” * Looking very handsome in his uniform, Ed made the most of his opportunity to comfort Madge. He assured her she need not worry about him. Our soldiers would do some drilling just as a part of the program. When Germany realized that America was in earnest, she would make peace. Upstairs in her room, Madge took the slip of paper out of the drawer, crumpled it savagely in her hand and tossed it into a jar. Anyhow, she had shamed one slacker into en- listing. She hoped he would have a taste of real war as a lesson for manhandling women. More and more men were being drafted to our training camps; regiments were going over there. The turn of the regiment in which Ed and Wally served came. z Madge was in the crowd lining the main street for the march out. Ed's eyes were cast toward the faces in search of hers. He beamed his goodbye and she smiled and waved in turn. Her friends took it for granted ( Continued on next page )