Evening Star Newspaper, July 14, 1935, Page 82

4 Magazine Section TS WEEK Angus McTavish suddenly found himself the center of entertainment So he fought down the desire to put on pa- jamas, and was presently mingling with Legs Mortimer's guests, trying to stifle the yawns which nearly tore him asunder. Equally hard to stifle was the austere disgust which swept over him as he surveyed his surroundings. Legs Mortimer was a man who prided himself on doing these things well, and the clubhouse had broken out into an eruption of roses, smilax, Chinese lanterns, gold-toothed saxophonists, giggling girls and light refreshments. The spectacle made Angus McTavish sick. His idea of a clubhouse was a sort of cathedral filled with serious-minded men telling-one another in quiet undertones how they got a four on the long fifteenth. His rising nausea was in no way allayed by the sight of Evangeline treading the measure in the arms of his host. Angus had never learned to dance. fearing that it might spoil his game, and so knew nothing of the tech- nicalities of the modern fox-trot. He was unable to say, accordingly, whether Legs Mortimer should or should not have been holding Evangeline like that. It might be all right. On the other hand, it might not be all right. Finally, he could endure the thing no longer. There was a sort of annex, soothingly dark, at the end of the room and into this he withdrew. He sank into a chair, and almost immediately fell into a restful slumber. How long he slept, he could not have said. It seemed to him but a moment, but no doubt it was in reality a good deal longer. He was aroused by someone shaking his shoulder and, blinking up. perceived Legs Mortimer at his side. Legs Mortimer's face was contorted with alarm, and he was shouting something which. after a brief interval of dazed mis- apprehension, Angus discovered to be, ‘ Fire!" The last mists of sleep rolled away from Angus McTavish. He was his keen, alert self once more. He had grasped the entire situation. He realized what must be done. He must start by saving Evangeline. Then he must save the trophies in the glass case on the smoking-room mantelpiece. After that, he must attend to the female guests, and after that rescue the man who mixed the club's special cocktails, and finally, if there was still time, he must save himself. It was a compre- hensive programme, calling for prompt action and an early start, and he embarked upon it immediately. With a cry of “Evangeline!’’ he sprang to his feet, and the next moment had shot into the ball-room with incredible velocity and was skidding along the polished floor on one ear. Only then did he observe that during his slumbers someone had fastened roller skates to his feet with stout straps. Simultaneously with this discovery came the sound of mu- sical mirth on every side, and looking up he found himself the center of a ring of merry. laughing faces. The merriest of these faces. and the-one that laughed most, was that of Evangeline Brackett. It was a grim, moody Angus McTavish who some five minutes later, after taking three more tosses in a manner which he distinctly heard Evangeline compare to the delivery of coals in sacks, withdrew on all fours to the kitchen, where a kindly waiter cut the straps with a knife. It was a stern, soured man who strode off through the night to his cottage. He had a nasty bruise on his right thigh, but it was in his soul that Angus McTavish suffered most. His love, he told himself, was dead. He felt that he had been deceived in Evangeline. A girl capable of laughing like a hyena at her . betrothed in the circumstances in which Evangeline Brackett had laughed like a hyena at him was not, he reasoned, worthy of a good man’s devotion. If this was the sort of girl she was, let her link her lot with that of Legs Mortimer. “Faugh!" said Angus McTavish He rubbed himself with Doctor Frisby's Superfine Liniment and went to bed. When he woke on the morrow, however, his mood had become softer. He was charitably inclined to put Evangeline’'s conduct down to cerebral excitement induced by the insidious atmosphere of Chinése lanterns and smilax. He felt that the girl had been temporarily led astray and that it must be his task to win her back to the straight and narrow fairway. When. therefore, the telephone rang and he heard her voice, he greeted her amiably. “How's the boy?"" asked Evangeline. “‘Splendid,"” said Angus. “No ill effects after last night?" “None." “You're caddying for me in the Ladies Medal today, aren’t you?"’ *Of course." *“Fhat's good. I was afraid you might want to be off somewhere, roller-skating. Ha, ha, ha,” said Evangeline, laughing a silvery laugh. “Ha, ha, ha,” she added, laughing another. Now, against silvery laughs qua silvery laughs, there is of course nothing to be said. But there are moments in a man’s life when he is ill attuned to them. A good deal of the softness was missing from his composition when Angus presented himself on the first tee. In fact, he was as sore as a gum-boil. And as this showed plainly in his demeanor and as Evangeline was noticeably off her game during the opening holes, they came to the ninth green with a certain constraint between them. Angus was still thinking of those silvery laughs and feeling that they had been, all things considered, in the most dubious taste; Evangeline, on her side, was asking herself Y — Y —~—— — July 14, 1935 petulantly how on earth a girl could be expected to shoot to form in the society of a caddy who looked a composite photograph of Wall Street operators watch- ing the ticker in the con- cluding months of 1929, At this point. whom should they see leaning over the clubhouse veranda but Legs Mortimer. “Greetings, fair gentles," said Legs Mortimer. "And how is our bright and beauti- tul Evangeline this bright and beautiful morning?" “Legs, you're a scream,” said Evangeline. *'Did you,"” she enquired of her be- trothed, “speak?" “1 did not,” said Angus, who had snorted. “And the McTavish,” pro- ceeded Legs Mortimer. *‘How is the McTavish of McTa- vish? Listen. I've been in communication with the management of an important circus this morning, and they tell me if that roller-skating act of yours is as good as 1 say it is, they will book you solid."” “'Oh, yes?"’ said Angus. *‘Is that so?"" He was well aware that it was not much of a retort. but then no mere ver- bal thrust would have satis- fied him. His deportment, while making these observa- tions, was that of an offended clam, Beaming in the insufferable manner that is so frequent with these party lizards, Legs Mortimer soon walked away, and Evangeline, turning im- periously on Angus, said, “Oh, for goodness' sake. Act- ing that way to poor Legs!" **What way?" ‘“‘Like a sulky schoolboy."” “Faugh!" *‘I was ashamed of you." “Faugh!" “Don't say ‘Faugh!" " “Pshaw!" “And don't say ‘Pshaw! either."” “Can't I speak?” *“Not if you're only going to say ‘Faugh!' and ‘Pshaw! I simply can't understand vou. Any man with a grain of humor would have laughed himself sick at what happened last night."’ ‘He would, would he?" ‘Yes. he would. When Legs played that trick on the Prince of Schlossing-Lossing, the Prince was fearfully amused."” ““He was, was he?" “Yes, he was." “Well, I'm not a prince." “I'll say you're not a prince." “*What do you mean by that?"” “You're a . .. well, I don’t know what you are." *Is that so?" “Yes, that is so."” The hot blood of the McTavishes boiled over. “Well, I'll tell you," said Angus, ‘‘what vou are." “What?"' ‘You want to know?"’ “I do.” *All right, then. You're the girl who's going to finish twenty-seventh in the Ladies Medal." “Don't talk nonsense."’ “I'm not talking nonsense."’ “Then it’s the first time.” “I'm talking cold sense. You know as well as I do that all this party stuff has turned you from a fine, upstanding beater of the ball to a wretched, wabbling foozler who ought never to have entered her name for so im- portant a contest as the Ladies Medal. Your eye is dull and fishy, woman. Your hand trembles. You waggle your putter as if it were a cocktail shaker. And as for the way you have been playing —if I may employ the word ‘playing’ — with your wooden clubs — well, I'd keep my wood in the bag from now on."” It was the unforgivable insult. A sock on the jaw Evangeline Brackett might have condoned, a kick in the eye she might have (Continued on page 11 )