Evening Star Newspaper, July 5, 1936, Page 66

8 Mcgozine Section THIS If there is a boy or a dog, a grouchy uncle or a girl in love in your family ATASTROPHE, nimble with mischief, leaped upon all four members of the Merrill family at once. Upstairs, Mr. Merrill was dressing for the Chamber of Commerce Stag Banquet, where he was to make a speech, when the telegraph office tele- phoned his particular blow - a wire from his Uncle Jasper Treat: ‘‘EXPECT ME. DINNER TONIGHT."' Mr. Merrill groaned. He would have to offend Uncle Jasper by desertion. He could not take him along to the banquet. One could not hold forth on ‘“What American Business Needs'' before the man who thought he had invented it. As he went down to pass his bad news on to the two Ursulas, he heard a com- motion. He entered to see Mrs. Merrill spanking her astonished, outraged, muddy son Larry. Young Ursula, dainty even now, was holding a wriggling muddy puppy at arm's length. “‘Mother! Stop! We've got to do something! And you've ruined your dress!"’ Then the doorbell rang. Mrs. Merrill let go of Larry, and stared at her family as one who wakes from nightmare to a worse reality; Larry-up-ended himself. Even the dog stopped vapping. *Oh,”” Ursula moaned. *‘It's too early; it can’t he Dick!” A second ring galvanized her into general- ship. “‘Larry, shut this dog in the back bath- room. peel off those clothes, and take a bath! Mother, vou'll have to change your dress. I'll —then don’t miss this story! EVER Rarins by VioLA PARADISE R ’” try to wipe up some of this awful mess — *‘Oh, Larry!"" Mrs. Merrill had emerged from wrath to dismay. ‘‘How could you!" “‘So that's what you learn at vour child study class!"” Larry muttered. ‘‘Beating a fella up!”’ “‘For heaven's sake, more!"' Ursula cried. The bell rang again --a loud, angry peal, and Mr. Merrill whispered his bomb: “It's Uncle Jasper.” And he went to open the door, leaving a frozen tableau behind him, Yet only fifteen minutes before every Merrill had been happy. Mrs. Merrill smiling with quiet pleasure as she watched Ursula move about the living room. The golden, curly hair, the slim grace of the girl's body in the pale green dinner dress, the spread of her white fingers, as she paused to rearrange a bowl of flowers — yes, surely it was no maternal delusion — the girl was beautiful. She re- minded Mrs. Merrill of the painting of an Eighteenth Century maiden gazing at mocn- light on still water. “Time for Mary to be oozing in."”” The voice fitted the picture, but the words were two centuries off. “Don’'t worry, dear. She'll be on time.”” “I know." Ursula glanced into the dining room. ‘‘The service plates are beauts, aren't they?. .. Now if Larry only behaves."” “LOOKS LIKE YOU TWO HAVE DECIDED THAT CONSOLIDATION CAN BE MIGHTY AGREEABLE!" WEEK “Darling, I wish you'd be content to have things as usual. Dick knows Larry. And he's been here so many evenings of late. Isn't it rather foolish trying —— well, as you might say, to ‘puton theact'?"” “I'm not! But there's no use, the first time some one comes to dinner, letting him think — '* Her voice trailed off. No, she assured herself, she wasn't putting on an act. Only trying to show Dick that the Merrills knew how to do things. Her eye lingered on the dining room table. It did look lovely. And Mary, their maid of more pros- perous days, was coming to serve and to do the final things to the dinner Ursula had herself prepared: honeydew melon chilled, ready to cut; soup simmering, strong and tasty; roast chicken browning in the oven; the hollandaise sauce ready for the broccoli; the crisp com- ponent parts of the salad keeping cool in the refrigerator; the deep-dish apple pie, a dream of crispness and succulence; coffee afterwards, in the living room . . . Dick would never guess but that a real cook had contrived it. Not that she wished to put anything over on Dick, just to show him. Dick’s family was so rich, and hers so - - well, not poor, but just like other people. Dick was in love with her. He must be. He telephoned every day; he took her everywhere. July 5, 1936 And the way he looked at het, ... But Dick had not asked her to marry him. Often it had seemed that surely, in the next breath, he would say, ‘‘Ursula, marry me!"’ The other evening, for instance. He had taken her left hand and spread the fingers apart, against his larger hand; and he had lightly pinched the tip of her ring finger. ‘‘Ursula,’’ he murmured. And then, in a different tone, ‘“Nice, dainty little hand,” and he had kissed it quickly ark dropped it. And then, matter-of-fact, ‘‘Let’s go places. How about a movie?" The curious thing was that every time he didn't quite ask her to marry him, they were both strange with one another for a while. He * was silent, his gray eves troubled; but it made her flippant and slangy, though under- neath she felt wretched. Perhaps Dick was a snob. He didn't seem like one, but how could she tell> Once she had ___________—————