Evening Star Newspaper, July 5, 1936, Page 67

Magazine Section gone to a formal party at Dick's house. The guests had been announced. The house bristled with servants . . . Often her mother had sug- gested, ‘“Why not ask that nice Dick Welton to dinner?”’ But she hadn't wanted him to know that she and her mother did the housework. Then, one day her mother suggested that they get Mary to come on her night off and serve. ‘‘Mary’s late,” Ursula said, suddenly nervous. And then the telephone rang. Her mother picked up the receiver. ‘‘Hello. Mary?..."” Fifteen minutesbefore, Larry had been feeling fine. He had been allowed to spend the half hour before dinner out of doors, on the promise to keep clean and not go out of sight of the house. So he had walked to the pond at the end of the street. The pond was being drained. A horseshoe stuck up out of the mud. It would be easy to fish it out. Still a promise was a promise. He turned regretfully away, to saunter slowly back toward home. A red light stopped the traf- fic. In the taxi nearest the curb were a grouchy old man and an Irish terrier pup. The dog, paws on sill, began to make friendly sounds at Larry. Then suddenly he bristled, looked past Larry, and growled. Larry, hearing an answering growl, turned. There was Mort Bing's bull, spoiling for a fight. And now the Irish had jumped out of the taxi, and the two dogs went into a cyclone whirl. *‘Call your dog off!"” Larry shrieked at Mort. T'hat's just a pup.”’ THIS WEEK “Nix,"" said Mort. ‘‘My dog didn't start it."” The dogs were edging towards the pond. Larry dashed to the rescue, just as they floundered in. He'd hold the head of Mort's dog in the mud till he let go of the pup. Good, it worked. It would have been simple, but the Irish had other ideas, and once free charged again. And Larry, who had been only ankle deep, now slipped and went sprawling. However, he had the puppy firmly in his arms when he picked himself up, and when he wiped some mud out of his eyes, he saw Mort receiving a quarter from the oid man, who was no longer grouchy. Mort went off with his dog, and Larry gave the pup an affectionate hug of farewell, and held him out to his owner. The old man said, ‘‘Want him?"’ ‘‘Gee! Gosh! Honest ?"’ *“Ye've more guts likely than the lad he was bought for. Keep him."" “Gosh!"” Larry stood grinning in amazed delight while the old man lumbered back into the cab. ““Drive to a candy store,” Larry heard him say. And he remembered his manners just in time to shout, ‘‘Hi! Thanks for the dog!" And then, hugging the muddy pup tight, he made a record dash for home, to share his wonderful luck with the family. Mrs. Merrill had put down the receiver. ‘‘Mary can't come. No matter, dear. We'll manage.’’ Ursula said nothing. She thought of Dick Welton's home: the butler who let her in; the maid who took her coat; the servant at the head of the great marble stairs, who asked her name, and announced, ‘‘Miss Mer- rill,” as she stepped into the spacious room, flooded with light from crystal chandeliers. And in a few minutes Dick Welton, who lived in such per- fectly appointed luxury, would be ringing her doorbell. She herself would answer the door. She would have to jump up and down at dinner, to serve, run- ning in and out of the kitchen. The telephone rang again, this time for her father. And then the slamming of a door, and Larry's excited voice, ‘‘Hi, everybody! The swellest luck! A man gave me a dog!"’ and Larry, muddy and ecstatic, burst into the living room, set the puppy on the newly up- holstered wing chair, and stood proudly back to receive congratulations. He was as utterly unprepared for the hos- tilities as the pup. But the latter mistook Ursula’s swoop for a nice rowdy game, jumped out of the chair, and pranced about the room. He might even have won the game, but for Larry’s sudden howl of surprise and pain at Mrs. Merrill's more successful swoop. But now Ursula had the pup, had him ignominiously by the scruff of his neck, and was holding him away from her as if he were poison . . . Helpless, he could do nothing for himself, and nothing for the vile plight of his newly found friend. His wretchedness, as Mr. Merrill entered the room to break his own bad news, matched the gloom of the family. And then the doorbell had rung. Once, twice. And at the third ring, Mr. Merrill had whis- pered, ‘‘It's Uncle Jasper.” Ursula felt utterly defeated. Relieved of the dog, now once more in Larry's arms, she stood remembering Uncle Jasper’s last visit, six years ago, when Larry was a baby. Uncle Jasper had growled and scolded and had con- tradicted everything Father had said. Uncle Jasper had talked with food in his mouth. Uncle Jasper had dunked! Now Mary's defection was as nothing; the muddled living room nothing. But Uncle Jasper 9 and Dick sitting down to dinner together! Yes, there was the old man's voice, un- mistakable. ‘‘Are you deef?’’ it boomed from the hall. But at this, Larry forgot his own plight. ““That’'s him!" he exclaimed. ‘“That’s the man who gave me the dog!”’ “Why, Uncle Jasper!” said his father. *‘Come right in. Your telegram just came.”’ ‘‘How long in advance,” barked the old man, ‘‘must ye have notice, to let a man into the house?"’ “Er — none at all — that is — " Mr. Merrill groped for words as he backed into the living room, and Uncle Jasper talked angrily as he followed. Suddenly Uncle Jasper’s scowl faded, became a grin, and then was lost altogetherin a boom of laughter. The muddy pup, restrained with difficulty in Larry's arms, was making welcoming noises. *‘So you're the lad he was bought for all the time!"” he shouted. ‘‘And I drove back down- town for a box of candy.” Uncle Jasper roared again. “‘And you,"”” he turned upon Mr. Merrill. “I'd never guess you had it in you to get such a he-boy. Risked his skin to rescue a little dog from a big one. Haw! Haw ! Haw!"’ Under cover of this unexpected good nature, Mr. Merrill made a precipitate explanation and exit. Once outside, he thought of the two Ursulas. Poor things, putting on the ritz for that nice Welton boy, and Uncle Jasper show- ing up! For a few minutes, Ursula would have the living room to herself. Mother and Larry had gone upstairs to change, and Uncle Jasper was getting settled in the guest room. Ursula, her frothy dress protected by a smock, was down on her knees with a pail of water and a cloth, vigorously struggling with mud stains. But the dark wet spots looked no better than the dirty ones. Ursula was possessed by rage and despair. She sat back on her heels. ‘‘I must pull myself together,” she told herself severely. ““I must!" But how? There was nothing to catch hold of. Nothing to pull. Dick would be here any moment. Dick whom she loved. Dick who hadn't asked her — Ah, here was something to catch hold of! Dick hadn't asked her to marry him. Dick never would ask her — now ... Well, what if he didn't! See if she cared She choked back a protesting sob. ‘‘Mother was right,” she muttered fiercely. ““I was an idiot trying to make an impression. Trying to show that the Merrills knew how to do things!” The Merrills! That was funny. She looked about the blotchy living room -. . Trying to show Dick! Well, she’d show him, all right! There was Uncle Jasper coming down the stairs. She must hurry back to the kitchen. The clock was striking seven. Dick would be here any minute . . . But she wouldn’t hurry Let him find her here, pail and all! ““Well, my lass, I hear your young man is coming to supper.’’ “‘My young man?"’ Ursula laughed. She tried to make her laugh hard and reckless, but it didn’t come out that way. ‘‘My young man That's funny!” The doorbell rang. Automatically Ursula’s hand unfastened the top button of her smock. But she buttoned it again. She'd show him. She'd leave the pail in the middle of the floor, on the newspaper. All she need do was to remember: He hadn’t asked her to (Continved on poge 13) lllustrations by Stanley Parkhouse “'STOP!" CRIED URSULA. “HE'S COVERED WITH MUD, AND YOU'VE RUINED YOUR DRESS. WE'VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING!"