Evening Star Newspaper, September 20, 1936, Page 80

PATTERNS ARE THE MONKEYS," 0ss FLEMING was a pleasant, likable young gentleman, a favorite among his set. One thing his father was proud of was that he was ‘‘normal” in every way; for Moss had had several nar- row escapes. For instance, when his voice was changing he had acted queer, and had been secretive, sometimes downright sulky, and then, seemingly without any reason, he had laughed uproariously at affairs which his father and mother considered as having little humor in them. He was always having escapes like this, and his father was tremendously pleased that they were over. Raising a boy was a tough job. He had so many moods, and eccen- tricities. At the dinner table he discussed the questions of the day with his father and mother in a most intelligent way, but after dinner he went out on the street and whooped and yelled like a Comanche. “It's amazing the changes a growing boy goes through,"” his father said. In his own mind, Moss was quite mature; his head was full of fine, bold ideas. Some- times he knew all about what was wrong with the world. He expounded it, too, at the dinner table, slipping in the big words Professor Kramer used. ‘“‘Moss, break your bread!” his mother said. His face flamed. It was most discouraging to battle with a world problem and then have his mother, who cared naught about the state of the universe, break up the rhythm of his thoughts over a slice of bread. He had always known Mona Middleton; they had grown up together, gone to school together, skated together, tennised together, and fought together. Suddenly and mys- teriously and unaccountably he found he was in love with Mona. One day she was just a snip running around town, the next day she was one of the finest girls he had ever known in his life. In fact, the finest. “PRACTICALLY ALL OUR BEHAVIOR INHERITED FROM MOSS ASSERTED. “THAT'S WHAT MAKES ME A CYNIC" THIS WEEK Moss had a room of his own—on the north over the kitchen — and he sat in it with his chin in his hands and looked into the street and thought how odd it was. That is, love. One minute it wasn't: and the next it was. Like a rainbow. Only much more beautiful. It was odd, too, that in the twinkling of an eye he would be in love with Mona. If she had been a girl who had moved to town, a girl he had never seen before — that would be different. She lived on the same street, too. That made it still odder. But he was in love; in love as no other human being had ever been since life washed up on the primordial shore, as Professor Kramer said. At this very moment, Mona Middleton walked past the house. Moss could hardly breathe, but his heart raced. How exquisite she was. He had been blind for years, but now — thank heaven! — he could see. He got up, after the last click of her lovely heels had died away, and looked into the mirror, gazed deep into the pupils of his eyes, turned his head from-side to side, upward and down, then solemnly kissed the glass. ““Moss!"” cried his mother as she passed the door. ‘‘What do all those monkey faces mean? You go down and wash the car. This is the second day you have put it off.” He groaned inwardly. Monkey faces! But a fella’s parents were the last in the world to know. They just weren't attuned to the higher things in life. Of course Dad and Mother seemed to love each other, but not the way he loved Mona Middleton. ““Mona, Mona, Dona I love you'"' he kept repeating to himself as he washed the car. Of course it was foolish, the thing didn't rhyme, but he liked it just the same. He had Magazine Section Young Ma Moss Fleming simply laughed at life and love — but shaving still gave him a thrill. A delicious story of adolescent romance by HOMER CRoOY on the old overalls and a straw hat with the top cut out, which he always wore when he cleaned the car. His mother pecked on the window. ‘‘Moss! Don’'t make all those crazy noises. What must the neighbors think?"’ “lI don’t care what they think,” he re- plied, ‘‘if they have the power of rationaliza- tion.”” He felt proud of that. Professor Kramer would have, too, for he was working tremen- dously hard to enlarge Moss's vocabulary beyond yep and yop and I got yuh. A butterfly flapped lazily through the May afternoon and lighted on a fender. Moss tip- toed over and examined its loveliness, ab- sorbed. It rested there, slowly waving its wings, ‘‘Mona’s like that,” he thought. ‘‘Mona, Mona, Dona I love you!” He heard loud voices, and looked up from a beautiful glade, where he and Mona were running hand in hand, to a land of crushing reality, for there was Mona walking with Ray Bean. He had always liked Ray Bean, although Ray was something of a show-off, but today the instant he saw him he knew he didn’t like him, or his family. He had noticed that Ray had become mighty posses- sive toward Mona recently; in fact, he was rushing her and no two ways about it. ‘“Hello, Oscar!” sang out Ray — close to bellowing, it seemed to Moss. That was a deadly insult, for Oscar was an eccentric, half- cracked man who washed cars at the Oak Tree Garage. ‘‘Polishing up the old bus, are you?"’ asked Ray Bean. ‘‘Aw, I don’t know,"’ retorted Moss. ‘‘What does it look like from that side?’’ “Dirty,” said Ray, whereupon he laughed hugely, turning to fetch Mona into it. And she did come into it a little, although not appraising the humor as highly as Ray did. “Moss, I'm going to have a party next Tuesday. Will you come?”” And how charm- ing she looked as she said it; and how ill at ease Moss felt in his overalls. ‘“Yes, I'd love to come. Thanks a lot, Mona. Thanks a lot.” It really happened the night of the party. The depressing discovery he made. He would hardly admit it himself at first, for it was completely disconcerting; Mona was smarter than he was. The consciousness of the fact * had been growing on him ever since he had discovered he was in love with her, but it had come to a climax that night as they played anagrams. No flutter-brained gameis ana- grams; you really have to think. For in- stance, when she seemed to be fighting desperately, she composed the word.‘‘skink." v —————— oy Of course, there could be no such ridiculous “|. combination of letters in the dictionary. He challenged it rather loudly. But there was such a word, a ‘“skink’’ being a lizardlike animal. “That’s askink on you," asserted Ray, and it wasso good that he kept it up, exaggerating it beyond the proportion atriumph should be. Moss felt more and more awkward, and a bit resentful toward Mona, although she had