Evening Star Newspaper, September 20, 1936, Page 83

oy PO RUS— September 20, 1936 Nlustration by Herbert Bohnert Hee Johnar — THEIR VISITOR GENTLY KISSED THE GIRL'S FOREHEAD. *‘GOOD NIGHT, LITTLE ANITA,” SHE WHISPERED NITA stood, rigid, while her mother brushed the last stubborn curl, and smoothed, with efficient hand, the stiffness of her white pleated skirt. “Anita dear,” she said, and her round blue eyes looked anxiously into Anita's, ‘“you'll be Mama's very nicest little girl to- night, won't you?'’ “Yes, Mama."” She put her arms suddenly around Anita and squeezed her very tight. ‘‘Oh, darling!” she said. Mama'’s voice made Anita sad. It sounded stiff, as if some hurting thing was just behind it, wanting to come through, and couldn't. Then Mama stood up and said, ‘“You may sit on the porch and wait for them." Anita didn't have to set the table tonight. . Mama had set it early in the afternoon with her very best silver and china. She put the sweet peas for the table in the icebox, with the bowls of olives and peach pickles, and lettuce in wet linen, and butter rolled into little balls. "Anita sat with her legs straight out in front of her, and rocked until the chair traveled way over to the vine-covered steps. Then she got up and pushed it back, and sat down and rocked some more. She wondered what there was so important about this Miss Washburn whom Father was bringing home to dinner . . . Washburn was a very plain name. The pres- ents, though, that came at Christmas time were not plain. Last year they had come from some place in Italy. ‘‘Oh, from Gertrude Washburn,”” Father had said, and looked very pleased over the odd little carved wood fig- urines for his office desk. Mama’s had been a glass perfume bottle with fine designs in silver. ““Oh, isn't it lovely!” Mama had said when she held it up for Father to see. But she never used it. Anita had forgotten all about it till she saw Mama take it from the top shelf in the linen closet yesterday, and set it out on her dressing table. Just two nights ago, Father had said: THIS WEEK Magozine Section 7 OIF THIE “Woild The story of a test which comes into the life of almost every married woman *‘Gertrude Washburn will be in town Tuesday night. Let’s take her to the hotel for dinner, shall we?”’ Mama looked at him quickly and then away, blinking as if she was considering very hard. Then she said, and her voice seemed tight in her throat: “'I think we ought to have her here, Fred. She's probably tired of hotels.” *‘But that’s so much work for you.” *“That'’s all right,” Mama said, and added in a low voice but as if it was the most im- portant thing: ‘‘Besides, I don’t have the right kind of clothes for hotels —"’ As if her new grey chiffon wasn’t the prettiest dress in the whole world! Then all yesterday Mama had worked so hard cleaning ‘the house. But she didn't say, ‘‘I'm tired,” when Father came home, as she usually did. He said, ‘“What were you doing today?”’ And she said, ‘‘Oh, nothing very much.” Anita stopped rocking as the faniily sedan drew up to the curb. The lady inside never moved or opened the door or anything. She just sat there until Father had walked around the car and opened the door for her. Then she gave him her hand and stepped out. She wasn’t very tall. But she was very thin and her black dress clung to her as if it were wet. She laughed as she came up the walk, and said, ‘“Why, I think it’s nice, Fred.” Her voice didn't cling to her. It came right out clear and pointed. Anita got up slowly and stood at the edge of the porch. The lady saw her. She hurried the last few steps, reached down and took . Anita's hands. “So this is your little girl,” she said, and she held her head to one side and stared into *Anita’s eyes so deep that Anita felt kind of pulled apart, and looked down. The front door opened, and Mama stood there. She was wearing the grey chiffon. She looked very pretty. Her cheeks were so pink, and her eyes sparkled. ‘‘Well, Gertrude,” she cried, and stood in the doorway smiling as Gertrude went up to her. “‘Martha!” Gertrude took Mama’s hands in hers, and held them, and looked at Mama as if she was very glad to see her. Then they went in. ‘‘Come, Anita.” Father put his arm around Anita’s shoulders and they walked in together. They sat down at the table. Father had brushed his hair with water and looked very fresh and neat. Mama smiled a lot and kept talking. Gertrude wasn't pretty. She was — well, decided Anita in a little hushed thought, really she was ugly! She had a very stylish way of moving her hands, though. Anita watched the red stone on Gertrude’s little finger that flashed and flashed. ‘Just to think, it’s been twelve years since we were together.”” That was Mama, talking fast, and with little jerky breaths. ‘‘We surely -didn’t think then that we should meet again out here, did we?"’ “Twelve years ago’ — Gertrude's voice sounded very clear after Mama's — “‘any- thing was possible.”” She looked at Father when she said that. He saw her look at him, but he went right on carving. ‘“Yes,"” Father said, after a pause, and grinned. “But the most unlikely was that Gertrude would turn out to be an old maid.” Father was looking at Gertrude with his teasing look, and didn't see Mama’s little frown which always meant to Anita: *‘Oh- darling-don’t-do-that.” Father settled back and began to eat. *‘Why haven’'t you ever married, Gertrude?”’ Gertrude’s red ring flashed. *“Well, I guess I'm just a one-man woman,” she said with crisp gaiety, ‘‘and I couldn’t have the one man. That’s all.” Her quick dark eyes went from Father to Mama and back again, and her smile was stiff like a photograph’s. ‘‘Let me serve you some peas,”” Mama said. Then: “I'm sure you've had all sorts of op- portunities to marry."” “Oh, yes. What woman traveling alone doesn’t? And it's rather good fun, too; being proposed to in so many languages.’ : “You must have had some marvelous ex- periences. Do tell us.” ‘‘Last year at Cannes there was the most ridiculous Spanish nobleman — "’ Anita almost forgot to eat, listening to her. This very lady, she told herself wonderingly, had been, her own self, to all these places; “‘Travel broadens one so,” Mama said once, sighing a little. That was a funny thing to say. Gertrude wasn't broad. Not even so much as Mama. - After dinner Mama said they’d just leave the dishes, and Gertrude said, ‘‘You must show me over the house. I want to see it all.” Gertrude peered briefly about the kitchen with its shining white cupboards and the neat patterns of china and glassware. “‘What a sweet kitchen,” she said. But at the den, she paused and went in and looked at the names of the books on (Continved on page 15)