Evening Star Newspaper, September 20, 1936, Page 87

« | September 20, 1936 . know what I mean.” She suggested that they go to a movie together. “I really ought to finish this.” “You need to rest your mind. You can explain some of the things you've been reading and thinking as we walk along. Afterward, we could have a He began to avoid Mona; but occa- sionally, to keep from being downright rude, he had to talk to her. He did not talk to her as easily and naturally as he once had, but scoffed and poked fun at the things she believed. Mona did not understand it. Some- thing was wrong with Moss Fleming. It wasn’t pleasant to be with him; he seemed to think he was so superior. Of course, Ray Bean wasn’t perfec- tion, but at least he didn't laugh at almost every remark she made. Moss knew he was doing this, and knew it was foolish. Sometimes when he saw the look on her face he felt ashamed, but pride would not let him say he was sorry. Now that he had ! taken the attitude he had, he could not stop. It was nice to have Edna’s flattery and to feel he knew more than she did, but sometimes her chatter was — well, boring. But she was pretty and a good dancer. His name was be- ginning to be linked with Edna’s. People asked them to parties; it was taken as a matter of course. He had assumed the pose of a cynical young man and could not very well turn from it. ‘‘Moss Fleming is so cynical,” people said. He enjoyed that; it dis- tinguished him. He decided he would be that way all his life. As he passed along the street with his white hair and gold-headed cane, people would . whisper: “That's Moss Fleming, the cynic.”” He was growing physically, THIS WEEK A Cynical Young Man and mentally. Shaving was nothing at all any more; he had almost forgotten his voice had ever been a squeak. Some of his discoveries about life didn’t seem so profound as they once had. Life was perplexing. Sometimes he wished he were older; then he would understand it better The Highway Dance was the year’s chief social event among the younger set, and was held at the Country Club. As the time approached, Moss be- gan to want to go, but he would have to take Edna. He hadn’t asked her yet, but she would expect it. Being Edna’s escort wasn’t the pleasure it had once been; she was a good listener, but she laughed a bit too much. This was refreshing when you first met her, but after a time fell rather flat. Even if he should pluck up his courage and ask Mona, she would turn him down. She had lost interest in him; Ray was doing handsomely by her — parties, rides, walks, tennis. ‘“Ray and Mona” — the words were on everybody's lips. However, this did not keep Moss from wishing he could take her to the Highway Dance. He thought of their riding together in his father’s car to the Country Club, what he would say to her as they danced, as they drove home, as he helped her out. How sweet her smile was, How white her teeth when she laughed. He even began to think how to go about it if he should decide to ask her. Would he write her a letter? Would he call her up? Sweet dreams. What was that silly rhyme he had had a year ago about her name? Why! He'd al- most forgotten it. He smiled in amused Continved from poge five recollection of the quaint creature he had been. One day, as he came down the steps from his father’s office, he almost bumped into Mona. He lifted his hat politely but not with the flourish Ray gave his chapeau, and he tried to talk, but there wasn't much to say. How was she? That's good. Where was she going? Oh, is that so. Well, well. She was pleasant and agreeable, but far from cordial, and seemed to wish to be on her way. Without giving himself a chance to think, he began to talk about the Highway Dance, sort of preparing her for the question. He watched her closely — the flicker of her eyelid, her icy smile. She was not going to accept, he saw that. He became proud; he was glad he had not humiliated himself. He reverted to his cynicism. Life was too short to go to white-pants dances. “The bunch who go out there amuse me,” he asserted. “I’ll probably stay at home and read Haeckel. There’s a man who laughed at life.” He was thoroughly in accord with the brilliant Haeckel. “What do the people on this infinitesimal atom floating around in space amount to? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!’ He laughed shrilly, lifted his hat, and walked cynically down the street. Each season the high school, during commencement week, had a reunion. It was an important affair. Former students came for miles; some planned their yearly visit so they could be present. This year it was to be even more important, for one of the boys had become an aviator hero. The town was proud of him; his class prouder of him; and preparations had been made to do him fitting honors. There were to be speeches from Moss’s and Mona’s class. Moss was chosen to represent the boys, Mona the girls. It would be the most im- portant speech Moss had ever made, and he felt apprehensive about it. Mona had been the best speaker in the class, had always outshone him. If it had been anyone except Mona, he would not have been so disturbed. He would not try, he decided, to be as clever as Mona; he would say what was within him, and say it to the best of his ability. He set to work on his speech; no sitting with his chin in his hands idly watching the people pass, no gazing at himself in the mirror. No monstrous faces. No odd-looking magazines, no behavior patterns. But Mona was preparing, too. He was exceedingly nervous when they sat down at the banquet tables and the toastmaster rose and told humorous stories which seemed to sadden everybody. There sat his father and mother, from time to time gazing at him proudly. But they did not know Mona'’s ability, and how he must inevitably be compared to her. Mona spoke with real feeling and flashes of humor, and never had she looked so pretty. When she sat down, there was hearty applause. She had made the best talk of the evening. Moss rose to his feet trembling violently and yet, by some kindness from heaven, seeming to be calm. His father beamed on him. How much older Moss seemed. How miraculously he had changed in a year. Moss had the feeling that he him- self wasn't speaking, that some Magazine Section 11 ingenious person had climbed into his body and was running things with a high hand. But in a few moments he began to warm up to his subject, which was the outstanding things mankind had accomplished, and especially the fine flight their fellow alumnus had made. People stopped playing with forks and sugar cubes. Mona began to look at Moss in pleased bewilderment. Why! thie was not the kind of speech she had expected him to make. She felt she was looking upon a different Moss; a finer, broader Moss. When he sat down a burst of applause went up, and it kept on. Mona was one of the first to con- gratulate him when the affair was over. “Your speech was splendid,” she said sincerely. “I was surprised at it, for I expected — well something biting and cynical. It wasn't at all. It had a mellowness that was delightful.”” ““Mellowness?"’ he repeated, aston- ished, for he had not thought of it in this way at all. He had had something to say and had said it simply. “Ye.,amatummellom.Afing mellow warmth that took hold of the people — and of me, too.” He felt a great mellow warmth toward her, the kind he had known before the skink had leaped into his path. “Say, Mona! I've got some- thing I want to say to you. Will you go to the Highway Dance with me?”’ Her'eyu lighted. “I'd love to, “That's great!” said the mellow young cynic. His father watched him as he chatted and laughed with Mona. He shook his head in perplexity. 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