Evening Star Newspaper, September 20, 1936, Page 91

Father’'s desk. Mama watched her and didn’t say anything. Upstairs, at the door to Anita’s room, Gertrude laughed at the row of dolls, and at the collection of little =dogs on the painted shelf. I have a Russian wolfhound made of white floss,” she said. “It was given to me by a young man in Brittany. You shall have it.”’ When she went to the door of the next room, she just stood for a minute. “So this is Fred’'s room,” she said slowly. As if it wasn't Mama's, too! Mama went in and walked over to her dressing table. ““This is such an exquisite perfume bottle you sent, Gertrude. I don’t believe I ever prop- +erly thanked you.” When they went downstairs, Mama didn’t say anything about its being Anita’s bedtime. So Anita followed them watchfully. Mama sat down on the little blue love-seat, and put her arm around Anita, drawing her close. Gertrude sat under the blue light. It made her hair very black and shiny. She and Father talked about lots of things. Mostly about people Anita ‘didn’t know. Father kept saying funny things and they’d all laugh. Once in a while Mama said something. But mostly she sat quiet, and Anita could hear her heart through the grey chiffon going thump, thump, thump. Then it was time for Gertrude to go. She rose suddenly; Mama jumped; and something inside Anita gave a startled flip before she realized it was just that Gertrude was leaving. She went upstairs with Mama and Gertrude. ““Past your bedtime,” Mama said warningly. . But she didn’t sound at all strict, so Anita lingered a few minutes watch- ing Gertrude pull on her small black hat. The red stone flashed in the lamplight at Mama'’s dressing table. Gertrude smoothed the wing of hair above her left ear, pulled the hat far down on the other side. “Such a smart hat,”” Mama said. M ASHAMED OF MY PiLLOW- K THIS WEEK Woman of the World “‘Do you like it? I got it in Paris last fall.” So that was a Paris hat! It wasn't pretty like Mama’'s hats. But maybe it was just because you couldn’t make Gertrude pretty anyway, so you made her black and smart and shiny. Mama looked up at Anita standing in the doorway. “Honey,” she said, “it’s too late for a little girl to be up. You say good night and hike to bed.” *“‘Good night,” Anita said. ‘I hope you won't forget the wolfhound.” ““Anita!” Mama said with a playtul kind of sternness. Gertrude laughed. *‘I won't.”” Anita, in her room, slipped off the blue sweater. When she stepped out of her white pleated skirt, it stood alone on the floor. Sleepy as she was, she paused a moment to marvel at its stiffress. Underwear off in a wink, nightie on. It was too late, she decided, to brush her teeth; Mama would surely forget to ask her this once. Anita’s heavy eyelids had almost closed when suddenly they popped open._A dark figure was outlined in - the doorway. “Oh, Martha” — it was Gertrude’s voice — ““do let me tuck her in, the lamb!” Gertrude crossed the room, stood for a second over Anita’s bed looking down at her. Anita’s eyes were open, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Suddenly Gertrude was kneeling by the bed, her hands making quick little smoothing motions with the pil- low and the covers. Then she leaned forward and kissed Anita’s forehead. “Good ‘'night, little Anita,” she whispered. Then she was quiet a mo- ment, with her lips lightly against Anita’s forehead. “Good night,” Anita said, glad of something to say. Then she saw that Father had come in and was standing beside Mama. Continved from paoge seven “I'll go down ahead and get the car started,” he offered. Anita lay very still after he had left and listened to the others moving about in Mama's room and then going down stairs: Gertrude’s quick rat-tat- tat and Mama'’s slower, quieter step. Anita heard the front door open. .Heard Gertrude say, “It’s been mar- velous seeing you, Martha. Thank you so much for a lovely, lovely evening.” “Oh-h,” Mama’'s voice was uncer- tain. “We — were so glad to have you, Gertrude. You must come again.’’ For a minute Anita couldn’t hear anything, but it seemed as if the silence rose from downstairs like a small round rain cloud. Then Gertrude spoke: ‘“May 1 kiss you, Martha?" There were small sounds. The door closed. The car, outside, whirred away. Mama’'s steps came up the stairs, slowly, slowly. If Anita curled around in her bed so that her head was almost down to the foot, she could see into Mama's room. Now she drew herself around in the covers till she looked like a little curled cocoon. Mama sat down at the dressing table looking at herself in the mirror. Her face was very cross. She ran a comb through her hair, drawing it in a wing above her left ear. She added extra lines of red to her lips. Again she sat looking at herself; making stylish motions with her hands.’ She rose and walked to the middle of the room. Anita squirmed around till she could see Mama standing be- fore the long mirror, her hands mov- ing over her hips as if she measured them. She turned sidewise; looked very hard at her reflection. As if a person didn’t know how large or how small she was! Then Mama raised her arms above her head and bent way over. “Mama,” Anita called suddenly. Mamastraightened swiftly.*‘What?"" she asked and tilted her head to listen. She was frowning. “You haven’t heard my prayers yet.” “Oh.”” Mama hurried, sorry, and sat on the edge of Anita’s bed. “Honey,” she said, “‘I thought you were asleep a long time ago.” Anita said her prayers. She finished with the usual: “‘God bless Mama and Father and Grandmother”; only this time she added, “and poor Gertrude.” Mama stiffened. “Why ‘poor Ger- “Oh, Mama!” Anita was indignant. Then she explained: “She’s so ugly. And she hasn’t any home, or any lit- tle girl. And she couldn’t have that one man — ” “Hm"’ Mama said, still crossly, not at all like herself. And yet, Anita reasoned, it wasn't asif she was really cross, but more as if that thing behind her voice hurt her too much. Mama kissed her and went back to her own room. Anita closed her eyes for just a moment . . . “Phew, Boy!” That was Father coming noisily up the stairs. ‘“That’s over.” . “What’s over?”” Mama asked, and the words had little spikes on them. “Gertrude. For another twelve years — 1 hope.” “Why,” Mama said slowly, “I thought you liked Gertrude.” “I do,” Father assured her. “But,” he continued, each word separately emphatic, “a little — goes a long way." Anita could see them. Mama was looking at him as if she was going to ask him something, but she didn’t. Anita called, “Father.” “Hi!"” he called back just as one of his big shoes banged on the floor. He came in, thump-tum thump- tum; one shoe off and one shoe on. “Why aren't you asleep, young lady?” he asked, running his bhand through her curls. “I been thinking about Gertrude,” Anita began. “She’s been feeling sorry for Ger- trude.” Mama had followed Father in, and she spoke now from the slipper chair by the foot of the bed. “You have?” “Oh, yes,”" Anita said. “‘She basn’t got any home, or any little girl — " “Or that one man,’* Mama filled in, looking at Father. “And,” Mama continued after a minute,“Anita thinks she’s ‘so ugly.” " ““You and me both,” Father said to Anita. | “But she is so slender,” Mama in- sisted. ‘‘And she wears such lovely clothes. “ ‘Lovely'"™ Father echoed scom- fully. “I thought they were awful.” “So did 1,” Anita said. Father grinned at Anita. “We like pretty soft things, don’t we, young lady? Like Mama and Mama’s dresses. Don’t we?” s “Umhum,” she agreed, cosily. Mama came over and sat on the bed, too; next to Father. ‘But she’s so entertaining and brilliant. And she’s been so many places and met such in- teresting people.” “Say. What ¢s this?"* Father asked, tuming around to Mama. “Are you wishing you could ditch us and go galloping off places?” “Oh, no!” Mama said, and the hurting thing came right out with her words. It made Anita want to cry. Father put his arm around Mama. “Listen, sweet,” he said. “Don't change any. We want you just as you are. Don't we, "Nita?>" “UmHM!” Anita agreed. : She could see tears in Mama's eyes. They sparkled in the light from the other room. They were lots prettier than that ring of Gertrude’s, even if they were tears. The End TIRED OF RUBBING DIRTY STREAKS? My new P ano G way to wash gives me extra help on extra-heavy dirt—Spotless washes! No hard rubbing! 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