Evening Star Newspaper, January 25, 1942, Page 79

COMPLETE BUST Ceatinued from preceding page “Why, my old granddad! Natural as life!”’ Bill eyed him in a kind of despair. “‘Had that bust very long, sir?"’ “Long? Must be thirty years!” 1“Well,” Bill said, dazedly, “that’s certainly a funny thing! I mean it kind of looks like somebody I know.” Mr. Abbott nodded complacently. ‘““That may well be, but just the same it’s the spittin’ image of my old grand- dad. Cyrus Abbott — fought through the whole Civil War — knew Lincoln like a brother. Gen'ral in the Army. It was Lincoln give him the idea for that bust. ‘A lot of worse men than you, Cy, have had busts of theirselves,’ Lincoln said. ‘You have your bust made, Cy — you do that.’ And here’s the bust to prove it. And another thing that might be interestin’ to you young people — Lincoln saw that bust with his own eyes. ‘Cy,” he said, ‘it's the spittin’ image of you —it sure is! What do you think of that?" Clearly they didn’'t know what to think of it. Neither Bill nor Marty had ever heard so unabashed a lie — a lie stripped of the last, lingering ves- tiges of truth. It was impossible not to be a little impressed. ““Well,” Bill mumbled, “that’s very interesting all right — isn’t it, Marty ?*’ Marty gathered all her courage. ““Yes,”” she said. *I guess you think an awful lot of that bust, Mr. Abbott. I guess you wouldn’t care to sell it?"’ She held her breath. But Mr. Abbott was not looking par- ticularly outraged. “Sellit?"’ he echoed. “Well, a distinguished citizen like your grandfather — I"" Bill put in, hastily. ‘‘He ought to be in some kind of public building, I should think — like a museum or maybe a high school — wouldn’t you say so, Marty?"’ “Oh, yes! But not just in one of the classrooms; I think maybe the library — ** “I'd put it there myself!” Bill said. “Well, I hate to part with it,"” Mr. Abbott said. ‘‘But — as you say — a distinguished citizen and all that —* The inflection left a tactful way open for the mention of some sum — which turned out, after a certain nerve- racking interval, to be $3.80. "Now!" Marty said. “Now we've just got to get it back on that pedestal without anybody seeing us!”’ “That ought to be simple!’ Bill assured her. ‘I bet there's nobody in the whole school this time of day — except maybe the janitor.” Marty looked at him excitedly. “Old Mr. Peters! He wouldn’t say anything — Bill"’ Bill pulled the car to the curb and picked up the bust. “Well, remember!”’ Marty said. “We'll just walk in — in a perfectly natural way — and then, if anybody sees us, you get behind me and I’ll stay in front of the bust. Remember, Bill!"”’ They were conversing in whispers by this time, and walking on tiptoe toward the library. Bill sent an un- easy glance over his shoulder. “I thought 1 heard someone!” “Probably Peters.”” The corridor, and now the library itself, seemed to echo with ominous footsteps. Bill had been carrying the bronze bust as if it were a football. He shifted it as he hurried toward the — you’re through as truant officer” pedestal, assuming the attitude of one about to make a basket. “Hurry!’ breathed Marty. “I do hear somebody "’ Bill started. Then, with shaking hands, put the bust where it belonged. Marty clutched his sleeve. *‘Oh, Bill! It’s Mr. Hibbert! Quick !’ They just had time to slip behind the nearest stacks as Mr. Hibbert ap- proached and stopped short, face to face with his own lost image. For a long moment all was silent. Then Mr. Hibbert did an incompre- hensible thing. With the utmost cau- tion he edged nearer the pedestal. Looking hastily to left and right, he took the bust in his arms and started to move stealthily toward the door. It wasat that moment that Bill New- comb’s elbow accidentally knocked a volume of Pendennis to the floor. ‘“Who's there?"’ cried Mr. Hibbert. ‘There was only one thing, then, for Bill and Marty to do. They came out into the open, trying to seem casual. “Oh, it's only me and Bill!"’ stam- mered Marty — with a rather reedy little laugh. ‘“We just happened to be here sort of early. That i1s — "’ Her voice trailed off. There was something very queer about Mr. Hib- bert. He was heolding the bronze bust with an air of embarrassment, as if it were a very large hot potato. At the same time he was smiling at them in a way unmistakably sheepish. "A.Bou‘l‘ this little affair — "’ he said, hastily. “l was — uh — I was going to announce in assembly that a satis- factory explanation had been made about the bust — that the entire mat- ter was closed. I would have let you have the dance, of course!”’ Bill and Marty stared wordlessly at him. Curtis A. Hibbert was turning into something almost human! He was looking, now, a little bit wistful. ‘It seemed such a good chance to get rid of the thing!"’ ““You mean the bust?"’ croaked Bill, ““You don’t like that bust?”’ “Like it? I detest it!"’ “But it's a work of art!”’ cried Marty. ‘At least — isn't it?"’ “l don't care if it is or not! It doesn’t do me justice — nobody can say so!"’ Marty opened her mouth — and left it open. It was incredible that Mr. Hibbert should have felt about his bust the way she felt about her pic- ture in last year's Year Book. She was beginning, to her amazement, to be quite fond of Mr. Hibbert, Bill was rousing himself, in the meantime, from a sort of stupor, ‘“Well, I'l1 tell you!’ he said excitedly. “You leave that bust on the desk, sir, and then you kind of walk on out of here. You don’t ever need to know what happened after that !"’ Mr. Hibbert hesitated. He glanced uncertainly over his shoulder. His voice was like a conspirator’s. “Do you hear somebody ?** “No!’" Marty said. *“‘That’s just the janitor." Bill stepped to the door. ““The coast is clear, sir.”” He moved back, making way for the principal. “What'll we do with it?" Marty whispered, then, in some anxiety. ““You wouldn’t want to take it back to the zoo, Bill?”” “Of course not! A nice guy like that "' ‘“Well, then, / know! It would make a wonderful wedding present! He stared at her. “Wedding pres- ent!’ he said. “For who?"’ “Why — '’ cried Marty, “for Fran- cine, of course!” The End wasH WHITE wrmour sieacuing! Chiange & Thailllssg NEW OUVDOL oot WOSTUE BYBBUE 50t Still richer in washing power — sparkling white. This famous soap— o o utterly free from bleach itself—is now still milder. Safe for rayons! richer in washing power. And glory THINK of a wash brightand sweetas be! milder than before. Kinder to aday in June—yes, white withontbleach- hands! Safe for lovely colored wash- ing. You can have it—with wonderful ables and your washable rayons, too! safety—even in hard water! And think of this—every cup goes The New OXYDOL is that kind of much farther—washes more clothes or soap. Its new “Hustle-Bubble” suds dishes—saves money. ’ are the “last word" for washing lovely So, lady, try the New OXYDOL. ‘ Aadexceptforstains orunusual pieces, \ of course, see r next wash come - 3 AYALL white witheut bleaching. e oeALERS BARE m akers— for :u::;-fh::;y.{m‘.:nm of the famous New Oxydol is the oaly soep recommended Y Time-Control Model. c T —— JOHDO\ Oxvoo" ; )