Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 August 1936 — Page 15

| __ (Continued from Page One)

right of heritage, boasting ancestral linés that stretched into a past so dim it shouldn’t have mattered in . modern times. Yet somehow it did. oy y. All the famous families would open their arms to ‘ Donald's wife. Donald, arrogant, cocksure, correct, with his splendid old town house that was frightfully in need of redecorating, and his country place where he entertained frequently, keeping up a pretense of 8 comfortable income. Donald had found it necessary to retrench. for some vague reasons concerned with stocks and bonds.

- Hubert Wallace was just a debutante rusher. This year he had picked Molly. Hubert was a good - playfellow, but perhaps after a time you would become tired of a life that was an endless merry-go-round, and then where would you be? “Golden girl!” She could hear Hubert’s caressing voice, now. “Marry me, and you'll dine on strawberries and cream like the good little girl in the nursery rhyme.” “No thanks,” Molly had retorted. “Strawberries. give me indigestion and cream might make me fat. I'm not a good little girl, and I'm too old for nursery rhymes.” Brent Stuart, who had been lis- . tening in on one of Hubert's numerous and quite casual proposals, had queried, “What do you want, child? What kind of girl are you?”

. #n n

" ON'T know, to both your questions,” Molly had replied, “1 want to find out.” Thinking about Brent's nice mat-ter-of-factness stilled for the moment the tumult in her mind, a tumult started often these days by the sight of flowers and the small white cards with their scrawled messages. They raised interorgation marks, these small white symbols of a decision she must make soon. For, of course, every girl should end her debut with an announce-ment-of her engagement. That was what debuts were for! § In Molly's case it was more ur‘gent. It was two years now since her father’s marriage to Donna, who was only five years older than herself. Donna was getting sick and tired of a stepmother role. It aged her a bit. Pressure, subtle as it was, was being brought to bear on Molly toward a decision. “Goodness, Molly,” Donna had said. “What is the matter with " you? Four of the season's most eligible men at your heels and you can't make up your mind. You could draw straws and win a huspang any girl would be proud to get.”

” ” ”

OLLY stirred restlessly on her pillow. It wouldn't be Hubert, who babbled things like “Golden Girl” at her. Nor Wick, with his

suave flattery and appraising That, of course, left Brent. with his teasing, gray eyes, his goodlooking; but not hero-handsome face, his strong man’s shoulders. The thought of Brent both steadied and stimulated Molly, Strange. But Brent was like that. Thete Was jus; one th

that Brent was about Molly.

with his big- er-like devotion

didn’t want Brent wouldn't But he'd

haps she

mean anything. call her “Golden Girl.”

he had done ever since Molly was 12 and he was a perfectly maddening and insulting 16-year-old, Who wanted to he called “child” all her life? . Strangely, he hadn't mocked at the name Hubert had suggested during an intermission at Molly's debut ball. “Golden hair, golden eyes with amber lights, golden skin,” Hubert had said softly. “Sounds Chinese,” Molly had laughed. | : “Not yellow. Golden,” Brent had corrected. “You have a sunny kind of skin and it’s deeper gold when you put on tan in the summer.” 2 2 =» “ HY, Brent!” Molly had exclaimed. This from matter-of-fact Brent Stuart! If he should ever propose and if Molly said yes, she would live in that fine old home of Brent's, with its mellow paneling and gracious air of age and dignity. A house that was the proper setting for the son of a famous architect, who was making a name for himself in the same profession. | The telephone tinkled and she heard Rita, the maid, answering. “I'm awake, Rita,” called Molly. Anything was better than going over the same ground and getting nowhere—nowhere beyond men and flowers and telephones . . . and se, curity. That was it! | Molly wanted sa dangerous current ‘in her life. Something to stir her pulses—not this smooth, endless succession of parties and parties, leading finally to a brilliant wedding. The voice over the wire was only Hubert's. “Sorry,” Molly told him, trying to keep boredom’ from her tone. “I

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a sort of delirium | peep go § And all the time there was Brent | | that might mean something and},

might mean nothing at all. Per-|aon it tof]

be certain to call her “child,” as}

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mean lion, since it lacked the strong, wind-in-your-ears sensation which HE mun meant being in love! Hi, mutt! Fm coming out.” “I won't be taken for granted this way,” Molly thought, suddenly mutinous. Aloud she replied sweetly, “No, aren't. I'm feeling not so 0p, Cold and headache.” ,” declared Brent firmly. “I know the symptoms.”

(Te Be Continued)

OPENING DATE SET FOR ELECTROHOME

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