Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 December 1936 — Page 31
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. BY ROBERT DICKSON (1936, NEA Service, Inc.) BEGIN HERE TODAY . Marcela Canfield, aaughter of wealthy Philip Canfield, meets Bruce McDougall, artist, shortly after the mysterious disappearance of Frank Kendrick, to whom - Marcia had been engaged. When shortages are found in Kendrick’s business sccounts, Marcia is more shocked than heartbroken. She realizes she was never in Jove with him. ! McDougall is attentive until Dorothy Osborn, who dislikes Marcia, leads him 10 believe Marcia is engaged to another There is a bank holdup and police commandeer the Canfield car to follow the bandits. The car is wrecked and . both Marcia and het father are injured. McDougall, driving with Dorothy, arrives on the scene and takes Marcia and her father to the hospital. Their injuries are slight. Although ‘Marcia’s arm is in a sling, she takes part in an amateur play a short time : afterward. A New York producer attends the performance and offers Dorothy a part in his new preduction. Marcia gives a party for Derothy. Bruce goes with Joan and Mike Bradford, He and Helen Waddell, close friend of Mareia’s, overhear a gossiper discussing Marcia’s engagement to Kendrick. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ELEN said with cold anger, “Let's get out of here.” Obediently McDougall rose and followed her into the hall, out of hearing of the two in the room beyond the library. Through the archway ahead they could see the | dancers, the groups of talkers around the walls. Midway down . the hall Helen paused. “You'll wonder what about,” she said. McDougall gave his best imitation of la man who does not require to be told a thing. “It's just a matter of petty, local gossip,” said Helen. “I'm not suggesting you want to be in on it; but I ought to explain why it made me so angry. “That's Mrs. Charles Horton whom Mike is talking with back there. She can’t let up over something that happened here some months ago. There was a sequel to the thing that happened, and as far as I can see it concerned Marcia alone. Well, my cousin happened to stumble across something which had to do with the case and tried to help Marcia out. But nothing lever came of it. Nothing ever will come of it. ~ “And almost everybody is willing
it’s all
to drop it. All but a few like—" “she tossed her head toward the inner room—“the lady in there.
And it burns me up. There never was a grander girl than Marcia _ Canfield.” w os n° FT was all considerably mystifying, McDougall reflected as he walked toward Dorothy Osborn’s house late "on Monday afternoon. Dorothy was to sit for his sketch, and he was to stay for dinner—the dinner he had hs missed before, Dorothy had said © without rancor. But whatever the trouble had ; been that still kept Bobbs Neck gosLn, 3ip intermittently supplied with fuel, * the profit to McDougall was—nothing. Marcia, so far as he had ever learned, was engaged to marry. Not engaged to John Waddell—he had received enlightenment, before the end of Saturday night's party, on the . Chicagoan’s status in Bobbs Neck—but to a still unidentified some one. Then of what interest to him was this old affair of local gossip? If it had meant an unengaged Marcia—ah, then the future could be planned differently! Forget it, forget it! said McDougall silently, kicking heartily at a mound of snow in his path, Dorothy was waiting for him—a ‘cordial . Dorothy, but he had never known her otherwise—in the now ~_ attractive living room, but he had ‘never known it when it was unattractive. Mrs. Osborn, when he entered, came in to greet him and then retired to kitchen duties. “I won't pretend,” said Dorothy, “that I am anything but thrilled. This is the first time I've ever appeared in anything but photographs, - and most of them were snapshots, come to think of it. Please remember that I'm having a species of stage fright.”
73 » 8 5
T'S the first time,” laughed MecDougall, “that I've ever been allowed to sketch an actress, so if you're shivering from nervogsness just remember that I am, too... . Don't imagine that I believe this sketch will be a first-rate job, be- . cause I'm not trying to sell the ~ idea that I'm a first-rate artist. It's Just something I wanted to do, and I'll do it the best I can.” “With the material at hand,” supplied Dorothy. “Aren't we humble, though?—and now where and how “do I sit?” wh ’ McDougall instructed her merely to take a chair as if entertaining a “caller; ~~ “At ease!” he ordered. “Forget the sketch. Just sit and talk.” ~ With his sketching block on crossed knees, he began the work, with frequent pauses while he studed his subject. The outline of her face, the line of her hair, presented interesting problems of draftsman-
you enjoy the party?” asked thy remembering his orders.
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prompting McDougall could not
guess, “You've been hearing things,” she went on. “From this person about that person, and turn about. Well,—with a confessional honesty which he could not suspect —“there is gossip, of course. I don’t know whether it's more or less than in the city; perhaps it is simply more apparent where there are fewer competing distractions. . « « I have ‘known of some cruel things.” McDougall regretting the subject, bent over his sketch, abandoning for the time his frequent appraising glances at his model. “Por instance,” Dorothy continued, “there’s a girl in town whom, to be frank, I never appre--ciated until recently, = She was rather the victim of gossip by persons ' who considered themselves affected, and even of others who had no real interest at all, She was always envied by a lot of people, for things she had, when it was no more a fault of ‘hers that she had them than it was a virtue in the other people not to have them. Yet, in ‘effect, the other people made her pay for her possessions by deliberately hurting her.” LL.B. 8 8 ARCIA, of course. Wherever he turned .there was a reflection of Marcia. Was she really such a focal point of Bobbs Neck interest, or was it because he himself looked eternally upon the picture oi her in his mind that she seemed to be a constant center of attention, of conversation? ) His pencil moved in an automatic hand. As a listener, suddenly remembering a matter far afield, mentally deserts a speaker, McDougall was for a‘few minutes gone from that room. He came to himself with a guilty start, stealing a belated glance at his subject to learn whether his absence had been noted. With relief he found Dorothy looking at her folded hands, and returned to his sketch. Amazed and incredulous, he stared at what he saw there, and then with angry decision tore the page into pieces .and stuffed them into his pocket. “That's a bad start,” he said harshly. “Let's begin again and get it right.” He had found on the drawing block, in the outline of Dorothy Os-
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born’s face, the eyes of Marcia Canfield. :
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. Le» “QOMETHING,” said McDougall to himself as he walked homeward, “has done away with what I to der my sense of humor. 1 “to have a different perspective. es hope and realization, sometimes hope and disappointment, but never, by George, such hugging of a secret sorrow to my aching bosom. I am, in a word, a dope. What I need is.more and harder work to do, less leisure and soft living.” ?
two blocks down, Mike and Joan lived. It was not ‘yet 11 o'clock. He turned and went toward their house. ~ Joan opened the door. “Welcome,” she said. “Come in and witness the homicide.” “What's going on?” asked MecDougall. “Just like her mother,” shouted Mike from the living room. “Loses an argument and wants to kill the winner.” “Just pretend that man isn’t here,” Joan ' advised McDougall, “and perhaps he’ll go away. . . . Go away -anyway, ‘sonny boy, and bring us back a ‘glass of tonic. You've given ‘me a headache.” “If an old friend of the family may ask,” McDougall suggested “what wasethe argument and do you want an umpire? I'd be glad to settle’ any little question : of
sion that may have you.” “It's Home versus Career,” said Joan. "“What? Are you looking for a job?” “Not my career. Mike's.” “How is home hurting Mike's career?” “Well,” said Joan, “I'd like to buy a house, whereas Mike has a stupid idea that he , . .” . } “Hold everything!” / interrupted Mike. “I have another. idea!” “He has another stupid idea,” Joan amended. : “Wait. a minute,” said Mike. “Wait—I'll be right back. This makes ‘it perfect!” “Something,” said Joan as he disappeared, “like two negatives making a positive, I suppose. But
been troubling
a cross to bear.” (To Be Continued)
SECOND
By John
OR the third successive Saturday afternoon, Norma had to clean the small apartment unassisted. She felt moody this afternoon. It was only, she told herself, because Frieda, her roommate, had avoided her share of the housework again. It was not, she insisted, because Frieda had told her last night that she was engaged to Marvin Hale, and had now gone off to a hockey game with him. She herseli—Norma’s thoughts continued—had no personal interest whatever in Marvin Hale. He was just her boss, and she was his secretary.
There was a sound at the door, it opened, and Frieda burst in. “Back so soon?” Norma said in surprise. “Yes—back so soon!” Frieda flung at her in a voice shrill: with anger.
” s 2 HE removed her hat, and held it up for petulant inspection. “What’s wrong with this hat?” she demanded. It was hardly Frieda's shade of red, Norma thought, but she had more tact than to say so. Frieda was not a girl you could be frank with. She had a violent temper. “It looks all right to me,” Norma said. “It’s a lovely hat.” “You bet your life it’s a lovely hat. I guess my taste in hats is as good as the next person’s—but do you know what that guy had the nerve to say?” “Marv-<Mr. Hale?” “Yeah. I asked him how he liked it. He gives it the once over and says, ‘Why, frankly, Frieda, I don’t. Was I burned up! We had an awful fight, and now, we're washed up.” “You mean your engagement——"
Frieda nodded emphatically. “Busted wide open!” ” ” 2
HE set her jaw -belligerently,
ready to repulse all arguments |aga
against the action she had taken.
None - came, for Norma was realizing that Marvin was free again—no longer the property of Frieda! A faint flush crept into her cheeks, and there was a new light in her eyes. Involuntarily, she smiled. : Frieda stared at her. Then, suddenly, her ‘eyes narrowed. “Say,” she demanded suspiciously,
“what are you looking so pleased
about? Listen, are you—are you stuck on Marvin?” . Norma blushed. “Well—I do think he’s swell, Frieda.” way it is!”
“So! “My own roommate scheming behind my back io steal the man I love!” " “Oh, no, Frieda! I-" “You've been just waiting for a chance!” Frieda smiled grimly. “Mow you think you're going to pick him up on the rebound, don’t you? Well, you're wrong, Miss Smartie! of the kind!” Frieda went determinedly to the tel ephone and dialed a number,
Oh, really, e?. . an you night? . . . The Wilsons’ party? . . . Td love it! . .. What? . . . The engagement? , . . No, of course I didn't mean it...” = » s =
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Daily Short Story
BOUNCE
Creecy: |
“Do you like Norma Lanning?” “Why, uh—of couse I like her. She’s a fine secretary.” “Oh—that’s not what I mean. Not as a secretary, but just as a—as a girl, how do you.like her?” “Why—why—" suddenly, Marvin thrust his chin out defiantly. “I like her a lot, if you must know.” Frieda stiffened.
® ” 2
“PPUT wait a minute,” Marvin added hastily. “Don’t get me wrong... I've never so much as said a word to Norma outside of regular office routine. Besides, she probably wouldn't look twice at me.” “Well, let me, tell you:-something!” said Frieda. “You look out for her! The scheming thing! You may not know it, but she’s got designs on you.” _ “Frieda! You're being absurd!” “Absurd nothing! You should have seen her this afternoon when I told her I was through with you! She nearly threw a fit, she was so happy.” “She—you mean she—" Marvin's mouth fell open in. astonishment. He. stared into space for so long that Frieda grew irritable. “Stop looking like a sick fish, Marvie. Look—you haven’t told me how you like my new gown.” “Your gown? Oh, = yes—your wn.” He looked carefully at it, then took a deep breath. “I think it’s terrible!” he said.
” J 2 ORMA was reading when the doorbell rang.
“Mar—Mr. Hale!” : “Norma——I——I wanteq to have a talk with you.” “But where's Frieda?” “She’s at the Wilsons.” He came in, sat down, and explained about Frieda and the gown. The engagement, he said, was off i
n. “But, Marvin, you should have known she'd break it off again if vou said that about her gown.” “I did,” said Marvin. “That’s why I said it.” : Norma couldn’t speak—so she let him kiss her. It seemed the logical thing to do. : : “THE END 1936, United Syndicate, Ine.) The characters in this story are fictitious.
(Copyright,
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WELL, MY FRIENDS: WE HATE TO SEE YOU LEAVE -YoU MOOVIANS HAVE DONE 50 MUCH FOR US-
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EVERYTHING'S A MESS? THAT BIG YAP OF A WUR, IS ALIVE *
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