Kankakee Valley Post, Volume 2, Number 29, DeMotte, Jasper County, 9 February 1933 — Claire’s Highest Dream Comes True [ARTICLE]

Claire’s Highest Dream Comes True

By DOROTHY DOUGLAS

(Copyright.) KIRKWOOD was patiently shaving when his eyes suddenly found far better occupation than looking at his own lather-covered face. Reflected in his small shaving mirror from some nearby apartment was the head and shoulders of a girl. But such a girl! Hair like a cloud of sun dust, eyes wide and intelligent--Kirk wood couldn't see the color--and a throat that assurtdly eclipsed that of Annie Laurie. And she was doing most miraculous things with clay and her long sensitive fingers. For out of that inert mass of dull green clay she had brought to life two exquisite children’s heads. Not feeling that it was quite the thing to gaze secretly at any young lady in the sanctity of her own home, Kirkwood heaved a sigh arid turned his shaving mirror. The face was, however, deeply etched in his brain. He didn’t know just why his Uncle John’s personality kept haunting him all day. That august person was always purchasing this or that art treasure and the figures on the checks ran from four to six figures. At present he was giving a great prize in the world of art--the Wadsworth Compe tition--and the lucky winner was to be richer by five thousand dollars. Kirkwood himself knew no more about art than his uncle knew of the feeding of day-old chicks, but for some curious reason he felt that the girl reflected in his shaving mirror was a genuine in embryo. His uncle and the girl kept affiliating in his mind. Then later came the great inspiration. "She must be made to enter that competition! But how?” Kirkwood racked his brain, and it was not until he reached home again that night and saw the juxtaposition of his own window and the small slanting skylight window in hers that the idea came to him. Anyone watching Kirkwood would certainly have thought him mad. Perhaps he was. Love is a bit mad at times. He first detached the mouth piece from the speaking tube at his dumbwaiter, then from his bathroom he secured a long bit of rubber tubing that served as part of his shower bath arrangements. He put the mouthpiece to the tube and silently slipped out on the narrow coping outside his window. The Fates were certainly lending a very helpful hand in this affair for a tiny ventilating pane was left open in the girl’s window. Against this Kirkwood secured the mouthpiece, then carried the tube end back to his room. When Claire Coventry switched off her golden light, and slipped into her bed she was deep in plans for the future. She was dreaming that she was gazing spellbound at the beauties of the Parthenon when out of that spirit bound world she heard a sepulchral voice saying, “Enter Wadsworth Com-petition--Enter Wadsworth Competition!” Claire sprang out of bed in a dazed condition and switched on the lights. No, there was not a soul in the room! Had she been dreaming or was there really an unseen presence trying to help her? It had not for a moment occurred to Claire that her work was promising enough to send to the great competition but now, with that message ringing in her brain, she knew she must obey. Next morning she put a few loving, finishing touches to the childhood group; and calling it “Rosebuds” Claire cast it and entered it before the week was out. Kirkwood, in the meantime had stolen only one or two fleeting glances at the glorious girl and each time his heart turned a violent somersault. He took to making unexpected calls on his uncle much to that person’s surprise. That his nephew should take even cursory interest in the hundreds of statues arriving daily for judgment surprised him even more. Kirkwood kept his voice wonderfully even when he remarked, “Rather a nice thing, that--" and pointed to “Rosebuds.” “Nice!” snorted uncle, “Nice! There's more soul and life and pure grandeur in that ‘nice’ thing than you have in your whole body. Bah! The hands that modeled that clay are the hands of another Rodin--if you know who Rodin is.” Kirkland slapped his uncle on the back, shouted something that sounded like, “I knew it!” and left in such an uproarious state that Uncle John wondered about his sanity. All the way home Kirkwood was planning the future. He would meet the girl soon. There would be a swift and triumphant wooing, a quiet wedding and three months’ holiday honeymoon on the continent. He knew he would not tell her of the clairaudient experience until about a year later, when safely bound to him by that circlet of gold and his arm as well, he might safely do so. And Claire, in her studio next door, was gazing with unbelieving at a letter and a check. A great prayer of thankfulness went out from her heart that her highest dream had come true.