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READ THIS FIRST:
Barbara Kingsley, pretty
ciety editor of the Martinsville Post,
has just "covered” another wedding.
She is tired ot the routine but Peter
Baxter, managing editor, cheers her
fading spirits. Garry Page. New York
newspaper man in t9wn for the wed
dins misses his train hack and Bar
bara! at tne train to pick up pictures,
offers to drive him to the Junction to
catch the last train that night. They
have dinner and, at the Junction, run
into the wedding party, including
Barbara’s proud cousin. Julia. A few
weeks later Natalie Kendall a close
friend of Barbara’s who is a New York
fashion columnist, wires Barbara of an
opening on a child magazine. Barbara
decides to take the position and
Natalie meets her upon her in
New York.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY:
CHAPTER 4
NATALIE KENDALL spilled at
Barbara’s impulsive question:
“Natalie, do you know Garry
Page?”
“Yes, not well, though,” she an
swered. “Is he on the list of peo
ple you want to meet?”
“No, I’ve met him. He took me
to dinner one night when he
missed a train.”
“Maybe we’ll run across him
tonight.”
“Tonight? Are we going out?”
"A friend of mine, Easil Adding
ton, is taking us to dinner and a
musical. We’ll do a night club or
two afterwards to initiate you.
Garry may be around. It’s his
job to see what is going on.” |
Barbara could almost see a
small door opening into Paradise.
Tonight, maybe—But she only
wrinkled her nose and said:*
“Natalie, I feel as though I have
wings! Hold me or I’ll fly away
with joy!”
Natalie smiled indulgently.
Everything about Barbara flew
upward—hair, eyes, mouth, nose.
“New York won’t let you fly too
high, my darling! Never fear.”
The orange juice was sweet and
cold, the coffee ring crisp and hot.
And when breakfast was finished,
there was a ride up Fifth avenue,
past the shops, Radio City and St.
Patrick’s Cathedral, to a street in
the east ’Fifties where Natalie had
her apartment. Barbara scanned
the faces on the sidewalks. Some
day she would know some of these
people. Out there, somewhere —
perhaps in the very throng at
which she gazed but more prob
ably in one of the vast white
buildings—was Garry.
She brought the conversation
back to him again, and Natqlie
talked of Garry's work.
“Is he engaged?” Barbara had
not meant to ask but the question
slipped out
Natalie laughed. “No, darling,
not even reported to be. He has
never been talked about with any
girl, come to think of it He’s a
hard working young man. Don’t
misunderstand. The girls would
rather have his violets than a
wealthier man’s orchids. But he
just keeps the girls as friends.”
She drew her brows together. “It
seems to me I have seen him with
someone a few times—oh, yes,
Ruth Merryweather—you know,
the breakfast food millions. Ruth
Is a sweet child.”
Barbara nodded happily. So he
wasn’t engaged. Not even the’
breakfast food millions could
dampen her happiness today.
Natalie’s apartment was strict
ly modem. Chromium, white*
leather, and scarlet draperies
made a stage set for her living
room. Barbara’s bedroom was
done in black and silver. She felt
that she had stepped into a fairy
tale. Any minute, the miracles
would begin. She would stay here
for one week and then—well, even
a room in a cheap hotel or room
ing house would be all right so
long as she was here where life
sang, wept, laughed, ached, and
acted! : 1
Natalie, who went to her office
in the afternoon, brought a long
white box with her when she came
at six o’clock. . “A welcoming
present,” she said.
The box held a shining, silken
dress of yellow with a minute
cape tnat was little more than a
ruffle for her face. There were
sandals, too.
“I looked into your bag to get
the size,” Natalie explained.
“But you shouldn’t have done
it,” Barbara said slowly. “It’s so
glorious but I can’t afford it and
I can’t accept it.” In the end she
did because Natalie would have it
no other way.
When she looked at herself In
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"A welcoming present,” she said.
the full-length mirror in her bed
room she hoped that she would
see Garry. She never had been
beautiful, she admitted honestly,
but tonight there was a radiancy
in her face.
“You under-estimate yourself,”
Natalie told her. “Darling, with
your hair and eyes—well,* you
needn’t sit alone evenings.”
“You are saying silly things but
I like it,” Barbara answered, and
went out into the night with
Natalie and Basil Addington who
was much older than she had ex
pected. His hair was silvery, his
graceful figure was growing port
ly, and there were fine lines in his
face. But he was friendly and In
teresting.
“He’s a broker,” Natalie offered.
“He didn’t go under In '29.” i
The dinner was good, the music
skipped along the streets, and
Twenty-one, where they landed
eventually, was crowded for mid
summer. To Barbara the whole
evening had been a preparation for
that moment when she would look
up to find Garry Page’s bright
head above the crowd. This was
a magic night—anything could
happen. She would see him. But
he wasn’t in Twenty-one and he
wasn’t at the El Morocco.
“Garry isn’t around, I guess,”
Natalie offered. r
“Garry?” Basil Addington
queried. “Young Page, you
mean ?”
Barbara nodded.
“Busy, perhaps. He sails day
after tomorrow, I believe.”
“Sails?” For a second the
music, the dancers, the room hung
suspended in silence.
“To England. I saw Hadley,
the producer, today. He’s per
suaded Garry to run over with him
and do his column from there.”
“What ship does he take?”
Natalie asked carelessly enough.
Basil did not know.
.Barbara’s face was calm but
she was knotting the fragile rce
'of her handkerchief and the
chicken sandwich on her plate no
longer appealed to her. Why
hadn’t she told him she was com
ing? Why had she been so filled
with pride ? Now he would go
away—oh, a month could be an
eternity! She tried to tell her
self that he .would have had, time
to do nothirg but say “hello” any
way but th. t brief contact seemed
suddenly very important.
She came to a decision before
she went to sleep. In the morn
ing she would telephone to his
office. If she knew that he was
going to remember her while he
was gone, she could put him out
of her thoughts for a month. Half
a dozen words in his deep voice
could keep her contented.
Still of this mind she went into
a telephone booth the next morn
ing, but with the nickel in her
hand ready to place in the slot, she
hesitated. She replaced the re
ceiver. If she should call Garry
t now, in the midst of his prepara
tions to sail, he would be gracious,
but he might wonder what claim a
girl he had seen for three hours
one summer night could have on
his time. Regardless that three
people were waiting for the booth,
Barbara leaned against the wall to
consider. She wouldn’t do it. She
would send him a note which he
would find when he returned.
She knew that her decision was
wise but her footsteps lagged a
little when she went back to the
street. She bought a gardenia
from a flower vender and pinned
it on the jacket of her gray linen
suit. She put a dime into a street
1 musician’s cup.
. The day was just as fair but her
enthusiasm was lessened.
“Barbara Kingsley, grow up!”
she told herself. “How can the
guy call you when he thinks you’re
out in Martinsville? You did this
yourself. Now like it!”
She had lunch at a tearoom
and then decided to go up to the
children’s magazine and get ac
quainted. After all she didn’t
need Natalie to introduce her.
She was glad instantly that she
had gone. The editor, a Mrs. Cor
bett, was sweet and plump and
rather sentimental. She liked
action stories, she said, but little
children wanted fairy tales. She
hoped Barbara could write some.
Mrs. Corbett explained the mag
azine’s policy, then turned Bar
bara over to the art director for
further instruction.
At the end of the afternoon,
when Barbara went to say good
bye to Mrs. Corbett, she felt much
happier. She knew she would like
her work. The editor gave an
apologetic laugh.
“I have a telephone message for
you. It came in yesterday and I
forgot to give it to you. Someone
saw in the book notes of one of
the papers that you were coming
to us. Now where did I put it?
Oh yes, here it is.”
She handed Barbara a memo
randum which read: “Call Garry
Page. Eldorado 3-4555.”
Mrs. Corbett pushed her tele
phone toward Barbara but she
shook her head. She must call
Garry some place where no one
could hear.. But out on the street
she walked several blocks before
she found a drug store .with tele
phone booths. She beat a man to a
booth and dialed Garry’s number.
“Hello,” he was saying.
(To Be Continued)
HENDERSON* (N.C.) DAILY DISPATCH FRIDAY, MARCH 18,1938
Before Buying Your
FERTILIZER
*
Remember Your Home Dealers—
The Ones Who Serve
You the Year Round
\
\
Don’t take chances with “Fly By Night”
agents and strangers, who are here today
and gone tomorrow. They are not interested
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They are not interested in your welfare
and future needs. In most cases you will
never see them again.
PATRONIZE YOUR
HOME DEALERS
They represent the best fertilizer manufac
turers in the business and sell the brands
that are known to get the best results,
which makes it unnecessary for any farmer
to take a chance on fertilizer.
* * '•••*. ■' \ '
Your home dealers are your friends —they
know you and you know them. They are
prepared to meet any emergency and stay
in business the year round to serve you.
LEGG-PARHAM COMPANY
THE COOPER COMPANY
ROSE GIN & SUPPLY CO.
HENDERSON, - - - NORTH CAROLINA