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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Advance-Times, 1940-12-19, Page 11I WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES PAGE THREE ope, White Creek and Dot, and about Dusty’s brother. Joel. Then they went to a real American movie, rode on a Fifth Avenue bus and late in the af­ ternoon Dusty suggested cocktails. Sue said, “Do you know what I’d hon­ estly like?” Dusty shook his head, and Sue said, “A' double chocolate soda, real one; not a glace nor an ice, but a black and white with a straw, in an American drug store,” So they went into one gleaming with chromium and painted white, and sat on high stools. Then Dusty asked rather abruptly, "Have you ever done anything in fadio?” The Straw in Sue’s' hand trembled a little. "No, I haven’t done much, but some, and I’d like to do more.” Excitement caught hold of Dusty and with a murmured apology he stepped into a telephone booth. When he came back his face was glowing. He had arranged for an audition at eight, he said. There was a spot for a voice — a sustaining thirteen-week program, on one of the big chains. Sue’s eyes were wide and eager, and for some unaccountable reason they reminded him of Dot when she had been young and eager and ambitious, too. Of a time when she lost things and forgot things, before she became so tiresomely efficient. Sue murmur­ ed, “I haven’t anything ready, but my music is in my trunk at Dot’s. Do— do—you-—think—” and then her hands fell. to her lap. “But how could you — just like that — you haven’t even heard me sing!” Dusty pulled her off the stool, mock horror in his tone. “Good hea­ vens! You can, can’t you?” Sue smiled up at him. “Why, of course, I’m simply marvelous!” Dot found them when she came in­ to her apartment an hour later. As she stepped out of the elevator she was startled at the sound of a piano and a lovely lilting song. "Goodness,” she thought, “how distracting! Has someone moved in with a piano?” And there .was Dusty at her own mini-piano, picking out the melody, adding a bass chord every now and then, while one of the most striking girls she had ever seen stood close to him, pouring out clear, liquid tones. It was a moment Dot was to re­ member all her life. Dusty turned ar­ ound, his face alive with interest. “Dot, your Sue Garland is a honey. She’s magnificent! We are putting her on the air!” Slightly dazed, Dot threw off her coat and hat and reached for a cig­ arette. At the same instant she real­ ized that this tall, brown-haired girl with the clear blue eyes might much better have been met by herself, even at the cost of the Chicago order. CHAPTER IV Dustin Paine had never been so busy in his life. At least since the days when he was a one-man advertis­ ing and publicity agent. Never had he had half so much fun. It was just, as he told. himself, that he wanted Sue Garland to get off’on the right foot. If she were handled properly she might end up as one of the biggest stars in radio. And radio was the .field for a youngster to get into. Besides, he wasn’t totally disinterested him­ self. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, in these days of fierce depres­ sion, to put over a radio star. He spent hours with his publicity man. “Play up Sue Garland,” he*d say, “every chance you get. Send out mats and work' the press agents of some of the smarter hotels. Get her photographed dining at such and such a place. You know—” That was. how Dusty happened to be talking to Dot in her apartment this particular evening. She was dressing to be photographed at the Metropolitan Casino and Dusty was waiting to take her there. There was to be a candid camera man and some of the columnists who were always out for a bit of gossip. “I haven’t seen you in days,” he said. . ,. Dot’s eyes rested on his white shirt­ front. “Welt, after all—” “I’ve been wanting to ask your ad­ vice about something. There’s a par­ ticular man I’d like to meet. In fact, I’ve got to meet him, and I wonder- >> “Of course/’ Dot said. "Give me his name and I’ll pursue him.. Some­ body knows everybody in this town and it’s just a question of finding the right somebody.” Dusty explained what it was all about and a few minutes later looked at his- watch. “Can’t you hurry her. Dot? Are all women so slow?” And then, “Darn it, Dot, I never see you. Why don’t oome along tonight? “Can’t. Work to do.” “Well, why don’t we plan an even­ ing soon?” "Love to,” answered Dot carelessly, thinking at the same time that this was an odd state of affairs. That she and Dusty should now, at this late date, behave like agreeable chance ac­ quaintances. At that moment Sue came out of the bedroom, slim in a long blue frock that made her seem taller than ever. Dusty stopped speaking and looked her over with what Dot felt was more than professional interest. Not that she thought he was in love with Sue —not yet. anyway—but she was de­ finitely aware of a renewed spirit, a new light in his eyes, a fresh focus. In the tufted maroon chair, Dot, with her arms back of her head, watched them both with narrowed eyes. It came to her with a shock that if she wanted Dusty she would have to fight for him. After all the years that Dusty had been where she could lay a finger on him, he now seemed strangely detached. And for .some curious reason Stephen seemed so strangely close. Dot drew a long breath as she realized that her usually precise mind was in a state of chaotic* indecision. Sue said, “I wish you would come, Dot.” “You must have known that I am in love with you.”' Dot saw that she meant it. To Sue it seemed as if Dot were missing great fun. It was a long time since Dot had looked at a publicity stunt with that unjaded viewpoint. It was perfectly true that she did have work to do. Heaps of it. And quite apart from that, she had the feeling that what she would appreciate most was a hot tub and the smooth white sheets of her own bed. On the way uptown, with Sue frag­ rantly close, Dusty said, “You know, although we were both bom in the same town, I know practically noth­ ing about you.” "There isn’t much to know,” Sue said. "Gran was my only parent, in a way. My mother died soon after I was born and I can not remember my father at all. My early life was spent in the old house at White Creek. For a little while I went to public school, but after a session with scarlet fever I was taught at home. Then came boarding school, where there.was nev­ er much leisure because I always had to take extra hours of music. The Boston Conservatory and Versailles came next and, finally, a few concert engagements.” ., . “I suppose,” Dusty said, ‘what I am trying to get at is your love life, if atty-”He couldn’t tell anything from her voice. "Of course I’ve had one,” Sue laughed, “in a mild way. But tell me, how can one ever know when it is. the real thing? I’ve always wondered.” “Certain Symptoms, signs, diseases, a weakening of the system. Only cure is the isolation Ward. But Seriously, I’m glad to have you ask me a ques­ tion like that.” "Why’?” “Because you can’t ever have been in love. And the idea is that I’d hate to get you all nicely started on a car­ eer only to have you step out and get married,. You’ll get much farther in this business if you can give your whole mind to your job.” That was what Dusty thought he meant. Two weeks passed before Dusty saw Dot again, and then he ran into her at a cocktail party. She looked up at him brightly and said, "Fancy finding you here.” "This is simply swell,” Dusty said. “I’ve been wanting to see you. I’m in quite a nasty muddle with the paper box account and I’d like the lowdown on some of' the mill people. Shall we go to a place where we can have din­ ner and talk?” She had undoubtedly been wrong, Dot decided, when the meal was half over. Perhaps she had been too aware and too sensitive about his attentions to Sue Garland.. And it was not un­ likely that her imagination had been working overtime, Probably there was nothing to it after all, nothing more than Dusty’s vital enthusiasm for anything new on which he could exercise his creative genius. Dusty said, "Life in New York is so artificial. I’d love to get away from “That,” Dot said, lighting a cigar­ ette, “begins to have the familiarity of a theme song, Dusty.” He probably did want to get away,' Dot mused. As a matter of fact, who didn’t, after a few years? In their ear­ ly days together they had planned to go back to Gran’s farm, an old house where she was born, on the outskirts of White Creek, near the Guidepost. First they were going to earn lots of money, and then they were going to pare life down to the barest and sim­ plest necessities, to raise'a family. A quick stab shot through Dot. She hadn’t thought of that in years. They had decided a family of four would be perfect. But she had thought a little girl first, and then" a boy—-it was cur­ ious how life had caught them up, leaving them so little time for each other. * "We could, you know,” Dot Said after a little, “all of us go home for Thanksgiving. Gran has been lying for a real family party for years.” "Can’t possibly get away,” Dusty said promptly, plying a tough portion of steak. “We have just wangled the most marvelous spot for Sue Garland on one of those big variety programs. Thanksgiving night. It’ll have to be .another time, darling.” “I’ve a mind,” said Dot, "to cook a turkey. I could import Ellen from Harlem*—” “Now that,” said Dusty with sud­ den warmth, "is a really bright idea. Do!” “And there won’t be a papier-mache turkey or a crepe paper pumpkin or a sheaf of corn or a gilded nut within .... ..... ..... five blocks of us. Stephen—” Brady said—■” “Would you have to have Stephen?” "M,. uameu, a<nu "I would. His people are wintering And he realized that his motive for in Trinidad, Would you mind too much ?” Dusty grinned. “I’m just congenit­ ally allergic to him. But I’ll be nice if you want me to.” Dusty left her at her apartment and when he said good-bye he put his arm around her and said, “I've missed you terribly these last few weeks.” The frightful part of it was, Dot realized with a sharp thrust of pain, that he really meant it. The apartment was somehow lone­ ly and no longer her own, Sue’s smartly packaged cosmetics were on the dressing table and her long dress- ' es trailed in the closet. Dot sighed, sat down on the fur-covered stool and put her head in her hands. She. sat there a long time, then she went into the bathroom, turned on the cold wa­ ter tap and held a wash cloth to*her eyes. "You’re doing splendidly with your life, my pet,” she told herself. “You watch a young snippet carry off what you’ve always considered your prop- ** erty, and you don’t raise a fing.gr to stop it. And you dangle Stephen Em­ ery like a fish on a hook—” At the phone she dialed Stephen. “Stephen,” she said, “if you aren’t too awfully busy or tired tonight, I have some sketches in my brief case. And, Stephen, pick up a pound of ancient cheese and I’ll make you a rarebit.” CHAPTER V Sue Garland could not get used to the moment when she knew that she was on the air. It was always, a little frightening to feel that her voice was being sent where it could be picked up by millions of people merely by the turning of a knob. To-night she stood in the small studio, her eyes following the hands of the enormous clock face as the second were left behind, one by one. The stillness in the studio, she thought, before she began, was almost absolute — so deep that it had the quality of sound. Dusty, who was in­ variably present during the program, and the director, who had come in, were tense. The latter had just fin­ ished the feature of the show, a radio sketch with two prominent Hollywood actors, and he was extremely nervous. Trifling things had gone wrong in this particular number — there had been some ad-libbing, the announcer had made a terrific slip and one of the ac­ tors had dropped his script. Sue’s hands trembled as she thought wild­ ly of all the frightful' things which might happen in the next five minutes. Unexpectedly, her voice might fail, or the timing might be wrong. Then she began to sing. In six small weeks, Sue Garland had made no small .furor, and the offers which had come in were as strange as they wered azzling. This very evening Dusty had seen a. Hollywood scout jotting items in a small black book as Sue’s high, clear notes filled the soundproof room with limpid harm­ ony. In these six weeks, she had re­ ceived, although Dusty had not yet allowed her to see her fan mail, some thousands of letters, twenty of which contained offers of marriage. She, had sung at two benefits, and had made several other personal appearances. The publicity had trickled ceaselessly and unobtrusively in a way most sat­ isfying to Paine and Hodgson, and the man in charge of publicity had filled his clipping books in high glee. . Sue was wearing a new dress to­ night. It was long, of starched em­ broidered organdie with a rose velvet sash looped about her waist. Her hands were clasped lightly before her and her high bosom rose and fell as she breathed. Dusty liked her white shoulders in the small p-uffel sleeves and her hair- with curls glossy under the bright studio lights. It struck him suddenly that it would not be good for Sue to have more suc­ cess than she was having at the mo­ ment. What if this Hollywood man should propose a screen test with a spot in a new picture? He realized that Sue would have far less need of him than she had at the moment. Now, as she finished her song, her brown eyes sought his for approval. Dusty nodded reassuringly as he clap­ ped his hands. Then he held, for her a long black velvet coat which but­ toned high at the throat, and thought how lucky they were to have the nine o’clock hour. The frgrance of her hair made his heart’leap. “Come on,” he whispered, “let’s get otit of here.” "But I’tft Supposed,” Sue began, her brown eyes 'puzzled, “to* speak nicely to somebody in the audience. Some­ one who has come especially — Mr. "Mr. Brady be darned," said Dusty.