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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Advance-Times, 1940-12-19, Page 18WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES. Sue Garland who had gone away to sing before the crowned heads of Eur­ ope, She might be the small girl who hoped above everything that Santa Claus would bring her a lady-doll with real eyebrows and eyes which opened and shut, with no knowledge of the grown-up girl who had been very ill indeed, and who was now involved with Dustin Paine, r Sue looked out through Grans flourishing red-leaves plants on the stand, through the window to the 'snow-covered lawn, and to the dark trees which stood against the gray sky. -A faint little echo of the Christ­ mas anticipation she had known so long ago stirred her. . A smile crossed her face and she said to Gran who came in, x ou know, Granny, these are the reaJ Christmas things. In the city they try so hard to make Christmas stream­ lined and modern; they gild and.sdver their trees and do all sorts of stunts, but a real tree should be green and spicy and furry with ornaments like these. Do you remember the year we had the Lebkuchen? Oh, I wish • “Why, Susie,” said Gran, a delighted smile on her face, “you begin to sound like yourself. Now mebbe I have Kat­ ie’s recipe. We could even make some. Mrs. Spencer’s little boy has the measles. We’ll make some for him aH“If Lucy’s to make the cookies," Sue said. “I could cut them out m shapes like Cinderella and Little Red Riding Hood, and frost them in col­ ors. I’d like to.” Then she thought, “I’ve been a goose —- moping about. All this worrying about Christmas presents. A few weeks ago> I had more money than I knew what to do with and now I haven t any at all. But after all I have all those lovely tilings I picked up this summer in Europe. Christmas isn’t Christmas un­ less you make it so, and Gran at eighty is as excited as if she were eight and I’ve been glowering like a ram cloud. After all, probably Gran hasn’t so many more Christmases. 111 really help. We’ll make it a Christ­ mas to remember. It was to be a Christmas they d all remember, although Sue didn’t- know it then as the frail little PIans » n he mind grew into reality. She felt more cheerful and happy thaVh^eciaSRst’s that awful moment at the specialist when he had told.her it was within the range of possibility that she migh never sing again. For nodules had formed- on her vocal cords which might or might not dlsaPpear’TFg e tainlv it was too soon to say. mere was nothing to do at the moment but to rest, relax, and not w0^’ . It was late afternoon. The air was frosty when Sue, her cheeks whipped into color by the wind, walked Mong Pleasant Street. Her hair flowed out loosely under a blue knitted cap ai her arms were filled with bundles. A pFnlcy-gold sunset lingered briefly in the gray sky and was reflected on ti She wouldn’t admit that she had been looking forward to this last er­ rand ever since Gran had first sug­ gested it in the early morning. She hadn’t seen Joel since he d left New ^*The light touched a pile of new lumber in’ the yard of the Petersen house. The windows were open, she noticed, and some of them were spot­ted with paint. “They’re doing it ov­ er,” she observed. “I wonder and she stopped short as she- saw two fig­ ures on the steps. One was Joel a nd the other was a girl with a soft cloud of dark hair. Jinny, of course. Their voices floated out happily in the sharp air. Then Jinny’s voice reached her clearly. But, Joel dear, if we don’t take out. that .partition, couldn’t you use that little room as an °%he* stopped as if she had been struck. Joel’s voice was lower and she didn’t hear his reply. But Jinny said lightly “Well, it really doesn t mat­ ter." There was»a short silence and Tinny’s voice again. “The kitchen will be red and white. Mother is giving Us a complete set of red enameled pans and I’ve bought some red curtains with white spots.” . .. “Sounds like a circus, Joel said. “By the way, did you look at the sec­ ond-hand stove—” She heard the door squeak, the key turn in the lock. Then their footfalls on the steps, and creaking on the hard-packed Snow. „ T “Oh!” thought Sue, “what shall I do?” Her cheeks burned. There was nothing she could do, because now they stood in front of her. “Oh, Sue!” said Joel. He intro­ duced Jinny and stood awkwardly a moment. “How are you? Been buy­ ing out the town?” Dusty — come good of him! XVII “you’re looking “It’s just Christmas,” Sue said as lightly as she could manage. She nev­ er knew exactly when her voice was going to jump into a squeak or fade into a whisper. “This is a piece of luck,’ she said, “because I was to stop and tell you to bring Gran the big­ gest Christmas tree., you have. You know, of course, that Dot and Dusty are coming for Christmas. And Ste­ phen Emery.” Joel nodded. “Yes, I know. Let me have those bundles. Jinny and I’ll walk along with you. I’ve taken Gran a Christmas tree'ever since I was big enough to cut one,” Joel went on. • “And here she is again, eighty or so Jinny’s hand clung lightly to Joel’s arm. “I’ve heard you sing, Miss Gar­ land,” she said. “And I was so sorry to hear you had been ill." Sue turned to her and saw that Jin­ ny’s eyes were large and dark and had a melting innocence. She thought with a little pang, “She really adores Joel. And she is quite happy. What a lovely girl! I mustn't let her know She opened the green iron gate and walked up to the house alone, where the yellow lighted window was fram­ ed by the darkness of the house. “But why shouldn’t I let her know?” Sue said to herself. “There must be hund­ reds of people in this wrold who vib­ rate to the same wave-length, and if you brought the right ones together they would all fall in love. Is there anything more to my feeling for Joel than that he and I might have fallen in love? No. No, there isn’t. And I may as well forget it. He and Jinny are all settled. I hope they will be happy.” She did really wish it. As she opened the door, a far-off bell tinkled. The hall was dark and musty, fragrant with spiced rose leav­ es in a jar and the woodsmoke of a fire. She stopped as she heard voices. “Why,” she thought^ with a little rush of pleasure, “it’s " unexpectedly. Mow How- thoughtful!” CHAPTER “Darling,” he said, , . simply wonderful, Four cheeks are pink, your eyes are like twin evening stars.” Which was, even Dusty ad­ mitted as he kissed her, 'a gallant phrase.' He hadn't been able to bear it an­ other minute, he said,. and had come on the five o'clock, been all afternoon on the supid train, and when he arriv- 1 ed he had found her away. Flown, vanished; and he had b.een so impat­ ient to see her. Gran had regaled him with good reports — and now that she was actually here — he could see for himself that these reports were true. Sue drew her arm through his and walked into the lighted living room. “It is good to see you, my iamb. I didn't know it, but 1 was pining, too.” It was true. Now that Dusty was here, suddenly everything seemed to come to life and have meaning. Sure­ ly there couldn’t ever be anyone kind­ er, sweeter to her, than Dusty. He was glad to see her, that she knew. But it had been a long time, now, since he had said anything about mar­ riage. Even the kiss in the hall had been one of quick pleasure and warm friendliness. It held nothing of the fervor she had felt in him before she was sick. Gran sat placidly in the carved tap­ estry-covered chair, her.feet on a ma­ hogany pig. In honor of the occasion She had put on her black taffeta, made on the same pattern as her percale dresses, and was wearing the delicate cameo at her neck. Now there was a pleasant smile on her finely wrinkled face, as her white practical hands lay folded quietly in her lap. Beyond, in the dining room, Sue heard unusual preparations for dinner, and the un­ naturally hurried footsteps of Lucy Gilbert as she slid with noisy haste the cupboard door panels and banged the sideboard door in getting out the best dishes and the finest linen. “.Sue,” Gran said, “Dusty will ex­ cuse you while you run up and change. I might add that we re din­ ing tonight.” She turned to Dusty. ‘•‘Usually, we have supper. In White Creek folks dine in the middle of the day, but this is a special occasion. “Shall I get into a white tie? he asked solemnly. “Nonsense,” said Gran. Now, if you’ll just pass the tray, you and I’ll have some Sherry and a biscuit while Sue is gone. That sherry,” she added, “was some that Sue’s grandfather brought back from Portugal. And that was quite a spell ago. Mebbe fifty years.” . . . ‘ Upstairs in the targe airy bedcham­ ber, solemnly carpeted from wall to wall, Sue stood in front of the elab­ orately carved chiffonier with its vag- . uely Grecian knobs arid wreaths of carved fruit. Its marble top, decorat­ ed with handmade doilies, held in bright array her fragrant powders and perfumes, ( . . “It’s fun to have him here, she said as she ran a comb vigorously through her hair, - “What we’ve1 needed here, Gran and I, is a man in the house. And Granny in her second-best silk! Gracious! That calls for a gesture from me.” , . ,, , . She chose a delphinium blue velvet with a shirred basque, a softly full skirt which shadowed beautifully in its silken folds. “Another one of your extravagances, my girl.” she said as she slipped it on over her head, I he price of this would come in handy right now. Well, if you can ever think of a way to make your living which isn’t singing, you have learned your lesson. Maybe,” and she laugh­ ed at the silly thought, “I can sell Red Riding Hood and Cinderella cookies. I might open up a business. Susi'e Garland’s Homemade Cookies-—” There was a tap at her door. Come in!” said Sue airily. The door opened and Lucy Gilbert stood there, her white cap a little awry on her wispy gray head, her long face lugubrious with indecision. “Miss Sue, I says to her, s’l, Shall we have’the tutti-frutti or the brand- led cherries for dessert—” Lucy bal­ anced the two jars, one on each hand “—and she snaps my head off and says, ‘Use your sense for once, if you- have got any any.’ And I know just how it’ll be. If I open the tutti-frutti, she’ll send it right back from the table and say, ‘I told you to open the brandied cherries.’ And t’other way round.” “Tutti-frutti,” laughed Sue. “By all means. It sounds perfectly elegant. •What’s in it?” “Everything as incomes along and brandy, too.” . “Fine. Tell her I ordered it. Lucy’s clumsy feet echoed down the uncarpeted back stairs as Sue went down the front. It was a magnificent dinner, hastily conjured up out of the unsuspected depths of the old larder. She realized that she had never before fully ap­ preciated Gran. There were the old damask cloth, heavily monogrammed and the cut glass decanters; fricasseed chicken and biscuits as light as a cloud were served by a disapproving Lucy on thin , hand-painted china plates. “This,” said Dusty, taking another helping of chicken, “is great stuff. Never did a better piece of work in my life, Sue, than to return you to your ancestral seat.” And then after a moment, “Is Joel still set on that crazy notion of opening the mills? I haven’t heard from him since he came back.” “I saw him tonight,” Sue said, “with Jinny. They’re doing over the Peter­ sen place.” Dusty scowled. “So he intends to stay on, does lie, the scatterbrain? Kid! He’ll never be able to raise the money.” “Why don’t you back him up?” Gran’s voice was sharp and abrupt. "Because he can’t possibly run into anything but disaster.” “Joey’s got gumption and sense,” Gran declared firmly. ‘‘Maybe, but what does he know of the actual business of manufacturing? If you really want to know the facts I’ll be glad to go into them with you.” “Dunno but I’d like to hear your side of it,” said Gran. After Gran had gone to bed, Dusty ■unwrapped the huge bundle of bright­ ly jacketed new books and magazines he had brought. “What I really had on my mind was to find out what you want in your Christmas stocking.’; “One soprano voice,” Sue said light­ ly, "coloratura, preference, with no speaks, rasps, breaks or frogs. And something to use for money.” She poked around excitedly . and gave a little squeal of delight. “Dusty, how sweet of you to bring Christmas carols! This — why, this looks like an old manuscript. Oh — I wish—” Dusty took the sheaf out of her hand and went over to the piano. “We can play them anyway.” Stic played them and Dusty sang in a rich, full, sometimes uncertain, bass. The candlelight fell on Sue’s earnest face as she followed the notes. Dusty halted'in the midst of a phrase and stopped both her white hands. “Stic, dear, you belong here. You are so right in those surroundings. Darling, why aren’t you happy here? Why do you want to go away and sing?”She looked up into his kind, eager brown eyes, "I don’t know, Dusty.0 she said, troubled. “You know why I came today, Sue, I waited as long as I could, I wanted you to -be well and strong and sure — you do love me, Sue?” The question hung between them and suddenly Sue recalled the laugh­ ter of two other lovers in the still, cold air. Joel and Jinny, so happy m each other., She loked up at him. „I do love you, Dusty. I’m sure I do. As he gave a little cry and gathered her to him Sue knew that it was right. Supremely right. Dusty was her man. She would give herself to him whole­ heartedly. Then, curiously enough, for the first time Sue saw Dusty embarrassed. He groped in his pockets for a little satin- lined case. “For some reason this re­ minds me of the movies. It is a Christ­ mas present. I bought it this morn­ ing and now I can’t wait to know whether it fits. ' It isn’t my mother's and it isn’t rare, or old; it’s wonder­ fully new. And now, I believe, if you agree to wear it, the next step is for me to' kiss it on?” Once on her finger, the ring did something to Sue. She felt a pervad­ ing, peace and happiness. It was good to have her life decided. “Dusty, I promise—” and the word held an echo of solemnity, as in taking a vow, “—to be a good wife to you.” He saw bright tears in her eyes and brushed them away with kisses on the closed eyelids. “These are tears of happiness, I’ll assumes Not of reg­ ret, or fear, or—" “Oh, yes, Dusty,” she interrupted as she rested her head on his should- > er. “Yes, Dusty1. It’s hardly the time for tears — but I seem to have acquir­ ed the habit, lately. You’re so wond­ erfully—” Dusty didn’t wait to hear what he was. He ended the sentence with a kiss. CHAPTER XVIII Christmas came on * a Monday, — just ducky for the people who worked in offices. Practically no work would be done on Friday and some of the two-handed drinkers would doubtless get under way on Thursday, Dusty said. That would “ ruin nearly a week, 1 “I really don’t see, then, why you bother to go back at all,” said Sue. “Today is Thursday and Christmas is a week from Monday.” “If I didn’t go back,” Dusty said, “the whole office would begin spree- ing on Tuesday or Wednesday, and we couldn’t have that, you know.” “But—” “Well, I don’t have to leave until Sunday night and that’s still two days off. We have all that time, darling. And very soon we’ll have all the time there is.” “Time,” Sue said soberly. “How it gallops along. It doesn’t seem like any time at all since Thanksgiving.” Dusty smiled. “I can tell you where that time has gone. You were terribly sick for a week, and then you were • surprising and beautifully better. It was the third week after you went to the hospital that you sang at the Troc- ’ adero. I’ll never forgive myself for that. Never. A fine agent I turned ■out to be. Practically ruined you at one fell swoop.” “It’s probably all for the best. I don’t think I was ever meant for that kind of glamor. I might even turn out to be. a marvelous cook. I’ve been dis­ covering all sorts of unsuspected abil­ ities up here with Gran. ” They had spent the day quietly. There were errands to do for Gran, and they- had lunched at the country club and looked over the skiing possi­ bilities. Then Dusty had spent most of the afternoon>with'Joel while Sue rested. Everything Sue and Dusty now said- to each other had taken on a peculiar color and flavor. Had be­ come extraordinarily significant. Ev> on their smallest likes, dislikes, tastes and reactions were important, be­ cause they expected to spend the rest of their lives together. • Now it was after dinner.. “What,” inquired Dusty, “does White, Creek offer in the wav1 of bright things to do?” Sue smiled. “White Creek is in the throes of Christmas, and there will be , nothing doing for the next few days until the festivities burst with a bang. Then everything will happen at once*. Christmas is the big event of the year. 1 Here you make a few tentative plans in the late summer, and around the middle of November you begin to work with a will, with an increasing crescendo until the grand finale. Then you throw out the trees, sweep up , the shed needles, and White Creek settles down comfortably to its affairs for the long cold spell,”