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a xmas shell never forget
June Allyson can't forge* it — rain and
tears and aching for Mom and running away.
■ June trudged along in the rain, and her small suitcase flopped against her leg.
Three days before Christmas. Fine Christmas it was going to J>e. She'd probably get pneumonia and die, and then she'd be sorry. On second thought, si/ 1 as hei not die just yet. But she'd certainly hover on the brink for a good long time, and the doctor'd say, "She's sinking rapidly," and for one awful minute they'd think she was dead, then her lids would flutter, and she'd smile this angelic smile, faint but forgiving —
People turned to look at her. Rain pouring down and no umbrella. Could they tell she was running away? After all, twelve wasn't so young— she just
happened to be small for her age. Besides, you couldn't call it really running away— not when you were going to New York to find your mother.
There was the station now. If only she had the money for a ticket, how easy it would be. Hop on the train, change to the subway, get off at 138th and wait in the flat till Mother got home from work. Mothers understand. She always understood. Maybe she'd let June stay till after Christmas.
Well, she didn't have the money, not even a penny of it, so she'd just have to walk. Her eyes turned from the station to the rainswept road ahead, and back. It wouldn't hurt to go in and rest for a while— give the rain a chance to let up maybe.
June ond Gloria ("The Comb") live in almost identical apts. across the street from' each other, yet never double date. Puppy, whose trainer didn't know its name or sex, is a gift for Margaret O'Brien.
Separated early from her mother, June had a lonely ch, dhood She d like this coming Xmas to be brightest yet to make up fo. Jast years when, sick and tired, she was p.a.^ing at N. Y. s Cap.tol Theater.
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