Modern Screen (Dec 1949 - Nov 1950)

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Especially for you — MODERN ROMANCES • • • off the if if* • • • at your newsstand Listen to the Modern Romances radio program featuring exciting dramas about every day people based upon true-to-life stories from Modern Romances magazine. Broadcast Monday through Friday over ABC network (see your newspaper for local time) Read 'My Kisses Went Begging" and The Wife I Couldn't Fool' in November frantic knitter. During her spare moments on the set she turned out a huge collection ot sweaters for friends, socks for grips, ski caps for the snow-happy. A couple of months ago, when the children's nurse had to leave suddenly for her home, Joan and her family discussed what they'd give her as a going-away present that night. ™'Thy , don t you knit her a sweater, Mother? asked Christopher, confident that his mother wouldn't need more than an hour or two to turn out a first rate job Tn no time at all, the afternoon hopped * over the hills at Alisal and disappeared beyond them. Clean and sparkling as sterling silver, the Crawfords came to dinner. Joan asked for the largest table. I m sorry," the waiter told her. "Bob Crosby s party has that. They outnumber you by two." Joan waved across the room to June Crosby, Inc., and meekly settled for the second largest. After a cowboy-size dinner, the twins insisted they were wide-awake as they dozed off in their chairs. Her big daughter Tina turned toward her with a dreamy, slightly glazed expression. "Mother," she said. "Can we go riding in the moonlight?" As it happened they went riding in their dreams. By the next morning, though the children were used to the change in atmosphere, and took to ranch life with a vengeance. They bounded out of bed almost before the sun was up, and ran out to play. For a moment, Joan wondered sleepily if they'd disturb the neighbors, but the voices of at least a dozen other children drifted toward her in the early air. All the neighbors, it seemed, were already up. As soon as Joan came out of the cottage, Chris ran over to her and started talking about horses and when would they ride them In a way, this was a question Joan dreaded. Ten years before Joan had loved to ride. She'd owned two frisky ponies and worked them out on the trail near her Brentwood home. One day, though, she was thrown in a complete somersault over her pony's head and spent the next few weeks in bed. After that she wouldn't go near a horse. But now, here was Chris expecting her to leap with joy onto a saddle, and here were the twins, waiting to be afraid or daring as their mother's own feelings would dictate. Right after lunch, Joan and the children put on their riding clothes and sauntered down to the corral. Joan hoped they'd give her an old nag, a horse who'd be happiest m front of a flower cart, but Alisal doesn't have that kind of horse. Anyway, when the animals were saddled, Joan climbed aboard, and smiled gaily at Chris and Tina who were too excited to notice the way she clutched the saddle-horn. A few miles down the trail, Mr. Giliam rode up. "Having fun, Miss Crawford?" "If you can enjoy yourself and be scared to death at the same time . . ." "I thought you were a little uneasy," he said, "though you sit a horse beautifully. Just relax. Your back's like a poker." Joan tried to relax. She noticed that the horse didn't mind. He clopped along very contentedly, and suddenly Joan began to notice the scenery, the trees and the mountains beyond, and the good damp smell of greenery. She was enjoying herself, and her children were enjoying themselves, and it was nice that they were all there together. By the third day of their stay, the ranch had them in its power. They were up at 6:30, finished with breakfast at 7:00, and ready to play. Even the twins had become horse-mad and rode two hours a day They wore their boots so much that I SAW IT HAPPEN 1 was eagerly waiting at the back door of Shea's Buffalo Theater for John Agar. When he failed to appear after a few hours, I started to leave, cold and discouraged. Bumping into someone, I politely excused myself and walked on. Not until the crowd started pushing toward the spot where I'd been standing did I realize that it was John Agar whom I'd bumped into. Margaret Trapani Buffalo, New York both of them had blisters on their ankles but that didn't stop them. Chris was out of this world, and who would suspect, seeing this small blond boy on a big horse, that he was really Hoppy or Roy Rogers or a whole battalion of the Canadian Mounties? Pedro was his horse's name, and that's all Chris talked about, until Joan came to think of him as a member of the family I guess Pedro's about the fastest horse alive, he d say. "He's just holding back." I guess so,' said Joan, not wanting to break a dream. Saturday rolled around faster than it ^ ever had. There was to be a dance and campfire that night, but Joan didn't have a beau to take her— that is, she thought she didn't. Chris was willing He was so willing that he polished his boots until he could see his face in them and he looked slicker than a dime store whistle. Joan walked into the dance on his arm, and they were easily the handsomest couple there. After the dance thev went out to the campfire and sat around talking cowboy talk with Les and Bill the wranglers, until Christopher's eyes were heavy with sleep. Joan almost had to carry her cowboy to bed. Then, one morning, they woke up, and it was all over— the week, the vacation the life of Riley. The children had one last ride and presented their horses with carrots. That afternoon, though, as Joan was packing, she heard Christopher crving in the next room. "What's the matter, Chris?" Joan said. "I forgot to give Pedro his carrot," Chris sobbed. "He won't remember me." Joan smiled at the enormity of this problem, but her voice was gentle. "Tell you what," she said. "You and I will go down right now and give Pedro a carrot " So they walked down to the corral hand in hand, and Joan stood watching as Chris picked out his pony from the several dozen in the yard and handed him the carrot Pedro ate it quietly, and then Chris hugged him and walked back to Joan with the suggestion of more tears. "Thanks, Mommie," he said, and wa<= ready to go home. All of them piled into the car, plus Cliquot, the poodle, and as they rode out of the ranch yard they had the feeling everyone has when a good time is over. They didn't know whether to be happy or sad But as they neared home the children started talking about the winter, and school, and the next summer, and the summer after that, and looking at their faces, Joan knew that as long as the kids were with her there would always be so much to look forward to, so many pleasures to be enjoyed over again. The Fun