Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

The boy scrambled into liis customary place at the table—and siivrcptitioiisly helped liiin- ^»'lf to a lump of .sugat ^vhile dishes were J>eing brought in. Mrs. Iliggins became seated and setved. "If you take my a'ivice. just for once," she ^aid to her golden-haired daughter, "you'll !>.■ very careful how you bi<>ak the news to your uncle. 1 have my doubts about it " She broke oft because she luid heard a door iK'iiig openel—*he door upon which she had lapped—and into the room walked her brother, Frank Higgins. His age was almost exactly I lie same us Edgar Arthur Dow's, but ho looked considerably older because time had not dealt gently with him. He had a fine old face, but it was lean and lined and wrinkled. lie had a pair of kindly and observant blue eyes, but they had faded with the years. His limp brown hair was streaked with grey, and he 'lad a stoop about his .shoulders. "How is everybody?" he inquired as he Silt down at the table and was presented with a well-filled plate. "Oli, Emma, you've out- done yourself to-night." Mis. Higgins told him that he was easy to please. "1 resell', that," he said with a chuckle. "Not only am 1 a judge of expert cooking, lint I have a right to express an opinion be- (aiise my rent is paid in advance." He notice<l that Billy was suft'ering from -upp.-essed excitement and that Sylvia's blue i-yes were uncommonly bright. " W"ll. Billy, what's the matter with you lo-night?" he asked. "Did the West Side Midgets take a drubbing to-day?" "Uhiih!" nodded Billy, with his mouth full. "We won." Un'le Flank turned to Sylvia. "And what's the word from Wall Street?" "Unbelievable! Mr. Dow's horse finally won a race to-day!" " Exceller.t. I admire your boss. There is line stockbroker who isn't trying to save his :-(mulry." Billy could contain himself no longer. "Did you read in the papers about Gale pickin' another school to play for the cham- pionsliif)? ■ he burst out. Mrs. Higgins glared at her offspring. Uncle Frank said : "Well, Ihey had to pick some school." "Well, guess who they picked!" "Guess?" Uncle Frank ate and considered. " I'm afraid I can't, Billy. Suppose you tell nie ?" "McKinley. of Texas!" Uncle Flank nearly choked, and when he had recovered his breath he sat as one dazed. "What's the matter?" asked Billy. "You don't see n very liappy about it. You did go there, didn't you ?" " Yes—yea, of course. That's good news, Billy." " Everybody says they have a wonderful team this year," said Sylvia. "And Brainy Thornton's even better than ' Hed ' CuniiinghaiM," declared Billy. "AVill you let me go to (he game with you?" Uncle Frank seemed to emerge from the depths of none-too-happy thought. " Im afraid I'm not going, Billy." he said with a slow shake of his head. "Sitting out in the rain and getting soaked wouldn't be so good. I think we'll just stay home and listen to it over the radio, eh?" Billy's head became bowed with disappoint- ment. "Well—sure—if you feel that way about it," he muttered. "Billy!" chided Sylvia. "There'.s nothing wrong with that. Millions of people listen to the gaine over the radio." "Yeah," agreed the discontented youngster, "but no( when your own Alma—Ahna " "Billy," said Mrs. Higgins sternly, "eat your dinner!" Billy plied knife and fork in a sullen fashion. Uncle P'laiik pushed his own plate away. "Sony, Emma." he said. ri>ing from the fable, "I just remenibered I've got to be on the job a liftle early to-night." "But, F"rank, you haven't eafen anything," jirofested his si.^ter. "Maybe not, but T—IM rather be hungry than lose niy job." While three pairs of dismayed eyes watched Fil.niary lOtli, 1940. BOY'S CINEMA him, he took a soft-felt hat and a tweed over- coat from a cupboard, put the hat on his head at an angle, slipped into the overcoat, and opened the front door. "Good-bye," he said, and was gone. His departure was followed by a silence which Mis. Higgins broke. "Sylvia, he forgot his lunch-box!" she ex- claimed, and she flew oft' into the kitchen and returned with a metal box which Sylvia took from her, saying that she would try to catch its owner. Its owner was not at all difficult to catch. He was descending the front steps of- the building very slowly as she raced down the stairs, and she was beside him before he had reached the pavement. "Uncle Fiank!" she cried breathlessly. "Uncle Frank, jou can't miss vour lunch, too!" He received the metal box and he thanked her. He .seemed very dejected, and she believed that she knew why. "Suppose I buy the tickets for the game," she ventured. "Wouldn't you go then?" "Oh, it's not that important!" He patted her arm affectionately. "Not a liit." She studied his face in the light of a street lamp. " Are you sure ?" "Oh. well, you know, I've talked a lot about McKinley, college, and all that nonsense, Sylvia, but really it—it doesn't mean a thing. It's all .<-o long ago." He laughed, and there was bitterness in his laugh. " McKinley alumnus—now a steady, reliable night-watch- . man on a construction job!" ABBOT IVIAKES AN OFFER ON her way to Wall Street next morning, Sylvia went to the Memorial Stadium to get the two tickets for the football match desired by her sport-loving employer. Several people were in front of her at the window of the booking-office, several people were behind her, and it was not till she had acciuired the tickets and had moved away to put them in her handbag that she saw a familiar figure in the queue. "Uncle Frank!" she cried. It was Uncle Frank, and he turned with a guilty start. "Sylvia!" She went finger. " So -the important?" of yourself ?" "Not exactly." he muttered, foolish enough to " He was looking at the tickets in her hand. "Oh, no!" she assured him. "They're for the boss." "That's fine. We'll keep it a surprise for Billy, shall we?" "All right," she assented, "if you'll let me buy the tickets." "Nonsense! And not a ^^ord to your mother —she might raise my rent!" It was his turn at the window, and he took it. "Three, please.'' "Gale or McKinley side?" inquired the clerk behind the netting. " McKinley—cheering section." "Right," said the clerk automatically, and then he gaped. "Just a moment, please." Arnold J. Abbott was in his office, talking to Mark Fitzgerald. " You mean to fell me that in a city of this size there isn't one—not one •" "Take a look!" Fitz jabbed a finger at two different places on a map that hung upon a wall. "Here's Texas—and here we are. If McKinley graduates don't want to travel two thousand miles, is it my fault?" "Is it your fault?" fumed Abbott. "Is it my fault someliody told those cowpunchers they could play football?" The ticket clerk burst into the room. "Mr. Abbott '_' Abbott ignored him. "What about that list of names the dean sent us?" he rapped at his assistant. "I've got it." A slip of paper was ex- hibited. "Theye they are—all six of 'em!" "Mr. Abbott " began the ticket clerk again. "Well, what?" to him, waggling an accusing football she said. game wasn't a bit " Aren't you ashamed ' You weren't Every Tuesday "There's a gent outside who wants three in the cheering section^on the MeKinley side!" Abbott bore the sho<jk quite well. "What does he look like?" ho demanded. "Oh. just a guy !" "Give me that list of alumni!" 'The slip of paper was snatched from Fitz's hand. "Three in the cheering section! Come on!" The clerk was swept out from the office. He jerked a thumb in the direction of Uncle Frank and returned to his cage. Abbott walked over to Uncle Frank. "How do you do, sir?" lid asked courteously. "My name is Abbott. You're not by any chance a McKinley man, are you?"' "Well," said Uncle Frank, who was hold- ing two five-dollar notes between his hands and could not understand all the delay, "must you have those requirements to buy tickets for a public game?" "Oh, I meant no offence, sir!" Abbott purred. "It's simply that we're saving tlie best seats for the alumni." "Oh, that means us, doesn't it?" exclaimed Sylvia. "Yeah," admitted her uncle reluctantly. "We want thiee seats," she said io Abbott, who had just become conscious of her beamy. "And—er—the name, please?" "Higgins," she replied before her uncle could stop lier. Abbott glanced hastily at the slip of paper and pocketed it. "Higgins," he repeated. "Not Frank Higgins, of the chass of nineteen hundred and four?"' "Yes," admitted Uncle Frank with almost a note of defiance in his voice. Abbot beamed. "Well, now, this is a rare pleasure, Mr. Higgins," he declared heartily. "Believe me! If you'll just step into my office we'll build three seats for you right on the goal-posts! Step this way, please." Uncle Frank and his niece were conducted into the office and provided with two armchaiis in front of Abbott's desk; but Abbott had something far more important to talk about than mere seats. "Now I have a proposition to make, Mr. Higgins," he said earnestly, "and I leave it to you to decide. A bunch of fine youngsters are coming all the way across .the country for the biggest game of their lives. Just a lot of scared kids coming into a big town. They're tired. Some of them have spent three nights in an upper berth on the train. They need encouragement—a friendly smile—a pat on the back." To give dramatic effect to his next words he gripped a corner of his desk with his left hand and leaned forward with his right fist clenched. " And there won't be one McKinley man to meet them!" Fitz was watching Uncle Frank's face, but Sylvia's eyes were on the speaker. "Oh. that's a shame!" she cried. " j'hat is too bad, Mr. Abbott," said Uncle Frank. Abbott dropped his fist and straightened his back. " So I appeal to you, sir," he went on, " the only McKinley man in town, to serve as a one- man welcoming committee for them. My entire staff is at your service." Uncle Frank drew a Jong breath. " Well, I—I quite agree with you that some- body should meet the boys," he said haltiu'.rly, "but I—I hardly beJieve that I'm the man." "Why not?" asked Abbott. "Well, there are several reasons," "Of course, if it's something iiersoiial- " "Oh. not that—at least, only p,-»rtly!" Uncle Frank did not want to let McKinley down in any way. particularly by confessing that he—; one of the alumni, or former students of that college—had made such a failure of his life as to become a night-watchman. He grofied for a fitting excuse. "As a matter of fact." he .said slowly, "my private business affairs take so much of my time." Abbott nodded sympathetically. " Of course, I understand," he said. "What is your line ?" "Well, I—I'm in the contracting business." "You don't say!" Abbott looked suitably impressed. "Well, then, you (crtainly could take a few days off just for old times' sake." I