Radio romances (July-Dec 1945)

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Indianapolis 4, Ind. corns Prevents Corns, Sore Toes From Tight Shoes WTHEN you apply Dr. Scholl's Zino" pads on your aching corns or sore toes — you'll marvel how tormenting shoe friction stops and painful pressure is instantly lifted. So soothing, cushioning, these thin, soft, protective pads prevent corns, tender spots, blisters, instep ridges, chafed heels. Take the pinch and "bite" out of new or tight shoes. Included with Dr. Scholl's Zino-pads are separate wonder-working Medications for speedily removing corns. No other method does all these things for you. Cost but a trifle. At all Drug, Shoe, Department Stores, Toiletry Counters. Get a box today! DrScholls ft no-pads A Love Like This Continued from page 37 tightened around me; his look made my heart skip a beat. "The same thing. Three years — and thirty years from now." We were so sure then, both of us — and yet, a few months later we were living apart, separated by John's dream of the future, the dream that had been my dream, too, until it became a reality too soon. He had told me about his farm on the very first night he'd met me, at a picnic given by the Young People's League. There was folk dancing at the pavilion in the evening, and when I first saw John, I thought how nice looking he was, and I wondered why he was sitting on the sidelines with the older people, not dancing. Then, when I'd flung myself into a chair after a fast Schottische, and he got up and crossed the floor toward me, I saw that he couldn't dance. He limped noticeably, so that there was a pitch in his gait and one shoulder was carried down and forward. "What a pity," I thought — and then he was standing before me, smiling, and it wasn't a pity, after all; the limp didn't matter in the least. "I watched you Schottische," he said. "You'll want to rest after that dance. Why don't you sit the next one out with me?" "I'd love to." I meant it sincerely. My heart was beating unaccountably fast, and even then it seemed as if John had come to me, not just across a dance floor, but across all the years of our lives. W/E SAT through not one dance but ™ several, and when other boys came up to me, I refused them, grudging even that little time my attention was diverted from John. He seemed pleased that I chose to remain with him, but once he said encouragingly, "I wish you'd dance, if you want to. I'll enjoy just watching you. I used to dance a lot myself — before I got smashed up in an auto accident." I didn't quite know how to reply. At my look he added quickly, "I'm glad of it — and that isn't a defensive attitude on my part. I honestly think it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I wasn't a wild kid exactly, but I did like excitement. I liked chasing around to a half-dozen places in one evening; I liked cars and crowds and a change of scene every five minutes. I'd had and quit a dozen part-time jobs before I got through high school. I think now that if it hadn't been for the accident, I'd have been one of those fellows who never want to settle down until it's too late. But a few months in a wheel chair changed all that. I was left to myself a lot then, and I had plenty of time to think about what I was going to do with my life. That was when I began to think about my farm." "Your farm — ?" His smile was half sheepish, like that of a small boy caught day-dreaming. "Not mine, really — the farm I'm going to have some day. I used to spend the summers on my uncle's farm — and I got to thinking about it when I was in the hospital, and to realizing that those summers were the times I'd worked hardest and been most happy. There's always growth and change on a farm, always enough uncertainty and trouble to keep you jumping. 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