Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1950)

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Write today for your test bottle. Caution: Use only as directed. Print nameplainly. Don'tdelay. Sold by Liggett and Walgreen Drug Stores and other leading Druggists. LAKE LABORATORIES, Box 3925. Strathmoor Station. Dept. 3404. Detroit 27. Mich. back out, tell him it's off. God, I wish I'd been more careful the last two years!" Marsha slumped too, but with relief. For a minute she'd wondered whether Joe had gone mad, talking about putting out thousands of dollars when he had just told her they were almost stony-broke. But she understood now; he was just talking. He was excited, worried — he was letting off steam with this erratic talk. She'd have to stay very calm, very unperturbed. She said gently, "We've got to make plans, dear. The house, the car — Hetty will have to go." His eyes met hers blankly. Then he frowned and stood up. "Sure, we'll have to cut down. But don't do anything just yet, honey — we'll have to figure it out. Say, I've got to get going." He bent down and kissed her, and strode out into the hall for his hat. Marsha called after him, "Don't forget Doris is coming for dinner." From half-way down the drive he waved and called back, "Haven't forgotten. Home early." Smiling, she began to clear away the dishes. Figuring or no figuring, Hetty would have to go; she might as well start right away to get used to being without a maid. Then there were her two fur coats. Surely one was enough! She'd get rid of the fabulously expensive sealskin; it wouldn't go with the way the Hubels were going to live from now on. And the summer cottage. That would bring something. Marsha planned on, straightening the room as she thought. Before Joe's desk she halted, studying the litter with a lump in her throat as she realized that he must have crept downstairs during the night, when she was in one of her fitful naps, to puzzle some more over those inexorable figures that added up to nothing. She sighed. Thirty thousand dollars! Her father had never seen that much money in his life! Piling the bankbooks together, she snapped a rubber band around them and pushed them into the drawer. She went upstairs and started going through her jewel box. It was surprising, really, how seldom she wore her two-inch-long sapphire dinner ring, and the dazzling diamond choker Joe had given her the year before. Littleton society didn't offer many occasions splendid enough for such gems; they always looked out of place. Finally Marsha made a business-like inventory of all their household goods, and ferreted out the things they hardly ever used — the extra silver coffee se: ice, for instance, and all the silver serving dishes that came out of their flannels only to be polished and put away again. Added to the fur coat and the jewelry it was an impressive total. She made a few timid phone calls, and then a few increasingly confident ones, for it really began to look as though she'd be able to realize several thousand dollars from the sale of these things that she would never even miss. Oh, it was bad enough, this spot they'd gotten into; but if they could just pull out with enough to start over, and if — if, above all — it ended with Joe willing to live a more sensible kind of life, then she was almost glad it had come. After all, she thought almost happily, they weren't in debt. Was it reaction, she wondered — or was she, like Joe, learning to find stimulation in a challenge, any kind of challenge? Whatever it was, Marsha saw gratefully when Joe came home that he was under its influence too. She wanted very much to tell him about her inventory, to get his opinion on one or two things she wasn't sure about selling; but too quickly after he came Doris arrived, and Marsha mentally shelved the discussion. Dinner was always gay when Doris was with them, and tonight was no exception. She told them what was going on at the University where she was a third-year student, and they laughed uproariously at her description of the latest fad, under the influence of which it seemed, strong men were dyeing their hair blond. "It's not really dyeing," she explained, between giggles. "These fancy types, they just take a few strands of hair and peroxide it so it makes a 'wing' — you know, the kind that if it were gray it would be called distinguished. Bill says it's a manifestation of mob hysteria." Marsha and Joe exchanged a laughing glance. "Who's Bill?" asked Joe. Doris set down her glass very carefully. She waited for their full attention, then she said, consciously announcing it: "Bill's the guy I'm going to marry." "Well," said Joe after a moment of surprised silence. Marsha, speaking at the same time, exclaimed, "Oh, Doris, I'm delighted! Who is he? When do we meet him?" "Gradually, gradually," Doris said. She was trying to be very nonchalant, as if one got engaged every day, but now that Marsha looked at her more closely she chided herself for not having suspected that there was a man be —So writes a regular listener of "MY TRUE STORY" Radio Program. "No cliff-hanging melodrama; but stories of real-life people. They're more than 'thrilling'; they're stimulating because they are sincere." Listen to radio's greatest morning show adapted from the pages of True Story Magazine, and you'll see for yourself why so many women hear it every morning, Monday thru Friday. Tune AMERICAN BROADCASTING STATIONS