Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

aren't you? Maybe we'll see you there." La Cabana is a very small and noisy night club that's always crowded with lots of people who all seem to know each other. When we went in, several people waved to Lance, but he didn't stop to talk to anyone. Somehow, he was more serious that evening. He sat opposite me and, for a long time, he hardly spoke at all. And suddenly the fear leaped into my mind that he knew I wasn't J. K. Richards' niece, that I didn't have any money to buy cars, and that he'd stopped caring about me because I had deceived him. Just then our eyes met, and he smiled into mine. BUT that one instant of fear had taught me a lesson. I know now that no matter how terrible it would be to tell him about my deception, it would be a thousand times worse if, through some accident, he discovered it himself. All at once I was quite calm. I opened my mouth to speak — Before I could say a word, Lance was looking across the room, his face lighting up. "Why, there's your uncle now! Did you know he'd be here?" "My — " It was all I could say. For coming toward us were — Kay and a tall, handsome man with tanned face and brown hair just beginning to gray at the temples. "Lance!" I cried. "Lance, I've got to tell you — before they get here. I made it up — it wasn't true — " There wasn't time. Mr. Richards and Kay were standing beside us, and Mr. Richards was saying in a deep voice, "Well, having a good time, Jean? And this must be the Lance Weatherbee you've been telling me about." I was weak with relief. Dimly, I realized that Kay must have done this for me. She had swallowed her pride — the pride that had kept her all these years from ever seeing or speaking to John Richards — and had gone to him with the whole story. Kay winked at me while Lance and Mr. Richards were shaking hands, and then she said, "How about dancing with me, Mr. Weatherbee, and giving Jean a chance to talk to her uncle? You've been monopolizing her so much the last few days, you know, he hasn't really seen her at all." "I'd be delighted," Lance smiled, and they left the table. Mr. Richards' smile disappeared. "Well, young lady?" he said severely. I was frightened — and yet there was a queer kind of exultation inside me. Something told me Mr. Richards didn't really intend to expose me, no matter how stern he tried to look. "I'm sorry, Mr. Richards," I said. "I suppose Kay has told you all about me and the way I — I pretended to be your niece." "Yes, she told me. She mentioned that it all started as a matter of professional pride — that you wanted to 52 Continued from page 50 prove you were a good actress." "I guess that wasn't really the reason," I said shamefacedly. "It was really because I saw Lance and — and fell in love with him, just like that. All at once. It was crazy, but I felt I had to meet him. And now — " "And now you're afraid to tell him the truth," Mr. Richards finished. "Y-yes," I said hesitantly. "I don't blame you," Mr. Richards said in a business-like tone. "Not because he isn't going to make a sale he'd counted on, though that's bad enough when you're trying to make a living, but because anybody can see he's interested in you — and no man likes to have a girl he's interested in make a fool of him." "I haven't made a fool of him!" I flashed back hotly, angry because to me Lance was perfect and I resented having anyone call him a fool. "Now, don't get mad," he said. "Because I'm not. I really owe you a debt of gratitude. If it hadn't been for you and your — er — method of getting to know young Weatherbee, Kay probably would never have let me see her again. And — " he was quiet, almost somber — "I wouldn't have liked that." "You're — " t)aAA H"etxo lo WARREN HULL — Parks Johnson's new team-mate on Vox Pop, Monday nights over CBS. Warren has been on the stage and in movies, and has done practically everything you can do around a radio studio, from producing and directing to sweeping the floor. He was born in Gasport, N. Y., a little town near Niagara Falls, in 1903, and attended both New York University and the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, where he won a scholarship but passed it up so a more needy student could use it. His first roles on Broadway were in musical comedy. He's married and has three sons. Until recently his hobby was automobiles, but now he's thinking of taking up the first job he ever had — building bikes. 4Ot0*C*0«0»0»0»0»O«C»0»O«O«G4e*0eO«O4C*0»0«0«0«0«0tO*0»O»O»e40*O«0«C»0»Ot "Kay's the only girl I've ever wanted to marry," he said simply. "I know she loves me, too. Or she used to, at least. But we quarreled because she wanted to be an actress and I insisted that if she married me she'd have to give up her career. We were both young idiots." "I'm so sorry." It was a relief, really, to talk about other people's troubles. "Maybe it isn't too late now." His eyes came back to me then, and he said briskly, "That's what I've been thinking. I'll make you a proposition, young lady. Kay thinks a lot of you. If you can persuade her to give up the stage and marry me, I'll buy those six cars." My memory flew swiftly back to the few times that Kay had spoken of John Richards. Instinctively I knew that it wouldn't take any great persuading to get her to marry him. She was tired of the life she had chosen for herself, and many times she had bitterly regretted the one she had thrown away. Only pride had kept her silent so long, because she'd never stopped loving John. So it would be easy for me to keep my part of the bargain he had suggested. But — Suppose he did buy the cars from Lance? I couldn't go on pretending forever to be John Richards' niece. All at once, I saw myself in a new light — saw how foolish I had been. And not only foolish, but cheap. "No, Mr. Richards," I said clearly, "I can't accept your proposition. I don't think it will need any persuading from me to get Kay to marry you. And I've decided to tell Lance the truth right now." I didn't see the expression on his face, because just then Kay and Lance came back, and I looked directly at Lance as I said: "It isn't true that I'm Mr. Richards' niece, Lance, or that he asked me to shop for cars. I never saw him before tonight. It was all just a trick — just play-acting." Lance smiled. Then he said to John Richards: "Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say she'd tell me of her own accord?" For an instant the whole room blurred in front of my eyes. Then it was clear again, and Lance was saying, "I knew from the first. John's been a customer of ours for years — buys all his cars from us. I was pretty sure he wouldn't send a niece around shopping for him, so I called him up and asked. He said you were an impostor, and to throw you out. But I—" He •o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o. leaned closer to me. "I didn't. I knew that no matter if you'd pretended to be someone you weren't, it was for a good reason — and that sooner or later you'd tell me." "Oh, Lance!" I said. "How could you be so sure?" "Because I love you," he said. And in front of everyone, he kissed me. We were married a few weeks later — and so were Kay and John Richards. And Lance and I have had a year of the most perfect happiness. I thought of all this today, because this morning Lance went away. He is a Naval Reserve Officer and this morning he was called to duty. And as I watched his train pull out and I saw his face through the train window, my mind went back to the first time I had ever seen him. I walked home from the station, deliberately walking past the old showroom of Jupiter Motors. The store is empty, now. It has been empty for months. I stopped by the window. That was when I thought how different my life would have been, if I'd been born a year later. j WOULD never have met Lance, * because there would have been no cars in the window to make me envious and no one standing on the other side of the plateglass, smiling at me. It isn't going to be easy — waiting for Lance to come back. This morning, I was unhappy and afraid. Now, I'm not afraid. All this will be over and Lance will come back. I know he will, just as surely as I knew I had to go in and meet him, that day. RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR