Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

I take back what I just said." "That's better," George Emerson said. "You ought to." "Oh, I mean about not being sure that he's going to be the greatest composer in the world. I think he is." Linda's eyes shone. Emerson looked at her helplessly. "You're out of your mind, Linda," he said. Linda smiled and shook her head. She turned to her mother. "Mother — we're going to have company for dinner tomorrow night," she said. "We are? Who?" asked Irene. "Stephen Harper." LINDA dutifully kissed her parents and went upstairs to bed.. So much to think about! Of course her father would dislike Steve Harper — at first. It was the traditional dislike of the solid man of business for the artist. It was the suspicion of the man of sense for the man of talent. Oh, Linda understood. It was a mixture of jealousy and distrust of the magic which some men have that enables them to compose music, paint pictures or write great books. A man of sense — like her father — achieved happiness and wanted that happiness for his children. That's why he couldn't bear to see his daughter attracted by the magic of a man he instinctively could not understand. But he would understand. Linda was confident of that. Steve . . . Steve Harper . . . And Linda felt quite proud that she had guessed correctly. At dinner the next evening her father was carefully polite and pleasant to Steve Harper. It was thrilling for Linda to watch him sitting there, with her whole family. Steve whose very awkwardness and shyness had a special charm. The table looked so lovely. The dinner conversation was so pleasant. Linda felt a sudden rush of gratitude toward her family — her father, her mother who had tried so hard for her sake, her sister, Holly, who looked at Steve with adoration and put him at his ease. After dinner, George Emerson was perfectly willing to discuss even music. Linda listened as Steve tried, a little embarrassedly, to explain his latest composition — an idea he had gotten while walking with Linda the night before. Night Talk, he had called it. And when George Emerson insisted on hearing it, Steve went to the piano. Linda stood beside the piano as Steve played. She couldn't explain the thoughts that raced through her mind, the rapid beating of her heai;t. For the moment she forgot everything else in listening to the music — the music that Steve had written because of his walk with her — the music he had written for her! "It's wonderful, wonderful," she kept repeating to herself. And later that night, after she had said good night to Steve, Linda knew that no matter what her father said, no matter what anyone said, nothing could ever change her mind about Stephen Harper. . . . But George Emerson had different views. He refused to admit what was apparent to every one who saw Linda. He refused to realize that the change that had come over his daughter, her gayety, her joy, her new radiance, was caused by one thing — love. Linda's love for Steve Harper. For days on end he talked — not only to Linda, but to his wife, to Holly, to Dr. Stratton — even to Steve himself. It just couldn't be! It couldn't happen! His lovely, gracious Linda who had gently turned down every eligible young man in Axminster! She couldn't be in love with a piano player— no matter how good he was! OUT it was true. Steve and Linda ■"both knew it in their hearts for a long time before they said it to each other. Steve worked so hard. Each meeting with Linda was fresh inspiration for the emotion which he poured into his music — the music Linda loved so much. And then one day it happened, quietly, simply, surely. Steve and Linda had gone to the park for the afternoon. And there, sitting on a park bench, Steve had told Linda the story of his life, his father, mother, his hopes and dreams and ambitions. Then — all at once, they had fallen silent, and Steve was looking into her eyes. "I love you," he said slowly. "I've been in love with you for a • long time. I've said it in my work. I've said it to the sky — to the trees — buildings — I've said it to the memory of my mother — with the memory of my father approving — and now I've said it to you." Quietly — as if to still the sudden rapturous turmoil within her, Linda said. "I'm in love with you, too, Steve." It was not until then that they kissed — at first wonderingly, tentatively, almost afraid to believe such happiness could be theirs, but later with a wild rapture which left them both shaken and awed. More pleasure at the beach . . . THEN even in 1911, when bathing beauties looked like this, they found the fine distinctive flavor of Beech-Nut Gum refreshing and long-lasting. . . . AND NOW that same delicious flavor makes whatever you're doing more pleasant. Try a package today. Beech-Nut Gum The yellow package . . . with the red oval AUGUST, 1942 69