Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

was probably very lonely for his father. "Mary," Sam said, "can you help me pack? Maybe we could finish that before dinner." "Of course, darling," Mrs. Young said. "Pepper, ask Hattie to give you something to eat, dear." Ill RS. YOUNG couldn't help thinkiT-" ing of the old days, while they packed Sam's bags. She remembered lit her times when they had debated over which suits Sam should take and whether he'd have enough shirts and socks. And it was good. It made her heart glad to see him interested and excited again, to hear him speculating on Curt's problems. Sam was just struggling with the straps on his suitcase, when they heard Pepper let out a whoop of delight. "Hey, Mom! Dad!" Pepper yelled. "Come on down and give your blessings. Boy, are things happening!" Mrs. Young hurried downstairs. Peggy and Carter were standing together, looking breathless and embarrassed and, somehow, radiant. "Congratulations and all that!" Pepper was saying. He looked at his watch. "Gee! I've got to scram. See you all later. 'Bye, Dad. Have a good time. I'm afraid I won't be able to get to the train to see you off." After Pepper's uproar had died down, it seemed very still in the house. "Mother, look!" Peggy said, finally. She put out her hand and the diamond on her finger caught the light and broke it into a million facets. "Oh, Mother, say it's all right!" Peggy cried. The next moment, she was in her mother's arms, hiding her face like a shy child. Carter cleared his throat. "I — I hope you don't mind, Mr. Young," he said. "I know I should have asked you first, but — " Mrs. Young looked at Sam. He was smiling a little doubtfully, but not disapprovingly. "Well — now," he said, "I think maybe you should have spoken to me. Peggy's pretty young, you know." "Oh, Daddy!" Peggy said. "Don't say that. I know. I know I love Carter and I'll never love anyone else, no matter how old I get." "There, there," Sam said. "I didn't say no, did I?" He turned to Carter. "And your parents, how do they feel about it?" "Uh — " Carter frowned slightly. "They don't know, yet. I wanted them to meet Peggy first." Sam smiled indulgently, then grew serious. "You owe them a certain responsibility, you know, Carter," he said. "Don't you think they should have been — well — warned? After all, this is going to be a surprise to them." "Yes, I know," Carter said. "That's why I've asked Peggy to keep this secret for awhile." "Secret?" Sam repeated. Carter flushed. Haltingly, as though he felt it sounded a bit strange, he told them how much his father hated publicity. "And," Carter tried to explain, "I was afraid that if people knew we were engaged, the papers might get hold of it and splash it all over the front page. I — I guess they think I'm sort of important — well — because my family has money — and they might play up the fact that Peggy isn't from a rich family and — and my father might get the wrong impression. I don't want that to 70 happen. I want him to meet Peggy first — then, he'll probably give the papers an announcement himself. But that's different. You do understand, don't you, Mr. Young?" "Hmm," Sam murmured. "Yes, I guess so. Tell you what, Peggy. Suppose you keep that ring hidden, for awhile — " "Oh, Daddy!" Peggy cried, her eyes filming over with tears of disappointment. "Peggy, dear," Mrs. Young said tenderly, "it's just for a little while — until Carter has talked to his parents." Sam laughed lightly and patted his daughter's head. "You're very impatient, seems to me." He grinned. "Now, let's have some dinner. I have a train to catch." Looking around the table, Mrs. Young thought it was some time since they had sat down to such a cheerful meal. Sam was happy, she could see |eni)i)U)ise says... "Save — to Make the Japs Pay." VA/HEN washing clothes by hand, '"rub badly soiled parts with a soft brush and a good soap lather. This is easy on the fabric, yet hard on the dirt. You'll save many pennies by this simple rule for laundering clothes carefully. Put those thrifty coins into WAR SAVINGS STAMPS— they're valuable to Democracy! that. And Peggy? Peggy was lost in a world in which only Carter was real. Mrs. Young looked past Carter's handsome young face bent towards Peggy's and sighed as she saw Biff staring at his untouched food. She must remind Sam, she thought, to tell Curt he really should come to see his son, soon. She knew that no matter how much she and Sam loved him and watched over him, they couldn't take his father's place. And then, they were all waving to Sam from the platform and he was grinning back at them from the train window. After the train had hooted its way out of sight, Mrs. Young refused Carter's offer to drive her home. She wanted to be alone. She walked home through the quiet, treelined streets, thinking of Sam and hoping that his trip would have the desired effect of renewing his courage and belief in himself. She thought of Peggy and, for a1 moment, found herself a little afraid* of what might lie ahead for her daughter. It was nothing more than realistic to consider the possibility that the Trents might think Peggy! was not a suitable match for Carter; But Mrs. Young shook off that idea.! It was silly, after all. They were every bit as good a family as the Trents., They didn't have money, but Sam had1 done much for his fellow men — more| perhaps than Mr. Trent ever had. Sam was good and wise and honest. Unselfishly, Sam had served his community when its need was great, and he had earned no reward, no salary i for his term as Mayor. But he had i won the respect and trust of his fellow citizens. She wondered, fleetingly, whether1] Mr. Trent could say the same of him'' self. Then she dismissed the thought as unworthy. Mrs. Young turned in at the gate and walked slowly up the path toward the house. Suddenly, she stopped. A shadowy figure rose from one of the porch chairs. "Mrs. Young?" a man's voice asked. "Hattie said you would be back soon, j so I waited out here." ]%/! RS. YOUNG smiled at herself. It -L*-1 was only Mr. Walters, the real estate agent who handled their house. She went up on the porch and shook hands with him. "You frightened me," she laughed. "Won't you sit down? Isn't it a lovely evening?" "Uh — yes, yes," Mr. Walters said. He seemed embarrassed. "Uh — Hattie tells me Mr. Young has gone to Chicago. I wanted to speak to him — I wanted to find out — " "Yes?" Mrs. Young helped him. There was something in his manner that made her uneasy. "Can I help you?" "Well — I — I hate to press you this way, Mrs. Young," Mr. Walters said quickly. "But — Mr. Phillips, the owner, wants to know how soon you will be able to make a down payment on the house. You see, he — he wants to get rid of this property and — I — I'm afraid that unless you buy back your house, I'm going to have to put it up for sale." "Oh," Mrs. Young whispered. "I — I thought I'd talk to Mr. Young," Mr. Walters said. "I thought he could give me some idea of how long it would be — and I could give Mr. Phillips a date — " Mr. Walter's voice faded into silence. There was an awkward pause, while Mrs. Young thought desperately that she wished she could see a glimmer of hope. She didn't want her home sold. She couldn't even conceive of having to live anywhere else. Yet she knew she would have to be honest with Mr. Walters. "I — " she began unhappily, "I'm afraid you'll have to sell the house, Mr. Walters. I know Mr. Young couldn't have given you any date — I — we — really have no idea when we'll be able to buy the house." Mr. Walters couldn't seem to get away quickly enough. He murmured apologies and stammered that he hated to press them and that he knew how much the house meant to Mrs. Young and he stumbled down the dark path to the gate. Wearily, Mrs. Young went into the RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR