Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

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So simple to brighten your home —delight your friends with bouquets that last! Inexpensive, too, with Dennison Very Best Crepe Paper. 48 colors, at stores everywhere. EASY-TO-READ INSTRUCTIONS &£ 'hi.WM&Vn, , Depl. X-145, Framingham, Mass. I Send me FREE Instruction Leaflet: "How To Make Queen Mary Roses." Name j Address _ I City _ State | For more detailed Dennison-Craft Guides, check i those you want; enclose 5t for each. D Craftwork D Flower Making | □ Party Table □ Gay Decorations For one thing, I help out the teacher By seeing good pupils are starred. The kids who get high marks Can glory in my marks — But no one with merit is barred. USE DENNISON GUMMED STARS We Love and Learn Continued from page 26 of the excitement was because he was sitting in the seat in front of her. She studied, with bewildered eyes, the irregular and endearing line that his hair made on the nape of his neck — it was too long, he should visit a barber, she told herself, and wanted to run her finger against the grain of it to see if it were as soft as it looked. When the plane took off smoothly — no bumping over the ground when Kit Collins was at the controls! — she was scarcely conscious that she was leaving the earth. Perhaps it was an anti-climax for she had left the earth, already, in one sense! With average people there must be a constant flow of conversation before the bars are down and there's a firm basis of friendship, but the conversation between Kit Collins and Andrea was mostly a matter of jerky phrases. Kit threw back across his shoulder, "Comfy?" and then, "You're a teacher? Don't look like any teachers I used to have when I went to school. . . . Boss said I was to take good care of you but he could've saved his steam. Fat chance me not takin' good care of you! . . . What's your first name, anyway? Andrea? Too long. Guess I'll call you Teach." And he smiled. There was something boyish, almost shy, about that smile. It was oddly at variance with his self-assured words. FLYING — with clouds above them and before long with clouds below them. Flying at a speed that Andrea couldn't measure and didn't try to guess. She asked wistfully, "How long will it take us to reach New York?" but her wistfulness was because she wanted the flight to go on interminably, not because she wanted to reach Frank Harrison. A sapphire ring and a mink coat? — they were only a sapphire ring and a mink coat but this was reality dressed in the garments of unreality. An hour — in the spacelessness of space — with a man who held the key to everything worth while in his strong sunburned hands. Andrea felt that she had known Kit Collins for her whole life and for a dozen lives before this one. A line from a forgotten poem came to her — "When you were a tadpole and I was a fish — " it started. "In the paleolithic age — " yes, if there were anything in reincarnation, she'd known him that long! She said, "I wish I could pilot a plane — " because she had to say something or she'd burst, and Kit warned her, "Keep out of the racket. It's a risky business." And then, with a swift change of tempo, "Hold everything, Teach, we've got to climb. There's weather ahead." Weather ahead. Andrea had been too absorbed to realize that the brightness of the air had taken on a sultry gray tint. She felt the plane quiver, her head was snapped back as the propeller nosed upward, and she heard Kit growl, "Damn it, anyway! Something's gone screwy with the feedline." They weren't rising — everything was reversed in a split second. They were going down fast, slanting through clouds and driving rain below the clouds, gliding above a toy town and a river like a ribbon and another town with houses that looked like boxes 72 and people that looked like ants. They were moving with a breathtaking speed while Kit worked frantically at the instrument board, muttering invectives, throwing back brief messages of reassurance. They were sliding across a grove of trees, the tree-tops were brushing the underside of the plane — a leaf from heaven knows where fluttered into Andrea's lap. And then great branches were breaking with sharp cracks like explosions and Kit was shouting, "Bend your knees, Teach. Brace yourself!" And then there was the crash and Andrea felt the world go black and thought, almost contentedly, "Dying — with Kit Collins so close — isn't exactly dying. . CHE was waking in a white room ^ that smelled of disinfectants and starch. She was saying aloud, "Love at first sight — it's silly. I've read about it in books but it's silly. It doesn't happen to real people." She was saying, "Frank's kind and good but I don't love him. I'm engaged to him because he's nice — because I'm sorry for him and Junior, but if I'd met Kit first — " was she laughing or was it the echo of someone else's mirth? — "I'd never have accepted Frank. I — " her eyes were searching for something familiar in the expanse of whiteness. "Where am I?" A woman's voice answered, "You're in a hospital, my dear — I'm the nurse in charge. No, you're not hurt badly — just shaken up. And — " a touch of coyness — "here's somebody who's been sitting by your bed for the last two hours, waiting for you to wake up." Andrea asked, "Kit? Is it Kit Collins?" and Frank Harrison's voice, charged with worry, answered — "No, darling. It's me . . . Andrea, when I heard that your plane was lost I thought that the world had come to an end. And when they told me that you were found — Oh, my darling!" Andrea asked, "Is it Saturday?" and Frank told her, still in that worried tone — "No, it's Monday," and Andrea, trying to sit up against her pillow, gasped — "But school! I should be in school!" It was another voice now — a voice that heretofore had spoken only in jerky phrases, and yet a voice infinitely dear. "Skip the school, Teach," said the voice, "somebody's taking over your desk for a while. . . . Look, you and I were under the wing of the plane all night while they sent out searching parties — remember? And I—" Frank was speaking again, interrupting harshly, "Forget it, Collins! Let that part of it be a blank to Miss Reynolds!" but Andrea, with a dim dream released and made radiant, was hearing the drive of rain, was seeing a plane wing, like a silver shadow over her head, was feeling an arm, as strong as a steel band, supporting her and holding her close. "Yes," she whispered, "we were under a wing all night. Yes, I remember. Kit, I—" She would have gone on and on but the nurse was saying, "That's enough for now, Miss Reynolds. You two men go away. The patient needs rest." They were leaving the room to RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR