Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

you were ill the school board held a meeting and it was suggested that you be asked to resign." "Resign? But, Mr. Saunders," Andrea burst out, "that's not fair — I should be given a chance to explain." "Pre-cisely." The man nodded his gray head. "That's precisely what I told the board — with the result, Miss Reynolds, that the suggestion was put to a vote and defeated. Your position is still — yours. But it shouldn't be necessary for me to insist that you must be very, very careful in the future. That you avoid even — shall we say the appearance — of evil." "But — I don't understand." TF you force me to be specific — " ■*■ Mr. Saunder's jaw hardened and Andrea realized suddenly that the antagonism she had always sensed in him was like a beast crouching, ready to attack. He had, she divined, come to her support in the board meeting simply because it would embarrass him personally if one of his teachers were asked to resign. "It would be better if you saw nothing of Mr. Harrison, and very little of Kit Collins. His reputation is — not good." As Andrea walked away from the school she passed two women, mothers of her pupils, and their cool stares shocked her into realizing how well founded the principal's warning had been. It was horrible to feel that you were under surveillance — that your private life was the subject of debate in the prim houses you passed. But, Andrea reminded herself, this was the penalty of trying to be a woman and a teacher at one and the same time. Monday — and Andrea was back again at her desk, with her pupils watching her owl-eyed. They were old enough to have taken in fragments of adult conversation, and Andrea — aware of their too vivid interest — worried through the morning, giving them higher marks than they deserved, being too lenient with their lapses. When noon came and they hurried to their assorted homes, for lunch, she lowered her head on the desk and sat so for nearly an hour, not bothering to eat the sandwiches she had brought with her. It was only because she needed a breath of fresh air that she finally went out into the schoolyard, and she was no sooner there than she was sorry. If she'd stayed in the classroom she'd have avoided seeing Kit Collins — Kit, who had stayed away from her for nearly a week — Kit, who — despite the fact that he was partly responsible for her injured reputation — had wounded and ignored her. If she'd stayed in the classroom — but how could she have known that Kit would come striding toward her as he had come striding toward her once before on the morning they first met? "Teach," he exclaimed, "I've been fighting with myself for days, but this morning I lost out. . . . I — " his tone was abashed — "I've been hanging around ever since the first kid left the yard and — and — look, can't we have dinner tonight at some quiet place where we can talk and — " The many slights that she'd received, not only from Kit but from Mr. Saunders and the townspeople, crystallized in Andrea's soul. "You would want to take me to a quiet place," she said. "No, Kit — I can't have dinner with you tonight or any night. Somebody might see us eating OCTOBER, 1942 together, in that quiet place of yours, and— well, it would be different if we were engaged or married or something, but — " Kit told her evenly, "That's why I want to talk to you, Teach. I'm in a bum spot — I can't marry anybody. But there's no reason why we shouldn't — " Andrea was flaring up — she was a torch of a girl, at that instant, her very words were incendiary. "I'm not asking you to marry me," she said sharply, "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth, Kit Collins! Perhaps — " the flame died out of her voice leaving it as dry as ashes — "Perhaps it would interest you to know that I've been warned against you, and your last remark — well, it proves that the warning had a real foundation." Kit, now, was the one who flamed. Ignoring the final part of Andrea's speech, he was yelling, "Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Who had the nerve to warn you against me?" Andrea told him, "Only the principal of the school — and he was speaking for the entire school board. If I associated with you, Kit, I'd lose my job and — " But Kit was turning from her, was striding away as if the fiends were after him. "If your job means more than I do," he flung across his shoulder, "I'm through — and I mean through!" And then he was tearing off down the street and Andrea— slowly, miserably — was going back to the schoolroom. The afternoon session dragged. The pupils, sensing a letdown in "teacher," were unruly — only Junior Harrison was wrapped in a mood that matched her own. When at last the bell sounded and Andrea dismissed her charges, she knew a dull sense of gratitude and found herself wishing that she'd never see another child as long as she lived. Junior, lingering behind the others, annoyed her, but she forced herself to say, "How are things at your house, dear — is your mother better?" She was unprepared for the tears that rolled down the lad's face as he muttered — "Mother's getting along swell, but Dad's — oh, Miss Reynolds, can't you do something about Dad?" Can't you do something about Dad! Frank Harrison was the other thorn in Andrea's flesh — he had caused her plenty of trouble, she owed him nothing. WHAT'S wrong with your father?" she asked, and Junior told her, "He's at the hotel bar, morning, noon and night. He's d-drinking his head off." Andrea asked, trying to be cool, "But, Junior, certainly you don't expect me to go to a bar and drag your father out of it?" and the youngster was answering, "No, ma'am, not that. But — but I thought if you spoke to him — I mean, if you should happen to meet him — " the tears were becoming a torrent— "C-Curtis says you can twist Dad around your little finger!" "I'm not particularly interested in what your butler thinks of my influence over your father," said Andrea, her temper rising again. "And I'm quite sure, Junior, that I won't happen to meet him." She watched, with level eyes, as the boy went hurriedly out of the classroom — but as she gathered together her papers DON'T CUT CUTICLE'. REMOVE CUTICLE THIS QUICK, EASY WAY...USE TRIMAL (PRONOUNCED TRIM-ALL) Don't let ugly, rough cuticle spoil the appearance of your nails . . . Get this remarkable cuticle preparation right away. You'll be amazed at the results. And you'll soon understand why thousands of women are adopting this new way to nail beauty, that eliminates dangerous cutting. Here's all you do: Wrap cotton around the end of manicure stick. Saturate with TRIMAL and apply to cuticle. 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