Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

and left the school, and made her way toward Daddy Little's flower shop, Andrea's senses were in a complete whirl. "It will be the end of me," she told herself, "if I meddle in the Harrisons' affairs!" But willy-nilly, her steps led her past Beechmont's largest hotel. She wasn't surprised when she saw Frank Harrison, flushed, unsteady, emerging from the door — she knew how fate was dealing the cards these days, and she'd expected to run into Frank. When he glimpsed her, when he exclaimed thickly, "Andrea!" she said, "You should be ashamed of yourself, Frank Harrison. Come back into the hotel with me — no, not to the bar. We'll go to the coffee shop and you'll drink black coffee until you're sober enough to hear a few facts!" FT seemed as if everybody was in * the hotel coffee shop. Andrea saw not only one, but three, of the school board and knew that the principal's telephone wire would be buzzing within the half hour. She had to grit her teeth to carry out her self-imposed program — to squelch Frank's clumsy advances with common sense — to give him argument for argument. When at last, and with a growing audience, he had reached the tearful stage, she hurried him from the hotel and into a cab. It was in the cab, on the way to his home, that she extracted a pledge from him. "For Junior's sake," she told him, "you must give Elizabeth another chance — and yourself another chance. You loved her once and, if you try hard enough, you can love her again. Frank, I'm not asking you to recreate the past, I'm asking you to face the future like a man. Take Elizabeth in your arms and kiss her and — oh, of course it will work! It will have to work. You have strength, you have imagination, you have money — and you have a marvelous child. What more do you want?" When she dropped Frank at his door she felt that she had given him a creed and a pattern and she was reasonably sure that he would try to follow through. She told the cab driver to take her on to her original destination, Daddy Little's flower shop. And then she was back in the room in the rear of the shop, lying across her bed — not crying, because she was too tired to cry. Daddy Little knocked on the door and asked if she'd like some supper, but Andrea said no — despite a lunchless day she wasn't hungry — so he went away. It might have been an hour — or four or five hours — later that she again heard his anxious old voice at her door. "Andy-girl," he said, calling her the name her father had called her, "you've got to come out while I tell you something. It's awful important." Andrea struggled to her feet. What could be important now, she wondered. She came draggingly across the floor of her room, opened the door and felt Daddy Little's hand on hers. "Don't cave in," he said, "you've got to be a soldier, honey. They phoned from the hospital — it's Kit Collins." A waiting room with people milling around — scores of people, it seemed to Andrea. She had come to the hospital alone, refusing Daddy Little's company — needing solitude, but here was no solitude. A young man whose wife was having a baby, an old woman whose husband was having an operation, a mother whose little girl was under an oxygen tent, and many more were sharing her vigil. Andrea — asking muted questions— had heard the story from a sympathetic young interne. Kit, foolishly reckless, had done some stunt flying without either rhyme or reason, using a plane that hadn't even been tested — it was as if he'd been trying to throw his life away — these aviators were an insane lot! His injuries — the interne, to Andrea's astonishment, chuckled. "The Lord must have been watching out for pilots today — only a fractured leg and a broken collar bone. Collins will probably be flying again in a couple of months. . . ." Yes, she could see him as soon as he came down from the surgery. The waiting room — people coming and going, some with tears, some with smiles. A woman stuffing her handkerchief into her mouth so that she wouldn't scream, a man swearing softly under his breath. Andrea's nails bit into the palms of her clenched hands as her problem turned over and over in her mind, like a falling plane. And then her name was being called and she was being taken to the cell where Kit lay, bandage-swathed, in a narrow white bed. He peered up at her from his pillow, but his eyes were no longer teasing. "Now you see why I haven't the right to marry you, Teach," he said abruptly. "No guy who does my work should team up with the woman he loves — not if he loves her enough to want to spare her. . . . It's lucky you've got your job, Teach — and I'm the last one to stand between you and it. I was a dumb ox this morning, and I was worse than dumb this afternoon and — Teach, for gosh sake!" For Andrea, all her questions answered and all her answers ready, was on her knees beside the hospital bed. "If you ever mention my job again," she told Kit between spasms of tears mixed with hysterical laughter and relief, "I'll — I'll — I don't know what I'll do! You must marry me, Kit, or I'll — I'll sue you for breach of promise! The right to marry me? You haven't the right not to marry me, Kit — not when I love you so much!" KIT warned, even as he groped for her hand, "Don't think you're going to talk me out of flying, Teach, once you get me in your power. Flying's in my blood stream — just like you are. Don't think, once we're married, that I'll give up my trade — because I won't! Teach — " his teasing was blotted out by the honesty of his emotion — "when that plane was going down this afternoon, and you weren't beside me and I thought I'd be traveling on alone and never seeing you again— girl, I love you!" Andrea, leaning over, kissed the lips of Kit Collins — gently because he was weak, firmly because she was strong. As she kissed him she knew that she was forfeiting her chance of a sane, sensible future — that perhaps she was forfeiting her work as well — but at the moment she didn't care. Even though she realized that this dare-devil would always be a daredevil— that she'd always be searching the sky anxiously for the silver of his plane against the sun — she was curiously content and at peace. ing to be sure they do not lose their flavor and their nutritive elements through overcooking. 7. Use less boiling water and make up the difference with canned tomatoes or liquid from cooked vegetables. 8. For a piquante stew, add 1 to 2 tbls. Worcestershire sauce, lemon juice or vinegar just before serving. For any meat that has bones, excess fat or gristle, I find it a good plan to divide the cooking operation into two parts. Simmer the meat with the basic seasonings in the morning and when it is done lift out the meat, remove as much of the bone, fat and gristle as you can, and strain the broth to remove the remainder (the seasoning ingredients will be strained out, too, but they have already done their work). Allow the broth to cool and remove the excess fat that forms on the top. When you are ready to serve, combine meat, vegetables and the strained broth, and the meat will be heated by the time the vegetables are done. Savory chicken stew is an excellent 78 Frills for an Old Friend Continued from page 44 choice when stewing chickens are plentiful in the market. Savory Chicken Stew 1 stewing chicken, disjointed 1 cup minced ham 1 clove garlic, minced 2 small onions, minced 1 green pepper, minced 1 medium can tomatoes Vi tsp. freshly ground pepper Salt to taste Sautee garlic, onion and green pepper lightly, using ham or chicken fat, place in cooking pot with the chicken, ham, pepper and tomatoes and add water to barely cover the chicken. Cover and simmer very slowly until chicken is almost tender enough to fall off the bones (about Wz to 2 hours) turning frequently to be sure it is cooked evenly throughout. Add salt when stew is about half finished, being careful not to put in too much for the ham will be salty, too. Serve with brown rice and tossed green salad. Leftover stew can be reheated and served again, but for variation here are a number of other suggestions. Put the meat and vegetables into a buttered casserole, with enough of the broth (thickened) to make a good rich gravy, top with small biscuits or a layer of biscuit dough and bake until biscuits are brown and stew is piping hot. Or top your casserole with mushrooms in place of biscuit dough, brushing the mushrooms generously with melted butter and baking until they are nicely browned. Leftover mashed or sweet potatoes, bread or cracker crumbs or uncooked cereals also make excellent toppers for casseroles. Muffins with leftover stew filling and served with gravy made of the liquid from the stew provide another answer to the leftover problem. For these, make the same pastry that you make for your favorite pie, and roll it thin. Line muffin tins with rounds of the pastry, fill each one with leftover stew which has been drained, cover each one with pastry and bake in a 450 degree oven until done (15 to 20 minutes). RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR