Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

I COULDN'T sleep. I listened to the clack of the wheels on the track and felt the steady sway of the train and I thought that even this was wonderful and delightful. Mrs. Sam Clarke! It's ridiculous, I told myself, ridiculous and insane and marvelous. Gently, so as not to wake him, I touched Sam's cheek with my fingertips. He stirred and sighed in his sleep and I smiled into the darkness. What a fool I'd been. All that wasted time! I was thinking of the last school year, a whole year, almost, during which I had watched Sam Clarke covertly, admired him, longed to know him, and yet had let every opportunity slip by. Still, thinking it over, I didn't see how I could have acted any differently. After all, we were both teachers. I have always felt that one of the first duties of a teacher is to win and keep the respect of her pupils. And I knew that in order to do this, I couldn't afford to give anyone a chance to gossip about me. I couldn't give my pupils any cause to smirk behind my back and talk about my "crush" on the athletic coach. Nor could I have let the two teachers with whom I shared a house suspect that I was interested in him. There might have been rivalry and jealousy, and they would have led to unpleasantness. Of course, I was forced to admit now, there might have been no gossip, no secret laughter, no resentment between me and the other two teachers with whom I lived. But ever since I could remember I had been afraid of criticism, afraid Fictionized for Radio Mirror by Caroline Hoyt from the original radio play, "Home Tomorrow,'' by Cameron Hawley, first heard on Armstrong's Theater of Today, Saturday at 12:00 noon, EWT, over CBS. of the world's censure. Perhaps this fear had its roots in some childhood incident, long vanished from my memory while only its effects remained. I don't know. But it was there — an unreasoning terror of having other people misunderstand my motives, my thoughts and actions. I knew it was a weakness in me. I didn't know it would come close to destroying my whole life. In a way, now, I was almost glad Sam and I hadn't known each other better during the year just past. It was more exciting this way. We had wasted time, yes, but now we were finding each other all at once, in a rush. In a rush. I almost laughed aloud. The speed of a meteor was more like the rapidity with which things had been happening to me since I'd boarded the train yesterday afternoon to start on my vacation. I hadn't felt happy then. I had been depressed and tired. I had no family to visit and the loneliness and dullness of two months on my cousin's farm wasn't a pleasant prospect. Besides, only that morning I had heard Sam Clarke was not coming back next year. He was staying in his home town to take over the job of Superintendent of the school there. I had just sat down in my seat by the train window, when someone spoke to me. "Miss Gould, is this seat taken?" I looked up into Sam Clarke's friendly brown eyes. I shook my head and he sat down next to me. "Your name's Delia, isn't it?" he asked. I nodded, but now I smiled, too. "I think I'll start calling you that right away," Sam went on. "Now, Delia," he said, "would you mind telling me why you've been avoiding me all year? Are you engaged or something — ?" "Oh, no!" I found myself saying much too quickly. Sam Clarke laughed. "Good," he 3» 'V4 i ' • *.« '• i • i . 14