Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1942)

So I did. It was luxurious to have breakfast in bed again, to be the petted baby of the household. I saw the Kellers and some old friends. But it wasn't as much fun as I'd thought it would be, without Peter. I thought about him all the time. ""THINKING about him really made me buy the dress. It was such a heavenly blue, "the color of the deepest lake in the world," and once I'd tried it on I couldn't resist it. I wanted to look pretty for him. It was practical, too, because I could wear it anywhere and, I reasoned, awfully inexpensive. Only thirtynine ninety-five. I had only about eight dollars with me — the "spending money" Peter had given me for the trip— so I charged it to Daddy. When I told him, he looked at me quizzically. "That's all right with me, baby. You know that. But you'll have to work it out with Peter. His arrangement with me was that I wasn't to contribute a penny to your upkeep. Which seems eminently sensible, I must say." "Oh, he'll love it when he sees it. He won't mind," I said airily. Peter met me at the Village station in the jaloppy and we were so glad to see each other. The vacation had done us each good, and we talked our heads off driving home. After I'd unpacked I put on the dress. "Like it?" I said and pirouetted in front of him. "It's a knockout. You're like a dream in it — the dream I used to have before I met you. I used to think it would never come true." He put his arms around me. "Not only the most beautiful wife in the world, but the smartest," he laughed. "Nobody else could have found a dress like that for the amount of money you had to spend." I stood still in his arms. Men are usually blind about such things. It would be so easy to let him think it cost only eight dollars . . . But I couldn't, somehow. "Well — it cost a little more," I said easily. "You couldn't get a number like this that cheaply." He stiffened. "How much more? How did you pay for it?" "It was thirty-nine dollars, and I charged it to Daddy. Don't look like that, Peter. It was so lovely, and I just had to have something. Daddy didn't mind." "Well, I mind! I won't have your father paying for things I can't afford to buy — and we certainly can't afford clothes like that. You'll have to send it back." "Peter! I won't send it back. I'm tired of never having anything, never going any place — just because of your pride. If Daddy wants to give me this, there's no reason why I shouldn't have it. You'd rather see me go around in rags than give in one inch on this — this stiff-necked attitude of yours about money!" "You'll never wear rags while I'm alive. We've got enough to feed and clothe us and keep a roof over our heads. Everything else is out — as I've explained to you time and time again." Here we were, starting another quarrel on the very day of my. homecoming. I couldn't stand it. I crushed back the angry retort I was about to make, and moved close to him again. I put my arms around him. "Please, honey. Please let me keep it — just this one little tiny thing would make me so -happy. I Adapted for Radio Mirror by Helen Irwin Dowdey from on original radio play. "Only The Dead Are free." by Betty U/ius. first heard on the Manhattan at Midnight program, Wednesday at 8:30 P. M., EWT, on the Blue Network, sponsored by Energine Cleaning Fluid'. won't do it again, if you don't want me to. JBut, oh Peter, I'd just die if I had to send it back. I bought it for you and — and — " He looked down at me and I could see the struggle in his eyes. My arms crept up around his neck. Finally, reluctantly, he weakened. I knew I'd won when he smiled. "Okay, honey. Since your heart is set on it. But remember, Ellen, just this once! And I'm going to pay your father back." So that was that. But it was a hard-won victory because Peter meant what he said about paying Daddy back. When sometimes I'd beg him to take me into the Village for a movie or something to break the monotony, he'd say, "Have to wait till marketing day. We can't afford it." And then I'd sulk and Peter would get impatient. He was harrassed about his work and that made it worse. There were moments, of course, when we forgot everything except each other. But there were more when we'd flare out in bitter anger over small things that assumed terrific importance only because they had to do with money. If the chemical experiments had been going well instead of poorly right then, maybe everything would have been different. Or if I had been "brave and patient" as Peter asked me to be. As it was, the quarrels grew worse instead of better. If we could see some people, instead of living like hermits! And then I got my idea. My birthday came on a Saturday early in September. Why not invite the Kellers down for the weekend? We had no guest room but by arranging a makeshift bed in the parlor for Peter and me, we could make out. Peter and Joey were college friends, and Wanda was a good sport. They wouldn't mind roughing it. When he saw how much it meant to me, Peter said he thought it was a fine idea. He said he'd even knock off work while they were here, to make it a real celebration. Then I got my other bright idea. After the Kellers accepted, I wrote the caterer in Detroit who had occasionally arranged dinner parties for my father. I ordered everything I could think of — champagne and caviar, whole chickens, pate de foie gras, a Smithfield ham. I charged it to Daddy and asked that the things be delivered at the Village station Saturday afternoon. That way they wouldn't arrive at the house until after the Kellers were there, and Peter couldn't do a thing about it. UARLY on that birthday morning Peter woke me with a kiss. He gave me a bracelet he'd made of tiny shells strung together on fine wire — all wrapped up in an old jeweler's box. It was terribly sweet and all that, but I was awfully disappointed. I wore it, though, and showed it off to the Kellers when they arrived. They exclaimed over that and the cottage and the view and everything. Peter took Joey into the lab to show him around, and Wanda and I settled down to talk. I kept watching the clock. Mr. Fisher had promised to bring the caterer's stuff from the station in his truck about four, and I was anxious to put the champagne on ice and have the party really start. Promptly at four the truck rattled up. Mr. Continued on page 77 32 RADIO MIRROR