Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1942)

ting him to put on an overcoat. John thinks he belongs in the Arctic." "That leaves you and me, Elizabeth," Harry Bartlctt said. "Maybe vire should go to an island somewhere near the equator. Because I like the sun." "It's a date," Elizabeth said. John looked at Elizabeth. "I can't spare her, Harry," he said, and he thought as he said it how true it was. How much attached he had become to the settled, orderly life and love she gave him. He thought of the comfort and relaxation he felt when he sat in the big chair in the living room after dinner with a flre glowing slowly on the hearth, Elizabeth knitting or reading just where he could look up and see her without turning his head. And upstairs would be Carol and Joy asleep, and perhaps Granny, returned from one of her beloved movies, would come in and tell them about it. Then they would go upstairs to bed, and perhaps on the stairs he would put his arm around Elizabeth's waLst and be able to tell by touching her that she loved him and he loved her. JOHN brought his mind back to the dinner table just as Granny brought in the dessert. The conversation had shifted. "She has a really good voice," Claire was .saying. "It's a pity she can't go on studying. But then, you can't have everything, and Marianne is lucky in just being as pretty as she is." "Your sister?" John said politely, but he had a sudden desire to change the subject. He knew all about Marianne. The story was very old — a youngster with a halt formed talent becoming the vehicle for an older person's idle, half-forgotten dream of childhood. John drew Harry into a conversation, and found him open and engaging to talk to. Later, when the Bartletts had gone, John stood in front of the bureau, taking ofT his tie. "How did you like Harry?" Elizabeth asked. "All riglU." John yawned. "How much all right?" "Well, I'm going to see what 1 can do for him. Is that all right enough, darling?" "Of course it is, John. I'm so glad," Elizabeth said. John put on his pajamas anti climbed into bed. "'We'll begin ti take on extra help for the Christ mas rush pretty soon. He should fit in." Elizabeth threw open the window and stood for a minute in her bathrobe letting the cool breezi blow on her uplifted face. "It hardly seems possible winter's here again," she said. "Uh huh." John had forgotten about winter and about Harry Bartlett. His mind whirled for a moment with plans for the next daythings to find out and things to do. Then gradually he sank down into sleep. A week passed, slowly tor the children and fast for John and Elizabeth, faster still tor Granny. John sat down in his favorite chair after dinner, lit a match to his pipe, and crackled open the evening paper. It was good to be quiet and peaceful at home after the hectic day at the store. It came to him consciously as he began to read, how well off he was — not in money, but in other things that count for more. When Elizabeth came into the room he knew it at once, although he kept the paper up before his face. Elizabeth sat down, and John sensed from her restlessness that she had something to say to him. "Let's have it," he said. "There's something on your mind." "I met Claire's sister, Marianne, today. She just came back from Chicago. "Oh yes?" John said. "What's she hke?" . ^ Elizabeth got up and moved over to stand beside John's chair. "As pretty as a picture, and very, very charming." "Well," John joked. "We must have her over. Anyone as pretty as that deserves to have me know her." "I'll make a bargain with you," Elizabeth replied. "If you'll get Harry that job, I'll have her right over." John pushed the paper away from She woj o sudden yiiion of delighf. Here was no adoring child, John fhoughf, buf a lovely, desirable woman. him. "When you want something, you're completely unscrupulous, aren't you?" He reached up for her face and found her lips. "It would mean so much to them if Harry could find something," Elizabeth murmured against his cheek. "Claire told me today that she had to sell their piano to pay the rent and lay in a decent stock in the store for Christmas. Now Marianne won't have any way to practice her music." "That's a shame," John said, genuinely sorry. "I didn't realize they were that hard up. I'll find something for Harry tomorrow." "Oh darling!" Elizabeth's joy was so colored with pride in him and thankfulness that John was immediately glad he had agreed. "And John," Elizabeth added, "I told Marianne that she could use our piano to practice on if she wanted to." She said it quickly. John shrugged. "I don't suppose she will very often. What's the difference?" "Oh no," Elizabeth said. "I was afraid she wouldn't take the offer seriously, so I made her promise to come every afternoon." John looked over the top of the newspaper. "Do I have to listen to a female songstress?" he said. "Not unless you want to," Elizabeth said. "You can please yourself about that." "Okay then," John retired behind his paper. "But make it in the afternoon, when I'm at the office. I like to be quiet in the evening." He was half serious, half joking. "We will," Elizabeth promised. "And do please try to find something for Harry." "I will," John said. "I won't forget." ■p ARLY in the following week John got away early from the office and came home to rest a while before dinner. He knew that Marianne came to practice now every day, but he thought by five o'clock she would be gone. Driving home a little early, before the traffic had become heavy, gave him a wonderful sense of well-being. It was late October, and a light, early snow, soft and dreamy, had begun to fall. The street lights came on and made the snow sparkle as though set with diamonds. On the bare branches of trees the wet crystals clung thickly, so that the world seemed festooned. John drove slowly, enjoying every minute of it. When he came into the house, he paused a moment in the vestibule, then closed the door gently. The fresh young voice seemed to float about him, to fill the house with the song. It ended; another began. "Drink to me only with thine eyes — " Centuries ago Ben Jonson had dreamed a dream of a girl and love and a cup of wine — perhaps on such a night as this. He made the dream into words, and an unknown musician made it a song with sound and cadence. John Perry listened — not moving. The dining-room door swung open and Elizabeth walked quietly to his side and stood with him, listening as he listened. Her hand found his and held it. The song ended and Marianne's head turned to the window. She sighed and stood up. "I'm sorry you stopped." John touched the lamp switch. "You must be Marianne. Elizabeth said you had a nice voice." Marianne was flustered. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Perry. I didn't realize it was so late. I intended to stop before you came." "Nonsense," Elizabeth spoke for the first time. It was as though she had not been in the room until now. "I'm glad he heard you. Now he knows why I was so anxious to have , you come here to practice." "Elizabeth said you didn't like singing — especially women singers," Marianne said. She stood in front of the piano slowly gathering her music. John saw her then for the first time — the sheer youth and vitality of her, the clear, warm color of her skin, the softly burnished hair. "I guess I was wrong," he said. "I like the way you sing." "I'm so glad," Marianne said. John could see she was partly shy and partly proud to hear his praise. He found her coat, and helped her into it. Then she was gone. After dinner John settled down again, but tonight he felt Uke talking. "There's a job at the store I think Harry Bartlett could fill," he said. "I'm getting in touch with him." "I hope you do," Elizabeth said. "And say, that girl can really sing. I was surprised. You don't even have to be a musician to know that." "Yes," Elizabeth murmured. "I told you she had a nice voice." "And she's very pretty," John added. "She ought to go far." "Yes, if she has a chance, but there's not much opportunity for singers out here in the Midwest," Elizabeth said. "She'll make it," John said, and he believed it. Two days later he was able to place Harry as a stock clerk, and a week later he knew with gratification that Harry had made a go of it. He was fast and careful and accurate, the chief stock clerk told John. It (Continued on page 5U)