Radio and television mirror (May-Oct 1940)

The talenied children of Elaine Sterne Carrington, author of the serials, Pepper Young and When A Girl Marries — Bobby and Patricia. The Guiding Light {Continued from page 32) night — thinking about your future." "Thanks!" "Don't talk like that, Rose. I'm still your friend, if you'll let me be. And about what I said yesterday in court — oh, I suppose I had no right, but everyone else was so busy blackening your reputation I did what I could to save it." "No one can save my reputation now," she said. "It isn't worth saving." "I think it is. And I can save it — if you'll take my name." Amazement made her turn to face him. "Take your — Marry you?" Ellis shook his head. "No. I don't think marriage is the right thing for either of us just now. I meant just what I said — call yourself Mrs. Ellis Smith. Let people think we are married." AFTER an incredulous moment ' laughter shook her — painful, bitter laughter that would not stop. "I never heard of such an idea!" she gasped. Ellis' hands fell on her wrists, grasping them so tightly that the pain checked her sobbing merriment. "Shut up!" he said sternly. "Maybe Ellis Smith isn't much of a namebut at least it is a name. Useful when you have a baby." Her breath caught in her throat. "You — know about that?" "I guessed. Before the trial. It's nothing to be ashamed of, Rose — " "I'm not ashamed!" "Good. But people will make you ashamed, unless you let me help you. I'll get a house on the edge of town, Rose, and we can pretend to live there together — but I'll really stay on in my old room at Five Points most of the time. It will look all right, because tha-t's where I'd naturally do my painting." "I wouldn't let you do that," she said dully. "If you were paying for the house, you'd have to stay there." He stiffened a little. "I think I'd 50 prefer not to. But that's something we can talk about later. Will you do as I say. Rose?" She raised her eyes to his, and let them fall again. "What else can I do?" she asked. Then, because that sounded so ungracious, she added awkwardly, "And thanks, Ellis." So it was decided. That very day Ellis told Mrs. O'Hearn, the Five Points gossip, that he and Rose had been married and were taking a cottage in the suburbs. Ellis took her to the cottage, one of a modest row on the northern edge of town, and saw her settled there. "You won't be afraid here, all by yourself?" he asked. Rose, standing in the middle of the tiny, boxy living room, shook her head. "I'm never going to be afraid of anything, as long as I live," she said. "Rose — don't take what's happened like this," he pleaded. "I hate to see you so defiant, hating the world — " "How do you expect me to act? Should I be dancing — singing?" "I know you've had a tough time. But there's all your life ahead of you. And the baby — " "The baby! I'll hate it!" Ellis was not shocked. He smiled his familiar twisted grin. "That's .what you think now." He turned toward the door. "I'll run along now. Good night. Rose." "Good night." After Ellis' abrupt departure she turned slowly on her heel, surveying the room. Here was her new home ■ — and, because it was meant for two people and occupied by only one, a strangely lonely home. WINTER began early that year. To the people of Five Points it meant a time of suffering, of trying to make one dollar do the work of two in buying food, warm clothing, fuel, medicines. Mary Ruthledge was busy from morning until night visiting her father's parishioners, doing what she could to help them. She welcomed that activity, as she welcomed everything that helped pass the days — anything that helped crowd out of her thoughts the memory of Ned Holden. Dr. Ruthledge had an assistant in the church now, an enthusiastic young man named Tom Bannion, and Tom was full of plans for increasing the influence of the Five Points church with a young people's organization, weekly dances, sleigh rides, and social meetings. Tom also fancied himself in love with Mary, and it was hard to discourage him while still helping him in his various projects connected with the church. Just before Christmas Tom learned that three of the young Five Points hoodlums he had been hoping to help with his young people's program were planning to rob a jewelry store. He told Dr. Ruthledge and asked for his advice, and the older minister went himself to the jewelry store, hoping to intercept the boys. He was too late; he caught the young robbers in the act, and one of them had a pistol. In the excitement, the pistol went off, and Dr. Ruthledge was wounded. By Christmas Eve he was definitely out of danger, and resting comfortably. Ellen and Fredrika Lang had sternly banished Mary from the room, insisting that she needed rest, and she wandered downstairs — tired, but unable to relax. From the chapel next door she heard, faintly, the sound of the organ. Tom Bannion was holding Christmas Eve services there — services at which, for the first time since the church was built, her father was not present. AT the entrance to Dr. Ruthledge's study she paused and smiled, a little sadly. Tom had brought in a tree and decorated it himself, and now it stood in the window, next to the lamp which her father had called "The Lamp of Friendship." Rather forlorn and lonely, that tree looked . . . forlorn and lonely, like Mary herself. Just a year ago tonight, she remembered, Ned had been there, and they had been in love. The high-pitched shrillness of the doorbell slashed across her thoughts. Someone else come to inquire about Dr. Ruthledge, of course. She went into the hallway to answer it. At first, all she could see in the winter darkness outside was a heavy, bulky figure. Then the figure separated and became two, and both of these stepped inside. The dim light shone on Ned Holden's face. "Mary," he said timidly. "Mary." He turned to his companion. "This is my wife." Mary, unable to speak, felt all the muscles of her body, an instant ago so tense, melt into slack numbness. The girl beside Ned had a pert, frightened face, a slender figure, wrapped in a shabby coat with a collar that pretended to be fur. Freeing herself with a struggle from the bondage of silence, Mary said, "Ned! You're back! Father will be so glad." To Ned's wife she extended a hand that did not seem to be part of herself at all. "I'm — glad to know you — " "Pleased to meet you," the girl said formally. She had a beautiful voice • — mellow, vibrant with a throaty undertone — but its loveliness was (Continued on page 52) RADIO AND TELEVISION IvIIKROB