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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (May 21, 1936)
Jfon w ijrrwtrjv ^ ilcwntaiiiy 7 fat- Frances Shelley 'Wees ^'vV-M.U- i Lft-V » C i-T _ CHAPTER VI —6— r\EBORAII walked slowly back to the house. The shadows were beginning to lengthen; the sun was already dropping down toward the western hills. In the garden the men had turned on the spray of the new watering system that had been installed, anil the water spread up in a wide jewelled fan against the orchard green. From the road outside the wall came the steady hum of an ap proaching motor. The motor slowed. The gate was open; the car turned In and came cautiously up the drive not with its usual swift rush to the house. It was Mr. Forbes. “Here 1 am," he said cheerfully. “Don’t say you don’t remember me 1” “Of course I remember you,” Deb orah said, smiling. He took her outstretched hand. He smiled down at her, the warm est and most comfortable kind of Smile. “Where's Bryn?” His eyes searched her face, and she flushed faintly as she answered. “He's gone to town. You must have passed him there." “Well, he’ll come back," Tubby said with assurance, and turned to the man who had come with him, still sitting in the car. “It’s the place, all right," he said, and the man began to climb out. Tubby turned back to Deborah. 'Tve brought the new butler.” “Oh." Deborah’s eyes flickered over the grave and dignified mien of the new butler. She nodded to him. “I’ll call Gary," she decided, turned, stepped inside the kitchen and called out “Gary! Oh, Gar-eee!” In a moment he came, puffing, red faced, his coat only half on. He was fumbling for the sleeve." “Never mind your coat," Deborah told him, and took it away from him. “This Is Gary, Mr. Forbes,” she told Tub by. “Mr. Forbes is ... is Bryn’s best friend,” she informed Gary. “He has brought us a butler. You will take care of him Gary, and Mr. Forbes, too, I must run and tell Grandmother." “Who was that, dear?" Grand mother inquired as Deborah reached the foot of the steps.” “It’s ... a Mr. Forbes, Grand mother. I told you about him. He was at my wedding. Bryn calls him Tubby. Because he Is so pink and plump, I suppose. And the man with him Is the new butler. Gary is taking care of them." Grandmother sighed contentedly. “I can scarcely believe it," she mur mured. Footsteps sounded in the hall In side the open door, and Tubby ap peared in the doorway. He hesitat ed, and Deborah went to his side. “Grandmother, this is Mr. Forbes,” she murmured, and Tuhby crossed the porch to bend over the wrinkled hand held out to him. He looked very nice indeed in a suit of gray blue, a perfectly tailored suit. “I am so glad you have come,” Grandmother was saying. She set tled herself again into her pillows and drew the thin Paisley smooth over her knees. “I have suggested to Bryn any number of times that we might have some of his friends come and visit us, but as yet we have been so busy putting the house and ourselves in order.” Tubby was frankly staring at her. “Do you call him Bryn, now?” he Inquired. “Yes. He explained it to me, and asked me If I minded. Of course I did not mind. I have become very fond of him, even in this short time." A stately figure appeared In the doorway. It was the hutler, bland and serene, with a small silver tray holding a bell. He looked at Tubby and waited. “Oh," Tubby said. “Mrs. Lamed, this is Burch. I think he will be able to make you comfortable." “How do you do, Burch," Grand mother said gently. Burch bowed, and murmured an acknowledgment of the introduction. He advanced elowly and put the bell down on the small table at Grandmother’s side. His movements were quietly majestic. He began to withdraw. “HI,” Tubby called after him. “Bring me my bag, will you, Burch?” “Yes, sir.” In a few moments he returned With a heavy pigskin bag which he set down before Tubby on the porch. Tubby opened the bag. He looked at Deborah. “I’ve brought you some wedding presents,” he said with his fasci nating lisp. “There wasn’t time to tell anyone before you left San Francisco. Bryn made me promise I wouldn’t tell, anyway, as if It could have been kept quiet The city is buzzing." “Oh, dear," Deborah said faintly. Nobody heard her. Grandmother was looking very proud. "Ills is n very old family, of course," she said. "Even in San Francisco the wedding was certain to be a mat ter of comment.” Tubby drew forth a tissue-wrapped box. "This is from my sister Sal ly," he explained, handing It to Deborah. Deborah unwrapped the tissue paper. Inside was a long velvet Jeweler’s box; she opened It, and there, In the white velvet lining, lay a whole suite of rose-colored crys tals, exquisitely cut. The long strand of the neckluce dropped to her waist; the earrings were pend ant on silver chains; there were two sparkling bracelets and a beautiful ring. Deborah looked at them. "Is your sister Sally ... Is she a very great friend of Bryn's too?" “Yes, Indeed. They’ve adored each other for years. When Sally and Simon used to quarrel. It was al ways Bryn that Sully went to for sympathy. He’d let her cry It out on his shoulder, and pat her—you know, the way men do,” Tubby said to Grandmother with camaraderie . . . “and then he would slip off and telephone Si&ion, give him a good wigging, and tell him where Sally was.” “Who Is Simon?” Deborah heard herself saying. “Simon? Oh, he’s Sally’s hus band. They’re crazy about each other, you know, and always were. Now, here,” Tubby went on, rum maging with one hand and holding out a flat round parcel with the other. “This Is from me. It’s the only way you’d ever get It. I thought you’d appreciate It,” he muttered, his head In the bag. Deborah unwrapped the parcel si lently. Inside, looking out from a beautiful heavy silver frame, was Bryn's face. The gray eyes twin kled up at her; the mouth was firm and quiet. She looked at it. She handed It across to Grandmother. “You will like this," she said. Grandmother took It and held It silently before her. After a mo ment Deborah saw her fumbling for her handkerchief. She wiped her eyes, surreptitiously. She loved him. She loved him as much as that. “There," Tubby said, lifting a fiery red face. “There, right at the very bottom, of course. Now this is from Madeline.” It was a most exquisite rose-col ored silk shawl covered with pale blue embroidered flowers In small perfect stitches, and a long pale blue fringe. Deborah’s hand ca ressed the heavy silk. “I love It,” she told him gently. “Is Madeline your sister too?” "Well, no,” Tubby said, with what seemed to her a hint of embarrass ment. “Not exactly. She’s Simon’s sister, so of course she’s practi cally In the family. She’s an ex tremely nice girl." “Has she been a friend of Bryn’s all his life, too?” “Well! yes. Practically.” “Do they . . ." Deborah stopped. Her violet eyes were fixed on his face. She waited. Tubby coughed. “You know how it is, he explained with a wave of his hand. “^U the girls are crazy about Bryn. Always were. They’re bound to be a little upset to think lie’s married now and gone.” “Is Madeline upset?” Tubby laughed heartily. “Oil, 1 don't think so,” he said. "She’s too sensible for that.” “I see,” Deborah said quietly. Grandmother looked up from the shawl and lifted the picture again. “Would It be possible to have an other copy made of this?" she in quired. “I’m sure I can get any number,” Tubby said at once. “They’re Bryn’s graduation pictures. He's wearing the gown and hood there. I can get ’em from the photographer In Palo Alto." “Palo Alto?" “That’s where Bryn graduated, of course, at Stanford.” “Stanford?” Grandmother repeat ed with wrinkled brow. “Isn’t that rather strange?" "Oh, I don’t think so. Bryn’s family went there. They’re part of the Stanford tradition. They al ways shine in football.” “Bryn’s family?” Grandmother re peated slowly. Deborah, sick at heart, caught Tubby’s eye. At sight of her face his own slowly length ened. Ills mouth fell open. “But surely,” Grandmother went on, “surely his family all went to Princeton. I remember quite dis tinctly." “I ... I was thinking of his mother's family,” Tubby said at last, still watching Deborah. Deborah went across the veranda and rang the little silver bell. “You look tired, dear," she told her grandmother. “You must have some refreshment. Let me take Mr. Forbes away, and you rest for a few minutes before the tea comes." Grnndmother lifted her fan and moved It softly before her face. "I will be glad of some tea, Deborah,” she murmured. The tray came almost as she spoke, and at the same moment came the whine of Bryn’s motor up the road. Almost Immediately he was down the drive, and had given the group on the veranda one glance. His car stopped; a few sec onds later he came around the cor ner of the house and to the foot of the steps. He walked up them slowly, his face unsmiling, his eyes on Tubby. Tubby put his cup down on the floor and stood buttoning his coat. Bryn stood waiting. “Ah—er ... I hope you can give me a few minutes of your time," Tubby began nervously. “It Is In a noble cause, worthy sir. I am one whose sole Interest is In the welfare of the nation. In other words, I should like to leave with you a small sample of my wares. Just a small sample, sir, In forty seven volumes. Nine dollars down and nine dollars a month till death do us part. This magnificent work H I * * * “Is it a book on etiquette?” Bryn Inquired coldly. “Etiquette? Oh, Indeed, nothing of the kind. Although, of course, It contains ehnpters on etiquette.. How to ... to bathe the baby, and what soup to serve." “There should be something about Invitations,” Bryn answered. “Isn't there anything about not accepting “All the Girls Are Crazy About Bryn.” Invitations before they are offered? Or any remarks abont getting bounced out of places where you haven’t been asked?” “Bryn,” Deborah whispered, fran tic, “Grandmother thinks you mean It. Tell her." Bryn turned toward Grandmoth er. She was leaning back on her pillows pale ns death, her hand at her heart. She thought Tubby was an Impostor. But Bryn went across to her. “Are we upsetting you, Grandmother?” he asked, kneeling beside her. “I’m sorry. We don’t mean It. The rosy cheeked person standing so hang doggedly, if there is such a word, before us, Is one of my Intimates. I have been more than good to him in the past. Many a time and oft I have shared with him my last bite and let him slap at the mosquito. You see how his presence affects me. My tongue goes off at a tan gent. Did we frighten you?” She began to smile at him. “How foolish of me to be upset,” she said. “I might have guessed that you were joking. Deborah knew Mr. Forbes at once, and he brought your picture . . . but I thought . . . I was afraid . . .” Bryn walked slowly, head bent, from the door of Grandmother’s room, that night, to the door of his own. He bad just helped her up stairs and had seen her to her own rooms with a last cheerful good night smile. But as her door had closed, his smile faded. There was a light under his own door. Me opened It, went In, and closed it quietly behind him. Tubby sat in the armchair beside the win dow, waiting for him, a guiltily ex pectant look on his face. “For the last two weeks," Bryn said evenly, “I have moved heaven and earth to create a good impres sion, to make everything go smooth ly and comfortably, no questions asked. Give me another two months and you could have come up here and done your damnedest. But right now . . . well, you couldn’t have chosen a better time. I’m still a new broom." Tubby groaned. “I didn’t know I was putting my foot in it," he said dismally. "She told me herself that you’d explained everything, and she called you Bryn. ‘What differ ence does it make,’ she said, ‘what lie's called?’ Naturally, I thought you'd done the sensible thing, and confessed.” “Confessed what?’ Tubby was silent. “What you’ve succeeded In doing Is raising a question at the back of her mind. I don’t know what in the devil you told them, but it was certainly enough. There wasn’t a suspicion in her mind a-; rn my iden tity. Now you’ve suer 1 in -ly ing her something to i . > n\ >r. She never quizzed me a oi., my p <> pie before. Tonight she asked me questions. If Deborah hadn't been there I’d have had to wreck the show.” ••Listen," Tubby said desperately. His face was almost pale. *‘I didn’t know this whole business meant so much to you, Bryn. I thought It was all a lark. You said It was. I knew Deborah was beautiful, and sweet—anybody can see that—and that you . . . well, that you were In terested In her. You'd be blind If you were weren’t . . ." Bryn interrupted him. “And what did you say about Sally and Made line? Whatever you said seems to have been adequate. Grandmother gave me a bad half hour, after Deb orah was gone, tonight. She got me into her sitting room and quizzed me. She suggested delicate ly that Deborah’s feelings might be quite distinctly hurt at the thought that there had been other girls In my life who had meant so much to me.” There was a long silence. "Bryn," Tubby broke in on him. •did Grandmother actually expect you and Deborah to fall Into each other's urms the moment you met and . . . well, have everything all settled between you?" "She hoped we would, yes." Tubby gulped. “I don’t quite un derstand her point of view," he went on. "Here’s Deborah . . . she's nothing but a child. She doesn't know anything. She’s ns . . . fresh ns a spring morning, and as uncon scious about . . . well, about . . . that Is, about . . "You needn't flounder. I am aware of your meaning. In Victorian times a girl was supposed to be pure and entirely ignorant. Deborah doesn't know anything. She muy have a few funny little ideas, but she doesn’t know. That's one of the present difficulties. She's terrllled. Well, a Victorian girl was supposed to have for her prospective hus band only such feelings as respect and admiration and perhaps a gen tle affection. Deborah was supposed to have those for Stuart Graham. They’d been inculcated in her. So Grandmother hadn't any compunc tion about handing her over to him.” Bryn’s face was contracted. "Boor little kid," he said under his breath. Tubby glanced at him and was si lent again. He moved his chair. Tubby began. "Does she think . . . does she expect . . .” “She does,” Bryn said with bitter ness. "She thinks that a wedding ring Is a kind of magic talisman. If she knew that Deborah and I were . . . strangers, she d die. Mar riage Is a kind of enclosure, to her. Deborah and I are one forever, she thinks, and the future Is safe and secure. If life is smooth und un ruffled she may live for years. If she Is unhappy, troubled, she will just drift out. And If anything did happen to her, Deborah would nev er be happy again. She would al ways think she’d failed her." Tubby stood up. He moved across to his friend, and faced him. "Bryn,” he snld steadfastly, “I don’t want to make any more mistakes. I think I’m sure, but I’d like your word for It. I never saw you like this before. Is It the real thing, Bryn? It’s got you, at last? You are In love with Deborah.'’ Bryn pulled away. He went across to the window, and stood looking out at the stars. He turned at last. “Yes,” he said. Tubby swallowed. Then, “I’m sorry I acted like a fool.” “It’s all right, Tubby. Nothing you 8aJjd would make any difference to Deborah. She doesn't care any thing about me.” “Listen,” Tubby said. "Why don’t you just show her how you feel, Bryn? I mean, put your arms around her and, well, kiss her. Can’t you do that?" "No.” “Why?” “She gave me an opportunity once. I was afraid to. She wouldn’t understand. You’ve got to remem ber that she doesn’t understand any thing. I’d frighten her. She might never get over it. If I’ve got a chance at all, Tubby, It's in letting her get used to me. Once she has confidence In me, really trusts me, once we get to be frelnds, then per haps I can . . . oh, touch her hand once In a while. But If I fright ened her now—I’m sunk.” “She wouldn’t be frightened. I guess you’re In love, all right. You’re too modest, Bryn. She wouldn’t be frightened. She’d find herself returning your kiss. It’s more or less an unconscious process anyway, Isn’t It?” Bryn stared at him, the gray eyes dreaming, far away. They came back to earth. Tubby had a sug gestion. (TO BE CONTINUED) Soap Known to Ancient* Soap, both as a medical and cleansing agent, was known to the ancients. Pliny speaks of two kinds, hard and soft, as used by the Ger mans. He mentions It as originally a Gallic invention for giving a bright hue to the lialr. It Is prob able that soap came to the Itomans from Germany. 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