The Western news. [volume], June 29, 1933, Page Page Three, Image 3

About The Western news. [volume] (Libby, Mont.) 1933-current

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Oh C ynthia
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By lORMil K1IGHT
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Copyright by th« Bobba-MerrlU Co.
WND Servie»
CHAPTER X—Continued
Cynthia looked vague, but Ben as
visual had It all planned. Shopping
this morning; he wanted to buy Benjy
an Indian suit and some Wild West
fixings. Lunch down town, a matinee,
a festive dinner at home—Ben looked
significantly at Marguerite and she
looked back and grinned—and evening
with his sweetheart In the library.
Cynthia told herself that she never
felt more of a fool In her life than
when she stood there listening to
Ben's suave voice outlining this senti
mental day. She lifted her head Just
once and caught Geoff's eyes upon
her. Pitying eyes, they seemed to her,
and yet with a conprehendlng twinkle
In their depths.
"What the deuce makes you stand
there and let that fellow plan for you
like that?" they seemed to say. She
gave his glance back haughtily.
Then the door-bell rang and two
minutes after she was reading the
night letter from Tenny's father.
Mr. Montague had married suddenly,
It seemed ("Marriage seems to be In
the air," Geoff observed), and was
leaving for India to be gone two years.
He and the new Mrs. Montague would
stop off to see Tenny and to make ar
rangements for her care while they
were gone.
"While they are gone?" It was Ben
Button's surprised voice. "You mean
to say they won't take the child with
them?"
Cynthia In her turn looked sur
prised. "To India? Why, It would
be the ruin of Tenny's health, Mr.
Montague knows better than that."
"But"—he was genuinely puzzled—
"does he expect you to make arrange
ments for her school?"
"School? What school?"
"If her father doesn't take her with
him she'll have to be put In a board
ing school, won't she?" *
At that Tenny gave a cry of anguish
and ran to Cynthia, clutching her
madly, shaking from head to foot.
Cynthia soothed her with han$ and
voice.
"There, darling, there! Mrr~Sutton
just doesn't understand, that's all."
But Tenny was beyond reasoning
with. With a child's unerring Instinct
ehe had caught Sutton's real meaning.
Cynthia was going to live with him
and he didn't want Tenny to come,
tool Cynthia bent over her distress
fully.
"Tenny—can't you trust Cynthia?
Tenny, darling—"
It was Geoff who came to the res
cue. He picked Tenny up bodily and
carried her into the parlor.
"Now listen, Tenny ! You're not go
ing to a boarding school, do you
get that? Not—under—any—circum
stances !"
She flung her arms about his neck,
bedewed his collar with her tears.
"Cynthia promised—Cynthia prom
Ished," she sobbed.
"If Cynthia promised, then you're
all right," he assured her. "She's
never broken a promise yét, has she?
And here's mine to add to hers. You'll
go to a boarding school only over my
dead body! You see," he went on con
versationally. "I've been in 'em my
self and I know what they're like.
All right for children that haven't any
fathers or Cynthlas or Geoffs, but ut
terly out of the question for you."
Her thin arms held him in a
strangling embrace.
"If—If Cynthia goes to live with—
with Mr. Sutton—you—you'll keep me
with you?''
He took her face between his hands
and looked straight in her eyes. "I
give you my word of honor I will,
fenny I"
Meanwhile Ben had touched Cyn
thia's am and motioned with his head
toward the library.
"Shall we go in there and talk this
over?"
She followed Çdm, almost as excited
and frightened ">3 Tenny. It had
never once entered her mind that Ben
might consider he was acquiring a
family quite large enough without
adding this child.
But to let Tenny go I Cynthia said,
and honestly believed, that she could
think no more of the child If she were
her own. Somehow those months of
battling with the disease which threat
ened the frail body had seemed to
make her Cynthia's,
how false was the security In which
ehe had rested.
She saw now
Anything might
threaten It: Mr. Montague's remar
riage, her own prospective one,
torn of the long condition which had
so frightened them when Tenny first
came.
a re
It would be bad enough to take her
away from Denver, from the pure air
In which she thrived. It was out of
the question to take her to India,
fact Mr. Montague apparently recog
nized from what he had said In hla
telegram.
"Ben, you wouldn't—wouldn't let
her stay with us?"
"Cynthia, dear—think f Tenny Is
nothing to me—cannot be very much
to you, though I know you're fond of
the child I We're—I don't mean to
remind you of this unduly, sweet, but
■till It must be considered—we're plan
■lag a pretty big houseful as It Is."
a
"I know!'' she said proudly.
"Cynthia, don't speak like thatl I'm
glad to have them all—gladder than
I can say. But there's Benjy—I must
consider Benjy."
She looked at him piteously. "I
was thinking what a nice playmate
Tenny would be for him !"
He shook a smiling head. "Cynthia,
Tenny's not a child I'd want Benjy
to be with very much! She'sremo
tlonal, excitable. Look at that lacune
this morning, for example. She^'
"But, Beni The child was frantic!
She thought she was going to be put
back In a school—"
"And that's exactly where she ought
to be, If you'll forgive my saying so,
dear. She needs discipline."
"She needs no such thing! She's
had altogether too much of it In her
short life now. She needs love and
care and a home. Shi
"We'll get nowhere talking like this,
Cynthia," he told her gently. "I don't
consider the child an advisable com
panion for Benjy. She's not related
to you, you're under no obligation
whatever to look after her."
"But It's not a question of obliga
tion. It's a question of Tenny! She
needs me. I'm so glad her new moth
er won't be back for two years. By
then Tenny'll be older, she can bear
the separation from me better—"
A stubborn look settled about his
mouth. "The separation Is going to
be at once, Cynthia. I'll put off going
back to New York until this Mr. Mon
tague comes, and I'll explain to him
that you and I are to be married In
April and he must make arrange
ments for his child now—"
For almost an hour the discussion
went on. Ben was patient, tolerant,
but unyielding. At the end of the
hour Cynthia handed him back his
ring with the brief announcement that
if It came to choosing between Tenny's
health and happiness for the next
two years and marrying him, she
chose Tenny.
If she had expected this announce
ment to move Ben from his position
she was disappointed.
"You're showing me a side of your
nature that I haven't seen before," he
said. "Cynthia, my dear !" His eyes
softened and he took a step toward
her. "I do love you, even If X can't let
you have your way In this. It's Im
possible for us to take the child."
"I know." She gave a quick nod.
She was a little breathless as though
she'd escaped from some unknown
danger. "It's all right, Ben. It's
much, much better to have found this
out than to wait until we were mar
ried. Why, I'd even planned to send
Benjy and Tenny to dancing school
together; to give him the responsi
bility of being a brother to her."
His month set again. "But I couldn't
allow Benjy—"
"Of course you couldn't 1 That's
Just what I'm saying. Isn't It lucky
we found out how we both feel? I
must go to Tenny now. She won't be
fit to go to .school today after all that
crying.
slipped out, nor turned to give him a
backward glance as she went In search
of Tenny.
She found the child asleep In Geoff's
arms, completely exhausted with her
recent emotion. Cynthla'a heart beat
a little faster as she stood there look
ing at the two. Tenny's arms were
still clasped about Geoff's neck, his
Ups touched her hair. Her relaxed
little body rested against him trust
fully,
mured :
She opened the door and
Once she sighed and mur
"You promised, Geoff!" and
he said clearly : "I promised, Tenny !"
and she sank back Into tired slumber.
CHAPTER XI
Christinas.
The Christmas rush was on In
earnest The extra clerk Cynthia had
engaged.to help while Ben Sutton was
In Denver stayed on.
Cynthia, busy with a querulous
woman heard a familiar voice behind
her.
"Certainly, madam! This Is gen
uine Sandwich glass, priced this low
for today only. Two plates? I doubt
If we can break the set, but I'll In
quire. Rather a pity not to take the
six, don't you think?<*s So few people
own six Sandwich glass plates.—Ah!
I think you're very wise, madam !
Thank youl"
She deserted the querulous woman
and came quickly to him.
"Geoff Ensloe, what are you doing
here?"
belling Christmas goods," he said
serenely.
"Please go home, Geoff. You're not
needed here,"
"You never were more mistaken In
your life 1 Don't bother me, Cynthia.
I'm busy. Got to sell that fat woman
a couple of paper knives and a cal
endar."
Dinner time came and went and no
one dared to leave for the meal. Last
minute customers dashed In and out
In breathless haste. One frantic man
had a long list and confessed that be
had forgotten all about his shopping
until this minute.
"Anything—give me anything!" he
begged Cynthia. "Here's a list of
their name«—sister, nieces, nephews—
the whole lot Just wrap up anything
you think might be suitable."
"How much had you thought of
spending?" Cynthia inquired.
He took a billfold from his pocket
and handed her two twenty-dollar
bills.
"Make 'em go as far as you.,can,
will you?" Then he drifted away to
the armchairs by the book table, re
lieved at the shifting of responsi
bility to other shoulders.
"Geoff, what have we that a boy of
fourteen would like?" Cynthia asked
presently. "This animal book?"
He gave a hasty glance at the
artist's whimsical portrayal of a spot
ted giraffe "Not thatl Wrap him
up that kodak over there It's a de
cent one for the money."
The Christmas card supply ran out
and Geoff took his car and dashed
hastily downtown for more. A child
was separated from his mother and
howled lustily. Cynthia's face grew
whiter, her eyes bluer and bigger.
Elsie's volubility had long ago sub
sided Into the necessary "Yes, we
have," or "No, we're completely out.
I'm sorry 1"
Closing time came when proprietor
and clerks had reached the limit of
11
I
I
I
I II
Ô
V/
I'm Looking Forward to the Pack
age« and the Turkey and the
Flower« and Candy Tomorrow."
their endurance. Geoff tucked Cyn
thia Into his car.
"You've had no dinner," she said.
"Nêîther have you."
"I don't want any. I'm too tired to
eat'
He made no answer but presently
he had stopped the car before a tiny
fe.
"I can't eat, Geoff—truly I can't"
"Try It," he begged. "Just to please
me. I've earned a favor from you to
night, haven't I"
So she forced herself to taste the
broiled steak he ordered; another bite
and another, until the color came back
to her cheeks and her eyes looked less
tired.
"Cynthia, I wish you didn't keep a
gift shop. It takes all the Joy out of
th© holiday for you."
"Not quite." She smiled at him
across the little table. Tm looking
forward to the packages and the turkey
and the flowers and candy tomorrow
as much as any of you."
'Tve got a present for you, Cynthia."
"Have you, Geoff? Well, I have
one for you, too. A nice one."
"I hope you'll think mine Is nice."
He hesitated then said swiftly: "Cyn
thia, why can't we always be friendly
like this? I—I hate quarreling with
you."
"We haven't quarreled since Ben
left, have we?" Her voice was very
soft and her eyes were friendly. "You
were good to us both then, Geoff—
Tenny and me."
"Was It"—be knew he was tread
ing on dangerous ground but he had
to know—"was It wholly on Tenny's
account that you—sent Sutton away?"
"I'm too tired to pretend tonight,"
she answered. "I wouldn't have given
Tenny up, of course, but I was glad—
not to be engaged to Ben Sutton. I
learned once and for all time, Geoff,
that I can never marry a man except
for one reason: not for financial ease,
not because he's kind, not because I
like and respect him. Those things,
I discovered, aren't enough. When I
marry—If I marry," she amended with
a faint smile, "It will be because I
love my man so deeply, so truly, so
entirely, that I can't live without
him."
The words thrilled Geoff. The little
cafe became to him a place of drama.
He felt humble, this young man who
was learning for the first time what
love meant. He had thought he knew
when Cynthia came home from the
hospital, but now he realized with a
touch of awe that to love and be loved
by Cynthia Aylesbury would be an ex
perience so different from the super
ficial, ephemeral emotion which went
by the name of love with moat of hla
generation that It would set a man
apart from his kind. With this
knowledge came depression. His self
confidence, hla light-hearted plans to
storm the castle of Cynthia's heart
vanished. If he was ever to win this
sapphire-eyed girl he must fight for
every step of the ground he worn
He accepted the challenge doggedly.
Only his mother could have told Cyn
thia the fiery ambition combined with
stern determination which lay behind
that acceptance.
Christmas Day—Geoff's first Christ
mas In the Cary house—passed off
merrily. They were having breakfast.
Marguerite's fluffy biscuits and tiny
brown sausages were neglected while
the piles of daintily wrapped packages
at each plate were opened.
Cynthia's present to Geoff was the
hook he had coveted In the Odds and
Ends along with a companion volnme
which he had long sought. Both were
now out of print and Geoff was de
lighted with them quite apart from
his pleasure In Cynthia's thoughtful
ness toward his needs.
He had selected his own gift for her
with much care, deciding at last on a
necklace of carved coral, trusting that
she would not realize the costliness of
Its exquisite work. That she did
realize it. her first glance of protest
attested; but she thanked him prettily
and that evening he had the Joy of
swing it around her throat In com
bination with the simple white dress
she wore to a Christmas party.
Miss Nona as usual was deluged
with gifts. Over one of them Cary
raised derisive brows. Doctor Big
ham had sent her a wicker basket
filled with blooming begonias, their
honest pink somewhat resembling the
color Tn his own cheeks.
"Aha! We have a romance brew
ing," said the graceless Cary. "I
thought Doc was making a good many
calls while Cynthia was sick, and that
It was odd he always timed them to
coincide with your visits at the hos
pital r
"Hush, you bad boy!" Miss Nona
was unperturbed. The doctor's flow
ers were amply supplemented by
roses, polnsettlaa and scarlet carna
tions from other friends.
To Tenny the day was something
out of a fairy tale. From that first
waking moment when she reached for
the stocking Cynthia had filled and
hung on her bedpost, to the other mo
ment. when exhausted with sheer
felicity she fell asleep In Geoff's arms
and was carried upstairs and un
dressed by Cynthia without waking,
she existed In a delirium of joy that
Geoff found Infinitely touching. It
spoke so loudly of other Christmases
spent In the forced cheer of deserted
schools or In bare hotels with a puz
zled and anxious father. The child
seemed to carry about with her the
realization of what had threatened
the gladness of this day. Once she
paused with her arms full of the gifts
she was hugging to her heart and said
to Cynthia: "If you'd sent me back
to boarding school, Cynthia, I'd be
crying now Instead of laughing. Did
you know that?"
"But I never thought of sending you
away, dear."
"And If you did send me," the child
Insisted, "Geoff would have come and
got me, wouldn't you, Geoff?"
"You know I would," he replied
with significant emphasis, and reas
sured, she went back to her play.
At dinner Flossie and Cary made an
announcement.
"Look here, folks," Cary began ab
ruptly. "This wife of mine insists
that we've honeymooned here long
enough. She thinks It's high time we
set up housekeeping for ourselves."
"Leave here?" Miss Nona exclaimed
In dismay. "Cary, you can't—you sim
ply mustn't!"
Cynthia laid her hand over her
mother's. "Wait, dear, and hear what
Flossie says about It."
Flossie's cheeks flushed brightly.
"We've figured It all out, Cary and I.
We can get a one-room and kitchen
ette for thirty-five dollars. It isn't
In such, a grand neighborhood but that
won't matter. It's near to Cary's
work. And after we pay our first
wife's alimony, we'll still have enough
to live on If we're careful. We've
loved staying here. Miss Nona, but
after all we're married and we ought
to keep house for ourselves," she
finished reasonably.
Geoff was chuckling over the refer
ence to "our first wife." From the
very beginning Flossie had accepted
that almost mythical person with com
Her common-sense attitude
posure.
toward life In general delighted Gooff.
Cary's sensitiveness received no en
couragement from Flossie. The grace
ful avoidance of money discussion
which was the rule In the household
simply didn't exist for her.
Miss Nona and the Captain never
ceased to be shocked by her direct
speech, but Cynthia had recognized It
for the fine thing It was and upheld
her sister-in-law at all times.
She approved now of her plan,
"Flossie's right, Mias Nona. It's
time the bride and groom retired to
their own domain."
Mias Nona's handkerchief came out.
"Have you actually selected an apart
ment, Cary dear?"
"Selected It? We've paid the first
month'a rent," he said proudly. "Trust
this hard-boiled wife of mine to clinch
a thing before I can slide out from
under!"
That, Geoff told himself, would be
the keystone on which the Cary
Aylesburys happiness would be built
Flossie would always be there to keep
Cary from sliding out from under.
"It was a lucky day for Cary when
he married his 'Baby,' '' he said to
Cynthia when they were driving back
from the Inspection of the new home.
Miss Nona refused to accompany them
and the Captain had stayed home to
keep her company. Flossie and Cary
rode In the latter's disreputable car.
"I shouldn't wonder at all If she
turns matchmaker, marries off 'our
first wife' and so rids Cary of the
alimony."
Cynthia assented soberly. "Flossie
Is a dear! It's smart of her to move
Cary Into a home of his own, even If
It's only one room. It'll give him
some responsibility for the first time
In his life."
"Will Miss Nona be upset about It
long, do you think?" he asked a little
anxiously.
"Oh, no. It's the first break In the
family and naturally It hurts her. But
she'll get over it. Miss Nona's dis
position is so sweet," said her daugh
ter, "that nothing upsets her very
long."
The dreary and uneventful January
that Cynthia had feared was broken
by two events: the arrival of Mrs.
Ensloe for a visit, and the Captain'«
death.
The one preceded the other by ten
days. Miss Nona looked up from her
morning mall with an exclamation of
pleasure.
"Eunice Is coming to Denver! Geoff,
your mother Is coming! But of
course you have a letter, too. She
says her book Is finished and she'«
rather at loose ends now and she
wants to see Geoff—and all of us—"
She was quite flushed with delight
over the announcement. She told
them several Incidents of her child
hood, and Cynthia smiled to recognize
In Geoff his mother's own decisive
ness and quick formulation of plana.
Geoff himself was divided between
delight and apprehension at the pros
pect of his mother's presence in the
Cary house. He longed to see her,
but he feared her accurate analysis
of the situation here, the blunt frank
ness of her speech.
He need not have worried, Mrs.
Ensloe knew Miss Nona of old and
only listened with Indulgent amuse
ment when her friend's gentle Im
practicability was to the fore.
She arrived early one bitter Jan
uary morning. Geoff, who had gone
to the train to meet her, endeavored
to prepare her on the way home for
what she would find.
"I wrote you Cary and Flossie hava
left," he said. "Miss Nona hasn't
got over It yet But Flossie's a sensi
ble little thing and It was the wisest
possible action—taking an apartment
of their own."
Mrs. Ensloe looked at him and
smiled. "You're head-over-heels In
the family affairs, aren't you, Geoff?"
He grinned. "They have sort of got
me," he acknowledged. "Their prob
lems anJ conversation are as Inter
esting as a play. You wait—you'll
find yourself Involved, too!"
And soon Eunice Ensloe was ad
mitting the truth of this. Whether
ft was the Cary charm, or the unusual
ness of the household, or the sus
ceptibility of the onlookers, sooner or
later most people who had anything
to do with the Cary-Aylesbury con
nection found themselves swept Into
the current which moved them.
Doctor Blgham was an Interesting
example of this, A widower of two
years' standing, he had known Miss
Nona all her life. Cynthia's Illness
had shown him her mother at her
best. He still drew down his bushy
eyebrows and frowned at her help
lessness In money matters, but It wa*
a frown now tempered by a smile
which was almost tender. He made
Tenny an excuse to call frequently
at the house. To be sure, he was as
likely as not Jo drop In when the
child was at school, but neither he nor
Miss Nona appeared to regard that as
Important.
Elsie Dunsraore was another who
thought of the family's affairs as her
own.
"Cynthia," her anxious voice might
say over the telephone, "I see where
those Dedham bowls your mother was
wishing for are on sale at that little
pottery shop on Arapahoe street to
morrow at an awfully low price I Shall
I come down half an hour early and
get her one?"
The first time Mrs. Ensloe found
herself knitting her brows over the
problem of Marguerite's habit of
leaving the milk on the back porch
nntll it froze and burst the bottle, ahé
lay back In her chair and laughed.
"You Garys," she said to Miss Nona.
"There's something about you that
makes everything you say and do Im
portant. I really came out here to
see what you'd done to Geoff. He's
a folksy person, a kind one, but I've
never known him before to get all
wrought up over little girls' school
shoes or early closing hours on Sat
urday for gift shops !'*
(TO BB OONTI.WBD.1
OUR
CHILDREN
æ
By ANGELO PATH!
YOU DO IP'
«<
W HAT are you making all
fuss about, Dick? You can tie
your shoe If you want to."
"I can't I did try. It's too bard
for me."
"It Isn't hard. It's easy enough
once you set your mind to it"
"Is It easy?"
"Yea. Easy as can be."
"Then you do It It's hard for me."
Things that are easy to ns are diffi
cult for children. They have to make
an effort to adjust their muscles for
the task. They nave to think about
and direct every move.
A wrong motion, and It Is easy for
a child to make one, sends a whole
series of movements the wrong way.
Dick was passing his shoe string over
Instead of under and that made it Im
possible for him to tie the knot As
soon as that one motion had been set
right he tied the knot easily.
Some children tire sooner than oth
ers. For them effort Is annoying.
They will escape It If they can and
If they form the habit of calling for
help at the first sign of trouble they
will not gain power. Let the child try
to do his Job. When be cries for help
hold your hand. Watch what he does
and find the difficulty. Set that right,
encourage him to go ahead. He needs
help over the hard place but he needs
to go the rest of the way himself.
It helps a child to see grown-up
people do the things they expect little
ones to do.
What you would have the children
do and think easy to do, you should
do yourself. If you want them to
speak softly and go gently you must
speak and move with gentleness. If
you want them to be well mannered
you must practice being good man
nered on all occasions. Little children
the
«
are not ready to take over grown-up
people's manners. They have to hear
T am
yon say. "How do you do?'
sorry to disturb you." "Won't you
have this chair? I think you will be
more comfortable," before they say It.
Telling or showing once is not
enough. Yon must show many, many
times for the one telling. Show by
your own conduct that the thing you
wish the child to do Is easy for you to
do and he will have more faith In Its
being possible for him. Then make U
easy for him to do by providing the
right atmosphere. A child cannot be
patient In an atmosphere of Impa
tience. He cannot be gentle and well
mannered In an environment that Is
neither the one nor the other. Make
things easy for him and he will find
them so.
• •
THE CONTRARY CHILD
C HLDREN who are contrary and
stubborn are a great trial to their
mothers and teaehera When one
comes along the best thing to do la
to study him to learn the secret of
his affliction, for an affliction It cer
tainly Is.
When a child says, "I won't," wheth
er In words or actions does not matter
—he doses his mind and sits Inside
In the darkness of his anger and fear.
You never meet the one without the
other. Anything that brings fear
brings anger with It They are twins.
Until we can help the child free him
self of the fear he cannot come out
and play. He la a prisoner to bla
fear, or as we are terming It now, bla
stubbornness.
Children who are not certain about
their power to do what is asked of
them are likely to balk. . They hava
not the power of language to tell us
all they are feeling. We have to win
him to trust and confidence before ha
will venture another step.
We cannot accomplish thl* by
scolding and shaking and slapping.
All that adds to the difficulty. You
can't expect a child to féel free and
brave when yon are raging at him and
slapping him. Instead of that wait a
minute until your wrath cools and your
reason takes hold. Walt until you can
see this fear ridden, obstructed child,
closed In the darkness of hla nn
formed mind, wait until you are sorry
for his plight and desire to help him.
before you speak or move.
Then, take a good look at him. If
he seems to be enjoying his contrary
disposition say. very calmly, with as
sumed Indifference, "Very well You
needn't," and occupy yourself to the
exclusion of him and hla deeda Find
something Interesting to" do so that
his eyes follow you and he longs to
be at It too. When he sidles along to
you and says, "Let me, let me," be
gracious, but not too effusive, and
'If yon like," and let him.
say.
In his Interest aid enthusiasm he
will be released from bis bonds
and go merrily for a tlnje. When you
find him In a confiding mood, talk to
him gently. Tell him If he wants to
be glad and happy he must find a way
of saying "Yea." Don't rub It In.
Touch It gently and pass on, for there
are other times coming.
If he has an attack at a dangerous
time, when he wants to do what will
hurt him, or refuses to do what will
save him, and your hands and heart
are full, hold on to your reason, pick
him up firmly, without anger, and put
him where you want him to be. If he
has a tantrum reach for a bowl of cool
water and douse him with It until his
mood changes. But never lose your
I own control.
1 e Ball Syndicat*.— WNTJ Servie*.