The Coolidge examiner. [volume], July 15, 1937, Image 3

About The Coolidge examiner. [volume] (Coolidge, Ariz.) 1930-current

Image provided by: Arizona State Library, Archives and Public Records; Phoenix, AZ

                
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CHAPTER I
Victoria Herrendeen came up
from the beach with her sandy fin
gers tight in her father's hand.
Those girls down there had been
mean to her because she didn’t un
derstand the French they were Jab
bering with Mademoiselle, and they
had laughed at her. When Dad
had appeared, with his usual smile,
wearing his old blue coat and the
loose old white trousers Mother
sometimes let him wear on a sum
mer morning, he had looked to his
daughter like an angel of light. Here
was her unfailing friend and cham
pion.
He came down from the San
Francisco office when he could; not
every week-end, but at least every
other week-end, and when he was
there Victoria had the companion
she loved best in the world, and
the best time any little girl ever
had on a beach.
Dad was a chemist —whatever
that was—and worked in a labora
tory with a man named Butler, who
was mean to him, and a lot of other
men who were nice. Victoria knew
ebout B”tler because she had often
heard her mother say, “Butler
wouldn’t put it over on me that
way, Keith. I’d not stand it! I
wonder what you do.”
They loved each other dearly, she
and her father. They were ex
quisitely happy together. While she
waded, and he made a beach fire
They Went up the Path.
and scrambled eggs and boiled co
coa. they liked to plan dim future
days in which they two would live
alone on a desert island and signal
to the people on the shore for what
they wanted.
She was an odd-looking child, not
pretty yet. but too small to worry
about looks herself. Her mother,
however, was extremely concerned
about them. She had just begun to
realize that Victoria might be quite
lovely some day—or striking, any
way. distinguished-locking—and was
watching her keenly for signs of it;
but Victoria did not know te.at. Mrs.
Herrendeen said to herself that if ;
the child ever grew up to that big
red mouth, and if the deep-set slate
gray eyes opened a little more and
if the thick straight tawny hair were
cut and curled into a becoming
shape, and the dark, freckled skin
cleared, she would be all right. But
•he big teeth had to be straight
ened and the hair brushed . . .
Magda Herrendeen might indulge
in a little sigh about it, deep in her
-own soul. She was far too fond of
Victoria, far too loyal to everyone
she loved, her own small daughter
included, to give the child any hint
of it Vicky’s life must be happy,
confident, free; she must never feel
any inferiority or shyness.
Magda had had no trouble with
her own beauty. It had been given
her at about fifteen as a complete
gift from the gods. It was flawless;
ii was only comparable to other
perfect beauty.
But it was not anything tangible
or even describable about her that
made her lovely, nor the firm
straight body with its wide shoul
ders and thin hips, nor the fine
nervous hand and modeled arm. It
was a glow, a fragrance, a light
that seemed to emanate from her,
and that was somehow in her voice
too, and in the clothes she wore.
Victoria could not appreciate her
beauty, even when new men were
introduced to her and held her small
sandy hand while they asked her
the question all the other men had:
“Do you know you have a very
beautiful mother?”
She would look at her mother on
these occasions and smile shyly,
pleased, but a little puzzled, too.
Was it so important?
Evidently it was very important.
Anyway, for that reason or some
other everyone did really make a
great fuss about Mother. She
laughed about it, but of course she
liked it, too.
Victoria’s mother always had
flowers; men brought them when
they came to tea, even in winter.
The Herrendeens did not have din
ner parties themselves, because the
apartment was so small, but even
if Mother did not have a maid at
any other time she always was in
touch with a nice colored girl or a
clever Japanese woman or a young
Chinese in purple and gold and blue,
who came in to serve tea. And
men—or more often a man—came
then, and whoever he was, he
brought flowers.
Orchids and gardenias, and great
soft melting begonias in tones of
peach and warm cream, and long
stemmed roses and sweet dark vio
lets—these were always in Mother’s
rooms. She said that she would feel
really poor without them, and Vic
toria suspected that Dad would do
anything to keep Mother from feel
ing really poor.
He had confided to Victoria that
they were poor, quite poor. He had
been very rich once, and could give
Mother those pearls, and furs, and
everything she liked, and then she
had had flowers—many more than
these even, every day. And then
she had had a great big house to
put them in, and servants to find
vases for them. Mother had had a
maid, and Dad a valet . . .
“And did joo like that. Dad?"
Victoria might ask.
Even when she had had nurses all
to herself she had not liked them.
Nurses liked to talk to cooks and
to other nurses in parks and kitch
ens and hotel dining rooms and on
beaches; to a little girl they had
nothing at all to say.
But this had been in the old days
when they had the big house with
Ferdinand in the downstairs hall
and the dumbwaiter and the chauf
feur. These had faded away, some
where around the time of her sev
enth birthday, and the big motor
cars with them, and the Herren
deens no longer went to great big
hotels and lived in great big rooms
with letters embroidered on the tow
els, and telegrams and flowers in
yellow envelopes and big green
boxes.
They moved to a small apart
ment, and Victoria discovered to
her ecstasy that her own bedroom
I was right next to a similarly simple
room where her mother and her fa
ther slept. Now she could go in
her pajamas in the early morning
and sit on their knees while they
were in bed and talk to them. And
now she was never lonely any more,
for there was school and there was
Dad every night.
He taught her how to cook: choco
late cornstarch custard and baked
potatoes and apple sauce; it was
all fun.
On this hot August Saturday, com
ing back from the beach with her
sandy hand tight in his. she said:
“Did Mother meet you?”
“I don't think Mother knew I was
coming.’’
“00, Dad." said Victoria, fearful
i ly. “she likes you ta.let her know!”
“I know she does, darling, and I
did. But when I left the station
just now tho telegraph man came
out and said: ‘Are you going over
to Cutters'?’ and I said, 'Yes.’ And
he said, ‘Here’s a telegram then
for some Mrs. Herrendeen—the tel
ephone wires are down.’ And it
looks like my telegram.”
I
H KATHLEEN
N C E?EIS*«w serial...
Tempestuous . . . poignant . . . deep with significance
. . . the foremost story by America’s foremost writer
is now ready for you in serial form. Read each- install
ment of this modern serial as it unfolds from issue to
issue in these columns!
...dost miss” BEAUTy’S DAUGHTER”
“Oh, yes, they are down,” Vic
toria agreed eagerly, giving a skip
of sheer delight because it was sum
mer, and Saturday morning, and al
most time for lunch, and Dad was
here. ”1 know because she tried to
telephone Johnny last night.”
“Johnny?”
“The polo Johnny.”
“Oh, yes Mr. Kendrick. It
sounded like one of your friends.”
“You're my friend. Dad,” Vic
toria said, kissing his hand.
They went up the path where the
daisies and marigolds were stirring
uneasily in the soft sea wind, and
past the white gate that always
looked as if it were washed and
blown clean by the winds, and into
the big wide-open porch door of
the boarding house.
Her hand was still in his as they
crossed the hall and entered her
mother's room—an airy room, with
flowers in it, and the good scent of
the sea.
“Not here," said Keith Herren
deen.
“She’s playing golf, maybe.”
“Well, what shall we do?”
Victoria, feeling a little uneasily
apologetic for her mother’s absence,
regarded him hopefully.
“What would you like to do?”
“Let’s have lunch first—then we
can decide.” So they went out to
the Salisbury steaks and the corn
muffins and the baked potatoes, and
Victoria had two pieces of peach
pie. “You'll get fat, Vic,” her fa
ther said.
“Salt air,” said Vic.
They went to a little tent circus
that afternoon; all the children
were going, and Victoria was en
chanted.
The circus was wonderful, too,
and Victoria was tired and blissful
and quiet on the way home; but she
did rouse up when she and her fa
ther went into their big room to find
Mother there stretched out flat on
the bed with the powder-blue taf
feta cover over her, sleepy, deli
cious, affectionate.
“Oh, hello, you darlings,” she
said. She stretched a hand toward
her husband, and he stooped over
h«r for one of their quick kisses.
“I knew you'd carried her off some
where because the Kinsolvings’
nurse came up here half an hour
ago,” she added, jerking her long
lovely body over so that he could
find a narrow ledge on which to
sit. “Sit there. Keith. Did you
have a nice time, Vicky?”
Victoria burst into a very de
lirium of reminiscence, but as she
presently discovered, neither par
ent was listening to her. Her father
took off his coat and vest and col
lar and began to walk back and
forth between the bureau and the
washstand; there was an old-fash
ioned washstand in an alcove, and
he washed his face and hands there,
combed his wet hair, found himself
a fresh collar. Meanwhile there was
a little idle talk between him and
his wife, and Victoria had an un
comfortable familiar sense that
something vaguely unpleasant was
brewing.
“Nice down here?”
“Perfect days; that is. except
Tuesday. ’Member that Tuesday
was windy and foggy. Vic?”
“It was cold in town,” Keith Her
rendeen said, without waiting for
Victoria's answer.
"So someone was saying." Mrs.
Herrendeen bunched her beautiful
shining fingernails and looked at
them thoughtfully. “Great doings
here for the Harwoods—the news
paper people,” she said.
“Tonight?” the man asked even
ly. after a pause.
"Small party,” his wife said
lightly and briefly. “Bridge for
Lady Cuthbertson. She's here on
the Harwood yacht. They've all
gone mad over her.”
"You've got to go, I suppose?”
A pause.
“You wouldn't, 1 suppose?” An
other pause.
“No.” Dad said briefly and qui
etly.
“I suppose not. But—being bridge
...” Victoria’s mother began hes
itantly. She looked at his face as
she speke.
“You feel you have to go?”
“Well, Keith,” his wife began,
with an eloquent shrug, “you see.
it’s only two tables,” she went on
making a fresh start.
‘ That’s all right.” Keith Herren
deen said heavily in a tone that be
lied his words.
"Do you play good bridge. Moth
er?” Victoria asked, to lighten a
THE COOLIDGE EXAMINER
certain heaviness in the silence that
had fallen in the room. She was
washing herself now, busily and ef
fectively. the muddy soap squeez
ing in great firm suds through her
fingers, her wet straight tawny hair
dripping on her shoulders. She took
a comb and dragged the damp locks
back severely.
“Now take your fingers and soften
that around your forehead, Vic.—
Yes,” Mrs. Herrendeen said, jerk
ing another pillow under her head.
“I do play good bridge.”
“Does Dad?” asked Vic.
“He doesn’t like it. Nor dancing.
Nor night clubs. Nor big cars and
yachts and distinguished persons.
Nor anything I like," Magda might
have answered from the sense of
checkmate, of complete bafflement
in her heart. But she said only the
first phrase aloud. For the rest she
lay there thinking, watching her
husband’s face.
“Victoria and I’ll take care of
each other,” Keith said, in a hard
voice.
“I could telephone and say I’ll be
up after dinner,” Magda offered.
“What good would that do?”
“Well, that’s just it; no good.
They aren’t dining until nearly
eight. ‘Eightish,’ Sibyl said. You’ll
be all through here by seven.”
“We’ll take care of each other,”
Keith said again.
“There goes the dinner bell," Vic
toria said, leaping from rock to rock
beside him. “Goody! Are you hun
gry? I’m starving.”
“Mrs. Herrendeen coming to din
ner?” Emma said, giving them
their napkins and setting two
glasses of cut fruit before them.
“No, she can’t come tonight.”
Upon their return to their room
immediately after dinner. Vic and
her father found Victoria’s mother
all ready to go. Her manner was
the prettily careless one that dis
guises in a beautiful woman a sud
den touch of self-consciousness.
“I wonder you’ll speak to me for
being such a runaway!” she said
to them with her appealing smile.
She was always gentle; Victoria
had never seen her mother harsh
or angry.
“You look lovely, Magda.” her
husband said. He said it without
enthusiasm, almost wearily, as he
sat down. The lovely vision stooped
to kiss his forehead. She caught up
the familiar wrap. Victoria had
seen her catch it up a hundred
times; it was her only one. except
for the two shawls. And Mother
said shawls were not really smart
any more.
And now she was giving to Dad
and Victoria her familiar good-by
laugh and nod, an excited, triumph
ant laugh and nod, as if she said,
“Now that I’m all ready I’m not
scared; anyone who looks as I do
must have a good time!” and she
was running away.
There was a young man in a light
overcoat outside the French win
dows; there always was. And there
was a rakish low car waiting in the
drive; that was always there, too.
Mother met the one and ran down
to the other, and there was the
roar of a deep engine, and she was
gone.
Dad and Victoria went out to the
front steps and sat there in the
soft summer night.
(TO BE CONTI WED)
Romans Loved Cinnamon;
Use-.-I It in Their Balms
The strong fragrance of cinna
mon greeting our nostrils, gives us
pleasure even before we eat the
food that it flavors.
The human nose has always re
sponded to this odor and the ancient
Romans held it in particular es
teem. They used it liberally in
their ointments and balms as well
as in their cooking, and as the ul
timate mark of their appreciation
of this spice they set it apart as the
incense for sacrificial and ceremo
nial fires.
When a god was to be appeased,
or the shade of a departed spirit
was to be honored, it was the per
-fume of cinnamon wafted heaven
ward on uprising clouds of smoke
that carried the message. No Ro
man doubted that an odor so pleas
ing to man could fail to placate
the Olympian dieties.
The Roman media of atonement
was not buns but bonfires, and
their theory was that the more cin
namon consumed, the greater the
incense and therefore the greater
the pleasure of the diety or the
spirit who was being honored.
t _________
ZLclr 7 VFc± a Quiz With
+ A r xCT Answers Offering
/f #7 ■ Information on
flllOLlier ® Various Subjects
L
l
1. How many submarine cables
• are there in the world?
2. What people were the first to
use forks?
3. What states have the most in
stitutions of higher education?
I 4. How many airplanes are
there in the world?
t 5. Into what body of water does
t the Chicago river flow?
t 6. How many varieties of post
• age stamps are there in the
• world?
7. Is there a memorial to Ste
phen Collins Foster on the
t Suwannee river?
I 8. How long does it take to sea
son an ivory billiard ball?
Answers
1. There are more than 3,000
submarine cables in the world
with a total length of more than
300,000 miles.
2. According to the National
Geographic society the Italians
were the first to use forks for eat
ing, and were ridiculed as sissies.
3. Those having the greatest
number of colleges and universi
ties, professional schools, teach
ers’ colleges, normal schools, etc.,
1 are New York, with 105, and Cal
' ifornia, with 102.
4. The world today possesses
Wy \ftlt
THESE SAVINGS PASSED
ON TO YOU IN THE FORM
OF EXTRA VALUES AT NO jj|
In PLANNING your Fourth W&**^k*X
of July trip, plan now for the
SAFETY of yourself and family by IflPH mmzisEZSL
replacing vour strung h, tires
with a set ofnew Firestone Standard
Tires! Firestone makes greatsavings
by controlling rubber and cotton
supplies at their sources, by more
PROTECTION AGAINST PUNCTURES, Mffßk "f.
1 because under the tread are two extra layers of SLAB Tfim \
Gum-Dipped Cords. Extra tire strength AT NO R 1
EXTRA COST. fISH* 1
PROTECTION AGAINST SKIDDING, because B
the tread is scientifically designed to prevent this ■■■■ a
danger. Extra safeguard AT NO EXTRA COST.
Don’t take chances with worn tires on your
Fourth of July trip. Join the Firestone SAVE A
LIFE Campaign today. Let your nearby Firestone Dealer or
Firestone Auto Supply &. Service Store equip your car with a ofm ,
set of new Firestone Standard Tires —today’s top tire value!
Listen to the Voice of Firestone featuring Margaret Speaks, N D A R P
Monday evenings over Nationwide N. B. C. Red. Network FOR PASSENGER CARS
DON’T RISK YOUR LIFE ON THIN WORN TIRES t .00-19 10.30 I
DO YOU KNOW 5.50-17 12.50
THAT last year highway 6.00-16 13*95
accidents cost the lives of more ~ «p
than 38,000 men, women s ' lo 9
and children? Bf IpjE heavy duty
THAT a million more were Jm Ww 4.75-19 $11.75
THAT more than 40,000 of jff * 8 14*^5
these deaths and injuries were W w f Ur feP’ 'BiMAAtAMA
gu *d direc.ly by pon.lure,, \ %SS"ll£lSE£ f trCSTOnC
blowouts and skidding due to punctures, blcuouts B against skidding, SENTINEL
to unsafe tires? and skidding. B puncturesand blowouts,
h—————i^——————ay—^———J 4.50-21 so*3s
■■■■■■■hhbhhhhwlhmhhb
BTlTalf’iw 5.00.19 7*20
■USIf 3W|T*XS flliU 'firestone
COURIER
4 -^' 2l $5.43
PCfcf W^Ca9{ /jf 30x31/2CI 4*87
tf ‘ I I other priced proportionately low
; approximately 63,000 airplanes,
more than 42,000 of which are mil
itary or naval machines, accord
ing to Collier’s Weekly.
5. The Chicago river originally
emptied into Lake Michigan. Now
water from the lake is forced
through the river into the Illinois
river and so into the Mississippi
river. Thus it may be said that
the Chicago river flows backward.
6. The post offices of the world
issue 56,874 varieties of stamps.
7. In 1928 a monument to the
songwriter was erected at Fargo,
Ga., headwaters of the Suwannee.
It has recently been announced
that an amphitheater in his mem
ory will be built by the Florida
Federation of Music Clubs, on the
] banks of the river. Foster never
saw the Suwannee, but picked the
name from an atlas because of
its sound.
8. Ivory billiard balls, such as
those used by professional play
ers, are seasoned for five years
after being turned out.
Justice, Obedience
Justice is the insurance which
we have on our lives and prop
erty; to which may be added, and
obedience is the premium which
we pay for it.—William Penn.
I THE CHEERFUL CHERU&
■ ———— ■ ■■■ ll——w •
I envy milhon'&.ire.s
no more .
I fee.l fc.3 rich /&.*
they.
I now czjT\ buy
’most- ‘fc.ny
riy boss just
raised my US J
P*Y- xrSZ/F
1
WNU Service.
Foreign Words
and Phrases W
Resurgam. (L.) I shall rise
again.
Presto maturo, presto marcio.
(It.) Soon ripe, Soon rotten.
Lis litem generat.(L.) Strife be
gets strife.
Hominis est errare. (L.) It is
common for man to err.
Fide, sed cui vide. (L.) Trust,
but see whom.
Bacio di bocca spesso cuor
non tocca. (It.) A kiss of the
mouth often does not touch the
heart.
E flamma cibum petre. (L.) To
get food out of the fire to get a
living by desperate means.