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Graeve, Oscar (ed.) / Delineator
Vol. 118, No. 6 (June, 1931)
[Continued articles and works], pp. 96-99
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Page 96
96 DELINEATO R INSTITUTE DELINEATOR HALF A LOAF Continued from page 87 H ERE is a story called "Mrs. Jo Discovers the Most Interest Home in the World" in which, od enough, you, yourself, are the heroi For it is all about your home, your c dren, your health, your comfort a your beauty. and the work that we do the Institute to help you. Every page brings you good news fr Delineator Institute. where specialists all the household and feminine a zealously toil to bring you what is rea worth while in modern life. This bo let will also take you behind the sei and reveal how our editors gather formation for all the Institute artic in Delineator. It was inspired by the visit to the In tute of one of Delineator's readers. S was FF enthu-ia-tic about the thin,_! ,JSC nes ing dly ne. hil- nd in om in rts lly ok- nes in- les sti- he .he %tO 0*L saw and so fascinated by the useful things she learned, that we decided to offer all of our readers this pictured visit. SEND FOR THIS FASCINATING FREE BOOKLET Thi 56-page. Profusely illustrated story- booklet is yours for the asking. No ob- ligations of any kind. Send for it now and you will discover how Delineator Institute tries to save you wearisome hours of labor-how it tries to bring merriment to your meals-graciousness to your home-and smartness to your apparel. A FEW CHAPTERS What to Tell Your Children. The Importance of Good Taste. Paris Chic Without Leaving Your Town. When Is a Mere Recipe News? You Don't Have to Be Wealthy. 1000 Women Tell Us the Meaning of Beauty. Use coupon below for your free copy b e o w f a y u I IL '0 DELINEATOR INSTITUTE, Dept.P-67 161 Sixth Avenue, New York, New York Please send me your free booklet, MRS. JONES DISCOVERS THE MOST INTERESTING HOME IN THE WORLD. NAME _ ADDRESS GOOD NEWS FOR YOUR HOME ON EVERY PAGE to leave, or wait for Timothy. Suddenly she became aware that the lingerers about the platform had turned their faces toward her. Timmy was waving at her. She waved to him. "Sue, I am coming in a minute, wait there for me," he called and again the audience laughed delighted by his coziness in a public hall. He then bowed and disappeared. As they filed out they kept looking up at her, and she presented what she hoped was an uncon- cerned and fairly attractive profile, but actu- ally she was the Princess Patricia graciously receiving the homage of her subjects. SUSAN was to hear Tim lecture often in the other cities they were temporarily to adopt, and to hear him speak after dinner until even her loyalty sagged, but only once did she accompany him on an out-of-town engagement and share with him the honors that only a woman's club can bestow. They were met at the station by a limou- sine so large and polished it looked like a hearse. It proved not to be the car of Mrs. Pruyn, the fluttery little president of the club, but had been borrowed for the occasion from the wife of the chief manufacturer. The lady Mecenas of the town had also offered to put up the Hales overnight, but the little presi- dent had jealously determined that this honor should be hers. "If you don't mind-the train was late- we had best go directly to the hall where you are to speak-there's a place to wash there- I hope you are not tired, Mrs. Hale." Susan and Timothy were both tired but obviously there was no alternative. People loitering in the vestibule watched them with interest as they were hurried through and down the side aisle to the small room to the right of the platform. Timothy washed his face and hands, asked Susan for her comb, and smoothed his crinkly hair, not so yellow now as when she had married him. Susan did the usual things to her face, pulled her Su- zanne Talbot (the original, said the label in- side the hat) a trifle more over her right eye, and patted approvingly her new frock of light and dark blue taffeta. All this while Mrs. Pruyn, watch in hand, would dash to the side door for a whispered conference or peep out to see how fast the hall was tilling. "It's four-fifteen now, Mr. Hale. I think we might go on. Mrs. Hale, will you sit in that chair next to the lady with the tall feather in her hat?" and to her amazement Susan found herself being propelled on to the platform instead of sitting in the hall below. Timothy sat down in a creaking wicker chair near a low table where stood the lec- turer's emblem-ice-water pitcher and glass. Susan knew Timothy preferred a high reading stand as something easier to lean on, and over. The little president had most certainly written out her introduction but her eye- glasses had become entangled in the laces of her dre s, and desperately she blurted: "Ladies and gentlemen, members of the Allerton Woman's Club and their friends, all of you I know have read Mr. Hale's 'God's Own Country.' lie needs, I think, no further introduction. He will speak on-uh-oh- uh-Mr. Timothy Hale!" Which, a'ter all, was what Timothy did. Susan wasn't worried about Tim this time, she was more concerned with keeping her skirt from riding up when she crossed her legs. Though she knew her husband was holding the audience's ears, she knew also that there were many eyes focussed on the clothes of the author's wife. Her skirt was awfully narrow, she simply must not cross her knees, and it was agony not to cross them. The back of the wooden folding chair bit into her spine. Iler nose itched. The hall grew hotter. Tim was talking too fast now. If she could only !ct his eye, and mouth the word "slower." Oh: he was going to sit on the low table. Well, why not? The audience seemed a little apathetic. Was it the heat? Timmy was referring now to his long legs, his fondness for water-taking a drink-and to "his amiable wife sitting over there so proud of her brand new hat." The audience tittered. The per- sonal allusions always did the trick. He was through, and the little President was being elbowed aside by the large lady with the feather. Some one thrust an un- wieldy bunch of pink peonies into Susan's arms, and she found herself standing between Tim and the large lady on a receiving line. The hall began to serpentine toward the short flight of steps at the side of the platform. "Is this the first time you have been in our city, Mrs. Hale?" "Wonderful to have such a success so young." "Do you write yourself?" "Have you any children?" "Is he going to be a writer, too?" "Do you also come from Ohio?" "Just how many thousands has the book sold? My husband says you get fifty cents on each copy." "I've always wanted to be a writer myself, but I just never seem to find the time." Susan's face was stiffening into a grimace. Her nose she knew must be shining, and the green of the flowers was coming off on her long suede gloves. But what was infinitely worse, the woman who had handed her the bouquet had forgotten to wipe the stems and a trickle of water was seeping through her skirt. Timothy was being asked questions quite as personal, plus such gracious attentions as: "I bet, Mr. Hale, I'm the first person you've met who dares to admit she hasn't read your book!" "I'm almost afraid to talk to you, Mr. Hale, for fear you'll put me in your next novel." "Say, Hale, sold the movie rights yet? Don't see a movie in it myself, but those Hollywood ginks will take anything." Tim and Sue looked at each other in grow- ing despair. The large lady caught the look, seized them both by the arms, and trotted them off the platform with-"These two peo- ple are all tired out. Molly, I'm taking them over to my house for a half hour. I'll get them back to you in time for your dinner." Mrs. Pruyn, helpless, saw them go. The Hales found themselves once more in the limousine-hearse-Madam President may have had to walk home-and being waved rapidly through town by cotton-gloved po- licemen in defiance of traflic lights. Their impressive hostess and her chatiffeur took this procedure as a matter of course. Cer- tainly, thought Susan, these prerogatives of the rich had advantages. Were they going to be very rich? They would if the rest of the novels sold as well as this one. But Susan didn't see Timothy demanding or even ac- cepting favors not accorded to his more or less dear Common People. He was rather fine about that-also he was afraid of police- men. They had stopped in front of a large red brick and white stone manor house. There was a vast cool hall; a liveried man servant said that M.r. Snodgrass had just come in. "Anderson, take Mr. Hale to Mr. Snod- grass. Mrs. Hale, come upstairs with me, I know you want to take off your hat. It's a smart hat but tiring on the right eyebrow." N FlIFTEEN minutes the entire family had gathered-an unexpectedly handsome father of the English colonel type, a tall boy and girl, mother, and the Woman Friend who always is attached to any large well-run house- hold; also a tray of tall etched glasses and silver-topped bottles and thin, pleasantly salty sandwiches. All these were assembled upon a canopied terrace facing a broad lawn over which sprinklers waved veiled arms in lazy rhythm with the Allerton Woman's Club lost in the mist. The Snodgrass family were casually admir- ing of the lecture and their guests, then talked of other things. Would Mr. Hale play golf tomorrow morning? Alas, Mr. Hale did not play golf. How about tennis and tea in the afternoon at the country club? "Mrs. Snodgrass, you are an angel of thoughtfulness but I have an uneasy feeling that your club president has mortgaged every one of our minutes until we leave tomorrow night." "Oh, we'll fix that up!" and the president and most of the town were dismissed with her right hand. "We loathe going, but what time are we expected for dinner?" asked Susan. "Yes, you must go. Poor Molly will be in a state. No, we are not coming. We have an absurd preference for dining at home," at which the family guffawed in understanding
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