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Graeve, Oscar (ed.) / Delineator
Vol. 118, No. 6 (June, 1931)

[Continued articles and works],   pp. 96-99 PDF (3.3 MB)


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,_!
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nes
ing
dly
ne.
hil-
nd
in
om
in
rts
lly
ok-
nes
in-
les
sti-
he
.he
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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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