Page 87

J UN E, 1 93 1
miracles
wrought by a
magic bubble
of shining glass
0
* A BUBBLE of Pyrex glassware,
crystal clear and gossamer sheer...
but sturdy and immune to heat and
cold as any Pyrex ovenware you own!
For this Tea Pot is made of the self-
same Pyrex heat-resistant glass that
bakes foods in high oven heat for hours
... and then does double duty in the
arctic regions of your ice-box.
The Pyrex Tea Pot rests proudly on
the tea wagon or dinner table ... and
outshines far more costly pots and
pitchers with its beauty of design.
* And this desivn has new convenience
that no tea pot ever had before...
For we've banished the old-time
spout . . . treacherous snare for swing-
ing faucets, careless fingers. Instead, a
graceful opening in the lid and a special
curve on the pitcher lip pour tea easily,
evenly . . . and safely. We've replaced
the fragile handle of old-style tea pots
with one of gleaming chromium . . .
unbreakable, of course.
The telltale walls of this transparent
Tea Pot show at a glance just when
your tea has reached perfection's peak.
Then . . . a grand little gadget inside
the lid hoists the tea ball out of the
way and holds it there!
The Pyrex Tea Pot holds four cups and
pours each one piping hot, at just the
strength you wish. Or, if iced tea is your
choice, this Tea Pot turns pitcher and
handles tinkling drinks as easily as hot.
This shining bubble and all its helpful
habits cost only $2.75 ... at any hardware
shop or department store in town.
PYREX
Tea Pot
FREE.. BOOK OF 30 MENUS. Whole meals baked in
20, 30, or 45 minutes. Illustrated  price list of all 1yrex
dishes. Corning Glass Works, Dept. B 85, Corning. . Y.
Name
(Please print name)
Address
"Prex" is a trade-mark and indicates moanufacture h Cornic- Glane
Works. Corning. N. Y. iHe slightly higher in the West and Canada.
87
the biggest thing-given your husband a
chance to get a second vision of life through
a woman, and I believe that second vision
makes a man an artist. I don't know of
anything that would make for more happi-
ness than to teach a few more men and
women that their quarrels aren't with each
other, but just another part of that material
world they've got to make their way through
to the thing I believe you've found and that
I hope I have.' . . . Tim, have I helped you
to that extent? I know I have with positive
experiences like babies and operations and
funny food and foolish laughter, but, ab-
stractly, do you feel as if you knew more about
the spiritual woman through knowing me?"
"Sue, I see life through you rather than
around you, so ever present and satisfying are
you. I begin to fear this, lest it narrow my
vision father than broaden it. Perhaps in the
future we shall have to take arbitrary vaca-
tions from each other so that I may look
through other telescopes than my Susan."
"No, no," she shook her head hard, "you
don't understand what I meant, what Flor-
ence Martin meant . . . Look, here's a letter
for you with a Colorado postmark. Know
any one there? . . . John Galsworthy!"
They stared at each other.
"He writes he picked the book up in the
hotel and when he had finished he felt he must
write, though he did not know me. He
says    "
Susan was on her knees beside him and all
the mail tumbled to the floor. They began to
cry softly. "Susie, darling, John Galsworthy!"
THE photographers were hot after the new
quarry. Hardly a day passed that a too
sweet feminine voice failed to deliver to Susan
over the telephone her set speech:
"This is the Overbrush Studio, and we
should consider it a great privilege if Mr.
Hale would come n for a sitting. Or we
should be most happy to come to your house
at any time convenient. Of course you un-
derstand you are in no way committed should
you not be satisfied with the results."
There were also the haughty portrait-
painting photographers who did not tele-
phone but whom you met at a party and who
casually suggested that they thought they
might get something of you that would be
rather different. "Drop in my place about
eleven tomorrow, why don't you?"
"What shall I wear, Sue? A high collar or
a low one? A bow tie or a four- n-hand?
You women certainly have the best of it
when it comes to having a picture taken. I
hope this man lets me pose myself. It's al-
ways better."
THEN appeared the lecture agent. Requests
had been coming in from women's clubs, he
said, and he even thought he could fill the
Town Hall in New York if Mr. Hale would
consent.
"How do you know I can speak?" queried
Timothy. "I hate to listen to lectures my-
self, and the few I have heard by authors were
terrible. Except Hugh Walpole. Lecturing
should require as much training as acting, and
I'm the worst living actor-ask the Little
Theater in St. Paul."
"I heard you speak, Mr. Hale, at that din-
ner of the Authors' League and you had them
all going," cajoled the agent.
"Ye-e-es, that wasn't too bad," agreed
Timothy, "but then 1 was among friends."
"These women's clubs are most friendly,
entertain you every minute, and I think I
could get you three hundred dollars a lecture,
and probably more next year."
Three hundred dollars for an hour's chat-
ter, and an excuse to take a holiday!
"I'll have to talk to my wife about it."
The agent went back to New York satisfied.
"Susie, would you think me a pretentious
ass to give these lectures? I haven't a thing
to say, said it all in my novel, and I hate
anecdotes. What do you think?"
"Darling, those kindly ladies want to see
the author of 'God's Own Country' quite as
much as hear him. Most natural thing in the
world. They suspect you of having a forked
tail, and wearing a red waistcoat. They want
to be able to say they have spoken to you and
shaken your hand. When they find out what
a nice li'l' fellar you are they may be disap-
pointed, but I don't think so. You can be
counted to shock 'em sooner or later, and in
any case it ought to help the sale of the
book."
"What about your coming with me? Then
they can see the author's wife, too."
Susan chanted: "Wives of great men all
remind us, they had best be left behind."
"Aw, come on."
"Um-hum. Cramp your style. Well, per-
haps just once to see what it's like, but no
more."
WITH her mother and several friends, and
in her smartest spring clothes, Susan was
descending from a cab in front of New York's
Town Hall. The billboards proclaimed that
Timothy Hale, author of "God's Own
Country," would lecture at three o'clock on
"The New Realism in American Literature."
Women, hordes of women, and an amazing
number of men, were pushing, yes, pushing
not sauntering, into the hall, and all of them
there to hear-and see-her Timmy. She
was trembling as she preceded her guests up
the stairs to the box which had been reserved
for them. They made her sit in one of the
rail chairs, though she wondered if Tim, spy-
ing her, might not be made self-conscious.
What an enormous stage, doubly empty with
only that reading-desk for furniture! Would
he speak too fast, would his voice carry, sup-
pose he knocked over the water jug?
And there he was, lunging as always, and
then bringing himself up abruptly at the
stand. There was applause. He bowed with
a smIll smile and started unbuttoning his
double-breasted coat. Oh, what was he going
to do? Susan's hands tore at each other in
her lap.
Quite simply he took out his watch-his
Ingersoll watch which he continued to carry
for several more years until one day in Lau-
sanne it occurred to him that he might buy
an expensive Swiss watch-and laid it on the
stand. He looked around at the large audi-
ence as if he were in a drawing-room. The
pause was more than dramatic. He buttoned
up his coat again, smiled broadly, and said,
conversationally,
"Ladies and gentlemen, how do you do
. . . There's Franklin P. Adams over there
on the aisle thinking to himself, 'Now what's
that poor fish, Tim Hale, going to say?' "
Timothy came around from behind the stand,
and added, "Frank, I am wondering just that
same thing myself."
The audience laughed, craned to see Mr.
Adams who had bowed gaily to Tim, and set-
tled back in their seats with a pleased sense of
having had another author thrown in gratis.
Susan sighed with relief. Tim had them!
. . . And then he proceeded to say a good
deal, and a very good, good deal, and his
reputation as a lecturer was made. He was a
nervous speaker in the sense that he moved
about the stage, picking up and laying down
his watch, thrusting his hands in his pockets,
blowing his nose; but the audience found his
activities interesting as they would those of
any actor, and they were not tortured with
oratorical bombast or meaningless gestures.
At the end, a crowd, this time almost all
women with a few anemic young men, surged
down the aisles to the foot of the platform.
Copies of his book were held up to be auto-
graphed, others grabbed at his long fingers,
still others tried only to catch a smile from
him. It is to be assumed that Franklin P.
Adams had gone home.
Susan and her guests were standing up in
the box, uncertain whether (Turn to page 96)
NAMES..
They're fun, you knowl Full of magicl
Find out what they mean, where they
came from. Send for this booklet.
No.27..WHAT'S IN YOUR NAME
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Numerology and the meaning of over
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No.46..SECRETS OF HANDWRIT-
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What your handwriting reveals.
See page 108 for a complete list
of fun booklets and coupon
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