Page:Angna Enters - Among the Daughters.djvu/149

 Two long green paper ribbons. Congress to Lincoln to Omaha to Chicago. Parmalee Transfer to New York Central Station. Chicago to New York. And attached, two slips of smooth pink, Lower and Upper 9, Car 207. Two separate berths in which to arrive in New York in style. They would share an upper from Congress to Chicago to make up for it. The first two days Mae kept the tickets in her purse because Lucy wanted to look at them every few minutes, but the nervous strain of a possible purse snatcher proved too much and she put them in the fireproof makeup box.

"Who'll we ask to the party besides Semy—and I ought to ask Henkel and Larson because they paint here evenings. Who would you like to ask?"

He waited, fearful lest there be some boy. He knew nothing about how she spent her evenings. God only knew what went on nights while he taught Henkel and Larson.

"Well, Mother would love to come, and I know a girl I could ask."

Damn her vagueness, he fretted. Good she was leaving as it would give him more time to develop his new form. When he was its master he would join her in New York. She'd be a little older too. Since the picnic they had subtly graduated into an intimate indulgence of each other.

"I wish I could see what you really look like," she said, affectionately pressing the prickly russet hair close to the contour of his chin.

The party was planned for the last night before the next day leave-taking on the train.

Today may be the last time I'll see her alone, Clem thought miserably as he got out of bed the morning of the day before the party.

He slowly descended the stairs to breakfast and Mrs. Brush looked at him for an unbelieving moment.

"Clem, boy, I'm glad you shaved off that thing for me. It made me feel like an old woman."

He smiled uncertainly. "Glad you like it, Ma."

He felt conspicious on the streetcar to the studio, inversely, because no one noticed him.

He heard Lucy tapping up the stairs in rhythm to her whistling of "Don't Blame It All On Broadway, You Have Yourself To Blame."

Fine time to feel gay.

He was in the storeroom selecting backgrounds for his paintings of her to decorate the downstairs room for tomorrow night's party. Rh