Читать книгу Beverly Gray's Career - Clair Blank - Страница 3

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The early September sun shone down blazing hot and the shrubs and plants wilted in the heat. Not a breath of life seemed stirring. The young people were either lounging in the coolest spot they could find or swimming in the lake.

In disgust Beverly Gray tore up her latest literary effort and hurled it as far away from her as possible. Her portable typewriter was on the window seat beside her and for the last two hours, not to mention the three months since she had graduated from Vernon College, she had been trying to compose a really good short story.

Her mother looked up from her sewing with compassionate eyes.

“What’s the matter, dear?” she asked gently.

“I wish I knew,” Beverly answered restlessly, pacing across the living room and back again. “I’ve got the ideas in my head, but when I try to put them down on paper they fade away completely.” She sighed. “I guess I wasn’t meant to be a writer after all.”

“Nonsense, dear. If you want to make writing your life’s work, you can if you will have courage and work hard. You need some experience,” her mother said sensibly.

“Where am I to get it?” Beverly laughed. “Nothing ever happens in Renville! Oh, I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “I didn’t mean that I wasn’t glad to be home here with you. With Dad sick and everything this summer, I really didn’t feel like going away.”

“I know,” Mrs. Gray patted her daughter’s shoulder consolingly. “You should have taken that invitation to spend a week with Lois in Wildwood.”

“Since Anne and Tommy are married, and Jim is in South America,” Beverly said ruefully, “the Lucky Circle has rather broken up.”

“Why don’t you write to Lois Mason that if that invitation is still good you will visit her now,” her mother proposed.

Beverly sat down beside the typewriter again. “No. I’ll try this once more,” she said. “If I can’t do something good this time, I’m through.”

“That is no way to talk,” Mrs. Gray said calmly. “Beverly,” she continued after a moment, “there is a big car stopping by the gate. I wonder who it is.”

“Probably someone who has the wrong house,” her daughter answered vaguely. “No one we know would come calling on such a hot day.”

“You are wrong,” her mother smiled. “Look who it is!”

“Who?” Beverly crossed to her mother’s side and looked out the window which commanded an unobstructed view of the front lawn and street.

“Shirley!” she cried unbelievably. “Shirley Parker!” she repeated and fled to the door.

Half way across the lawn the new arrival was enveloped in a bear hug that left her hatless and breathless.

“Well, if I had known I would be greeted like this I would have come long ago,” Shirley laughed. “Beverly, you old darling! How are you?”

“Just the best ever!” Beverly declared. “But,” remembering her manners, “come in the house out of the sun. Where did you come from? Are you just driving through or are you going to stay for days and days—I hope?”

In the center of the living room Beverly gave her friend and old roommate an extra hug and turned her about, inspecting her critically. She showered her with questions until Shirley held up a hand in self defense.

“I’ll begin at the beginning,” she laughed. “I’m not driving through. I came to see you because I haven’t seen you since Anne’s wedding and I was bored to death with my own society.”

“I don’t believe it,” Beverly declared.

“It’s true,” Shirley insisted. “My parents are in the mountains. I came back last week from the seashore and couldn’t stand it another minute. You have no idea what New York is like in this hot weather. So I says to myself, says I, ‘Shirley, my dear, pack your bag and run over to see Beverly. She is just the tonic you need!’ So here I am,” she finished.

“And more welcome than you can guess,” Beverly sighed.

Shirley looked about at the typewriter and the scattered sheets of paper. “Did I interrupt a masterpiece in the making?”

“No!” Beverly said so emphatically that Shirley laughed. “I haven’t even started yet. But tell me, how is your stage career coming along?”

“It isn’t,” Shirley answered. “Like you, I haven’t started yet.”

“But weren’t you supposed to see—what was his name of the Theater Guild the first chance you had after your graduation?” Beverly asked.

“I was. His name is Andrew T. Crandall,” Shirley explained. “But he has been in Europe all summer. He doesn’t get back to New York until the last of September, perhaps not then. Meanwhile, here I am with loads of time on my hands. I do hope I wasn’t presumptuous in coming to you,” she said seriously. “I’ve missed you terribly since school finished last June.”

Beverly nodded in agreement. “I’ve missed all the girls, and since Anne is married——”

“How is the little bride?” Shirley asked interestedly.

“Fine,” Beverly smiled. “She and Tommy have their own home now, a darling little place. I’ll take you to see them tomorrow. You are going to stay for days and days, aren’t you?”

“I’ll stay as long as you can put up with me,” Shirley laughed.

Beverly’s mother, who had withdrawn to give her daughter time to welcome her old school chum, entered then, carrying a tray laden with tiny cookies and tinkling, cold glasses. After that the three chatted until it was nearly time for dinner. Beverly conducted Shirley up to the room they had shared almost two years before when Shirley spent the Christmas holidays in Renville.

Readers of the Beverly Gray Series are already acquainted with Beverly and with her desire to be a newspaper-woman and writer, and of her college roommate, Shirley Parker’s desire to be a great dramatic actress. They know also the other girls with which Beverly and Shirley were so friendly during their four years at Vernon College: namely, Lois Mason, Lenora Whitehill, Rosalie Arnold and Anne White, the latter now a married woman.

After dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Gray went for a drive but the two girls firmly declared they would rather stay at home and talk even if it was hot. They took pillows out on the lawn and ensconced themselves comfortably beneath a willow tree and began one of the heart to heart talks they had so enjoyed during their college days.

“Have you heard from Lenora lately?” Beverly asked.

“Lois wrote me that Lenora had been left a considerable sum of money,” Shirley informed her friend, “but I’ve not heard directly from Lenora for a long while.”

“She didn’t answer my last letter,” Beverly said. “I wonder if Rosalie has continued with her music?”

“I don’t know,” Shirley answered. “Now that you have heard all my news tell me of yours. How is all the Lucky Circle?”

“Fine,” Beverly answered. “They always ask to be remembered to you.”

“How is that nice Jim Stanton?” Shirley asked.

In spite of herself Beverly felt the color rising to her cheeks. “He is very well, I believe. I don’t—that is, I haven’t heard from him for a while.”

“You haven’t quarreled?” Shirley asked intently.

“Oh no,” Beverly hastened to reassure her. “But mail down where he is working is very irregular. You see——”

“Hullo,” Shirley looked up with lazy interest as a taxi stopped at the gate. “More company?”

The two watched a young lady get out, pay the driver, pick up her traveling bag and turn toward the house. It was not until she was walking toward them that they recognized her.

“Lenora Whitehill!” Beverly gasped in amazement as she started on the run for her newest visitor.

“In person and not a talking picture!” the new arrival assured her grinning.

After she and Beverly had properly demonstrated how glad they were to see one another she turned to the girl that had followed Beverly across the lawn and exclaimed in pleased surprise. “Shirley! As I live and breathe! What is this, old home week? Fancy meeting you here!”

“Fancy you coming here,” Beverly corrected. “Why didn’t you let me know?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Lenora answered promptly. “I am on my way to New York to fame and fortune—I hope,” she finished laughingly.

“Come in the house and tell us all about yourself and what you have been doing,” Beverly commanded, leading the way up the porch steps.

“First of all, did you know Rosalie is engaged?” Lenora asked after she had established herself in a comfortable position on the sofa.

“No!” Shirley said.

“No!” Beverly echoed.

Lenora nodded. “’Tis sad but true. The wedding is to take place some time next spring.”

“Then she didn’t continue with her music,” Beverly said, almost regretfully.

“No,” Lenora murmured sadly. “So at last there is only four of the original Alpha Deltas left. We shall have to pursue our careers to keep up the morale of our college sisters.”

“Ah, yes, the Alphas who are now Seniors at Vernon,” Shirley murmured. “I had a letter from Connie the other day. She never fails to remind me of our promise to attend their graduation.”

After that the three talked long and reminiscently until Beverly declared her guests must be fatigued and led the way upstairs to her room and the adjoining guest room.