42 Into the Frying Pan--

The autumn sunshine peeked through almost bare branches. Something of the place and the atmosphere reminded Eunice Henrey of a time long past. "What lovely table linens!" she examined the intricate lace pattern on the monogrammed napkin through her eyeglass. "Your table settings are so rare! She settled back in the comfortable parlor chair.

"Thank you. Jed's Grandmother and I worked on them together...it's a pattern handed down in his family." As she sat across from the stylish Mrs. Henrey, Agnes said a prayer of thankfulness. Her mother, Maureen Chadbrooke, had drilled etiquette into her five daughters until it was second nature.

"This has been a very pleasant day. Mr. Henrey is so happy when he can tour farms, yards, gardens, and orchards," Mrs. Henrey picked up her delicate tea cup and sipped the last of her tea. "You make excellent tea. It's a lost art in this country," she said with a wistful sigh.

"The tea service was my mother's--the china is from my father's family. Would you care for another cookie? A piece of cake?" Agnes offered and held the plate for her company.

"Well," the woman hesitated, "the tea biscuits are delicious. I am watching my figure, but...I believe I will, thank you."

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about your figure, and that dress is a striking hue. It goes well with your coloring," Agnes said as she served the confections and poured tea for her guest. "You have such pretty hands!" Agnes took note of the soft hands with several jeweled rings, and manicured nails. "Help your self to the sugar and lemon--and there is cream if you would care for some?"

"Thank you, my dear. You are so kind," Eunice said as she spooned a healthy helping of sugar into her tea. "Delicious!" she said as she took a bite of cake. "Perfectly delicious!" she closed her eyes relishing the tangy lemon flavor.

"We have enjoyed your son's visit, he has acted the perfect guest, and Gene has enjoyed his company." Agnes stopped to take a bite of the sugared cookie. "From here where will you be off to?"

"Walter and Mr. Henrey like to go on fishing trips, and live out under the stars." she said with a nod. "They enjoy living in different circumstances...we didn't want to spoil Walter. Some people do that to their children. It isn't good for them. "Walter, you know is our adopted son," she took a sip of tea.

Agnes gasped, her eyes growing large. "I'm sorry," she covered her mouth with her napkin, "but it came as a surprise to me. No, Walter never mentioned anything..." she put her cookie down on her plate and took a sip of tea. "Gene is our adopted son. He was Jed's brother's son, but both of his parents passed away."

"That's what I understood. In our case the mother was found dead from -what was deemed- natural causes, but there was no name, nothing to identify her family, nothing. She was not a poor woman--there was a small fortune, and some fine jewelry that she left her two children. The judge awarded us the boy, but the other child was given to another family. My husband has taken care of the children's fortune for them."

"How sad they would split up the children! Do you know where the other child is? I suppose--"

"We have searched for any clue for the children's family for all of these years."

"And never found anything?"

"Not a thing. That is--nothing, until just a few months ago when we were at the world's fair in Paris. We were at an informal luncheon given by, Nellie, Lord Hughes' sister, one afternoon. Walter happened to wear the cuff links left to him in his mother's jewelry collection on that occasion. Count Bouchette became quite animated when Lord Hughes introduced us to him. My French isn't as respectable as my husband's, it was hard for me to follow exactly..."

"How very exciting! You had found a clue at last?"

"Not just a clue, but a perfect match. The young woman was Count Philip's sister. You see, the links had their family crest on them. They were unmistakable."

"I suppose now you will need to find the other child...and what does this mean to Walter? This has to be a bitter-sweet happening for you and your husband?"

Mrs. Henrey began to cry quietly. "Forgive me, but yes, bitter-- yet sweet. That is quite the description. I don't know what the future holds now," she blew her nose softly. "We had plans for Walter to take over certain aspects of our business...but now?" She dabbed at her eyes. "We have two other children," she hesitated then confided, "the one son lives in Europe. He has made his fortune, and has little time for anyone but his close friends. Our daughter lives in the United States. Not far from where we live, but she- she has taken religious vows. We haven't seen her for several years now."

"How very sad!" there was only air in Agnes' mind, words seemed to escape her.

The older woman held a locket toward Agnes, "Here. This is a picture of the children's mother..."

Agnes opened the locket and gasped, "Oh!" her hands trembled. "What a lovely, lovely woman! She looks so much like...!"

"Yes, she looks so much like an angel...it is as you've said, a bitter-sweet moment. At last the mystery has come to an end. The children can know who their mother was, and who their family is. For the two families that have loved and raised them, we now must part with them. I don't know how?" She shrugged her elegantly dressed shoulders, and dabbed at her eyes with a dainty pocket kerchief.

"Yes," Agnes said with a nostalgic sigh. "Yes, saying good bye comes to all of us who love. It is so much part of life, but it isn't ever easy. I'm sure that Walter will always honor you and your husband."

"Yes, we have been quite close to Walter. He has been an easy child to love and have around."

"Gene has also. How different our life was before...and I don't know what we would have done without him."

"I'm comfortable--here with you, Agnes," Mrs. Henrey reached her velvet soft hand toward Agnes and caressed her hand. "Some people wouldn't understand, but I feel welcome here. It's as if I've come home. I feel like you do understand."

"I do. First, we buried Gene's father, and a few weeks later we had to lay his mother to rest," Agnes covered her guest's soft hand with her own. "Gene was just a scrawny youngster. He reminded me of a stray kitten, all eyes, hungry, scared...we've come to love him as our own child..."

The two women sat absorbed with drinking their tea and thinking their private thoughts for a time.

"Many people I know are so busy trying to be what they aren't...you strike me as a jewel set in rough surroundings."

"Thank you. --Oh! I hear the men coming in--I had better replenish the tray...if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back."

"Why certainly! You just do what you need to do--" Mrs. Henrey settled back in her comfortable chair, perusing the room. It was a cozy, comfortable parlor that doubled as a library. There were several stuffed chairs scattered about the room, an ornate love seat in a deep rose color with mahogany finish, and matching end tables. The crackle of a small fire burning in the parlor stove--just enough to take the autumn chill out of the room--added a quaint charm.

Ever the curious person, always interested in the lives of others, the library of books stood in rows on the shelves beckoning to Eunice. The small portraits and nick knacks teased at her as well.

"Do you mind if I wander around your parlor, my dear?" She asked as Agnes came bustling back with another tray of goodies. "I have always loved books and reading, and there are so many inviting avenues here. And after all the sitting I have been doing today..."

"Oh, no. I don't mind at all," Agnes placed the tray on the table by the french windows. "I'll just replenish the hot water in the tea service, and all will be ready. If you would hostess the men as they come in I would appreciate it?" Agnes said at the sound of the pump at the sink working up and down, as well as water being poured from the hot tea kettle into the washbasin. The men's voices wafted in as they washed at the basin after the tour.

"Certainly, that will be no problem," the older woman rose, regally, walking slowly around the room.

The gay floral wall paper was a graceful background to several family portraits that were arranged on the wall.

"Your pictures are very interesting!" She glided back to help serve the tea as Jed and her husband came in and were seated.

"Thank you," Jed took his cup and chose several pastries from the plate.

"When you have the time, would you tell me about them?" Mrs. Henrey asked. "I enjoy genealogy, and family history. It's a hobby of mine," she explained with a smile.

"If you are interested--" Jed left his cup and tea cakes..."this is my Grandmother and Grandfather, Ruth and Joseph Wade," he pointed to a picture of a young bride in a high necked lace gown, her dark hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, covered with a lace cap, and a few tendrils at the sides of her childlike face. At her side stood a much taller handsome man in his dark suit and tie.

"She looks so young! And he is very good looking!"

"She was seventeen--but many girls were married at sixteen...Grandfather was twenty-five. This picture," he pointed to one on the right side of the first picture, "is Agnes' mother and father."

"How elegant they are!" Mrs. Henrey scrutinized each picture with her eyeglass. "She looks just like a Gibson girl--what a lavish gown...and how dashing her husband is!"

"This is my father and mother," he continued.

"Oh, how dainty your mother is!" She said generously, looking minutely at the rather plain woman in the picture.

"After my Grandfather passed away, father became the head of the family. He took care of his mother and two brothers. He was thirty years old before he felt free to marry."

"That is as it should be."

"These last two frames, one is of my brothers and I, and this one is of Agnes and her sisters."

"Very nice, very nice!" Mrs. Henrey exclaimed. "And who is in this small portrait over here?" she moved to a few small portraits in frames in front of the shelves of books.

"My mother passed away leaving father with us small boys. He remarried--this is he and our step-mother...then this is we boys and our step-sister."

"Did I over hear Lord Hughes telling Gene that his Aunt...would that be your step-sister? was visiting the Queen this summer?"

"Yes, that was my step-sister, Bertha Louise. Ever since my step-sister's wedding my step-mother has wanted Agnes and I to come back for a visit. We've been so busy, but Gene is going to take care of things for us for two weeks after the fall work is done."

"That will be so nice."

"Now, Eunice...Mr. Wade's tea will be completely cold. You must let him come back and finish!" Mr. Henrey winked at Agnes as she and Nissa joined the company.

"I didn't mean to keep you so long," Eunice apologized to Jed. "Mr. Henrey, we haven't left you--he's just lonely," she whispered to Jed. "And there are the boys coming back from their saying goodbye--" she glanced out the windows just in time to see the boys jogging their horses down the drive toward the barns.

"What fine animals!" Mr. Henrey jumped up, his cane tapping across the floor to the window. "I say, those are fine looking animals...if we weren't so comfortable in here I'd have to go examine those horses. There's nothing quite like a well made horse!"

"Too bad you don't have time to go look over Mr. Goodnite's horses. Gene's been helping train our neighbor's horses. They sell pretty quick, I can tell you."

"No time for a side visit-- Walter, Eunice, and I are on our way back to the east coast. We'll be there for awhile. The Count will come to make arrangements.

The older man stood quiet, looking out the window, but not seeing the scenery before him. He had grown so close to this boy. It was going to be difficult to say good bye. "No, Walter isn't with us always," he spoke out loud forgetting where he was.

"What he means," Eunice explained self consciously, "is that Walter comes and goes. He's old enough to be his own person, but our home has always been his home, and," her words trailed off.

"We understand," Agnes said in her gentle voice. "It will be hard."

"Our other children are older, and have gone their ways. We've grown accustomed to Walter being there."

"It is good to have someone to depend on," Jed's thoughts were jumbled. He heard the boys come on to the back porch, heard the cistern pump and water gushing into the wash basin as Gene poured hot water in from the kettle. He heard their voices muffled by the distance. Jed could imagine them combing their hair at the mirror, and now their footsteps echoed slightly as they approached the parlor.

"Hello, Father," Walter stopped and greeted his father, then going to his mother gave her a kiss on the cheek, "Hello, Mother," he said with a fond smile.

Only Jed and Agnes could guess at the self-control it must have required for the two older people to carry on as if this were just another day...Just another day.

"Help yourselves to the trays, boys...and there is tea," Jed waved his hand at the table full of food.

"You have out done yourself, Aunt!" Gene flashed Agnes a heart warming grin.

"Mother, I don't know how this woman does it, but she is the best cook--and baker!" Walter praised. "Just look at those sandwiches, and the pastries!" Walter heaped his plate with an assortment of food that underscored his words.

"We wait until you boys are starved--after the outside fresh air, and exercise as well. Grandmother Wade always said, 'Hunger makes a good sauce,' Agnes said with a smile.

"When I went to my first birthday party," Walter began a story, "I was told to--well, you see I have always been what mother calls a 'hearty' eater. So, as I said, when I went to my first birthday party..." For the next hour Walter kept the company laughing as he told stories.

"Father, there is a little red and black airplane, we've been working on," Agnes cringed as he began the story about the airplane.

What would Mr. and Mrs. Henrey think? Their shocked expressions hovered in Agnes' mind like spectors as she imagined their reaction.

"Excuse me a moment," she made an escape to the kitchen. She stood breathless, waiting for their reaction. Straining her ears,

"Walter!" she heard Eunice say.

"Hanging over nothing, I just felt committed."

She heard as she tip-toed back to the room.

"Well, I should say so!" Mr. Henrey exclaimed.

Their faces did not look angry...

"The next thing I knew, someone or something seemed to heave me into the seat...but I was kind of upside down and sideways--"

"Of course, those of us still on the ground..." Gene put his part in the story.

"I thought Albert was going to kiss the barn floor when he got out of the plane!
And you should have seen the automobile driver's face! Go ahead, Walter..."

"That is too funny! Walter, you need to be more careful!" Eunice said wiping the laughter tears off her face. "Are you teasing me that you ended up with tree leaves in your wheels?"

"No, I'm not teasing...but better in the wheels than in the prop! And the Stroll's cows refused to go out of the barn for a week."

"Remember the fellow that Walter had a fight with?"

"Yes, I remember it," Mr. Henrey nodded. "You remembered your instructor's teaching very well, Walter."

"That guy was the fellow that caused poor Albert to get left in the dust by his horse last summer...and he was the fellow in the automobile," Gene said.

"Father, you will not believe this, but Albert's father tried to get a judgement against this guy--Albert had a broken rib from the horse incident."

"Now, why wouldn't I believe that? If he caused an accident..."

"Well, this boy passed out from fright when we skimmed over his head, ran off the road and hit a tree..."

"Served him right!" Mr. Henrey tapped his walking stick on the floor emphatically.

"We flew around-- got landed, Mr. Pickerell and the boys pushed the plane back into the barn where it was stored. --when Mr. Pickerell went down to check on the automobile...this fellow was just coming to. He told the sheriff when he got back to town he was almost run over by an airplane! The sheriff arrested him for public intoxication! His father finally took the automobile away from him, and his allowance was cut! We haven't seen hide nor fender of him since."

"That's it! That's it! He got his comeuppance! For sure..." Mr. Henrey laughed heartily. "Good, that's good!"

***************************

"What a good visit! I'm so glad they came," Agnes said as she the Henrey's automobile glided silently down the lane through the lengthening shadows.

"Yes, what an interesting life they have. They travel quite often now. Mr. Henrey was employed by the government before retiring," Jed put his arm around Agnes.

"Nissa, come help brother clean up," Gene smiled down at the little girl, and took her hand. "You can take this empty plate for me, okay?"

"Nissa hep..." with measured steps she carried the lone plate to the kitchen while Gene followed behind bringing a tray of cake and cookies.

Jed smiled at Agnes, "I guess we'd better be at the work also."

"I guess so!" Agnes smiled her answer.

"It's almost chore time," Gene put the last plate on the counter, "I guess I'll go on out and get started."

"Nissa come?" her little round face pleaded.

"I don't know..." Gene looked down his nose, and gave her a one-eyed look, "better ask first."

Her little feet tapped across the kitchen floor. She tugged on Jed's overall leg, "Nissa go?"

"I suppose so. You keep an eye on her though-" he cautioned Gene.

"She's pretty good. Nissa will sit on the feed barrels for me won't she?" Gene smiled down at her. Her pigtails waggled as she shook her head yes. "Let's go get your jacket and boots on then..."

Nissa chattered to Gene in her nonsense, no nonsense way as she stumped along beside him to the back porch, and all the time as they wrestled into their outside clothes.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Agnes asked as she headed for the coffee pot.

"Sure, pour me a cup, before I head out," he sat at the table. "Thank you," he accepted the mug. "So much happening all of a sudden," he blew on the hot coffee.

Agnes sighed and brought her cup around to sit down.

"Why the long face all of a sudden?" Jed asked.

"So many things are changing. So many changes that..." her brow creased and a her face wore a frown.

"Many things don't make sense?"

"Yes, I think that's it. Things were--simple. Now decisions are difficult. I feel like even simple choices carry consequences. Consequences that I don't understand...maybe even consequences I don't want."

"I thought maybe I should tell you," Jed blew on his coffee again, but this time it wasn't from necessity, "David is thinking of moving back to his family home."

"What! It can't be! David wouldn't take Bessie away from her friends--her family? And this has been David's home for the last five years! Many more thoughts whirled through her mind that did not make it to her tongue.

"Whoa! I didn't mean to drop the shoe too sudden."

"Eggs are in," Gene called as he opened the back porch door and set a bucket down.

"I'll be out shortly. After I finish my coffee here," Jed called in answer.

"Alright," Gene said as he closed the door.

"Well, I could see it coming, I guess, to be right honest," Jed put his cup on his knee waiting for it to cool.

"How's that?" Agnes said still dumbfounded. "I don't understand--why?"

"David can earn a better living. There's not enough here for him--but there's more than that--" Jed weighed his words.

"More than making a better living?"

"Well, Agnes, he's working as a preacher. You know that's a work of love, because he doesn't make much there. Especially for the knowledge he's got. Ever since back in '34, he's had big name congregations trying to entice him away. He works as a lawyer on occasion, and that pays better than anything."

"What about teaching? He's such a good teacher. What will the school do with out him?"

"All that is true, but schools are changing Agnes."

"Life is changing, Jed. Look around us. I'm frightened sometimes at the way things are moving, but what is it you are saying?"

"I'm saying that David teaches in the old style. The way it was in the old days, but new methods are coming along. He doesn't agree with the new methods."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. He says he's uncomfortable with them." Jed took a sip of coffee.
"He says that all children are made in the image of God. All children deserve a chance in life."

"So if he leaves, where does that leave our school? Who will do a better job of teaching than David? What does the school board think of his leaving?"

"Hey, hey!" he held up a hand, "Too many questions...I don't know, and I don't know...I don't know that he's made it official yet for one thing, and he hasn't set a time line on it either."

"But he's past the just thinking stage?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I will miss Bessie so!" Agnes said sorrow in her features as well as her voice.

"As you say, things are changing. I have thought on what you said the other evening. I know it's true. We can't hold Gene here. He's so intelligent--look how much he's done and learned! I feel it. Do you think he'll come back?"

"If he's smart he will."

story...

When I read a 'story' I know it didn't just spring on to the page as it is. I know that it is written, rewritten, then rewritten some more before the final draft. But these posts can give an idea of what and how a story begins to take shape.

I have been working on the rough draft of this story since December 2, 2008. It is about several World War II families, before and after the war. How the gospel affects them and how they respond to circumstances in their changing world and how belief in the gospel changes their response.

Some posts take longer than others due to the amount of research required, even for a rough draft...Smile... and sometimes where you end up is not where you begin.

There are general religious posts on a myriad of topics, some were written before the story posts-which began on December 2, 2008, and some scattered through the story. I have tried to number the chapters on the story or label the chapter with an 's'. Thank you much,

Deboraw

41 In the Flying Machine...

The hullabaloo drew Walter's attention just before the jerk threw him sideways. He clutched desperately for the side of the plane to avoid being thrown to the ground.

"Oh, no!" David moaned.

"Oh, Lord, help!" the words escaped Gene's lips without conscious thought. A picture flashed through his mind of his new friend being thrown to the ground, or falling helplessly from the plane.

"They're gonna hit the fence!" Mitch and Ike hollered as they came running in time to watch the airplane gain speed. It bumped and swerved along the hard cow path for a spell as Walter fought to stay on board.

Albert flopped to the left side with the starting jerk. He continued to flail from side to side with every bounce and jerk. Attempting to right himself, he grabbed at every thing and anything...his eyes grew large in his long pale face as the fence at the end of the cow pasture began to race toward him.

"Oh, good Lord! My Pa's gonna kill me! he said with a loud groan as the momentum of the vehicle increased dramatically.

"The whole thing's gonna be busted up!" Mitch shouted.

"Well, I'll be ding..."

"That'll be enough young man!" Ike's father twisted his ear. "When we ought to be askin' the favor of the Almighty, there's no reason to go offendin' Him with foul language!"

The spunky little plane lifted clear of the fence by a hair's breadth, and skimmed over the head of the driver in the fancy automobile a few seconds later.

Ahhh Ooga! the horn bellowed as it careened down the road a short distance before it crashed into the ditch coming to rest at the foot of a scrubby, twisted tree.

The group on the ground watched in horror and amazement as the red and black airplane evened out and barely rose above the tree tops its motor buzzing.

"Pastor Dave, lead us in a prayer fer them youngun's," Mr. Stroll said as he removed his hat and bowed his head.

Every one bowed their head also as Mr. Pickerell began in his deep reverent voice, "Almighty God, we come before thee beseeching thee on behalf of those two young men suspended in your heaven. Be merciful and return them to us soon...and safely for it is in Jesus name that we ask--Amen.

"Amen!" Mr. Stroll nodded decisively. He clapped his straw hat back on his graying hair, and looked up into the blue sky expectantly.

"Well, looky there!" Ike shouted as the airplane circled back toward them.

Every one craned their neck watching as the plane flew overhead. It appeared as if Walter was perched half inside the plane still clutching onto--what they could not tell. They watched as it flew on north and made a wide swing and came back from the south. It looked like it was coming in lower, but still too fast.

"They's gonna take the weather vane off the barn!" Mrs. Stroll half screamed and ducked--although she could have known they were not going to hit her.

The next time around Walter was at the controls. The little airplane came in, touched down with a slight bounce, then settled into the business of rolling toward the group gathered in the barnyard. Walter cut the engine and sat head in hands.

Albert Bluey looked--if possible--more pale than when he had woke up after the filly had left him behind in the dust.

"Oh, gol..., I'm sorry Mr. Pickerell--Mr. Stroll," he stammered. "But, I am so thankful--! I'm so thankful!" from the look on his thin face he spoke the truth. "I'm so thankful," he repeated.

"Yes, we are all thankful. And I believe we've had enough adventure today. Let's get this contraption rolled back into the shed!" Mr. Stroll, David, and the boys took their places and maneuvered the little ship back into the shed.

"Alright, Albert we'll give you a hand, but step careful now," David instructed.

Albert's legs wobbled, but he stepped out with help. He half stepped and half slid his way to a bale of hay. He flopped down and lay back with a groan.

"How are you doing?" David called from the ground up at Walter.

"We had visions of...of...very bad things for a time there," Gene crawled up on the wing to speak to Walter, who had regained a portion of his composure.

"You had visions of...? You should have been dangling out over nothingness..." Walter said with wonder. He pulled out his white handkerchief to wipe his face.

"We prayed for you. God listened."

"So that's who put me into the seat. I thought someone must have heaved me in somehow," Walter sat quiet for a short pause. "Remind me to stay away from that--that--Nemesis--I've never seen any one get into as many...situations... as Albert there!"

"You don't know the half of it! I could tell you stories about Albert and the automobile. Albert and the cow. Albert and..."

Enough!" Walter threw up his hands. "Enough...I lived through Albert and the airplane. That's good enough for me--" At that Gene and Walter began to roar with laughter until tears streamed down their faces.

"I wonder what ever happened to those guys in the automobile," Walter wiped his face again. "You should've seen the driver's face!" he began choking with laughter. "His eyes looked like this--" Walter's eyes and mouth flew wide open.

"I gotta get off this wing...before I roll off...!" Gene went into hysterics as he clambered down to the ground. He fell back on the hay bales gasping for air. "Oh, hallelujah! What a day!" He got his breath back as Walter threw himself down on the bale beside him.

"Wal...I don't know what you two find so funny!" Albert's brown eyes looked much darker in his droll face. "I just don't know when I've ever been so skeered in my whole life!"

Gene elbowed Walter, "Show Albert the--the--the face!" he began to hoot all over again.

"You didn't get a look at that driver's face, Albert. I could have shook hands with him I was that close...and his face. I've never seen a face like--it was like this," and Walter's features flew into the look.

"That is kinda funny," Albert snickered, "but I think I've looked like that myself a time or two..." then they all three roared at the joke.

"Next time you go up, it might be wise to plan first, Albert!

"It wasn't my fault. I was just sittin' there mindin' my own business. It's that dumb mutt what's always slobberin' and barkin' at--everything!"

"David went down to check on the driver, and the occupants of the automobile. Maybe they'll stop frequenting this territory," Gene said.

"Maybe," Walter shrugged. "I say we've had enough excitement for one day, let's head on home."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Albert, if you want I'll give you a ride down to your corner..." Gene offered.

"I guess. I'm thinking I ought to just walk, but I don't know if my legs would carry me that far right now."

"I won't tell him this horse hasn't ever been ridden double," Gene whispered to Walter.

"Are you tempting fate or..." Walter rolled his eyes.

Gene just grinned in answer. "Let's ride then," he swung up on Samson then kicked his foot out of the stirrup so Albert could mount. Samson's ears flew back, his head arched down, but he stood his ground.

"Keep your feet off his flanks, and we ought to be all right," Gene spoke over his shoulder. The threesome rode quietly across the field taking the usual short cut, then half a mile to where the Bluey farm lane met the road.

"Here you are. It's not all the way home, but close," Gene waited while Albert swung down careful not to touch the flank.

"Thanks, Gene. It's closer than I was. See you tomorrow."

"Have a good night then, we'll see you later!" the boys waved then kicked the horses into a lope toward home.

"I knew those Stroll boys would get you two into some kind of mess! Oh, my!" Agnes sank down with a thunk. "What would we ever have told your parents, Walter Henrey!"

Gene raised his eyebrows at Walter as they exchanged glances. Neither one had expected Agnes to take the news so hard.

"Now--Mrs. Wade, it's all part of being a..."

"It's part of being a man, Agnes. You gotta get used to the fact. Walter--he's a grown up...young adult, and...?" Jed blinked away the visual image of Gene standing on a precipice--the verge of manhood. The idea hit Jed with a sudden wallop. He turned away to hide his reaction, and spied the three layer chocolate cake sitting on the counter. He reached for the knife, "Here, have a piece of cake, boys," he said sliding big pieces of cake on to plates.

"Jed, you'll spoil their supper," Agnes looked up startled.

"Naw! They're growin' boys--besides the way they're goin' we best let 'em have their cake now."

"Jed!" Agnes screeched then caught the ornery twinkle in his eyes. "Jedidiah Wade! Course you boys can have cake...my father used to say, 'eat your dessert first...'," Agnes fanned herself. "I'd say you two have had enough adventure for today."

"Thank you, Mr. Wade," Walter accepted the plate. "I don't think I've ever seen a more appetizing cake."

"This is really good!" Gene said. "It wasn't really the Stroll boys fault--or even Albert's," Gene stopped and took a bite.

"Really, Mrs. Wade, it was just--" Walter stopped to think. "I'd say, just dumb luck."

"I'd say 'dumb luck' happens too often with them two!"

"Yes, and Albert Bluey," Jed chimed in. "That boy--it 'pears to me--is always right in the middle of something!"

"Yeah, he can't help it," Gene said. "He isn't any dumber than most of us. I think he just has a knack."

"A knack?"

"He can be standing there minding his own life, and chance comes along and hits him alongside the head!"

"I don't think that's a good knack to have."

"Well, maybe not, but so far he's pretty close to a one talent man..."

"Oh, Nissa!" Agnes was teaching her daughter to use her spoon neatly. "Here, honey..."

"It's time for us to head out to the field. Won't take us long."

"Supper will be in about an hour and a half, so don't dally--" Agnes finished cleaning the cake off of Nissa's plate. "That's all, baby," she smiled and showed her the empty plate.

"Aww gone," Nissa repeated and held up her pudgy baby hands.
************************************

Walter lay awake in the night. With his eyes closed he still experienced the texture on the fuselage, the desperation of getting into the inside of the ship safely. He could smell the fear, and feel the adrenalin pulsing through his veins. Yes, it was funny, but there was more truth in his words than laughter. "Someone must have heaved me in somehow." Walter did not remember how he found strength to get into the plane. He remembered scrambling to gain a hand or foot hold, and then he was inside.

He opened his eyes to the dark. The conversation from the chess game came back to him..."I believe in God. You can't have something without a creator. Nothing comes from nothing."
*****************************

"I don't know how it happened, Agnes."

"What do you mean?" The rocker creaked softly on the porch boards. Agnes crooned a quiet childhood ditty, and Nissa, sleepy eyed, began drifting into sleepy land.

"What I mean is...have you looked at our boy lately?" anger and confusion smoldered in Jed's eyes.

"Well," Agnes drug the word out with a sigh. "Yes, I have," she smoothed the baby's fine tawny hair off of her forehead. "Yes, I have."

"He's growed up! When did...how?" he faltered his Bible resting on his knee.

"It's going to be powerful hard to let him go. That must be why God sent us Nissa..." Agnes continued to stroke the soft baby skin.

"Let him go?" His voice held a note of horror.

"Yes, let him go. God has a purpose for each of us. Our lives will always be twined, but the paths don't necessarily go parallel at all times."

"I guess I never thought..." the velvet darkness had settled around them.

"We saw a change when he came back from Europe. He settled back into our life so easy like, maybe we thought we could keep him here. But there was a subtle change on the inside, Jed. A change that was deeper than the fine clothes he wore."

"I don't see how he could be more of my son if we had birthed him ourselves. When you've suffered and worked, and--side by side--," he paused. "I know you're right. It's just, time has passed so quick. Gene's only sixteen...going on seventeen, but it's gone so fast. And I'm afraid of the future. The government goin' the way it is here at home. People's just plain foolish!"

"And what we can see of the rest of the world isn't reassuring. We thought the last world war was the one to end them all...awful, awful things," she said with a shudder.

"Things look to be darkening on all sides."

"It's time for bed. You want to take Nissa? I have some things to put away in the kitchen then I'll be up."

"Yes, let me have the little tyke," he put his Bible on the arm of the chair and took the baby from Agnes. Jed knew it was best to let the troublesome thoughts rest. Morning would come and things would look brighter then.

"This is the best bacon and eggs, Mrs. Wade, and these biscuits are so light! You'll have to give Mother the recipe for our cook--" Walter slathered homemade butter and plum butter on his steaming hot biscuit.

"I'm sure your cook has plenty of biscuit recipes, Walter."

"She may have, but none of them beat yours!"

"Well, thank you. That is so kind of you," she smiled with pleasure.

"I think today we'll just go...?" Jed began, but the telephone jangling interrupted him. "I don't know...who could that be?" he stumped out to where the telephone hung just inside the kitchen.

"Hello?!" he never had gotten the notion out of his mind that sound traveled over the wires and he didn't need to talk loud just to be heard. "Hello? Yes, Mr. Henrey! Yes, Walter's right here. Just a Minute."

"Yes, sir?" Walter held the receiver to his ear, and spoke into the mouth piece. "Well...yes, sir. Any time you are ready...Yes, I will be ready. I'll see you soon. Good bye," he hung up.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wade," he turned to the family. "Father is going to be taking Mother for a 'pleasure' drive. They will be in Littleton for lunch and wish to stop out and pick me up early afternoon. Something has come up quite suddenly, and--"

"That is quite all right, Walter," Jed held up his hands. "I was thinking we could go fishing, but--God willing--there will be another time. Get your gear packed, and you boys better hurry around if there's any good bye saying that you need to do..."

"Thank you both. I have enjoyed my visit with you so much. Yes, there are several things I need to do before leaving. Gene, come help me pack..."

"Sure, I'll come with you. I've got something I want to give you..." the boys' voices faded out as they hurried up the stairs.

"I don't know--but it sounded urgent to me," Jed frowned as Agnes began clearing the table.

"Urgent? Why would it be urgent? Do you suppose it has to do with those rumors about the Dorkings...and Angela?"

"How would I know," he almost snapped.

"Jed! You don't have to be angry at me...I was just wondering aloud."

"I know, Peaches. There's just been so many queer things happening lately."

"We'll find out soon enough, I guess. I'll fix a nice dessert and plan on a small luncheon for when they arrive...just in case they have time for a visit..." Agnes thought out loud. "Just in case..."

s 40 "hey!"

Too late Eileen saw Angela, and her guests. Her face flamed with embarrassment...

"I'm sorry," the hotel manager said, "the tables are all taken. You will have to come back tomorrow."

Greg surveyed the posh dining room with elegant table settings and the well dressed patrons. His eyes stopped, and narrowed. Anger rose in his heart when he recognized Gene Wade. The nerve of that dirt farmer, sitting next to Angela and snickering. Greg knew who he was laughing at... "Yeah, well you can tell those farmers to leave, and we'll just take those seats..."

"I'm sorry," Mr. Wappleburg glanced in the direction Greg Bilker pointed. "I see no 'farmers'. Only Guests of his Lordship, and Le Comte Bouchette."

"Come on Greg," Eileen hissed. "I don't want a scene!" she turned to leave.

"I want..." his voice rose belligerently.

"Well, I don't!" Eileen walked back out the door as fast as she could, wishful that no one...especially Angela's friend, Walter, had seen her...

"Excuse me," Walter stood. "I think there are a few minutes before the musicians begin."

"I'll be right back, Angela," Gene followed close behind Walter.

Greg Bilker followed Eileen out the door, "Just where do you think you're going?" he snatched angrily at her. "I said we would come for the show, and I'll get us..."

Eileen pulled away. "Greg, I don't want to come here. I just want to leave. Let my arm loose!" she tried to pull away.

"Eileen!" his fingers dug into her wrist.

"You're hurting me...let me go!" she cried.

"Would you mind?" Walter said as he removed his tailored evening coat and handed it to Gene.

"No--that's quite alright," Gene accepted the coat. "Anything else you would care for me to hold?"

"I think that should do it...I shan't be long here. Pardon me," Walter tapped Greg on the shoulder. "Don't you know--that's not the way you treat a lady?"

"Butt on out buster, this isn't any of your affair," Greg snarled.

"Greg, just leave me alone!" Eileen pulled free.

"Alright! You asked for it--" Greg wound up a punch as he turned toward his opponent.

Pop! Walter's fist caught him in the nose. Pop, pop...two quick jabs to the jaw. Before Greg knew what had happened he was leaning against the lamp post, holding a handkerchief to his bloody nose, wondering just what was going on.

"Sorry, but you would have it...I told you, that is no way to treat a lady. Would you care for another go round?" Walter wiped his brow with his immaculate white handkerchief.

"Why you...!" Greg dropped his handkerchief and took a step toward this interloper.

Walter handed his handkerchief to Gene then up came his fists, "Go ahead...I'll give you the first punch," he offered.

"The rest of you boys just back off. I wouldn't make any hasty moves on your part," Gene warned Greg's other two friends.

Greg was a good fighter, but in one fluid motion Walter moved out of the way of Greg's punch and with the same fluid motion came back with two solid punches of his own then delivered two more swift punches for added emphasis.

"Your coat?" Gene held out the item. Greg's buddies stood google-eyed, not sure what to do.

"Yes, I think we are done here," Walter slipped back into his evening coat, and tucked his handkerchief into its place.

"Eileen..." he offered her his arm. "Would you care to join us?"

Eileen's upward gaze into his face focused only on his sympathetic brown eyes. Her heart did a thousand flips in those few seconds. "Yes," she whispered. She draped her evening wrap over her reddened wrist and accepted his arm.

The whole fracas had appeared framed in the hotel window, almost like a picture show. Wait! Wait! mentally Angela's mind shouted. She squelched the desire to run out and stop the show. Walter was her friend. He was there embedded in her memory from the earliest moments. Now she saw him slipping away...but he had always been a brother figure in her mind, nothing more. It could not be jealousy that she felt, or could it?

Eileen had been her mother's pick for a guest, not someone Angela considered as a friend. Too many feelings, too many emotions crowded into her world as the three some approached the table.

"Let's rearrange our seating," Walter suggested. "Gene, you sit where I sat, and I'll sit where Gene sat, and..."

"I'll move down one space, and Eileen can sit in between," Edgar moved over to the last empty seat.

The waiter brought a glass of water for Eileen, and the lights dimmed slightly as the first notes began to float over the hushed audience.

****************************************

"Chance. Just pure chance. That's what brought us together," Lord Hughes told David.

"I would attribute it to the providence of God, myself." David dabbed at his mouth and slid his chair back from the table. "We could retire to my study and let the girl clear the table?"

"I suppose it it difficult to secure competent help out here in the wilderness," Philip Bouchette added. "No matter, we can fend for ourselves--Miss? I would like some tea...in the library, please."

David smiled, amused at his acquaintances' idea of 'fending for themselves', and living in the 'wilderness'.

"This way," David showed the pair to his library. "It will be a few weeks before Bessie is out of 'confinement'. She and the new baby are resting comfortable now...thankfully. However, if you don't mind...have a seat while I dash up and make sure all is well with Bessie and the little one..."

"Right then, we'll just take a look around," Lord Hughes said.

"I'll be right back. Nora..." David was off on his errand.

"This is quite a comfortable little cottage," the count said seating himself on the sofa.

"How the local people live here year round is beyond me," Lord Hughes exclaimed as he perused the books on the shelves.

"It would be quite a strain...I would find it necessary to import competent help. Everyone is so...green. No one knows the first thing about etiquette really."

"In some ways that is what is so appealing about this country. It's so new, so rough..."

David opened the door, careful not to drop anything. "Bessie's resting peaceful, and so is the baby. Here, Nora," he spoke over his shoulder to the young girl that was bringing the hot water. "Just put the pot on the coffee table there. Did you two make yourself comfortable?" he put the tray down next to the pot of hot water. "After you clear the table, wash and put away the dishes, then you may go home."

"Yes, Mr. Pickerell."

"Thank you, Nora." David said as she backed out the door.

"I did not know that you were studying for law?" Lord Hughes snapped the book shut he had been holding and replaced it on the shelf.

"Actually, I have already finished. I have done small cases as well as teach school and preach," David ran his fingers through his thick dark hair.

"Then you can appreciate all the more fully the case we have been working on," Lord Hughes sat down and took the cup of hot tea that David handed him.

"I certainly can. In this day of enlightenment it is unthinkable that people can just 'poof' disappear!" David handed the Count his cup. "Would you care for some sugar?" he held up the sugar bowl. "So does Angela know?"

"Not exactly...the Henreys are staying with the Dorkings. We want to make sure we have all of the legal points covered before we make any moves. Maybe we should have you look over these papers to see if you think we've missed anything..."

"I can do that if you would like," David moved the tea service to his desk in order to spread the papers out.
*****************************

"All the adventures have been had," Albert Bluey said with a dejected sigh and laid back on the grassy road bank, and stuck a piece of fox tail grass in his mouth. "There's nothin' new under the sun...just like it says in the Bible."

"Oh come on Al, that can't be true. Why, just think-- a couple of weeks ago you got your first broke rib!"

"That wasn't an adventure! But my Pa said if it ever happened again it would be an adventure..." Albert wore a sheepish grin.

"Last year I tried smokin' a cigarette, but that wasn't an adventure," Mitch said.

"I thought about trying some tobacco. My pa smokes a pipe on occasion..." Albert sat up again.

"My Pa caught me a smoking that thing...he rolled me up several and made me smoke ever one a them...I was so sick! I liked ta died, I was so sick! I never want to see another one a those things!"

"Maybe I don't want to try that after all...it's just too bad there isn't anything exciting no more," Albert laid back in the grass.

"You know, now that you mention it," Ike Stroll sat with his arms around his knees, "when we was cleaning out one of the stalls in the back of the barn--you'll never guess what I found..." he looked around the group of boys.

"Well, tell us what you found!" Kenny Trevor spoke up after what seemed like a long pause.

"I tell you what...Ma is frying doughnuts today. Let's go to our place and I'll show you what I found--"

Missus Stroll set the heaping platter of hot fried doughnuts on the table, "Eat up now, boys!" she exclaimed with hearty encouragement. She was a big boned motherly woman. She and her only daughter were always busy with the housekeeping, meals, and daily routine.

The boys took doughnut after doughnut, but the platter was kept full and always there was the encouragement for them to, "Eat up! There's a-plenty where those came from!"

"I'm sure I'll bust if I eat any more!" Larry Hill moaned as he finished off his tenth doughnut.

"...maybe I'll just eat one more little one...Albert--where are you stuffing those you've eaten! And you're so skinny!"

"I've got a hollow leg. I just put them in there when you're not looking...for eatin' later," the tall young man grinned as he stuck the last of one in his mouth and picked up the next hot doughnut. "These is real good Missus Stroll. Course I got ta say my ma's is best--family and all--but put side to side, I'd be hard pressed to choose!"

"Now, Albert, you're right. Stand behind your Ma...and I've tasted her cookin' she is a mighty good cook...but I thank you for the compliment!"

"It's the truth, ma'am!" he finished up his doughnut.

"Ma, I got something to show the fellas out in the barn...when they're done eating."

"Ike, now don't go getting into no foolishness--you hear me now boys?" she wagged a warning finger at them.

"Yes, ma'am," Ike and Mitch chorused. "Come on, boys. Let's go," Ike eyed the way the group was devouring the doughnuts.

"Thank you, ma'am," the boys stuffed the last of their doughnuts in their mouth as they filed out of the house. Dust rose from their bare feet as they crossed the farm drive way, and ambled into the darkened barn.

"It's back here in this big back stall..." Ike led the way to a dark out-of-the-way stall in the back of the big barn. He leaned against the wall so the boys could crowd around and see his find.

"Oh! Now that's a find!" Albert breathed reverently as if it had been the Holy Grail. "Can I touch it?"

"Sure, it looks sturdy enough..."

"When did you find that?" Ike's brother Mitch frowned at him. "Why didn't you tell me about it first?"

"Pa sent me to clean back in here this morning. I woulda told you about it, but the fracas in the hen house right before lunch time clean knocked it out of my mind. That is, till we were sitting on the bank there, and Albert was feelin' sorry for hisself..."

"What kind of...boat do you think it is?" Albert caressed the wooden frame with his long calloused fingers. "What's it got all them doodads there on it for?"

"Albert!" Mitch burst out, "Albert, don't you know an airplane when ya see it?!"

"An...airplane? Oh, wow!" Albert stopped stroking the wood, "You aren't pulling a fast one on me now are you?" his eyes narrowed and he squinted at the Stroll brothers. "Like the time you told me about that automobile out by the haystack..."

"Now, Albert we was just funnin' ya that time...no, Al, this is the real thing. That there is an airplane frame. Look--see here--you take some kind of material, attach it onto the frame, cover it with dope, and..."

"Ya, I see. The only dope is me! What would an airplane be doing in the back of this here barn? You suppose it's gonna fly back here? An there ain't no motor on it neither! And 'zactly how's it gonna get out of here? Just tell me that, will ya!"

"He's got a good point there," several other voices agreed with Albert.

"I tell ya what, Al," Ike pushed his Doolittle Feed store cap to the back of his head. "Mitch, you run see if you can find Pa. He knows some about airplanes, he can tell us what he thinks."
************************************************

"Mr. Dorking, why in all these years, didn't you even attempt to find Angela's family?"

"That's not quite true, Sir Hughes. We did wonder, and even look, but there was nothing in her mother's belongings that gave a next of relation," Bill Dorking wiped the perspiration from his brow.

"We raised her like she was our own daughter. Took care of her, and saw to it she had everything she needed!" Mrs. Dorking spoke with an indignant air.

"You lived quite well at that," Sir Hughes sat back on the sofa assessing the couple before him. "On Angela's money..."

"You wouldn't want her to be raised like a pauper, now would you?" Mrs. Dorking sniffed.

"So, what do you propose to do?"

"I'm not exactly sure--" Lord Hughes turned at the knock on the library door.

"You wanted me?" Angela opened the door and peeked into the room.

"Yes, Angela. Come in and shut the door please," Mr. Dorking smiled at her.

"Angela, would you like to come stay at Oak Park with the Henreys and myself for a few weeks?" Sir Hughes asked.

"I don't know," Angela's eyes opened wide and she grasped at her lace collar. "I--don't know..."
*************************************

"I'm working a couple of four year olds for my employer. I'd like to take them out if you don't mind...First, let's go up to the house for a few minutes. I've got some things I want to show you before we go out." Gene reached down and scratched Shep behind the ears. "Stop your whining, you old scoundrel!" he scolded.
Aunt Agnes! Uncle Jed!" he called as the screen door slapped shut behind Walter Henrey and himself.

Walter stood with his hands in his pockets perusing the family pictures on the walls in the living room. He stopped to run his fingers over a well worn Bible laying on a small table in the corner close to the colonnade between the dining room. Such a small house he thought, but spotlessly clean and well kept. Nice furniture, with the look of family treasures. Out of the corner of his eye the color pink caught--and drew-- his attention to the open stair door.

"Hello there," he smiled at the little blond cherub perched primly on the bottom step. She continued to observe him silent as a cat, thumb secured in her mouth.

"We won't be late for supper," Gene's voice called over his shoulder as he bustled into the room. "Come on Nissa," he caught up the little bundle and taking two steps at a time carried her along with him leading the way to his bedroom.

That was an odd thing Walter had noticed about this new found acquaintance. Like a battery full of stored energy, Gene did not look like anything out of the ordinary, but he was boundless in many surprising ways.

Although the bedroom was small compared to what Walter was accustomed to, it was neat and comfortable. The room contained a four poster bed covered with the hand sewn nine-patch quilt, the polished wood floor was covered with one large home made rag rug, and several smaller rugs placed around the room, a dresser as well as a bureau matched the bed, a desk and chair took up one corner, and a trunk sitting at the end of the bed completed the furnishings.

While Gene was busy thumbing through several sketches and drawings with one hand, and holding the little girl with the other, his friend was at liberty to look at the projects hanging on the walls, or in cases.

"You must be always busy!" he exclaimed. "My father's conservatory doesn't look half this busy! Whose picture is this?" Walter stopped to scrutinize an oval picture in a dark colored frame. The tall slim man in a stylish suit with a serious, but not quite austere air stood beside a graceful large-eyed, dark-haired beauty in a taffeta and lace gown and a matching taffeta and lace hat. She held in her gloved hands a dainty bouquet.

"Don't Nissa--" Gene shook his head as Nissa patted his face. "That's my father and mother," he turned to look at what Walter was looking at. "My father was killed in an accident, and my mother died shortly there after. My Uncle and Aunt adopted me, and I've been here ever since."

"That's tough--about your parents--but I say, they're quite a dashing couple. You and your Uncle look so much alike...but now I can see why. There's such a family resemblance."

"Most people think of us as father and son," he stopped looking through his drawings. "Nissa! You little minx!" he smiled at her as she threw her pudgy little arms around his neck.

"Wuv you!"

"Love you, too. Here--let brother put you down on the chair. Here's a sheet of paper and pencil, while I show Master Walter brother's sketch..."

"You're very patient," Walter took the sketch Gene held out to him. "This is very good--why are you sketching airplanes?" he examined the different layouts of wings, and fuselage.

"Some neighbor boys found the frame of an airplane in their barn," Gene grinned.

"And they think they're going to finish it and..." Walter laughed. "Do they have any idea about--flying, or--any of this?" he waved a hand over the sketches.

"Naw, we're all pretty green at this. David is helping. He has some experience, and I found some blueprints, and some drawings at the library in town. You mentioned that you had helped build and fly a plane...I thought maybe we could..."

"Sure. I can take a look, maybe, do you have a motor?"

"Well, somebody's brother has a friend that has a motorcycle that they're going to let us have."

"It'll have to be remodeled, you know," Walter scratched his chin. "But it can work."

"Let's ride on over then, and take a look--" Gene rolled up his sketches and stuck them under his arm, and helped Nissa down off her chair. "You going to help make some cake?" he took her hand.

"We'll be back before chore time!" he handed Nissa to his Aunt. "We're riding the bays over to the Stroll farmstead. We'll be gone for a couple of hours."

"You be careful now...them Stroll boys have a knack for mischief and you don't need any of that!" Agnes warned.

"I know, but David should be there, so maybe things will be calm," he reassured her.

"Humpf! We'll see--don't be late,now."

"I don't usually saddle my own mount. Father was adamant when I first began riding that I learn how to take care of my animal, but after I became proficient he wasn't as strict," Walter pulled the cinch up tight then dropped the stirrup down.

"I'm the chap that does it all here. I've been working horses for Mr. Goodnite since spring," Gene slipped the bridle on his horse and unlatched the halter and hung it on the peg in front of him. "Uncle Jed came down with pneumonia last winter. I've stayed home to help in the field and do the farm work. We were needing money for the doctor bills and things...Mr. Goodnite was looking for a hand, and it worked for both of us," he finished with a shrug. "Your horse's name is Shamgar--Sham for short."

"That's an odd name," Walter laughed as they led their horses to the barn door.

"Mine's Samson. Mr. Goodnite allowed me to name them...I figured I'd start with the Judges," Gene flipped the reins over his horse's neck, stuck his foot in the stirrup and swung up.

"You folks must be very religious," Walter stepped into his stirrup and did likewise.

"Religious?" Gene blinked in surprise. "Why's that?"

"I'd never have thought to name horses after Judges out of the Bible, is all."

"Oh, folks do stuff like that all the time around here--doesn't mean they're religious--maybe they're just desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Well, they can't think of anything else and it's Bible names what comes to mind."

The boys both laughed as they clucked their horses into a trot down the lane toward the road.

"Is this farmstead far?" Walter asked.

"No. You can see it from here--across the section, but you can't get there from here."

"I'm thinking you've got an odd way of expressing yourself..."

"Just follow me. You'll see what I mean. I've been working these two slow and easy, so we won't flat out run them."

"You lead the way, then. Don't worry about me."
******************************************

"Watch it! Watch it!" David cautioned the boys as they carefully positioned the motor. "Whew!" He said and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. "This airplane is finally taking shape. It won't be long before it's in running order.... By the way, Walter, how long will you be with us yet?"

"Father and Mother will be leaving soon, and probably Sir Hughes. They have already stayed much longer than anticipated..." Walter turned to Gene, "If you follow these steps here," he traced with a finger on the blue prints.

"Okay, I understand," Gene nodded and turned back to the work they needed to do next.

Walter stepped back to talk with David. "So, I'm not sure that we will be here another week even..."

"I helped build a glider back a few years ago," David said, "but since you have built your own plane, and have a pilot's license--well, I don't need to tell you how indispensable that has been! I was hoping you'd be around when we get it together."

"We're gonna have to go do chores in a little bit, Mr. Pickerel," Mitch and Ike came to stand beside David and Walter. "We have everything in place and hooked up that Gene gave us to do."

"I need to be headin' on home too," Albert said as he scooped up a kitten. "Mitch these things are the cutest fool things. My Ma's been wanting a couple of cats--we got mice so blamed--'scuse me, Mr. Pickerell, I didn't mean..." Albert blushed bright red, "but we got mice awful bad."

"I think Ma and Pa would be willing to part with a couple of kittens. I'll ask and let you know," Mitch said reaching out and poking at the kitten with a piece of straw. "They are purty cute at that," Mitch snickered as the kitten vigorously batted at the straw with its tiny paws. "Ouch!" he pulled his finger back as the sharp claws caught on his finger instead. He looked at the school teacher and stuck his finger in his mouth to keep from saying anymore.

"You boys have done a fine job with finishing this project," David stood back to assess how far they had come. "The skin is on, the wings are on, the engine has been converted and it's in place--there's just some fine tuning and it should be ready for a test. I'm hoping we can have it going before Walter has to leave..."

"I guess we'll come by tomorrow after school--maybe Saturday we'll have it ready?" Albert let the kitten jump down and run after its playmates that were rolling in the straw and clambering over a stack of lumber.

"We'll use that as a target anyway. Gene? Walter? I'll pick you up tomorrow after we're done with school?"

"That will be fine. We'll see you then tomorrow. Good night..." Gene and Walter waved at the rest of the boys as they each left walking or riding.

"I've enjoyed working on this," Walter grasped the reins on his horses bridle and mounted. "It will be good to get it finished though."

"It has been fun having you stay with us for the last week."

"I've enjoyed your Uncle and Aunt very much. They have a much more simple life than we do, but that's not all bad."

"Having lived in both situations it reminds me of a Bible verse--'I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.'

"That's a good idea...whatsoever state--be content. I'm quite happy to live the way I normally do. I don't know that I want anything different, but...that's still good. Be content."

They rode on in silence. Walter's eyes searched the landscape as he thought on what would it be like to live in the manner that these farmers did.

"My family has always had money--and wealth. We've always done what we wanted to in life..." Walter paused not sure of what he wanted to say.

"Money and wealth doesn't always bring happiness," Gene said.

"Yes, that's true. I had an Uncle that lost everything in the crash. It drove him crazy. Father had been more wise, and much more careful. The crash hurt us in some ways, but--" he shrugged.

"Your parents seem so nice. Quiet and not--this is an odd term maybe, but not haughty and prideful."

"They both have impressed on me that it is how you treat those who have less than yourself that shows the true character of a person. They were both excited with the prospect of my visit with you and your family."

Gene's face wore a puzzled look. "Why ever for?"

"They are both impressed with your Aunt and Uncle. Father liked some of your Uncle's observations the other evening at the Hotel. Mother thinks your Aunt is very stylish and elegant...of course your little sister--Mother has a soft spot for well-mannered little girls," he said with a grin. "Father says if more people paid attention to the hard-working men and women of this country we'd all be better off!"

"Whoa!" Gene's horse came to a stop in the shade of several scrubby trees growing in the fence row. "I'm glad we took this short cut." they watched a car speed down the road a mile away.

"Doesn't that guy ever give up?"

"He hasn't yet," Gene sighed. "At least he's not going our way. And he's gone now." They nudged their horses into a gentle lope across the pasture, out onto the road the car had just motored the other way on, and they turned toward home and evening chores.

"That was certainly a good meal, Mrs. Wade," Walter folded his napkin and slid back from the table.

"Thank you, Walter. It wasn't anything fancy, just home cooked fare," her smile was warm and friendly.

"You boys go on and finish your game, now. Jed and I will clear the table," Agnes tried to shoo Gene into the living room when he picked up his plate and began stacking it with the others.

"Since we don't usually have hired help," Gene explained to the company, we all pitch in and help clear things off. It may seem archaic, but..."

"No, no, I totally understand," Walter stood back. "When we go camping--my father and I like to go out on camping trips--we do our own cooking and clean up as well."

"You just wait for me in the living room. This won't take but a jiffy," Gene said.

"I need to pop up to my room for a minute before our game anyway," Walter excused himself.

Walter studied the chess board, re-planning his moves. Gene had picked up the game fast, and he had spoiled a couple of Walter's moves already.

Chess was not the fastest game Gene had ever played, and it was very tricky. He watched and pondered as Walter moved his rook then in the next move he moved his knight. "Check mate," Walter said quietly.

"Oh, no!" Gene grinned. "You got me again!"

"Yes, but you're catching on fast. That's the funny side of things, you know. Too many people get cocky. It's easy when you're playing someone inexperienced--I've seen good players get whipped because they figured the other person didn't know anything...and the other person got lucky."

"I like it. It's different than checkers, but it teaches me to look ahead."

"Yes, that and don't get cocky!"

"Strange that the most important piece on the board is the queen," Gene picked up his queen as he studied the board. "I think everyone should learn to play chess."

Walter blinked at him, "You may have something there," he agreed. "Angela thinks very highly of you--you know that, don't you," it was a statement more than a question.

"I guess I had hoped so."

"She does, and I appreciate that. She's like a sister to me. The Dorkings have moved quite often and I don't get to see her as much as when we were close friends and neighbors."

"Something is wrong in her life, isn't it?" Gene's gaze was concerned. "It's none of my business, but she's had some difficult times lately."

"Angela's a trooper. I can say that for her. And that's about all I can say. She's very close to Mr. Pickerell's wife isn't she?"

"It's rather odd, but, yes, she and Miss Bessie--I mean Mrs. Pickerell are very close. Angela has taken to helping Bessie since before the baby was born."

"Mr. Pickerell is very interesting," Walter paused rubbing his fingers mindlessly over his bishop. "You folks are much more...down home religious than people are where I come from."

"What makes you say that?"

"We usually attend church services once a week, but it's more of a social thing. You know, we don't want others to think we're--atheists or something. We don't want to take it too seriously though."

"I would like to say that I understand, but..."

"No, your religion means something to you, so of course you wouldn't understand. I wish I could feel that convinced. I wish I could feel so...sure."

"So--sure?"

"There's no doubt that your God exists, that he cares, and participates in your life. For me? I--I just don't feel it. Don't see it."

"I think doubt is good," Gene said. "You want to play another game, or?"

"Doubt? Good?" Walter looked astonished. "--we better get to bed...tomorrow's a busy day..." he sat up and began putting the pieces back in the box.

"It's like this...faith isn't a blind leap."

"That's what I've always thought it was...why isn't it?"

Gene turned the board around for Walter to reach the rest of the pieces.

"I test myself some times...for instance, do I believe God exists, and if so why?

"Okay, so what do you come up with?"

"I have to believe in a Creator--nothing comes from nothing--so that means all of this has to come from something..."

Yes, that's scientific fact. A creation has to have a creator," Walter's face creased in thought as he gently closed the box. "So you believe in God."

"The Bible contains facts that only God could and would know."

"Like what? I know professors who call it a bunch of fables...stories like the Indians, Eskimos, Africans...like their stories..."

Gene stood up and stretched. "David gave me some books, and archeological digs have uncovered artifacts that validate things scripture says. Science as well--look at Psalms where it says 'all things that pass through the paths of the sea...',"

"I guess I'll have to do some reading too." Walter said. "We'll have to get an early start in the morning...good night."

"Good night."

*************************************

"You about done back there, Gene?" Walter called from his perch on the wing.

"Yeah, just about..." Gene answered, he smiled at the picture Walter made in his immaculate shirt and trousers, balanced between the wings making the adjustments on the struts. He turned as the farm collie barked at the sound of David's auto rolling up the drive.

"Gene!" David motioned to him.

"What do you need?" he put down his wrench and walked out toward the automobile.

Albert slid out and walked toward the airplane, "Good dog! Good, boy!" he tried to push the extremely friendly animal away. "Go on Ruff. Stop slobbering on me! ...it's sure turned out fine..." he shouted over the noise of the engine, and ran his fingers over the fuselage and along the tip of the wing. "Say, Walter, could I..." he hesitated, "could I just sit in it while it's running?"

"What's that Albert?" Walter felt like he was doing contortions trying to get everything adjusted just right.

"I just wondered--if maybe I could sit in the cockpit while it's idling. I won't touch nothin'...just to sit..."

"Well, don't touch anything! Just sit,"

"Oh, boy...that's all I want to do...it's like a dream come true..." he was so excited he almost tripped. Albert forced his body to calm down as he clambered into the cock pit.

"Okay, Al. Just sit...quiet...I'm just about done,"

"We'd have been here sooner, but had some problems with some new children..." David explained as he and Gene stood by the car. "Albert's been--what is he doing?"

"Looks like Al is going to sit in the airplane. Don't worry, it's well tethered...and not going anywhere," Gene grinned at David.

"That maybe so, but you know Al..."

"I wondered where you were. Mitch and Ike have been home for about half an hour. They had to run do some errand for their ma. They'll be right...that fool dog--I don't know how he got loose. Mitch had him tied up, but he's back to pestering around..."

"Woof! Woof! Woof! Ruff bounded around the big gray and white mother cat, who had been content to watch the multi-colored kittens rolling and frolicking in the hay in front of the shed.

The mother cat took exception to the big, dumb mutt. Convinced she and her brood were in imminent danger she expanded to a ball of claws and fur twice her normal size. Hissing and spitting at the offending creature, the pair began dancing around each other. Ruff, believing it was a good natured adventure, kept circling around her barking with absolute abandon.

Mama cat and two kittens made a wild dash, flew up the rope that tied the plane to the side of the barn, and, latching on, and hung there tenaciously.

Gene's shoes were filled with lead. He saw the mama cat and two kittens hanging on the rope, the excited mutt yipping and jumping up to nip at the air just under the frightened animals, and he knew what had to occur next...

s39-- Dinner/Party

"Don't need anymore polishing--You look ready to go, son," Jed said around the kitchen door.

Gene gave himself a critical look in the mirror that hung over the wash basin. He gave his hair one more swipe with the comb. "I guess this is as good as I get. I shouldn't be too awful late," he dropped the comb back into the comb and brush holder that hung on the wall beside the sink. "Are you three ready?" the sunlight barely slanted through the kitchen window as he walked into the dining room.

"You are going over to Bessie's brother's, right? Say now..." Gene closed one eye and squinted at Jed. "you don't look too bad yourself, Uncle. I'd say Aunt did a job on your evening clothes as well."

Jed straightening up stood taller in the afternoon light. He had a certain easy air about him that made his tailored black suit fashionable enough to pass as evening clothes.

"Yes, we'll only be three blocks away...or --Agnes?" he blinked. "Agnes! You look...terrific! You've out done yourself!"

"Thank you..." Agnes smiled as color tinted her cheeks at the sudden notice. The deep rose colored silk dress with elbow length puff sleeves and a tulip style skirt that flowed to just above the ankles accentuated her still slender figure. Her long tawny hair was rolled just forward from ear to ear and around the back of her head, while a matching deep rose and black striped turban set off her fine facial features. Nissa's deep rose colored dress was sewn in a matching style, but with white lace trim and a white and rose colored bonnet.

"It's three-- you walk up north half a block then back east two blocks and then on north again half a block. And yes," she pushed the jeweled hat pin into her turban and firmly anchored it in place, "we're ready to go."

"Nissa, don't get messy now, honey," she bent to straighten the lace on Nissa's pink silk dress and twitch the collar into place.

"I would say you don't need to look any better...why the folks at the dinner party will be so dazzled by your presence the way it is!" Agnes brushed an imaginary object from Gene's coat as she examined his evening clothes, then his appearance from well combed hair to his black patent leather dress shoes.

"How fortunate that you spent last summer with Alistair in Europe. I poured over the fashion magazines trying to be up on the newest styles when I adjusted your evening clothes. I'd say you'll do...," she picked up her handbag and lace gloves. "No, Nissa, don't get Gene messy either. Just walk with me. Brother's going to a party and he wants to look nice, honey."

Gene winked, smiled and made a google-eyed face at Nissa. She giggled and began to skip and lisp, "Party. Party. Party." as Agnes took her small hand and they walked to the automobile.

Gene did not remember much about the drive into town. The weather was dry--but not exceedingly so--and nothing could ever be as hot as the summer's weather of 1936. The wind blew and blew, but at least it blew the dry, dusty road dirt away from them. Soon they were pulling up in front of the Dorking residence.

"You did remember your gifts?" Agnes worried out loud.

"Yes, Aunt. I have a box of hand dipped chocolates for the hostess, and a small nosegay for Angela..." he held up his wrapped boxes.

"Oh, good!" she exhaled.

"Don't worry, Aunt, it can't be much worse than meeting the Queen," he grinned at her.

"You never told me you met the Queen!" she turned to look at him in astonishment.

"I didn't--just several people close to her. And the Dorkings don't really size up to them at all. I'll see you all later, and you have fun."

"Oh! I never! ...you have a good time too. Jed, I just don't know about that boy!" she laughed as the door chunked shut.

Jed smirked into the rear view mirror then watched as Gene strode up the steps and shut the gate behind him at the top of the walk. "He seems to have his head on pretty straight to me, Agnes. For someone his age especial.... You and I've seen things and we still get amazed at goings on, but he just takes things in stride, you know."

"He looked so handsome in his evening attire. I didn't want to say too much. How did Grandma Wade's saying go? Something about Praise to..."

"Praise to the face, brings open disgrace," Jed finished for her. "I know--I didn't either, because of that very thing...too many folks that think too highly of themselves. There's another Grandma Wade saying--beauty is as beauty does; but ugly goes all the way to the bone..."

"Yes, old adages, but good ones."
**************************************

Gene waited patiently in the impressive foyer while he was announced. This wasn't the first time he had been in the Dorking's home, but it was the first time he had been an invited guest. A large pastoral painting hung in the entrance, and a heavy wooden table held a vase of summer flowers in soft colors accentuated with an occasional vivid blue, or red. Gene peered at his reflection in the well polished sheen of the wood work.

"This way, if you please," the butler indicated the correct room to him.

"Thank you," Gene said.

"So glad you could come," Mrs. Dorking gave him the standard greeting.

"Mrs. Dorking..." he handed her the chocolates with a slight flourish.

"Thank you..." she said and unwrapped the gift. "These are my favorite..."

"And these are for Angela," he handed the young lady her boxed flowers.

"Oh, Gene! How thoughtful!" Angela took the nosegay from its box. "These are so beautiful!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dorking, the only gift I have for you is my pleasant personality," he smiled at his former coach and shook his hand. It was only a year since the Dorkings had moved to the area, but Gene thought Mr. Dorking had aged five years in his appearance. The gray in his dark brown hair gave him a more distinguished look, but the worry lines on his face just made him look older.

"You've made Mrs. Dorking--as well as Angela--happy, and that's worthy of note," he said cordially.

"I say! Is that you Master Gene?" a familiar voice spoke heartily from close behind him.

"What...?! he turned quickly. "Sir Hughes...I didn't know you were in the area!" Gene bowed slightly, "And how long have you been back, sir?"

"We have only been in for a few days. I came in Saturday, and Monsieur Bouchette followed me in on Sunday."

"David mentioned that Le Comte Bouchette was to be arriving for a visit, but I had not understood that you were to come as well."

"Bonsoir, Master Wade," Philip Bouchette grasped Gene's hand in a hearty handshake. "Bonsoir, bonsoir!" he repeated. "You are acquainted with the Monsieur and Madame Dorking, oui?"

"Monsieur was one of my teachers at high school, and the mademoiselle was a school mate," Gene nodded in Angela's direction.

"Ah--a very pleasant mademoiselle...do you not think?" Philip said with a slight lift of the voice as well as an eyebrow.

"Yes, she's very pleasant...a good friend," Gene agreed hoping to head off any more speculation.

"La Mademoiselle has a good eye for her friends then," the count smiled and nodded. "You are looking well also, my young friend. What do you think, Monsieur Hughes?" he nodded in approval.

"Quite dapper, I'd say...Quite dapper indeed," Sir Hughes agreed.

"David Pickerell is hoping that we can have some time while you are here. I have been practicing on some of the arts you introduced me to last year. David and I have some questions --Monsieur Bouchette--Sir Hughes," Gene interrupted himself. "I would like to introduce an acquaintance of mine. Monsieur Le Comte Bouchette, and Lord Hughes, my friend, Edgar Deering. Edgar--Le Comte Bouchette and Lord Hughes."

"Good evening," Edgar made a slight bow to the pair of gentlemen.

"Bonsoir," Philip answered in return.

"Good evening," Sir Hughes echoed.

"Angela prevailed on your good nature also, I see," Gene grinned at Edgar.

"Oh boy!" he stopped embarrassed. "Pardon me, your graces, but do I ever feel like the only fish at a cat supper! Yes, Angela looked so...so..."

"Friendless? So forlorn?" Gene supplied.

"Yes, and now, here I am. Thank God you're here, Gene," Edgar felt like he was drowning in perspiration.

"Oui! Belle demoiselles!" Philip said with a sigh and a slight laugh.

"How have you become acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Dorking, Sir...if I may ask?"

"You may ask, Master Wade, but we have not at this moment enough time...to answer," Sir Hughes said. "We will have to wait for a convenient season to speak. They are about to announce for the meal."
******************************

"The flower arrangements are very artful. Don't you think?" Edgar made conversation with his dinner partner, Jessica Crest.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied with a doubtful glance at the flowers.

"And have you had an enjoyable summer?" Gene asked Eileen Cantor, his partner.

"Yes, we spent several weeks vacationing at the shore," Eileen was accustomed to society--more so than Jessica. "And yourself?"

"We have had a busy summer, but we aren't vacationing this year. Maybe next summer. Do you go to the beach every year, then?"

"Most every year. Mother has an Aunt that resides in the area. We go and visit her, then rent a cabin."

Gene observed the menagerie of eighteen guests. There were the few of his acquaintances from his school days, and two older couples he knew from around town. Sir Hughes had brought his sister, Nellie, but Gene did not know Philip Bouchette's Lady Jane. Then there was a smart looking older couple that Gene surmised must be the parents of the young man Angela was seated with. A young man possibly twenty years old, light brown hair, quiet and well mannered...and well polished.

How odd, each pair seemed to be a quiet conversation to themselves, almost whispering to each other.

"Do you ever think that we take ourselves a trifle too seriously?" Gene asked Eileen with a sideways glance.

"Too seriously? Whatever do you mean?"

"We are sitting around an impressive table. Everyone in fine apparel. Eating sumptuous food. And whispering about the weather."

"We weren't talking about the weather--"

"Well, not exactly the weather, but just--chit chat, you know. Nothing important."

"That's what we're supposed to be talking about..." she puzzled.

"Now, when the men go off by themselves they break out the brandy and cigars, you know, and talk about important stuff. I don't know what the ladies talk about, but here we just talk about the--weather."

"Oh, I see...and what should we be talking about?"

"What would come to your mind? What are you interested in?"

"I'm crazy to go to the World's Fair in Paris," animation lit her face. I've never been to Paris...only the shore," she sighed, the light faded out of her features.

"We were in Paris last year...but had to cut it short to make it home for the trial. Did you hear about Picasso's painting?" he asked.

"No, I hadn't heard anything about it..." her features revived.

"It isn't something we talk about in polite society, because it may offend the ladies."

"Gene Wade! You are so aggravating! I'm thinking Greg Bilker is right, you are a coward!"

"I can handle you," he said smoothly even though anger flushed his face.

"So what does that prove, I'm a girl?"

"If I can handle you, I can handle him."

"But I'm a girl...oh," she drug out the last word. "You are comparing Greg to a girl? But he did a job last week on Lonnie Smith...Lonnie was in the hospital you know."

"Yes, I know, but Greg doesn't fight fair. He had his 'boys' with him. Four, or five guys against one person isn't really fair, now is it?"

"Hmmm!" Angela cleared her throat and flashed him a look.

"Eileen?" he wondered had their voices gotten too loud?

"Yes?" she whispered demurely.

"My apologies," he smiled.

"That is why we're supposed to talk about the weather," she smiled back.

"I know, but just think how interesting it could get," he smiled and bent his head back over his soup.

"Have you been traveling much, Sir Hughes?" William Dorking asked.

"Just the usual amount. My sister, Nellie, and I were in Paris at the World's fair for several weeks. Le Comte met up with us one fine afternoon..."

"The world's fair has been in the paper lately. What was your impression of it," Mr. Dorking said.

"Very interesting. It's very interesting," Sir Hughes was non-committal.

"I've heard several things said about it. Some very interesting things...will you be in this area for long?"

"Only a few weeks. I usually try to get back to my park twice a year. This year has been very trying...very difficult to get away from London. Oh--Master Gene," he leaned slightly in Gene's direction. "I bring greetings from your Aunt Louise. We were at the Palace together one evening at an engagement...she indicated that her mother and she were so pleased to have met you last year. Mrs. La Font will be home in a few weeks and was thinking of extending an invitation to your Aunt and Uncle."

"Uncle Jed was ill last winter...he is doing better, but I'm sure the vacation would be good for him."

"Your Aunt Agnes? And little sister? How are they?"

"They are doing well, thank you," Gene replied.
*******************************

"I would like you to meet an old friend of the family," Angela introduced her dinner partner to her young guests. "This is Walter Henrey. He and his family have known my family for as long as I can remember. Walter, these are some of my new acquaintances, Eileen Cantor, Jessica Crest, Edgar Deering, and Gene Wade."

"Harvey," Angela called the butler, "would you bring us the domino game, please?"

"I guess we don't get the brandy and cigars," Eileen snickered.

"Brandy and cigars! I should hope not!" Angela was shocked.

"I'm sorry, that was my fault," Gene explained. "That is what the men do in Europe. The ladies go off and discuss things in their group, but the men go off and break out the brandy and cigars, and discuss things like politics, and what is going on in the House of Lords, or Parliament, or whatever."

"And we will be playing dominoes...however, that's alright. They make the policies, and we play the games," Walter said in an even voice.

"Have you been to Europe, then?" Gene asked. There was a steady presence, a sort of dignity in the young man, and Gene liked that.

"Yes, I have," Walter answered as they set out the tiles. "I have a brother and sister overseas, and we go once a year to visit."

"Did you attend the Olympics last year?"

"Yes, father enjoys sports. I'm not into sports myself, but do find an occasional interest."

"I would so love to go to Paris," Eileen sighed. "What about you Angelina--I mean Angela. Would you like to go to Paris?"

"I think I've been to Paris, but I don't remember it. It was when I was quite small." Angela frowned at the tiles she had in front of her. "Whose turn is it?"

"I believe it's mine," Walter put out his tile.

"Your brother and sister must be quite a bit older than you are. I don't remember either of them," Angela found a place for her tile.

"I'd just as soon stay here in the good old U S of A," Edgar said.

"I'm going to have to go home in a few minutes," Jessica pouted.

"It's still daylight outside. Almost too early to go home," Gene flashed her a smile.

"I know, but my family will be picking me up soon."

"Make the best of the time you have, Jessi," Edgar encouraged. "That's a good play there."

"Thank you, Edgar," she smiled at him. The tension in her face relaxed. At Edgar's praise Jessica gained a measure of self confidence, and color transformed her drab everyday appearance into loveliness.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Jessica put her last tile out. "I won!" she exclaimed. The game went smoothly with small talk here and there.

"Good job, Jessica," Angela smiled. "--Yes? Harvey?" the library door opened.
"Miss Crest's car is waiting, Miss Angela."

"Don't forget now, Jessi," Edgar leaned over and whispered to her, "thank your host and hostess for a lovely evening on your way out."

"Thank you, Edgar. I get so flustered. I just forget everything."

"I know how it is. I remember my first dinner like this."

"Thank you so much for inviting me, Angela. I've had a good time. If we'd had time I'm sure you would have won the next game..." she leaned over and gave Angela a hug.

"Jessica's really a nice girl," Angela spoke to the group as they watched her exit. "I don't think she gets a fair deal at school."

"I always thought she was an empty headed nincompoop. No one else at school really likes her, but her father does have lots of money," Eileen's eyes held an unusual scheming look. "Maybe she's not so bad."

"I'd like a little fresh air...perhaps we could take a walk in the garden?" Angela suggested.

"I don't like fresh air that much..." Eileen began.

"I wouldn't mind a little stretching after our meal," Walter agreed.

"We'll be there in a minute," he called as Angela led Walter and Eileen to the exit. "Ed, come here," Gene guided Edgar over to stand at the bay window as if looking out at the street. just about dusk with an occasional pedestrian walking down the street.

"Quiet out tonight. The street lights will be coming on in a short time."

"Yes--but what is it. What did you want?"

"Ed--Eileen's pretty thick with Greg Bilker and some of his friends. Jessica is a nice person, but she's naive. Maybe you could be a little watchful for her...not too much, maybe but you know?"

"If you knew Eileen was close with Greg, why did you say..."

Gene shrugged, "Well, it's the truth. On both accounts. Greg is a capable fighter, but he doesn't fight fair...especially if he knows he won't win. Just keep an eye on things, okay?"

"Sure, Gene. I can do that..."

"Let's go join the group," Gene led the way to the garden entrance.

"Paris is just so romantic," Eileen said.

"Romance is elusive," Walter replied. "It isn't really any more romantic in Paris, than here in Littleton."

"It has to be," Eileen wrinkled her nose. "Littleton is so dull. Most of the time at least."

"I don't know if I would call it dull, exactly," Angela said.

"Of course it isn't dull for you, Angela. Look at all the people you have coming and going in your world. But we never have company, especially not interesting company," she gave Walter a coquettish smile.

"Don't you think the warmth of the summer evening brings out the fragrance of the flowers?" Gene winked at Angela.

"Yes, I do, and I think it is a little warm this evening," she grinned at him. "Eileen, is that your ride I hear?" she asked as a horn sounded -ahooga!

Eileen's face flushed deep red--"I think it's probably just some dumb bell..."

"I'd say it's some dumb bell..." Gene muttered under his breath. "Are you staying at the hotel?" he asked Walter.

"No, we are staying here at Angela's home. We'll be here another week, I believe."

"Perhaps when we entertain Sir Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette you would like to join us?" Gene suggested. "What are your interests, if not sports?"

"I do play chess--rather well. I enjoy playing sports, but I'm not much at watching."

"Are you sure that isn't your ride, Eileen?" Angela repeated when the hateful Aa--ooga, sounded again.

"I'm sure it isn't...but I think I should telephone home to see if my car has been sent," Eileen stood up from the stone bench she was perched on. "Thank you for the invitation, Angela. So good to meet you, Walter, and good night Edgar and Gene."

"I do believe Eileen is irritated at someone," Angela laughed as the door closed.

"With good reason. Greg Bilker is a...no one likes him except those who like his money, or what it can buy," Edgar chimed in.

"Gene why were you saying those things about Greg?" Angela's face wore a pained expression. "You know Eileen will repeat everything you said, and that's just asking for trouble!"

"Angela, I have a plan...I know it could be a costly mistake--look what he did to Lonnie," Gene shook his head.

"I'm concerned about you," Angela bit her lip, looking down at her handkerchief laying in her lap.

"Thank you.

"Who is this guy you are talking about?" Walter asked.

"He's no good," Edgar spoke up. "And he's usually up to no good!

"He drives the car with the horn. He and his cronies have been out on our country road lately," Gene said.

"Oh--that's not good," Angela looked up startled.

"A few weeks ago some local fellows were having a horse race...informal, you know, just boys racing their ponies. That cursed automobile came along and caused Albert Bluey--one of the guys racing--caused his filly to bolt. Dumped him, he ended up going to the doctor with a cracked rib."

"I hadn't heard about that," Edgar's face grew pale.

"You wouldn't. News from out in the country usually stays there unless it's really big. Albert's pa went to the sheriff and complained. Seems like 'the citified slicks' as Mr. Bluey calls them, have been tormenting more than one farmer and their livestock. Mr. Bluey lodged a complaint...tried to press charges, but they can't get him on anything I guess."

"What do you think he's after...? Walter puzzled over the information.

"I just think he likes to push other people around," Edgar said. "I'm no threat to him, but I still stay clear."

"Back when I was on the football team...a year ago now...I did some driving for Mr. Dorking. Greg, was resentful. I told him to buzz off and get lost. Lonnie had words with him as well. We're both on his favorite list."

"What are you young folks looking so glum about?" Mr. Henrey came around the Camellia bed. He stood looking amused at the group, tapping his walking cane occasionally on the red brick path.

"Just a local hooligan, Father."

"Never seems to be a shortage of them in the world, is there?" his smile was tired and resigned. "But what do you say," the older man brightened out of his reverie, "we're thinking of going up town to the hotel restaurant for some French coffee and we could catch the entertainment as well."

"Entertainment? How gay!" Angela brightened. "How about you Gene...and Edgar?"

"I may be needed..." Edgar hedged.

"And I would need to telephone my family first. They are over at Bessie's brother's," Gene told Angela.

"You do your telephoning, and we'll make further arrangements," Mr. Henrey continued walking toward the house door.

"I need to run up to my room and get my wrap..."

"And I need to visit my room as well, for my hat and other accessories," Walter and Angela excused themselves.

"Hello," Gene spoke to the operator, "Mr. Lewiston, please...yes, that's the correct number..."

"I didn't plan on..."

"Edgar, don't worry about money," Gene covered the mouth piece on the phone. "I'll get it. Yes--Jim, this is Gene, is Uncle Jed there?"

"We have several taxis commandeered," Mr. Henrey came into the foyer. "You young people can ride together, and we'll meet up town at the Littleton Hotel."

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to go back to the shop tomorrow," Edgar grinned at Gene as they entered the fancy hotel dining room.

"Same way I'll get up tomorrow put on my bibs, and go back to plowing...actually I'll be working on the last cutting of hay for this year."

Gene inspected the hotel dining room as the group waited. The extravagant white table cloths, the fancy silver ware and white china table settings--No, there was not much change in the few years since Gene had left employment at the hotel. Everything was sparkling and elegant.

"Mr. Wappleburg--how have you been?" he spoke to his former manager.

"I am doing well. Thank you for asking," Mr. Wappleburg enjoyed the notoriety of being around rich and elegant people. "And you are looking well. I trust your fortunes are improving?" he observed Gene and his associates.

"They are doing as good as can be expected, thank you. My family will be joining me shortly as well..." Gene thought how good it was to say, 'my family'. He sat back watching the people around him. It was a carefree moment as the group ordered coffee and some ordered desserts with laughter and easy natured conversation.

Jed, Agnes, and Nissa stood, framed in the doorway waiting to be escorted to a table.

"This should be a special treat. I'm tickled that you invited us," Jed leaned over and whispered to Gene after he had seated Agnes and Nissa.

Lord Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette talked quietly while Lady Jane and Nellie exchanged pleasantries. Mr. and Mrs. Dorking did not look at ease as they sat on the other side of the table beside Mr. and Mrs. Henrey.

It was an odd twist of fate that Sir Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette were the least conscious of rank and title. They moved freely from one situation to another with confidence and grace. Mr. and Mrs. Henrey had a genteel way of manner as well, but there was a difference...Gene supposed it was the American influence.

Lord Hughes motioned to the waiter and whispered to him briefly.

The waiter approached Jed's table, "The gentleman at that table requests for you join their party, if it is convenient."

"Why...certainly--do you mind?" Jed looked across the table at Agnes.

"It would be a pleasure, I'm sure," Agnes smiled serenely. "Come, Nissa," she said. Picking up her hand bag, she took Nissa's hand and they followed Jed to their new seats as if it were an everyday occurrence to sit and chat with aristocrats.

"This coffee is very strong," Angela frowned at the mixture in her cup. "I don't usually drink coffee...so, what do you think?" she held up her cup and showed Walter then Gene.

"A little more cream then, perhaps?" Gene laughed into his napkin.

"Or chocolate instead?" Walter suggested with a slight shrug as they both bent over and peered into her coffee cup.

"Oh!" she stifled a gasp.

Startled, Gene and Edgar gazed across the packed room where several people waited to be seated.

"I don't know where they are going to be seated," Edgar said, "there doesn't appear to be any more seats."

"I don't see any more seats either. It looks as if we got here just in time. I think Ed's right, they won't get a seat," Gene looked across Angela at Walter.

"Who's that?"

"If you look across the room," Gene instructed nonchalantly looking at Walter, "toward the big picture window--just casually--under the letter 'O' in HOTEL--you will observe the scoundrel we were discussing earlier. A fellow by the name of Greg Bilker...and some of his friends...and look, Angela, isn't that..."

"Eileen..." Angela whispered.

s38 Onward, Still Onward

"Man, that is born of a woman, Is of few days, and full of trouble," David quoted. "Job chapter fourteen and verse one tells us that."

"I know that," Gene shook his head. "But I sure am tired of all the...contention and fighting, and...I'm just tired of it! Seems like I want to be peaceable, but all the time somebody's always wanting to argue and fight! How in Jonah's whale do I avoid it?"

"I suppose you've tried..."

"Yeah, just walk away. That's what Uncle Jed says. It doesn't work...look at this black eye and tell me how well that works!" he scowled at his friend and made a hard left swing at the punching bag.

"I'd say it didn't work too well. Hmm," David rubbed his chin in thought. "I guess when you put it that way...another scripture comes to mind as well.

"Another scripture?"

"Yes, Romans chapter twelve verse eighteen says, If it be possible, as much as in you lieth, be at peace with all men."

"How does that fit? Instead of walking away do I need to walk faster?"

"The key here is--if it be possible, as much as it lieth with you--. You see, Gene, with some people it isn't possible to be at peace. If you read in First Kings chapter twenty, Ben-ha-dad sent to King Ahab and wanted all of his treasures. King Ahab said, 'Okay, it's yours,' but Ben-ha-dad sent again and wanted more than what he'd demanded the first time. King Ahab calls the elders together and says, 'look how this man seeketh mischief.' Some people are like that. You can bend over backwards to make them happy, and they just won't be."

"I sent Angela to talk to you and Bessie. I'm not even involved in this, but because she's been coming to church with you two I guess he thinks Angela and I are 'seeing' each other."

"Well, you do see each other, but as friends. People like Greg don't understand friendship."

"He has an automobile to drive, money to spend, and a few guys that follow around with him. I guess that's what he calls friends."

"I tell you what, I think we have some work to do. Let's get busy...and hey, you'll never guess who's coming for a visit in a couple of weeks..." David said holding the other side of the bag. "Start by giving this old punching bag the old 'one-two' business--watch your foot work now."

"I'm not real good at the guessing game...who's coming for a visit..." he began counting and punching.
*******************************************

"How is your mother doing, Spike?" Gene asked as they were filing out of church.

"Since I've been working regular she's been doing much better. Willie and Sam are stationed out in California. They're doing good. Real good. Ma was worried sick you know when they were threatened with charges after the trial. You know it all worked out though. They got enlisted, and them drill instructors...it turned their lives around."

"Yeah, I knew it went pretty hard on her. How about yourself, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm driving for the cannery and that's working well. Though I'm thinking of going to work for the airplane factory."

"We'd sure miss you. You would have to move wouldn't you?"

"Yes. I'd move Ma with me of course. With Pa gone--she doesn't have much to stay here for--I suppose I'd better be leaving," he turned to go as Angela approached.

"No, Spike, don't go..." Gene caught his arm. "Hello, Angela. Have you met Spike? This is Angela Dorking, --Spike...and Angela this is Spike Potter."

"Ah, hello miss...Miss Dorking," Spike turned scarlet, and sputtered. "Ah, glad to meet you. I was just leaving, so..."

"Oh no you don't," Gene laughed and spun Spike back around. "Angela, this is the most shy fellow. For all his size he's pretty much a lot of bluff!"

"Any friend of Gene's is a friend of mine," She held out her hand and smiled up at the homely face of Spike.

Gene noticed the genteel way Angela had of putting people at ease. He had also witnessed her ability to put others in their place when they stepped out of bounds.

"Good morning," Spike took his leave after a few moments of pleasant conversation, "Guess I'll see you later, Gene. You too, Miss, if you come this afternoon..." he touched the brim of his hat--this time without the inclination of the flight mode.

"Gene, I wanted to ask you a favor," Angela waited until Spike was out of earshot.

"I won't promise anything, but ask away," Gene said.

"Mother is giving a dinner party, and she wants me to ask a few of my friends."

"Angela," he hesitated.

"Gene, you're the best friend I have. I don't like these dinner parties, and I...I suppose you're busy," she answered with a resigned shrug. "I was just hopeful."

"If it means that much to you,"

"It's next Tuesday, if you could come?" hope had flamed back into her face.

"Yes, I'll come. Only if it makes you happy. I'm sure your mother will think I'm out of place," he scowled.

"Mostly Mother's dinner parties are very boring. People her age--her cronies from bridge--and father's friends. People that will advance their careers, or some such thing," she made a sour face.

"We certainly don't travel in the same circles, but c'est la vie."

"You have such a funny way of saying things..." Angela wrinkled her nose. "I never did do well in Latin, but thank you so much! I'll have Mother put your name down, and you'll receive your invitation tomorrow. I'll see you later!"

Angela felt like weights had fallen from her feet. She sat in the back of the Pickerell's Hudson. Her heart kept singing with joy. She did find those dinner parties hateful, but at least this one would be different. She leaned back against the gray upholstery. Thank you God, she repeated over several times. She had found friends in David and Bessie, and she enjoyed so much the lessons from the pulpit, but she enjoyed being able to watch Gene in his own world.

"Ready to go home?" David called in through the open door as he scooted little Eric in the front seat between himself and Bessie.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Pickerell."

"Are you comfortable, Bessie?" he said helping her get situated.

"Yes, David," she said easing into position. It was close to her time of confinement before their second child was to make its arrival. This time she had no close friend who was also waiting, no one to anticipate with. She sighed as the door clunked shut.

"You look very tired, Mrs. Pickerell," Angela was brought out of her joyful haze with a jolt. "Are you alright?"

"I am tired, Angela, but I believe I am alright," she spoke with a smile and a reassurance.

Angela watched the church yard as other families exited the building and found their vehicles. An older couple were the last people out. They shut the door and turned the key in the lock. There were all ages here, even several young ladies the same age, or very close to, Angela's age.

Angela watched as Deidre Suko walked primly to her father's auto, and remembered the first Sunday she had met Deidre and her sister Sandra. She laughed at herself thinking how she had been slightly jealous of the two girls. It was not because they dressed better than Angela, but that Gene was so friendly and well acquainted with them.

"I hope you enjoyed your morning. Are you planning on attending this afternoon as well?" David made conversation.

"If you don't mind picking me up I would like to come."


"We can do that. We have singing this afternoon, so we should be by about five thirty. Will that be alright?"

"Yes," Angela hesitated slightly. She had forgotten about the singing. "Mother leaves for her bridge group about that time, but it should be alright."

"Angela, are you having...difficulty at home over your church attendance?"

"Only slightly," she said picking at her lace gloves.

"Would you like for me to come visit with your parents? Do you think it would help?"

"I don't know that anything will help," she blurted out. "They see themselves as more progressive, more advanced, and...I don't think there is any way to convince them different, Mr. Pickerell."

David could see the trouble in Angela's eyes as they looked at each other in the rear view mirror. That was one of her striking qualities, she was honest at heart. He found that to be ironic when he compared her to her parents who were two of the most self-centered and self serving people he knew.

"I tell you what. Bessie and I will lift you up especial in prayer. I'm sure all will work out well. It may take a day or two, but God watches over us all. We must have faith."

"You have a good afternoon, now," Bessie smiled over her shoulder at Angela. "Remember, we're praying for you."

"Thank you. Thank you so much," the troubled look was still on Angela's face as she slid out of the back seat. "I need those prayers," she took a deep breath, and closing the automobile door, she clutched her small white purse even tighter.

As they drove off down the street she walked up the steps from the sidewalk to their yard, through the gate in the white picket fence....

David turned at the corner and pulled up to the curb. "Let's have one of those prayers right now, Bessie. I'm so concerned for that young lady. I feel somehow that she is walking into the lion's den."
**********************************************

"Angela, when I said you should invite some friends for the dinner I didn't mean...well look here," Angela's mother angrily shook the invitation list at her. "I did not mean friends like Edgar Deering--and Gene Wade. Eileen Cantor--the banker's daughter and Jessica Crest--her father owns the new dry goods store in town-- well, they're good choices, but Edgar Deering! and Gene Wade! Just common..."

"Mother, can't I have even two of my own choice for friends? Not even two?"

"I've never liked the church you've been so adamant about attending lately. Mostly low class common folks. They're just greedy. They don't care about you...all they are looking for is your money. "

"My money?" Angela's eyes opened wide as she stared at her mother in astonishment. "What do you mean my...money?"

"Well," her mother stalled, "I mean look at your social class. Look at your father and I, and our social standing."

"Oh. I see," Angela's eyes narrowed slightly. There were a few ancient memories floating in her mind that were resurrected as she considered her mother's words. "But, Mother, it's only two people, surely they won't bother. And I would so like to have them." She smiled sweetly at her mother.

"I have important guests coming..."

"Only two..." she continued to wheedle.

"Only this once...I suppose," her mother gave in with a sigh. I could just kick myself for that slip, she thought. Angela's no dummy, and...
*************************

"Gene, I think you've grown another foot since last summer!"

"Oh, no, Aunt. That's not possible," he peeked around the parlor door which had been transformed into her sewing room for the next few weeks.

"I'm sure of it--look here are your measurements from last year--and here are the ones I just took--"

"I couldn't have grown another foot--look," he said standing in the door way. "Just look here, I still only have two feet--"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Uncle Jed guffawed from behind him in the living room. "He sure got you on that one, Agnes!"

"Oh, you two! Like two peas in a pod!" she rolled her eyes good-natured at their foolishness. "It won't take me long to have your clothes ready for tomorrow evening, but I'm still thinking I need to put a rock on your head!"

"What's that girl want you to come to dinner for anyhow?" Jed looked up from reading his paper. "You two don't even belong in the same social circles. We don't take to them parties and card playin' stuff," his forehead creased with his frown.

"I think she just needs a friend, Uncle..."

"Now, Jed, don't go giving the boy a hard time. He's almost sixteen. In a couple of years he'll be looking for a wife. You know we were young once too..."

"I hear Nissa waking up--I'll run up and get her up..." Gene left the two adults talking.

"Well, sixteen isn't eighteen, and eighteen isn't twenty-one--and he needs a good steady young lady. Not some body from uptown, who don't know how to do nothing. I bet she doesn't even know how to clean her house."

"Angela seems to be a nice young girl...not flighty like some I've seen," Agnes smiled thinking back on her own sisters, and some of the current young girls she knew.

"That's so," he said turning the page, "she's very helpful to Bessie. Pays attention to what's going on around her. Not like them bubble headed Gnash girls. Still, I bet she can't clean a house, nor make a meal."

"She doesn't need to. That's what they have their cook and the maid for. Ouch!" Agnes stuck her finger. "If I hadn't had Grandma Wade I wouldn't have had any training either...maybe she won't ever need to do cooking or cleaning...don't know that any of my sisters ever learned."

"Agnes..." Jed looked up from his paper, his reading glasses poised on the tip of his aquiline nose, "do you?"

"Oh, Jed!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

"I know, I know," he said with a grin. "Did I ever tell you just how gorgeous you are?"

"Jedidiah Wade did I ever tell you just how aggravating you are?"

"Nissa's done with her nap," Gene brought the baby downstairs. "I'll take her outside for a few minutes of play."

Agnes waited until the two had gone outside. "Look how good he is with Nissa..." she laughed. "Jed, I don't think Gene's serious about Angela. I think he's right-- she does need a friend, and that's all there is to it."

"That maybe so, but her coming to church of a sudden--looks a little suspicious."

"Bessie told me she and David have been praying pretty hard for her. They're concerned. When Dorkings first came to town remember how they were so friendly...until they found out where their bread would best be buttered."

"I've never figured out how they live so well on a teacher's salary."

"I'm sure they must have come from money somewhere."

"Well, they sure can spend it. Angela doesn't dress like a slouch."

"Jed!"

"I think it's time for me to go push Nissa in the swing..." he said laying his paper aside. "Before I get myself into that hot water," he folded his reading glasses up and laid them on the shelf above the clock.

Thoughts chased around in Agnes' mind as Nissa's laughter echoed from outside. Jed's words would not leave her alone. No, it was not wrong to dress in the latest fashions--as long as they were decent and modest. Scenes flashed through her thoughts. Agnes had caught Angela looking at Gene when she thought no one else would notice. Angela did not mingle with others from church, at least in the beginning she was more reserved. None of these things meant anything, really...or did they? What was it David always stressed? Pray about it...I'm going to ask Bessie what she thinks about this situation--Agnes decided. And pray about it.