Verhovayak Lapja, 1940. július-december (23. évfolyam, 27-52. szám)
1940-11-28 / 48. szám
November 28, 1940 Page 5 Verhovayak Lapja And So Are You________ By Stephen J. Rotz Branch 430 Homestead, Pa. At eight o’clock June Starr put down the newspaper she had been reading and walked to the window. She glanced up and down the street, looked at her wrist watch, then shook her head impatiently. She returned to the chair in which she had been sit-| ting, and smoothed out a cushion. She sat down with a sigh. And it was then that the doorbell rang three times. Although she had been anticipating the sound all the day, the actuality found her in a breathless state. She sprang to her feet with a gasped, “Oh!” He was at the door! June found herself trembling with delight as she tried to walk calmly to the door. He mustn’t see her bubbling over with love like a fickle high school girl on her first date. But, oh, how she wanted to fly to the door and into his arms. Thrice, again, he pushed on the bell button. Always, every night for the past week, he had given the same signal so that she would know that he was “clamoring for entrance,” as he had laughingly suggested, his eyes brimming over with mute admiration for her. Then she was at the door. She pulled it open. “Johnnie!” she cried. The tall chap with the smiling lips said nothing for a moment, so full were his eyes with the lovely vision before him. His eyes were wide; his Adam’s apple bobbed like a shuttle. Then he found his tongue. “Gee,” he started awkwardly, “I—June, you’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you were meant to—” He hesitated, and from the wild look in his eyes, June feared he might gallop away like a frightened colt. “Yes, Johnnie. Yes,” she prompted him, scarcely breathing. “I—look. I brought you some candy.” It certainly wasn’t very brilliant of him, but what could be expected of a young man so obviously drowning in the deep well of love? He handed her the candy, while with the other hand he tugged nervously at his flashy necktie. Then June suggested that they go into the house. Johnnie nodded agreement. The house was quiet, empty, for June lived alone. In the living room, June fervently hoped that Johnnie Moore would not propose another night at a movie or a night club. Not that he couldn’t afford it, you understand, but simply because you can’t steer a young man into the “Darling, I-can’t-live-without-youwcn’t-you-be-my-wife” channel in the middle of a blaring, glittering night club. She had made up her mind to do something about Johnnie, for-he was a handsome devil, she thought, watching him as he munched absently on a chocolate. They chatted lightly for about an hour, eating candy, laughing at the old, old jokes which Johnnie pulled from somewhere with a boyish pride. “I’ve some cake in the kitchen that I baked today, Johnnie. Would you like some?” Johnnie sat up quickly. “Don’t tell me that you can cook?” he asked, amazed. “And bake cakes?” He was full of enthusiasm, his face lighting up like a 100-watt bulb. “Of course, I can bake,” she told him, cutting a huge slice of a delectable looking, prodigiously decorated mound of fluffy pastry. Her cheeks flushed with joy as Johnnie vigorously attacked the cake, .munched on a mouthful, and whooped with delight. “Never, never, never,” he began, his eyes shining, his mouth full of cake, “have I ever tasted such a cake. Even better than what my— my mother used to make.” When he finished his third piece of cake, Johnnie looked solemnly across the table. There was somethingin his eyes which made June’s heart take a series of somersaults. “June, I want you to marry me. We haven’t known each other for more than a week, but that’s long enough for me to know that I love you. What do ycu say to that?” He stretched out his arm across the table and captured one soft little hand. He squeezed it. “What is your answer, June?” If she hadn’t dropped her eyes demurely, as every maiden does on such a momentous occasion, she would have caught Johnnie’s eyes gazing ruefully on the empty plate before him. That was some cake! June didn’t murmur the time-worn formula: “This is so sudden, Mr. Moore. I hardly know what to say.” Oh, no, not June. She had been working hard to make this happen, recognizing the silly look in Johnnie’s eyes for love, tra-la. She said yes. He kissed her then for the first time, completely and lingeringly and adequately. “We’ll be married tomorrow, darling,” said Johnnie; “at the City Hall. Oh, I can hardly wait so that I can call you mine. I do love you so.” June nodded, for her eyes were swimming with emotion. She wrapped her arms about his neck. The two lovers gazed dumbly, rapturously, into each other’s eyes. “I—I’m so happy, too, Johnnie,” she breathed up at him, fluttering longlashes. “Just think: tomorrow we’ll be married.” Then they kissed and cooed at each other. It was so wonderful. And so far into the night... Early the next morning, which dawned bright and warm, Johnnie rang the bell at June’s house. June flew to open the door. With cries of delight they fell into each other’s arms, murmuring words of endearment. Neither one had slept after finally going to bed in the wee hours of the morning, what with all the spinning happiness which enveloped them. “Ready, June, darling?” “All set, sweetheart.” As they stepped up to the clerk at the City Hall, they failed to see a man gaze with startled eyes at Johnnie. The man hurried out. Johnnie coughed discreetly behind his hand. The cle*3' looked bored as he turne and glanced through thick spectacles. “We want to be married,” Johnnie said, leaning forward, speaking low. The man brought out a paper and started writing the answers to the questions which he thrust at them. They smiled idiotically, at the clerk and at each other, for they were nervous, laughing, giggling. Then someone shrieked behind them. The man who had left so hurriedly before, was pointing an accusing finger at Johnnie. “Arrest that man, officer!” the stranger shouted to the policeman who accompanied him. “He’s wanted in Chicago for bigamy! He talked my sister into marrying him. When we found out he had another wife, with two kids, mind you! he scrammed.” CHRISTMAS SEALS Help to Protect Your Home from Tuberculosis The cop grabbed Johnnie’s arm roughly, waved a club overhead. “Come along, you,” he growled. But Johnnie turned imploringly to June. She stood there, her eyes wide and blank with hurt, her mouth a perfect O of surprise. “June, darling—” began Johnnie. Then she turned on him furiously. “June darling, indeed,” she screamed at her erstwhile lover. “You cad, you low-crawling thing, you miserable wretch. How could you dare to make love to to me, beg me to marry you, when all the while you have a wife—two of them.” She started to cry heartbreakingly. Oh, the shame of it all. Such a disgrace. Never again would she trust a man. They were ail the same. Boohoo. And because the cop’s name was Muldooney, big and awkward and sentimental as all red-headed Irishmen are apt to be, he felt more and more sorry for the pathetic little woman. As he said later to the desk-sergeant: “Sure, and she melted the heart in me breast, so did she cry and cany on. And for what, but for this snivelin’ rat of a man who—Lord forgive me! —I would like to be ahangin’ to the nearest pole. I couldn’t stand to see her sobbin’ any longer, so we left her standin’ there.” . The sergeant nodded, his eyes busy on the papers before him. With his right hand, he collected them and handed them to the still furious officer. He said: “Tack these new bulletins on the board, will you, Muldooney? I’m busy.” Absently, Muldooney riffled the pages of the “Wanted” bulletins. His eyes bulged, his neck swelled, then a roar of rage filled the station house. “Sergeant! Sergeant, if this don’t beat all!” His right hand held a paper with a picture on. This he plumped down before the startled sergeant. His voice bellowed like the NATIONAL INTEREST COMES FIRST There is disquieting talk concerning “bottlenecks” in the defense program. It is obvious that the time taken in turning plans into production is dangerously long. According to commentators, certain segments of American industry are largely at fault, refusing to go ahead and do their jobs unless and until they are assured of excessive profits, without possibility of loss. Just how accurate these charges are is not known, as the whole defense drive is enveloped in clouds of uncertainty. These clouds must be dissipated. The American people want to know and they are entitled to know just what groups are putting selfish interests ahead of the national interest. The greedy industry, no less than the greedy labor leader or the greedy politician, must be given short shrift. There is no question about the patriotism of those basic American industries which are essential to defense— the transportation companies, the power and light companies, and the majority of all business. These industries are sacrificing profits when necessary to the end that the public good be served. But if there is a purely mercenary spirit in some industries—a spirit which thinks only of the big money, and cares not how they make it—the American people will demand stern action. There must be profits—no man can build a plant without feeling that eventually he will earn enough to pay for it. But there is a tremendous difference between profit and profiteering, even as there is a tremendous difference between the sincere labor leader who seeks to obtain for the worker a fair return for what he does, and the labor racketeer who seeks to exploit the industries which make employment possible. Industrialists, labor leaders and officeholders who put selfish interests above national interest, are going to feel the full force of an aroused people’s wrath, before this emergency is over. trumpeting of an angry bull elephant. “That’s her! That’s her! The woman I was tellin’ you about. The one at the City Hall about to many that bigamist fellow. June Starr, alias Jane Black. She’s wanted for bigamy herself!’-
