Tomorrow Is Forever by Gwen Bristow Page A

will you light the fire?”
    â€œSure will.” Dick knelt down and applied a match to the gas rod under the logs. He glanced at the cocktail tray. “Want me to mix the Martinis?”
    â€œI wish you would.”
    â€œOkay.” He went first to the door and called the others. “Want to come in here? Fire going.”
    â€œIn a minute,” Cherry called back. “Got to wash our hands first—those magazines were so awfully dusty. Is the boss in?”
    â€œNot yet, but mother says we can have dinner at seven-thirty anyway. So hurry up.”
    The gas flame sparkled up to ignite the logs piled in the grate. Dick swished the gin and vermouth. Though he was not allowed to drink cocktails himself, he enjoyed the feeling of adulthood it gave him to play bartender. What a nice boy he was, Elizabeth thought as she watched him. Dick asked,
    â€œLike a drink now?”
    â€œI believe I would. I’m a bit tired.”
    He poured it out for her, and watched while she tasted it. “How’s that?”
    â€œVery good. You could get a job.”
    â€œI’ll be needing one if that physics guy gets much tougher. —Oh hello there,” he said as Cherry and the two others came in. They greeted Elizabeth, and Julia said,
    â€œThat fire looks wonderful. I wish we had those gas lighters at our house, they start the fire with no trouble at all. You have just everything here, Mrs. Herlong.”
    â€œWhy thank you, Julia.”
    â€œThis is the most comfortable house I was ever in. We’ve been having such fun all afternoon.”
    â€œI’m getting weak in the middle,” said Dick. “I wish you’d ordered some crackers or something.”
    â€œI’ll have hors d’oeuvres tomorrow night. We’re having a guest for dinner—I mean an older guest, from the studio.”
    â€œWe were all going to ride down to the beach tomorrow night,” said Dick. “It’ll be all right if Cherry and I leave right after dinner, won’t it?”
    â€œFor Cherry, but I’m afraid there’s another prospect for you.”
    â€œFor me? What?” he asked in alarm.
    Elizabeth gave him an urgent smile. It was a relief to turn her attention to her ordinary day-by-day affairs, to observe her children as normal healthy youngsters hungry for their dinner, to reach for a cigarette and have both Dick and Pudge strike matches for her. She accepted the light from Pudge, and smiled across it at Dick as he blew out the match he had struck.
    â€œDick, our guest tomorrow night is a Mr. Kessler, from Germany. I’ve never met him, but he’s working on the picture.”
    â€œAnother refugee?” inquired Cherry.
    â€œYes, but you’ll both please remember not to call him that. Simply say ‘German,’ if you have to call him anything.”
    â€œI get it,” said Dick, “but what have I got to do about him?”
    â€œHe has a daughter—”
    â€œOh my Lord!”
    â€œI’m sorry, Dick,” Elizabeth continued with sympathy. “But the boss wants to talk pictures with Mr. Kessler after dinner, and you’ll have to take care of the girl.”
    Cherry and the two guests were already beginning to laugh at Dick’s woebegone face. Dick groaned.
    â€œCan she talk?”
    â€œI don’t know, Dick, but there’s a musical show downtown—”
    â€œMother, please! Honestly, I—what does she look like?”
    Elizabeth started to say “I’ve never seen her,” when Cherry put in,
    â€œI bet I know. Two yellow braids around her head—”
    The others joined,
    â€œMaybe you could play some Wagner records for her.”
    â€œWhat about Faust ?”
    â€œSilly, Faust is sung in French.”
    â€œI bet she’s fat and has apple-cheeks.”
    â€œShe’s probably intellectual. Lots of refugees are.”
    â€œTalk to her about food. They all like to