Tomorrow Is Forever by Gwen Bristow Page B

eat.”
    â€œI can’t talk to her about anything,” stormed Dick. “Mother, I’ve got a date! Why can’t the boss tell Mr. Thingum to leave his daughter at home? Why do I have to—and shut up, all of you. I think you’re being unsympathetic and awful.”
    â€œDick, please be a good sport,” Elizabeth urged. “This doesn’t happen often.”
    â€œIt does too. You remember that horrible girl from New York who was all teeth that I had to take out when her family had dinner here? But this is worse. A foreigner who can’t even talk except to say glub-glub!”
    â€œHow do you know she can’t talk? Her father speaks English.”
    Dick groaned.
    â€œBe nice about it, Dick,” pled Elizabeth. “She’ll probably have a very good time if you’ll let her. Remember she’s in a strange country, and most of those refugees have had some very unpleasant experiences. Can’t you be sorry for them at all?”
    â€œIt’s easy to be sorry for refugees,” said Dick, “when you don’t have to put up with them.”
    Torn between a desire to laugh and tell him he needn’t do it, and a realization that Mr. Kessler’s daughter must be taken care of somehow if he and Spratt were to have a chance to talk business, Elizabeth did not answer immediately. She was glad to hear the sound of a key in the front door.
    â€œThere’s the boss,” said Cherry, getting up.
    â€œNow we can eat!” Dick exclaimed as though glad to have something to rejoice about. He got up to pour a cocktail for his father.
    Spratt came in and greeted them all. “You’ve no idea what a comfortable picture you make around the fire,” he remarked as Elizabeth took his coat and Dick gave him the Martini. “Where’s Brian?”
    â€œHaving dinner with Peter Stern. Cherry, go to the kitchen and tell them the boss is here.”
    â€œWhat have you been doing?” asked Spratt. “Listening to the radio?”
    â€œNo, what’s going on?”
    â€œThe same, only worse. All hell’s loose in Russia. Come on upstairs with me while I get cleaned up,” he invited Elizabeth. “Cherry, tell them I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
    â€œWait a minute, boss,” exclaimed Dick. “I’ve got something important to ask you. Do I have to take that refugee girl on a date tomorrow night?”
    â€œWhat refugee girl?”
    â€œThe one who’s coming here to dinner-with her old man. Can’t she possibly—”
    Spratt drew a long breath and started to laugh. “I forgot to tell you. Kessler’s daughter,” he said, “is eight years old.”
    The four youngsters gave long simultaneous whistles. “Oh joy, oh rapture unconfined!” sang Dick. “My life is renewed. I don’t have to! Did you hear, everybody? She’s eight years old! Why didn’t you tell me? What were you doing talking about Russia when all the time you knew that girl was eight years old? Me sitting up here dying and you’ve got to bring up Russia !”
    Elizabeth got out of the room ahead of Spratt and ran up the stairs. He followed her. When he came into his bedroom he found her crumpled up in his reading chair. She was laughing uncontrollably.
    Spratt stood watching her in amazement. “Elizabeth, what in the world is the matter with you?”
    For a moment she could not answer. With an effort she caught her breath, saying, “N—nothing. Only I think—I think that for the first time in my life I’ve nearly had hysterics.”
    â€œElizabeth, what— ”
    â€œPlease don’t pay any attention to me. I’m behaving like a moron. But it is funny, Spratt. We’re sitting on the edge of a volcano dangling our legs over the crater, and Dick knows it—I’ve just heard him talking, so grim and hard he frightened me, and in fifteen minutes