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1951_05_26--025_SP [Petticoat Empire]

96 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST May 26,1951 Why not make a cool night of it Snap up a pair of pajamas designed for Summer comfort. Even the Dot Snappers conspire for cool convenience. They fasten in a flash and — fabric-flat — are comfortably inconspicuous. A nice feature, and it's just one of the many contributions of United-Carr products to the ease of modern living. TELL YOUR WIFE! She can put Dot Snappers on the clothes she makes, with the Dot Snappers Kit. Complete with professional attaching tool. At notions counters, $1 a box; refills 25c. BOT:#4,9,0f. UNITED-CARR, FIRST IN FASTENERS, C4mBRIDOE 42, MASS. (Continued from Page 94) She patted his lapel. "I got it for you, didn't I?" Joe backed away and her hand patted air. " The guy was sold! He doesn't have the authority or the money to do it now, but he'd have done it next time sure as shootin'. This isn't one picture; it's twenty or thirty. And what the hell do I care about a feather in my bat? Looks like it's you who wants feathers, and at the risk of overselling your best customer!" His arm swept the kitchen. "Why don't you just stick to steak and salad?" Her chin went up. "What do you know about salad? You didn't eat any." "Oh, for the love of Pete! I don't think you've got the point yet." The swinging door made a fanning wake behind him. Numbly she went through the motions of placing coffee and dessert on a tray and carrying it to the table. The dining room was empty. She peered anxiously into the living room, brushed past Zwinnick and ran into the hall. Joe's hat and coat were gone. She returned to the table and slumped into her chair. Zwinnick came back, puffing with importance. "That was J. B. Conners, chairman of the board. Talking from an airplane. He may drop around tomorrow. Airplane. Imagine that!" He gulped his coffee. "Where's Joe?" " Working tonight," she replied with her eyes on her plate. "Nathalie, dear, this soufflé is out of this .world." In another minute he would tell her, a little more tenderly this time, about the widower's lot. And in half a minute, to keep him off the subject, she would have to suggest they catch a late movie. Which she did. Olga Olson, professional model recently returned from a week end in Louisville, studied the dirty wall and stepladder on the Babyskin set and trembled under her mink-dyed wombat. "Ah thought this was a beauty picksha. Ah'm awf'ly sorry, Mistah Kolski, but Ah just couldn't wash a wall." Joe brought the news of Olga's departure to the front office, where Nathalie was dictating to Carol. Nathalie listened in frigid silence. This was the man who'd walked out on her. Not once, but twice. When he finished, she said crisply, "Get your girl Patsy. Let her do it." "She can't. She's busy this morning." Carol said, "I hit the bottom when I called Olga." "It's not my problem," Nathalie said. "Go worry somewhere else." Joe shrugged. "Conners and Zwinnick are sitting on the stage. Kolaki's pulling his hair out and the picture's got to be in the can tonight. It's your baby, but it's not your problem. Okay." He started for the door. " Wait a minute," Nathalie said. "Think hard. Someone who can do housework and look like Hedy Lamarr." " You," Joe said. Nathalie rose to her full height. "I am not a model. I am a producer." " You'd be wonderful, Miss Wyman," Carol said. Impatiently Nathalie turned away from them both. She caught herself in the mirror and adjusted an earring. Then she saw something else. She saw Joe looking at Carol. His whole expression had changed. He wasn't shrugging or not giving a hoot. His face was bleak with worry and his eyes were as tired as an old, old man's. Joe France, so easy and confident, was scared to death! Her heart stopped and went into reverse. This was serious. This was where you got in and pitched. Love and a man who kept walking out had nothing to do with it. She turned around, murmuring half to herself, ". . . never acted in my life, but at least I'd be no worse than Olga. If I thought I wouldn't ham it up —" Joe snapped to attention with a broad grin. "Now you're logging! I'll send in the duds and make-up!" Ten minutes later she crossed the stage in blue jeans and an old shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Zwinnick put his arm around her and told Conners she was a little gem; ha-ha, wasn't anything Nathalie couldn't do. She mounted the stepladder, and the chore boy hoisted two pails of water to the ladder platform. He placed the can of cleaner on the top step. When Kol- * * * * * * * * * * REPRIEVE TO A DANDELION Ito Georair Marina* Galbraith Towheaded upstart! The partisans of clover, That pampered obedient pet of city plots, Say you're an outlaw and I must give you over To death by compost. Ah, little bandit, what's The nature of your villainy? Thorn or bramble? Poison? The parasite's voracious lust? Nothing so drastic. But rather, that you scramble With hope and vigor out of the leanest dust, Adapt to circumstances, and safe!) treat vtith The foes and forces that design to hurt you. These traits are such as clover can't compete with. You're damned, poor honest fellow, for your virtue! * * * * * * * * * * ski shouted "Camera! "she put a spoonful of cleaner into one of the pails and began washing the dirty wall. She washed. She washed again. And again. The result was a tired arm and a faint light streak that refused to get lighter. "Cut," Kolski said in disgust. Joe called out, "Take it once more. Rub harder." She said bitingly, "You can spray the dark part darker, you know. Or don't you condescend to the tricks of your trade?" "Anyone can trick a result," Joe replied. " We want to show the cleaner in action." "That's right," Zwinnick nodded. She hated Joe. She hated Zwinnick and Conners. Slave drivers. Flesh peddlers. "So take it again," Joe said, "and use some elbow grease." She took it four times, and four times Joe shook his head. Finally he said, " Move the ladder to another place and try it again." The ladder was moved. Turning her back to the coaching staff, she emptied the rest of the cleaner into the pail. Then, with the camera grinding again, she gave the wall a vicious swipe, (Continued on Page 98)


1951_05_26--025_SP [Petticoat Empire]
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