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diff --git a/old/63217-0.txt b/old/63217-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 27994b6..0000000 --- a/old/63217-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7423 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Discovery at Aspen, by Sophie Liebowitz Ruskay - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Discovery at Aspen - -Author: Sophie Liebowitz Ruskay - -Release Date: September 17, 2020 [EBook #63217] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISCOVERY AT ASPEN *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - [Illustration: Autograph] - - - - - DISCOVERY AT ASPEN - - - by SOPHIE RUSKAY - - - A WONDERFUL WORLD BOOK - - NEW YORK: A. S. BARNES AND COMPANY, INC. - LONDON: THOMAS YOSELOFF LTD. - - Illustrated by - JANET D’AMATO - - [Illustration: Cabin bedroom] - - Copyright © 1960 by A. S. Barnes and Company, Inc. - Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 60-10204 - Printed in the United States of America - All Rights Reserved - - A. S. Barnes and Company, Inc. - 11 East 36th Street - New York 16, N.Y. - - Thomas Yoseloff Ltd. - 123 New Bond Street - London, W.1, England - - - _To the memory - of my husband - CECIL B. RUSKAY - whose delightful personality - and creative gifts - made him so beloved - by his children and grandchildren - and a host of young friends._ - - - - - CONTENTS - - - _Chapter and Title_ _Page_ - 1 So You’re Going to Aspen 11 - 2 Aspen: From Silver Dust to Music 19 - 3 Pleasures of Travel 27 - 4 First Glimpse of Aspen 37 - 5 A Rude Yet Pleasant Awakening 52 - 6 Karl 66 - 7 A Family Argument Happily Resolved 77 - 8 Smuggler’s Café 90 - 9 A Small Triumph 99 - 10 A Catastrophe with a Happy Ending 106 - 11 Judy, Amateur Psychologist 124 - 12 Ashcroft, The Ghost Town 135 - 13 The Huskies 147 - 14 “Confidentially Yours” 154 - 15 The Mountain Climb 157 - 16 Near Tragedy and Rescue 170 - 17 Clouds on the Horizon 180 - 18 A Dream Is Crystallized 190 - 19 Farewell to Aspen 203 - 20 Mother and Daughter 211 - - - - - DISCOVERY AT ASPEN - - - - - 1 - SO YOU’RE GOING TO ASPEN - - -Judy Lurie sat cross-legged on the floor of her room surveying the -results of her labor. The room was a mess, even by her easy standards. -But the box containing her last summer’s meager wardrobe had been -thoroughly gone over and everything that could be salvaged was in piles -ready for the family trunk. The empty battered suitcase and the books, -she decided, could wait, since it was still five days before she and her -parents, Minna and John Lurie, were to leave for the summer holiday. - -“So you’re going to Aspen!” a familiar voice ejaculated. “How wonderful -for you and John!” - -Preoccupied as Judy was, the voices from the living room reached her -dimly at first. Her room, a tiny alcove separated from the living room -by heavy chintz draperies, frequently had its disadvantages. But there -were compensations, too. You could hear and see and yet be delightfully -invisible. - -“I wish I were able to go to Colorado!” another voice remarked with a -shade of envy. “How wonderful for you and John.... By the way, where is -John? Is he trying to hide from us?” - -“Hide?” her mother repeated, a slight flush spread over the lovely pale -face. “Of course not. He was so sorry, so much music to pack....” - -Judy forgot her invisibility and nearly laughed out loud. When her -mother had casually mentioned as they left the lunch table that some of -the girls would be dropping in to say good-bye, her father, with a -let-me-out-of-this look, took refuge in his studio. Lucky father, -probably enjoying a book or a nap or fussing with his viola while she -was imprisoned in this alcove, unless she wished to barge into the -melee.... - -The voices of the guests were getting louder. Judy got up, stretched her -cramped legs and cautiously pushed a corner of the drapery to one side. -Nobody had gone. Instead the room overflowed with new arrivals. Gifts -were heaped on the piano, purses on the fine mahogany tables, and a -patent-leather bag stood on the mantel, making the Staffordshire dogs -look even more foolish. - -“Minna,” one woman was saying, “with that glorious voice of yours you -ought to be a sensation!” - -Her mother, surrounded by her guests, smiled happily. - -“Not a sensation, but it is a wonderful opportunity for me to study with -Mme. Rousse and to work with some of the advanced pupils. And best of -all, to sing in the opera. As for John, it’s just what he wanted. To -play in the orchestra, have his own quartet and some teaching. It should -be a good summer for all of us, especially since we will have Judy with -us.” - -At the mention of her name, Judy listened attentively. - -“It’s lovely that she’s going with you; but Judy’s only about fifteen -and a half. Isn’t that rather young to be attending the Aspen Music -School?” - -“Oh, she’s not going to attend the school. Fifteen isn’t too young if -one is a serious student but, as a matter of fact, Judy has given up the -piano.” Minna’s sigh was audible through the chintz. - -“But she used to play so beautifully!” - -“That’s the pity of it.” Her mother went on retelling what Judy knew. -“At the age of ten she was improvising songs and pieces. We thought we -had produced another Mozart. Now she plays when the mood is on. She -claims practicing dulls inspiration.” - -There was a slight titter of amusement, but one woman whom Judy had -frequently seen at the house said earnestly, “But _what_ will she do -there, then?” - -“Oh, I’m not worried about Judy,” her mother said lightly. “She’s very -resourceful, very intelligent.” - -The girl felt a warm glow of satisfaction. - -“She reads everything,” her mother went on. “My father considers her his -special vessel for all his accumulated wisdom. Like him, she loves to -sketch, preferably in oils. Now the canvases are left to molder in -Mother’s attic—fortunately not here. I guess it’s anything but music!” -Minna smiled at her questioner, “but Aspen ought to change all that.” - -Judy left her listening post trying to stem a feeling of rebellion at -her mother’s words. Mechanically she began to straighten up the room and -noticed the matching scarf of the new party dress which she had -pressured her mother into buying for her. “Very well, for concerts -then,” her mother had said as she finally succumbed. Judy hoped that -both she and the dress were destined for more exciting occasions than -mere concerts! The thought of the dress cheered her. She wished it -weren’t already packed in the trunk, so that she could try it on again. -The scarf would do. She draped it around her shoulders to suggest the -dress and rubbed the dull surface of her mirror. - -“A real treasure from Colonial days,” her grandmother had said when she -gave it to her. Well, maybe so; the frame was certainly beautiful, but -the smoky surface didn’t help her visualize how dazzling she would look, -the steel blue bringing out the deep blue of her eyes, the tight bodice -and the billowy skirt, making her small waist look smaller still. - -She turned her head to one side. Hmmm. The nose was passable. The eyes, -well, she knew they were her best feature. But why hadn’t she Mother’s -creamy, pale skin instead of this healthy, dusky glow! She touched the -thick brown hair held firmly by a rubber band. A pony tail was all right -but some day her mother would weaken and she would get that permanent. A -long, soft pageboy would hide these bony shoulders. - -She folded the scarf and laid it on her day bed. Then she wedged herself -into the small Boston rocker, the first of her antique possessions. She -rocked gently, repeating the question her mother had not answered. “What -would she do in Aspen?” She wasn’t so sure about the blessedness of -belonging to a family so entirely dedicated to music. Her growing -misgivings had been heightened by her recent visit with her -grandparents. Again she thought of what her grandmother had said. “Your -father and mother will be busy all day with rehearsals, teaching, -concerts, parties night and day. Why not spend the summer with us as -you’ve done for years? You love the sea, racing the dog on the beach. I -need you in the garden and your cousins will be back again for a visit. -The youngsters on the block want you to teach them to swim—fifty cents a -lesson.” - -Why, then, Judy wondered, had she given up so quickly a summer where she -had been so happy in the past? Of course going to Aspen meant a trip to -the West, to Colorado, the Rockies. The West was romantic. And her -schoolmates were doing exciting things for the summer. One was going to -a ranch in Wyoming. Her best friend was going to a work camp in Vermont. -But these things cost money and Judy knew there was none to spare. - -One thing had influenced her above everything. When her parents received -the invitation to join the staff at the Aspen Music School, the first -thought of her mother and father had been not of the wonderful -opportunity for themselves. No, over and over they had repeated, “At -last Judy can spend a whole summer with us.” - -But in the weeks that followed they had become more and more immersed in -their preparations, selecting music for the Quartet, conferring with the -Dean of the Aspen School and as their excitement mounted, Judy felt hers -diminish. She felt she didn’t belong in her parents’ world. They didn’t -need her. - -She walked to the window and stared ahead of her.... The summers of the -past took on an even rosier hue. The swims, the companionship of cousins -rarely seen, the homey loving household of which she was so much a part. -And the long summer evenings.... She saw herself again on the screened -porch of the Beach House. A few young neighbors, whom her grandfather -called his steady customers, were sitting near her. Her grandfather was -reading “Hamlet.” How tender his voice as he spoke the lines of Ophelia. -The moths beat their wings against the lamp, a soft droning -accompaniment. With hands cupped over his mouth he made the trumpet -sound. The King and Queen! The Duel scene... you could almost hear the -clash of rapiers.... Hamlet was dying ... Laertes ... the Queen! What -made Grandma leave the room at such a moment! But she returned almost at -once carrying a tray of ice-cream covered with oozing red, red -strawberries. And Grandfather, outraged at the sight, with an imperious -gesture, waved her aside, declaiming as if it were part of the play, -“Can’t you wait until they all decently die?” Judy smiled at the -remembrance. - -She loved her parents. She didn’t want to hurt them, but at this moment -she felt she must speak up before it was too late. She heard her father -saying jovially, “Well, have the locusts finally gone?” - -Judy parted the draperies and peered through the opening. - -“Thank goodness, they’re all gone.” - -She took a deep breath and strode into the room. - -“Father,” she stopped and gulped. “You and mother are going to be so -busy at Aspen. What will I do there? I don’t know anyone. I haven’t any -friends there.” - -Her father looked startled but said nothing. - -“Why it’s childish to feel that way,” her mother answered easily. “There -are loads of young people at the Aspen Music School. You’ll meet them.” - -“How? I’m not going as a music student. You know how things work out. -Students all get involved in their school activities. I’ll just be an -outsider. I’m worried,” her voice broke. “I want to have fun, but more -than that, I want to do something for _me_—something that matters—if you -know what I mean.” - -Mrs. Lurie looked distraught. “You don’t want to come with us? It’s the -first summer in years that we’ve been able to plan to be together like a -normal family. You’re sure to find companions.” She turned to her -husband for support, but he had disappeared. - -“Judy,” her mother said with a touch of finality in her voice, “there’s -no sensible reason why you can’t take up the piano again. Don’t set your -mind against it. The whole atmosphere of Aspen engenders the love of -music, the desire to study it.” - -“But that’s exactly what I don’t want, Mother. Can’t you understand my -feelings? Practicing hours on end! I’ll never be a real performer, so -why bother?” She hesitated and then went on, her voice almost inaudible. -“I’d rather stay with Grandma and Grandpa at the Beach House, hearing -poetry and plays that I love.” - -Her mother suddenly looked sad, and Judy was overcome with remorse. - -“Mother,” she began. - -The tired eyes looked at her questioningly, “Yes....” - -“I guess I’m just being selfish,” Judy said, then added desperately, -“Maybe it’ll work out all right. I’ll go.” - -Minna smiled with relief. “I don’t think you’ll regret it. Sometimes new -unfamiliar surroundings bring out a potential one didn’t know one -possessed. Something good is bound to emerge from the three of us living -together in a carefree atmosphere.” She paused, studying her daughter’s -face. - -“Our careers have often come first—or so it seems, but for a little -while we’d like to be just parents. Do you understand? It would have -been an unbearable disappointment to your father.” - -John Lurie bounded into the room, excited as a schoolboy. “It’s all -settled! It’s in the bag!” He grabbed his daughter and waltzed her -around. - -“Father,” she begged when she could catch her breath, “what’s in the -bag? What are you talking about?” - -“All right, I’ll tell you. A few weeks ago, the Dean mentioned that my -friend Jim Crawley had gone ahead with his scheme and was opening a -Little Theater in Aspen. That gave me an idea. It was the day after you -were such a knock-out in the class play. I called him on the phone and -told him, ‘I have a lovely, gifted daughter, nearly sixteen who’s going -with us to Aspen. Do you think you have room for a budding Audrey -Hepburn?’ He laughed that he didn’t know at the moment but he would get -in touch with me. With all his plans, I guess he forgot about it. I’m -ashamed to confess I forgot about it. But when you threatened to desert -your music-driven parents for another summer to do something on your -own, a flash illuminated this tired old brain. I just finished speaking -with Jim. He says, if you’re half as good as I say, if you’ve got decent -diction, are willing to cooperate in every way—that means, help paint -scenery and fix costumes, and are willing to work for free, since we’ll -be feeding and housing you, he’ll take you on. P.S. You’ve got the job.” - -“Father, you mean it! It’s not one of your practical jokes?” - -He nodded solemnly. - -“It’s too good to be true. I’ll be acting! Not in a school play but in a -real theater!” - -“Oh, it’s only a barn,” her father made haste to explain. “Summer -theaters are always in barns. That’s why they’re called the Straw -Circuit.” - -“Oh, I’m so excited!” - -“And we’re just as happy for your sake,” her mother said, “but don’t get -too carried away. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a walk-on or maybe a bit -part as the little household slavey, in which you dust the stage -furniture before the star walks on.” - -“It doesn’t matter! Just to smell the grease paint!” - -She flung her arms about her father and kissed him. “You’re wonderful. -Absolutely the most. I can’t wait until I tell Grandfather.” - -Hurrah for the three Luries, professionals all. - - - - - 2 - ASPEN: FROM SILVER DUST TO MUSIC - - -Now that the summer in Aspen had acquired so many glamorous -possibilities, Judy could scarcely wait for the day of departure. She -went over her wardrobe a dozen times to make sure everything was -properly packed. With her new responsibilities, clothes became more -important than ever. After all, an actress had to dress properly -off-stage as well as on. She owed it to her public. - -Finally the interminable few days passed. The trunks were packed and -shipped off. The suitcases the Luries would carry with them were also -stuffed and ready. It was the last night and there was only the final -visit from Grandpa and Grandma to say good-bye. - -On learning of her summer theater job, Judy’s first impulse had been to -phone her grandparents immediately and regale them with the great news. -But then she decided it would be more fun to break it to them in person -and now she awaited their arrival with eager anticipation. - -Despite that, when the elderly couple did arrive, Judy greeted them in -her usual affectionate manner. She was going to do this in her own way. - -As Mr. Ritchie settled himself in a comfortable chair, John Lurie dug -into his pocket and came up with a huge cigar. “I saved this for you, -C.B., tin foil and all. I got it from a big shot.” - -“Thanks John, but if you don’t mind I’ll smoke one of my own. I have -certain misgivings about cigars heavily disguised in tin foil -wrappings.” He lit his own and watched the smoke curl around. - -“That’s a nice engagement you’ve managed to get. Wonderful country and -ideal surroundings.” - -Grandmother’s voice reached them. She had been earnestly talking to her -daughter and now walked restlessly up and down, glancing at the packed -suitcases cluttered in one corner. - -“Tanglewood, Minneapolis, now Aspen. Like Gypsies!” - -She came over to Judy and lightly touched her hair. “Well, Judy, are you -glad you’re going?” - -“Of course I am.” The girl tossed it off lightly. “But even if I weren’t -I couldn’t back out at this point ... not with all my commitments.” - -Mrs. Ritchie peered at the girl with a puzzled look. “What commitments?” - -“My engagements. I can’t just throw them overboard.” - -The grandmother turned to Minna. “What is the girl talking about?” - -Minna swallowed a smile and shrugged her shoulders. “You’d better ask -her.” - -“All right. What are these engagements you’ve mentioned?” - -Judy refused to be hurried. “Well, mother is engaged to sing in the -opera. Father is engaged to play in the orchestra and string quartet. -And I’m engaged to....” She hesitated long enough to permit the suspense -to build. Then with a leap, she flung her arms around her grandmother -and shouted the rest of it. “I’m booked to act in a summer theater. A -real, professional summer theater.” - -With a rush of words she poured out the whole story as her grandparents -listened with excitement and pleasure. - -Grandpa stood up and walked across the room. “Good luck to you, Judy. -After watching this little performance you put on for us I know you’ll -be the star of that company before the summer’s over.” Mr. Ritchie -beamed down at his granddaughter. “You’ll love Colorado, Judy, as we -did.” He took his wife’s hand. “Remember when we were there, climbing -like goats and weeks later went on to climb Mt. Rainier—” - -“I love the mountains. I’ve never seen anything higher than Mt. -Washington.” - -“Aspen is high. Eight thousand feet and is surrounded by peaks thirteen -and fourteen thousand feet.” Mr. Ritchie paused, a faraway look in his -eyes. “Those glorious mountains once possessed the greatest silver mines -in the world! But that’s a story in itself.” - -Judy looked up expectantly. For years her grandfather had told her -fascinating tales of American history. - -“You know you’re going to tell that story.” Minna smiled at her father. - -He looked quizzically at his daughter. “I’m only being persuaded for -Judy’s sake.” - -“Yes, yes, we know,” his son-in-law added grinning. - -“The fascinating thing about Aspen, Judy, is that until about -seventy-five or eighty years ago, it was an empty valley in the heart of -the Rockies. Colorado was a territory with little to attract settlers -until they discovered silver. Then there was a mad rush to get to the -camps near Denver. Soon all the claims were staked out. The late comers -looked across the jagged peaks and thought of the silver hidden in those -mountains.” - -“Did they go?” Judy asked impatiently. - -Her grandfather continued, unruffled by the interruption. “The settlers -were warned that the land beyond the Continental Divide belonged to the -Iute Indians. But the rights of the Indians meant little to men hungry -for riches. They entered the Indian country, naming it Aspen because of -the forests of white-barked aspen trees.” - -“Our treatment of the Indians was worse than shabby,” John muttered -vehemently. - -“Yes, there were cruel and bloody struggles, but finally the Iute Chief -made peace with the white man.” Mr. Ritchie paused to relight his cigar. -“The rush for silver was on once more—this time at Aspen.” - -“Isn’t that what you told me happened when Great Uncle Jake went out to -California at the time of the Gold Rush?” - -“Perhaps, Judy, except that Uncle Jake never struck gold and came back -poorer than when he left— - -“In Aspen country, settlers got rich, mining silver or building up the -town. They built comfortable homes, not the ugly shacks you see in most -mining country. Aspen never became one of those gambling, shooting -communities. The settlers were different. Schools, churches, a bank, a -newspaper, everything mushroomed into the empty valley. Millions of -dollars’ worth of silver ore was taken out of the mines. Then when -things were at the brightest, the silver mining towns lost their biggest -customer, the United States Government! The final blow came in 1893! Our -government decided that gold, not silver, should be used in the United -States Mint. - -“The mines stopped operating. Miners were thrown out of work—so was -everyone else. The people had to leave or starve. Aspen became a ghost -town!” - -“What do you mean, Grandpa?” - -“When people have to leave their homes, everything they’ve labored to -build, the town dies. That’s what happened to Aspen! Maybe a hundred -settlers stayed on. The houses were empty, their doors swinging in the -wind, the streets deserted, Aspen slept.” - -Minna’s voice broke the spell. “Music, not a prince, woke this sleeping -beauty. The old houses and new ones, too, are filled with music students -from all over the country. A great orchestra, like the one in which John -will play, gives concerts to thousands of people every week. Even the -old opera house has its season, students and professionals singing the -roles. Aspen is a paradise for musicians! And great lecturers, too, I’m -told.” - -“And don’t overlook the skiers in winter,” John added happily. “They -come from all over the world to ski and to train for the Olympic -matches. I’m afraid, Judy, you’ll find no ghosts in Aspen, summer or -winter. So don’t let Grandpa’s tall tales bother you any.” - -“Charles, we should be going. These young people will have to get some -rest. Besides, we’ll see them off tomorrow morning.” - -“No, Mother dear, I won’t hear of your coming to the airport. We’ll say -good-bye right here—but don’t hurry away—stay a little longer!” - -Mr. Ritchie shook his head. “We’ve got too much sense to stay on.” He -extracted a package from his briefcase. - -“Judy, I nearly forgot to give you this. There’s a diary, a drawing pad, -a box of pastels, and a volume or two of poems. Something for every -shining hour, providing your heavy duties with the theater ever permit -such trivial occupation—” He laughed as he kissed her. - -“Do you like my present?” - -“Of course, I do. I was just thinking of last summer. When I told one of -the girls at school about your Shakespeare readings, she looked at me -pityingly. ‘You listened to Shakespeare of your own free will!’” Judy -laughed. “It’s lucky I never told her about my secret ambition,” Judy -looked innocently at her grandmother. “Yes, a writer—some day!” - -Her grandmother shrugged her shoulders. “Why not choose something easy -like digging ditches?” - -The sarcasm was lost on her granddaughter. “The trouble is I like so -many things—but actually,” she went on, “I don’t see why writing should -be so difficult. You get an idea, you write it down, do a line research, -maybe—there are enough words in the dictionary—” - -“Of course,” her grandmother said wryly. - -Mrs. Ritchie put on her coat and she too remembered a parcel. “Minna -dear,” she said, handing her daughter an oversized shoebox, “take this -with you on the trip. It might come in handy.” - -Her daughter eyed the box suspiciously. “Come in handy?” She’d heard -that formula before. “Mother! You’d think we were crossing the continent -in the covered wagon days. Haven’t we enough to carry?” - -“Be thankful, Minna, it isn’t a roast turkey with all the trimmings,” -her father said, laughing while Minna shook her head in mock despair. - -John cleared his throat and impulsively put his arms around his -parents-in-law. “We know how good you’ve been to us, and how patient. -But as musicians, we must go where opportunity beckons.” - -Judy stood with her mother at the window and watched her grandparents -walk slowly to their car. Their shoulders touched, Grandma holding -Grandpa’s arm. - -“They’re so wonderful,” her mother murmured. “They made our careers -possible. It wasn’t easy for us, nor for them.” Her voice was low, as if -speaking to herself. “Struggle ... to get even this far—” - -“What struggle?” Judy wondered. All those exciting trips her parents -took to faraway countries? Of course, they were rarely able to get -engagements together. Last month her father was in Canada and her mother -in Argentina. But in only two weeks they were back. As for herself, she -always had her grandparents! They disliked the city and the cramped -quarters of their daughter’s apartment. But they came just the same, -giving it, even for a week or two, something of the atmosphere of their -own home. A corner of the living room was turned into a studio for -Grandfather where he painted happily after a busy day at the office. In -another corner of the living room Grandmother had her typewriter where -she labored, when time permitted, at stories hopefully sent off, but -whose return never disheartened her for long! Records were played, but -the piano was rarely opened. Yes, it was fun having her grandparents -move in. Members of the family dropped in whom Judy otherwise never saw. -And the joy of the theater! Once it was “Medea.” When her grandmother -protested, Grandfather had said, “What, have the girl miss the chance of -seeing Judith Anderson!” They sat in the balcony, Grandmother wearing -Grandfather’s glasses. She always insisted her eyes were perfect, except -now and then. Her firm, straight back was bent forward, not to miss a -single word. Grandfather sat at ease, enjoying himself. - -Her mother touched her arm. “What are you thinking about, Judy?” - -“Nothing ... just remembering some wonderful times with Grandmother and -Grandfather.” - -Her mother sighed. “It seems only a few years ago that they were -climbing mountains! Now they seem old.” - -“How can you say that, Mother? They never seem old to me.” - -“You’re a strange girl.” - -They turned back to the living room. Mrs. Lurie checked over the -suitcases for the last time. Judy tidied up the room while her father -carefully covered his precious viola with layers of soft cloths. - -The last chores were done. In the morning they would start on the first -lap of their journey to Aspen. - - - - - 3 - PLEASURES OF TRAVEL - - -Flying was no novelty to her parents, but to Judy, whose small journeys -had always been by car, this, her first plane trip, was an event. In -Aspen they were going to do without a car. Mr. Lurie wouldn’t trust -their old bus on those mountain roads. - -It was still foggy when they took their seats in the plane. Judy was -conscious of the unconcern of everyone but herself. Why, only last week -she heard over the radio, “the plane had only just left the ground -when—” - -The motors started, whirring noisily as they warmed up. Mrs. Lurie -noticed the strained expression on her daughter’s face. - -“Once we’re in the air, you’ll be thrilled. You’ll see Long Island as a -bird might—” - -The girl smiled feebly. She closed her eyes. When I open them, she told -herself, I’ll be up in the air. She counted slowly to a hundred—they -were still in the same spot. Twice she repeated the experiment. The -plane was still on the ground, racing along the runway! Then when she -least expected it, there was a sudden lift and they were flying. The -mist had disappeared. The world below was an intricate design of shining -water, green fields, and toy houses. It was more wonderful than anything -she had ever imagined and with the wonder, her fears vanished. - -Before long they were flying at nineteen thousand feet. All she could -see were soft fleecy clouds. The plane seemed like a giant bird skimming -over endless banks of snow. Three hours from the time they left the -airport they could make out the tall buildings of Chicago, hundreds of -miles from home. - -“I’ll meet you at the railroad terminal in an hour, two at the most,” -John told his wife, taking only his viola with him as he stepped into a -taxi to keep his appointment. - -Mrs. Lurie and Judy proceeded to the railroad. The porter left them with -their five pieces of baggage near the gate marked “Denver and -California.” There were no seats nearby and before a half hour passed, -it became increasingly difficult to stand. Judy balanced herself on one -of the upturned suitcases and her mother soon followed her example. They -tried to read. A coke from one machine and salted peanuts from another -provided a pleasant interlude. Judy watched people going into a -restaurant at the far end of the station. Her mother noticed her -fascinated absorption. - -“We can’t move these bags and there isn’t a porter in sight. As soon as -your father comes, we’ll get something to eat.” - -At the word “eat,” Judy remembered her grandmother’s shoebox—such -tremendous chicken sandwiches and fruit! This was the emergency her -grandmother always managed to foresee. - -When another hour passed, Mrs. Lurie, no longer able to conceal her -anxiety, went in search of a porter. He tossed their luggage on his -truck while they took up their vigil at the gate, scanning every -entrance. With less than five minutes to spare, John rushed toward them, -mumbling breathlessly, “Sorry, darlings.” - -“Sorry nothing,” Judy thought, severely critical. On the contrary, she -noticed his eyes sparkled. - -“I signed the new contract,” he whispered to Minna as he herded them -aboard the train. Mrs. Lurie, too, was now all smiles, the tension of -the last hours forgotten. - -They entered the car where they would spend the remaining hours of the -late afternoon, the night, and most of the following day. - -Mr. Lurie cleared the seats of the luggage. His viola, never out of his -sight for a moment, he placed conspicuously near the seat he would -occupy. - -“When we’re ready to retire,” Mrs. Lurie said, “the porter will come and -make up our beds. You’re taking the upper berth. Father and I will share -the lower one.” - -It was seven-thirty before they could get seats in the dining car. They -stood with a long queue of people in the narrow corridor of the swaying -train. Everyone was friendly and freely gave advice. “Be sure to get up -early tomorrow morning so that you can get seats in the Vista Dome—” - -At last the Luries were ushered to their seats by an impressive-looking -steward. Mr. Lurie was studying the menu card. - -“Outrageous!” - -“What is?” Judy asked, turning her gaze from the jiggling silver on the -table. - -“The prices! One has the choice of starving or becoming bankrupt!” - -“John,” her mother said quietly, “everyone can hear you. Besides, the -railroad can’t help charging so much. I read an article that showed they -actually lose money on the dining cars—the cost of food, the waste. They -threaten to discontinue them altogether.” - -“Well then, let’s eat and be merry,” he replied, his high spirits -returning. - -By the time they returned to their car, their beds were made up for the -night. Using the ladder, Judy climbed into her berth. The curtains were -fastened. - -“Mother,” Judy called, sticking her head through a tiny opening, “it’s -pitch black. I can’t seem to locate the light.” - -“It’s overhead, near the pillow,” her mother whispered. “Father and I -are going into the club car.” - -Judy, on her knees to avoid bumping her head, groped about vaguely, -found the small button and pressed it hard. There was a resounding ring. -She jumped at the sound and then, quite by accident, found the light -switch. Cautiously, still on her knees, she began pulling off her -sweater. - -“What is it, Miss?” The kindly face of the porter peered at her. - -“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” Judy said thickly, her sweater wedged -over her nose and mouth. “I couldn’t find the light. But it’s all right -now.” - -“Ring whenever you need me.” He quickly withdrew his head. A battery of -bells called him. - -She finished undressing lying flat on her back, struggled into pajamas, -and tossed her jumbled clothes in a heap at the foot of her berth. - -“It’s six-thirty, Judy.” It was her mother speaking. “We want to get an -early breakfast so that we can get seats in the Vista Dome.” Her mother -was already dressed, when she could have slept through the morning, a -luxury Minna loved but rarely enjoyed. - -When Judy made her appearance, her mother looked at her. “Your hair!—You -look as if you fell out of a grab bag.” - -In the dressing room, overflowing with crying babies and their mothers, -Judy made herself presentable. Once again they went through the lunging -cars. - -For Judy, the dinner of the night before hadn’t been much of a success. -She flushed as she remembered the white rivulet of milk coursing down -her new sweater. - -“No fluids, thank you—something solid and substantial, like pancakes -with syrup. Besides,” she whispered to her father, “imagine, orange -juice, forty cents a glass!” His smile and nod commended her for her -good sense. - -After breakfast they hurried to the last car. It was a comfortable -lounge in the center of which was a short flight of steps. They ascended -the stairway and entered the Vista Dome, a train above a train, -completely glassed in, even the top. The Luries crowded together in the -last vacant seat. They were silent, enraptured by the beauty of the -scene. Mountains hemmed them in on both sides. “What if there were a -landslide?” Judy thought, “and one of those overhanging crags came -crashing down on the glass dome!” - -The train climbed steadily. As the hours passed, the mountains took on a -somber brown and dullish red and assumed the fantastic shapes of -turreted castles. Frequently the train disappeared into a tunnel cut -through the mountain. One of them, “the Moffat Tunnel,” the loudspeaker -announced, “is a great engineering feat and is six miles long.” - -Many seats were vacant now. People were getting tired in spite of the -glorious views. Judy noticed a girl about her own age sitting alone. - -“Why don’t you go over and speak to her,” her mother suggested. “She’ll -probably be glad of your company.” - -Within a matter of minutes Judy and Audrey were like old friends. - -“We’ve lived in so many cities,” Audrey said with a tired shrug. “Now -we’re bound for L.A.” At Judy’s look of interrogation, she added, “Los -Angeles.” - -“We’d only just bought a house in Omaha. Now it’s up for sale! Honestly, -my father says his boss moves him around like a piece on a -checkerboard!” - -Judy was sympathetic. “I thought only musicians move so much.” - -“Musicians? You?” - -“No,” Judy answered quickly. “My mother and father. That’s why we’re -going to Aspen. Mother’s a singer and Father plays the viola. And they -always practice at home—Mother with her accompanist and Father and his -quartet—can you imagine what it’s like sometimes?” - -“Awful! How can you stand it?” - -“You get used to it. Sometimes, I must admit, it’s very nice.” - -“Have you a job or something out in Aspen?” - -“Not exactly a job, but I—I—er—expect to act—in one of those little -summer theaters,” Judy spoke diffidently, but she couldn’t quite conceal -her exultation. - -Audrey was impressed. “An actress! But you don’t look like one!” - -“Well, you know, Audrey, with grease paint and makeup—besides, I -probably will have the most minute role,” she smiled with a deprecating -little gesture. - -Audrey returned to her own problems. “I don’t mind telling you, it is a -tragedy for me to leave Omaha.” - -Judy was about to inquire what she meant by those solemn words when a -big voice boomed behind them. - -“You can see the broken-down, deserted cabins halfway up the mountains.” - -The girls turned toward the voice. A short, stocky man was standing near -them, a pair of field glasses in one hand and pointing to the mountains -with the other. - -Judy smiled out of politeness and he returned her smile. - -“Like to have a peek?” He handed her the glasses. She too could see the -trails and dilapidated shacks that led to the mines. - -“Here, Audrey, you look.” - -“Oh, yes, I see them,” Audrey said, returning the glasses to the owner. - -“And do you know what was in those mines?” the man continued in a -stentorian voice. “Gold! That’s what brought them to Colorado, gold!” - -“I thought it was silver,” Judy said quietly. “My grandfather told me -that silver—” - -She got no further. She could hear the subdued chuckling of the -passengers. - -“You’re right, Miss, but only half right. First they came for gold, then -for silver. Tell that to your grandpa!” - -He went on talking, explaining.... Judy’s eyes ached from the sun that -blazed through the glass dome, and her neck was stiff from looking and -straining. - -“Attention, please!” The voice of the loudspeaker broke in on the man’s -eloquence. “When we reach the next station, there will be a wait of -twenty minutes for the automatic car washing. This process will be of -interest to our passengers.” - -The two girls had only one thought, to get off the train and stretch -their legs. Arm in arm they walked down the long platform, soon -engrossed in their former conversation. - -“The reason I hated to leave Omaha was not because of the new house, but -because I was going steady with a boy! Now we’re separated, maybe -forever.” - -Judy pressed Audrey’s hand to indicate how deeply she understood. - -With slow, leisurely steps they walked back, remembering the car -washing. They looked down the tracks. The train had vanished. - -“What will we do?” - -“And we haven’t any money to telegraph or anything,” Judy waved her -empty purse. A stone would have been moved by that gesture. - -“What’s the matter, girls?” A nice-looking gentleman, standing nearby, -having heard their cries of alarm, smilingly faced them. - -“The train!” they stammered in one breath. “It’s gone!” - -“I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” his mouth twitched as if he wanted to -laugh. “The train is down a siding, about a mile, having that grand -wash. Remember? It’ll come back.” - -The girls were too miserable to talk. They kept staring down the empty -tracks, not quite believing, yet hoping the train would return. - -At last the train, beautifully clean, slid down the tracks before them. -The girls stood together on the train as it began to move. “Be sure to -write,” Judy said tensely. “Remember, everything about him.” Addresses -were hurriedly exchanged. Feeling almost like sisters who have just met, -only to be cruelly torn apart, they kissed fondly and separated, Audrey -to her car and Judy to the Vista Dome where she had left her parents -peacefully sleeping. - -Glenwood Springs, the railroad station for Aspen, was the next stop. The -Luries hurried back to their car. - -Their berths were made up and the luggage was once again piled on the -seats and under them. Mr. Lurie methodically counted them. “One, two, -three—where’s the viola? I don’t see it!—” His voice was almost a gasp. - -“The porter has probably taken it out with our large case,” Minna said -confidently, but her face was as white as his. “I’ll ring for him.” - -The porter appeared. “Where’s my viola?” Mr. Lurie asked in a voice that -scarcely concealed his rage. - -“Your what, Sir?” the porter asked calmly. - -“My viola,” Mr. Lurie snapped. “It looks like a violin, only larger. It -was in a black case. It’s not here. We’ve looked everywhere.” His voice -shook. “Did you take it out with any other baggage?” - -The porter shook his head. “I remember that violin thing. Just took the -things from the bed, laid them down while I made up the berths.” - -“And why did you make up my berth? Didn’t I ask you to leave it alone?” - -“But I has to make up the berths,” the porter argued mildly. - -“That berth down there isn’t made up,” Mr. Lurie’s eyes flashed as he -pointed to the one that still had its curtains drawn. - -As if startled by the turmoil, the head of an elderly woman, her hair -secured in a pink net, suddenly protruded from the curtains. - -“Porter,” she asked querulously, “how many times must I ring? You -promised to bring my tray an hour ago.” - -“I know, Ma’am, I was just fixing to bring it when this gentleman here -got some trouble.” - -A slow smile broke over the porter’s face. “I recollect now—everyone -leaving at one time to get to the Vista Dome. I piled things everywhere. -That lady down there, I couldn’t make up her berth. She was feeling -poorly. When she went into the ladies’ lounge, I naturally set a lot of -things in her upper berth. It was empty. Then she comes back unexpected -and—” - -“Instead of all this palaver,” Mr. Lurie interrupted, “will you kindly -see if it is there?” - -“Pardon me, Ma’am,” and with a practiced hand he reached into the upper -berth and drew out the black case of the viola. - -“There you are, Sir. No harm done. Never lost a thing in all my—” - -“Thank Heaven!” Mr. Lurie said fervently, wiping the beads of -perspiration from his face. - -“You have no idea, Porter, what the loss of that instrument could mean -to me. You were negligent,” Mr. Lurie reiterated, not nearly so -belligerently, “but the main thing is that it was found.” - -Everybody smiled with relief. The train was slowing down. Judy and her -parents said good-bye to their fellow passengers and a few minutes later -they were standing on the platform. - -Judy watched the long train slowly pull away. It took on speed and was -soon lost to sight. - -“Come on, Judy,” her mother called impatiently, “stop dreaming. We still -have a short bus ride to Aspen.” - - - - - 4 - FIRST GLIMPSE OF ASPEN - - -The short ride to Aspen proved to be forty miles! - -A tall, ungainly youth, his good-natured face topped by thick red hair, -walked unerringly to the man carrying the musical instrument. - -“Mr. Lurie?” - -Mr. Lurie nodded. - -“I’m Fran,” the boy smiled. “I’m to drive you to Aspen.” - -“Good,” and with an answering smile, Mr. Lurie introduced him to Mrs. -Lurie and Judy. Fran helped with the luggage as well as with the cartons -already arrived, and piloted them to the car. - -It was a neat little bus, and its name gaily painted in red letters, -“Little Percent,” was visible through the film of dust that covered the -car like a blanket. - -“That’s an odd name,” Mr. Lurie commented. - -“Not for Aspen. There was once a mine called ‘Little Percent.’ Now it’s -the name of the only taxi business around here. Nearly everything here -is named after the silver mines—Little Annie, The Smuggler. Now they’re -just fancy eating places.” - -As Judy was about to take her seat with her parents, Fran said -offhandedly, “Maybe you’d better sit up front with me. No sense all -being crowded in there with all that baggage.” - -Fran put his foot on the gas and they were soon speeding along a dirt -road, the dust almost choking them. - -“Sorry about the dust,” Fran said over his shoulder. “We haven’t had a -drop of rain in weeks.” - -They rounded curves on one wheel and Fran seemed to enjoy Judy’s -terrified “Oh’s!” as they edged a precipice with only inches to spare. - -“Don’t tell me you’re scared!” he smiled jovially. “This is nothing! -Wait until sometime you go up Independence Pass. There you really have -to watch your bus.” - -“I love mountains. I’ve climbed them since I was a child,” Judy said -stiffly. “But racing over ledges is something different. You can trust -your feet—that’s more than you can say about a car.” - -Barely glancing at the road, Fran gazed obliquely at Judy with new -interest. “If you like mountain climbing, you’ll be crazy about Aspen.” - -“Really? I thought everyone came here to study music, or play in the -orchestra, or sing!” - -“We get lots of that kind all summer. And besides them there are the -thousands who come to listen and go to lectures every night!” - -He maneuvered another hairpin curve, taking no notice of a shuddering -“Oh!” this time from Mrs. Lurie. “But the real excitement,” he went on, -“the real money spent around here is for skiing. From fall right up to -spring! That’s a sport. Skiing!” His face glowed. - -“How do you find time to ski?” Judy asked. - -“What do you mean? You might as well ask how one finds time to eat!” - -Mrs. Lurie leaned forward and tapped her daughter on the shoulder. -“Don’t you think you should let Fran concentrate on his driving instead -of annoying him with your chatter?” - -“I barely opened my mouth!” Judy said indignantly, as she turned around. -“Blaming me!—” When she saw the strained look on her mother’s face, she -nudged Fran and told him to take it easy. He was making her mother -nervous. - -The clouds of dust were finally left behind and they approached Aspen -over a bumpy, paved road. - -“See that enormous white tent?” Fran said, unconsciously assuming the -role of a driver of a guided tour. “That’s where all the big concerts -are given. The supports inside the tent are a bright orange and the -cushions of the seats are blue. Very pretty!” - -And the Luries obediently looked, eager to get their first glimpse of -the canvas concert hall they were to know so well. - -“Cost the music people about ten thousand dollars,” the irrepressible -Fran continued. - -“Ten thousand dollars,” Mrs. Lurie echoed. “How did they manage to raise -such a large sum of money?” - -Fran slowed the car, his head turned toward his uneasy passengers behind -him. “Well, for one thing, there’s a Mr. Paepcke. He’s the president of -a paper container corporation—a millionaire! It was his idea to make -Aspen a music center.” - -“Yes. I’ve heard of him,” Mr. Lurie replied. “He seems to be quite a -person. In fact, I understand that since the Aspen Music -Associates—that’s the new name for the Music Festival—” he told his -wife, “—since they now can get contributions to cover the deficit, Mr. -Paepcke has turned his attention to other projects.” - -“That’s right, Mr. Lurie. He’s just crazy about culture! Has paintings -and art exhibits, even highbrow lectures!” Fran turned down a side -street, stopping the car. “I thought I could show you his latest—but -it’s too far out of our way. He’s built a large, plush hotel, just for -businessmen when they come here for vacation. He expects them to go to -the lectures he’s arranged, highbrow stuff—philosophy and that sort of -thing, so they shouldn’t waste their time while on vacation!” Fran shook -his head over the strange, inexplicable notions of Mr. Paepcke. - -“A very remarkable idea,” Mr. Lurie said thoughtfully. “To be able to -use one’s hours of leisure on vacation for the things one never has time -for—” - -“I bet they’ll still come here just to ski, anyhow, when there’s any -snow,” Fran said with a grin. - -They were driving through many of the principal streets of Aspen. It was -a small town that nestled in a lovely green valley between two great -mountains: Aspen and Red, Fran named them. He pointed to some houses -high up the mountain, barely visible because of the forests. “Imagine -people building big homes up there because the town’s too crowded! The -road is so steep only the jeeps can make it. A good car gets used up in -no time.” - -They continued to drive slowly through the town. Houses of all shapes -and styles of architecture were huddled together. Some were old with -pointed roofs, gables, and bulging bay windows. Mr. Lurie admired the -ones patterned after Swiss chalets, happy reminders of a boyhood -vacation in Switzerland. None of the Luries looked with favor on the -newer houses, squat, flat-roofed dwellings with large picture windows. - -“They are out of place in this lovely mountain setting,” Mrs. Lurie -said, but added as an afterthought, “but they’re probably divine to live -in.” - -Fran, undiscouraged by his passengers’ preoccupation with houses old and -new, continued to enlighten them. - -“That’s where they print the _Aspen Times_,” and he pointed out a wooden -structure reminiscent of an earlier era. “It comes out once a week, but -it’s been right here since the silver boom days.” - -Judy had made several attempts to break in on Fran’s monologue. She -thought quickly. “By the way,” she said with elaborate nonchalance, “You -wouldn’t happen to know where that cute little theater is—I’m surprised -you didn’t point that out!” - -“Oh, the Isis! We didn’t happen to pass it. But they have movies -there—the greatest!” Judy gave up, as Fran continued. - -“That big gray stone building next to it is the Jerome Hotel. When they -built it in 1881, it was a show place. That’s when silver was all there -was in Aspen. It was elegant! It’s still the finest place in Aspen, -fixed up modern today with a half dozen or more annexes. And it’s got a -swimming pool!” he added impressively. - -“Can anyone use the pool?” Judy asked, “or is it just for the hotel -guests?” - -“It’s mostly for the guests, but the music festival people get in -somehow.” - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -They had now reached the end of town and Fran stopped in front of a -plain little cottage with an overhanging veranda. “Here we are,” he -said, jumping out to unload the car. - -“Is that ours?” Judy asked, considerably let down. But her mother, it -was apparent, felt differently. - -“Isn’t it lovely, John!” she exclaimed. “Real Victorian. Look at that -fine old grille railing on the roof—” - -Mrs. Lurie lost no time in entering the house, her husband following. -She had to know at once. - -There it was, a large, ebony, upright piano that dwarfed the parlor -sprinkled liberally with overstuffed chairs and a small sofa, more -chairs, tables with artificial flowers, lamps of all kinds. But Mrs. -Lurie was radiant. - -“They gave us the piano after all!” - -“Yes, darling,” her husband said, equally happy. “Perhaps all that -letter-writing helped.” Then he frowned as if he suddenly remembered. -“It may not prove an unmixed blessing. Remember the conditions? Students -must be permitted to practice any hour of the day.” He smiled, “Knowing -how pressed they are for practice space, they’ll probably start at -dawn!” - -But Mrs. Lurie’s enthusiasm remained undampened. She’d have her two -hours! - -Meanwhile Fran brought up the last of the cartons and luggage and set -them on the porch where Judy was gazing raptly at the mountains. - -“Any time you want to climb,” he said shyly. - -“I’d love to, but I expect to be rather busy—I’m going to act.” She -paused for the effect. - -Fran looked puzzled. “Where?” - -“Right here in Aspen, at the Barn.” - -“You mean Mr. Crowley’s summer theater?” - -“That’s right. I’m in the company.” Languorously, the girl smoothed back -a few wisps of hair in an unmistakably theatrical gesture. - -Fran grinned. “I guessed you were kidding.” - -“Kidding!” Judy frowned indignantly. “It happens to be true. Mr. Crowley -is a friend of my father and he himself arranged for me to join his -theater.” - -“When was that?” - -“A few weeks ago.” - -“Oh! That explains it.” - -A strange note in the boy’s voice caught Judy’s attention. “Explains -what?” she asked cautiously. - -“It’s funny you didn’t hear about it,” Fran muttered. He eyed her -unhappily. “There isn’t going to be any summer theater. Mr. Crowley -couldn’t raise enough money to swing it. He went back to Denver three -days ago.” - -“Oh!” Judy felt the blood mounting to her face. There were questions she -wanted to ask but she didn’t trust herself to speak. - -“I’m sorry about it, kid,” Fran murmured. “But don’t let it get you -down. Maybe next year Crowley will raise the money and you’ll be back as -leading lady.” He edged off the porch back to his bus. “Aspen isn’t a -bad place, even without a theater. You’ll have a lot of fun. And don’t -forget, whenever you want to climb—” He was at the wheel racing the -motor. The bus pulled away, gathered speed, and disappeared around the -corner far up the street. Slowly, Judy turned and dragged herself into -the house. - -“Judy? Judy? Where are you?” - -“You haven’t seen the house! How do you like the piano? Ugly, but it has -a wonderful tone! From what I just learned about the students coming -here to practice, you’ll escape playing without even a struggle,” her -mother rattled on. - -“Oh, I’ll play sometimes.” - -It was not only the voice bordering on despair but her features -distorted in pain that made her father eye her keenly. - -“Judy, why this face of gloom on this lovely, happy occasion?” - -“Fran just told me that the theater is all washed up—that Mr. Crowley -went back to Denver—” She couldn’t go on. - -A fleeting uncertainty passed over Minna’s face but her father smiled -reassuringly. - -“I’d like to know one way or the other. Can’t you telephone or -telegraph—or something,” the girl pleaded. - -“The opening is probably postponed!” her father said convincingly. “That -often happens with a new venture. Of course Jim went to Denver—that’s -where he has all his connections.” Again he gave her that warm, -reassuring smile. “Suppose you don’t get started for a week or two! So -much the better. You’ll get a chance to discover Aspen, walking miles in -this wonderful, bracing climate and have fun with us.” - -“You’re a real cure for the blues, Father. Grandma once called you the -incurable optimist.” - -Her father raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound particularly -complimentary!” - -“But it was meant in the nicest way. Grandma said Minna was a worrier -and that she was lucky to be married to a man like you.” - -By nightfall, basic unpacking was finished and, with no time or -opportunity to purchase food, they decided to go out for dinner. They -walked aimlessly through several streets trying to discover one of the -colorful restaurants Fran had mentioned—Little Nell, Golden Horn, -Mario’s. From the latter, as they stood on the sidewalk, voices were -heard singing operatic arias! That settled it. They went in. - -Judy’s parents were enchanted not only by the atmosphere but even more -by the waiters who sang as they served and again at interludes between -courses. The food was new and exotic and Judy ate with rapt enjoyment, -the problem of Mr. Crowley and the theater temporarily forgotten. - -She glanced occasionally at her mother and father. They were -incomprehensible! Their food grew cold as they talked to the waiters. -Suppose they were studying opera at the Aspen Music School! Her father -finally succumbed to the aroma of the good-smelling dinner but her -mother, between listening and applauding, found no chance to eat. - -“I like opera, Father,” Judy told him, savoring the last mouthful on her -plate. “Remember how I adored ‘Pagliacci’ when I heard it at the -Metropolitan Opera House with Grandma and Grandpa! There was scenery and -costumes, and what a story! That was Opera!” - -Her father laughed. “A lover of music doesn’t need trappings of scenery -and costume to enjoy opera. Your mother would rather sing or listen to -singing than eat.” - -Judy shook her head. “After all,” she argued, “when you eat, you should -enjoy eating, not have to listen—to applaud.” - -“Minna,” John addressed his wife, “I think Judy has a point there. -Please eat your dinner before it’s utterly spoiled.” - -They returned from Mario’s relaxed and gay, Minna still humming some of -the melodies. Opening the screen door, a letter fell on the porch. Judy -picked it up, quickly glancing at the name of the sender. - -“It’s a special delivery from Mr. Crowley, Father, for you.” Her face -paled. - -Mr. Lurie read it silently while his daughter watched the pained -disappointment deepen on his face. - -“Judy dear,” he hesitated for a moment then went on quickly as if -wishing to have the unhappy business over as fast as possible. “It seems -Fran was right. There will be no summer theater,” and he handed her the -letter. She read, tears blurring the words. “The backers faded away.... -I’m so sorry about your daughter. I know how these kids are, what a -disappointment this must be. Tell her next year, cross my heart....” - -Judy was desolate. It wasn’t just the disappointment at not having the -opportunity to act: that was bad enough. But what would she do with -herself in Aspen for a whole summer? The weeks ahead loomed empty and -void. - -Her parents tried to cheer her up. “There’s a whole new world for you to -discover out here,” her father said. “A girl with your curiosity and -interests needn’t have a dull moment.” - -“And I’m sure there are young people your age in Aspen,” her mother -added. “With a little effort, you won’t have any trouble finding -companions.” - -Judy didn’t argue with them. What was the use? They had tried their -best. It wasn’t their fault that Mr. Crowley’s theater had fallen -through. “I have to make the best of it,” she said, and added -realistically, “Don’t make them miserable.” Then she further cautioned -herself, “Assume a virtue, if you have it not.” - -The next few days passed quickly, even for Judy. The house had to be -made livable. “The kitchen is as old as Methuselah,” Mrs. Lurie said, -“and has the conveniences of the Stone Age.” But once everything was -done and food supplies stocked, Judy found her parents still “tearing -around like mad,” a phrase she used in her recent letter to her -grandparents. - -There were faculty meetings, rehearsals to be arranged. John had to set -up programs for his newly organized quartet, and Minna was in daily -conference with Mme. Rousse and her pupils. - -After four days of comparative quiet, the music students of the School -began to arrive with clockwork regularity at two-hour intervals. Judy -saw them sometimes, deadly serious as they rushed out after practice to -some other task or perhaps to a date. They were intent and enthusiastic -young people but to Judy they seemed hoary with age and -responsibilities. - -For want of anything better to do, she threw herself into organizing the -household regime. Washing dishes and making beds were her department. -Her father used the carpet-sweeper and mopped up the kitchen floor with -giant strokes more suitable for a shuffleboard. There was laundry for -Minna to iron whenever someone remembered to borrow a car and call for -their bundle at the laundromat. - -Judy never wondered how her mother managed to prepare their meals. Mrs. -Lurie did that and many other things besides with an ease, a sleight of -hand that was slightly deceptive. She worked hard to get everything done -and yet find time for her arduous profession. She had set herself the -task of singing in opera, a dream possible of realization here at Aspen, -but she doggedly pursued her domestic tasks. For breakfast she whipped -up some wonderful pancakes and for sheer quantity consumption, Judy held -the family record. Lunch was tuna fish, an egg, or a salad, usually -prepared by Judy for herself. Dinners meant hamburgers or chops broiled -over their outside grille, with soup and vegetables frozen or out of a -can, milk, and fresh fruit. Once a week she went all out to bake a -chicken or something in a casserole, which she optimistically expected -to see them through for days. It rarely did. - -New friends and some old ones dropped in nearly every night, that is, -when there were neither lectures nor concerts scheduled. It was a busy, -full life for Judy’s parents. - -But to Judy, the prospect of spending an entire summer doing simple -household chores and wandering about sightseeing alone was far from -cheering. - -Each morning her mother left the house, visibly disturbed. “Judy dear, -I’m planning to take you to the pool a few afternoons during the week. -We’re dying to go ourselves. It’s already past nine. We’ve got to rush. -Good-bye, darling.” The door closed. A moment later her mother’s head -reappeared at the door. - -“Forget anything, Mother?” - -“No, dear. I just wanted to tell you that once our schedules are -definitely arranged, we won’t be so hectically busy.” There was the -impatient honking of a horn from the car picking them up. Her mother -hurriedly left. - -Another week passed, and there was no change in the absorbing activity -in the lives of Minna and John Lurie. There were many famous people in -Aspen, artists, musicians, composers, and to Judy it seemed her parents -had to meet them all! - -Even during dinner in the evening, they were involved in their own -interests, often trying to draw Judy into their conversation. Separated -during much of the day by their individual activities, they talked with -enthusiasm of discovering this one or that one. But Judy was bursting to -tell them of her discoveries: the Chairlift where she spent many hours -each day, eating her lunch or writing letters. Sometimes she sketched -the tourists as they jumped on the moving chairs of the Lift and -disappeared among the lofty mountains. - -“Yes,” her mother said absently, “we know the Chairlift. We pass it -every day.” - -“Some day we’ll go up and see that famous sundeck thirteen thousand feet -high,” her father casually promised and went on talking of other -matters. - -“Now this Mr. William Primrose. I’ve spoken of him before, Judy. He’s -the greatest viola player in the world!” Her father’s eyes shone with -the adulation he felt for this great artist. “He’s to be the soloist at -several of the Festival concerts. You’ll be with us, Judy—something -you’ll remember all your life!” - -Nor was her mother to be outdone. “Judy, you’ll never know how wonderful -the clarinet can be until you hear Reginald Kell! When he plays, his -tone more nearly resembles the human voice than anything in the world—so -delicate, so pure! He’s the greatest, the most celebrated clarinetist!” - -They tried to interest her in Darius Milhaud, the greatest living -composer of modern music. - -“Everyone you and Father mention seems to be the greatest,” Judy had -interrupted, a wicked gleam in her eye. She remembered the many reproofs -she had received for using just such superlatives. - -“But they just happen to be,” her father said, brushing her remark -aside. “Darius Milhaud,” he began but stopped, noticing the blank look -on Judy’s face. - -“You must have heard his music at concerts or on the radio!” her mother -interjected. - -As Judy shook her head, her father went on patiently. - -“He’s a very great composer of modern music, a Frenchman, and teaches -conducting and composition to advanced students. It’s a great honor to -have such a man on our faculty!” - -He looked at his daughter hopefully. She seemed interested at last. - -“What I tried to tell you before you interrupted me, this great man is -coming to our house next week. He is permitting my quartet and me to -play his newest composition in manuscript form. He’s coming with his -wife, a former actress, a fine artist in her own right.” - -For a week they talked of nothing else. Whom among their friends should -they invite? Who would call for the composer and his wife, since it was -well known he walked little? What should they serve after the music? The -house must shine and, indeed, late in the night John polished floors and -furniture until they gleamed. - -When the great evening came, the little parlor was crowded with friends -long before the honored guests arrived. - -As Darius Milhaud walked into the room accompanied by his charming wife, -everyone rose. Milhaud walked slowly; his heavy body was crippled by -arthritis and he leaned heavily on the arm of his wife. - -He greeted Minna and John Lurie warmly and with a few pleasant words to -the guests put everyone at ease—that is, everyone except Judy, who -stared uncomfortably at the composer’s face, so white and -unhealthy-looking. - -After some general talk, Milhaud gave the signal and the music began. -The composition took nearly an hour and to Judy, accustomed to the more -melodic harmonies of an older school, the music was extremely trying. -She was convinced that the quartet, including her father, was playing -wrong notes! Otherwise how to account for such terrible sounds? She -squirmed wretchedly on the small couch, wedged in by former students of -Milhaud who, judging by the expression on their faces, were literally in -heaven! For a few blissful moments Judy found herself dozing, only to be -rudely wakened by a dissonance that shattered her. - -But she found compensation at last! She watched the composer. She -couldn’t take her eyes off his hands. How beautiful they were as he -moved them gently, guiding the players. She no longer tried to listen to -music she neither liked nor understood. She glanced at Mrs. Milhaud and -was deeply touched. There was something in her face, her eyes, her whole -being, fastened upon her husband. As the hour advanced and the room grew -chilly, she unobtrusively rose and put a plaid shawl upon her husband’s -knees. Seeing them so, husband and wife, Judy somehow thought of her -grandparents. - -The piece was finished. Everyone clapped and shouted “Bravo!” “It was -grand!” “A memorable performance!” “Sure to be an astounding success!” - -But the Luries did not have to entertain a celebrity to have music in -their home. Friends came to spend a social evening, but invariably -brought with them their musical instruments—bass fiddle, cello, violin, -clarinet—and stacked them on a bed or on chairs. Everyone cheerfully -pushed the parlor furniture about, carried the music stands from the -closet under the hall stairs, switched lamps from there to here for -better lighting. There was talk, gossip of the great ones, a little -politics and world affairs, but mostly music. - -Judy went to her room shortly after the first pleasant greetings were -over. Sometimes she fell asleep in spite of the music played fortissimo -right under her room. - -She could always tell when it was eleven o’clock, by the clatter of the -teacups. Her mother was serving coffee and cake. Why are musicians -always so hungry, she wondered, even as she bit greedily into a large -slice of cake her mother had thoughtfully brought her. - -She opened her diary. Among its pages lay the letter from Mr. Crowley. -She read it again, then briefly wrote in her diary. - -“I went to the Theater Barn yesterday, just to see it! It was just as I -dreamed it would be, except the heavy padlock on the door and the sign -‘For Rent.’ Poor Mr. Crowley!” - -And it seemed to Judy that she had no sooner fallen sound asleep when -she was awakened by the crash of chords. The early-bird piano student -had arrived for morning practice. - - - - - 5 - A RUDE YET PLEASANT AWAKENING - - -By the end of the second week Judy knew every street in Aspen. She had -stumbled over the uneven slabs of stone that passed for sidewalks while -gazing absently into shop windows displaying curious articles imported -from all over the world. - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -She had even ventured beyond the confines of the town itself and paid -her own visit to the Tent, before her official attendance at a concert. -How inadequate had been Fran’s “Very pretty!” It was stunning. The -sunshine filtering through the open flap bathed the colored sides of the -tent and supports in luscious gold. - -Not more than a few hundred yards from the Tent was a queer-looking -building of octagonal design. Approaching it, she asked one of the -bystanders, “What do they do in there?” - -“Lectures,” was the terse reply. “It’s the Seminar Building. But don’t -try to listen in on them,” he said, apparently amused at the expression -on Judy’s keen and inquisitive face. - -“I see you’ve got a sketch pad,” he went on. “If you are interested in -art, you’ll find the walls lined with paintings—American subjects—very -fine.” and with a nod, he was gone. - -She went in and remained, examining the paintings long after the -students and visitors left. - -One day she got up enough courage to go into the Jerome Hotel. Assuming -an air of confidence, which she was far from feeling, she followed some -ladies entering the lobby and doggedly kept at their heels until they -reached the pool. - -How blue it looked under the dazzling sun! As fresh and cool as the -forests on Aspen Mountain not far in the distance! Guests sat on the -lawn beside the pool, their sunburnt bodies shaded by bright, colored -umbrellas. They were laughing, talking, eating.... Shouts from the pool. -She felt so alone. It was not the first time she recalled her -grandmother’s words. - -Monday morning came. Would this be another week of half-kept promises? - -At breakfast her mother said brightly, “Judy, I have some news for you. -I just heard about a camp and I met the girl who runs it. She’s charming -and I took such a fancy to her.” - -“A camp? Here in Aspen?” Judy asked, interested, but a little cautious. -“What kind of a camp?” - -“It’s a day camp. The hours are from eight-thirty to one o’clock, and -it’s just been a Godsend to the mothers and the children. It’s called -the Festival Day Camp.” - -Judy’s face was a study. Her mother couldn’t possibly mean those little -tots in the station wagon she had frequently passed on the road—the -youngsters noisily piping their camp song, “We’re the Festival Day Camp, -F-E-S-T-I-V-A-L.” - -“How old are the children?” - -Mrs. Lurie’s enthusiasm was slightly chilled by the ominous look on her -daughter’s face. “Some are quite young, but,” she added hurriedly, “Mrs. -Freiborg’s daughter is ten, possibly eleven. I understand they do -interesting, creative things.” Mrs. Lurie found it difficult to go on. -“It could be fun,” she finished on a note that sounded more like a dirge -than a happy conviction. - -“What would I be doing at such a camp!” Judy asked scathingly. “Please -don’t worry about me, Mother. I am all right as I am.” - -“Let’s discuss it later,” her mother pleaded. “This afternoon Mrs. -Freiborg is definitely going to pick us up on her way to the pool.” - -“Stop scowling, Judy,” her father said, displeased at Judy’s attitude. -“Lynne, who runs it, is beautiful and extremely capable. Young as she -is, she’s had years of experience. You won’t be just a camper, you’ll -get to know Lynne. Her husband is one of the youngest men in our -orchestra. They’re a delightful young couple. Mother has practically -said you would go. We’re happy to spend the money.” He patted Judy’s -shoulder affectionately. “At least you won’t be wandering around Aspen -like a lost sheep.” - -“But, Father, how can you expect me to go to a camp with such infants?” - -“Suppose they are younger than you?” her father asked, trying to see -Judy’s point of view. “What of it? While they carry on their activities, -you can be doing other things on your own. Differences in age don’t -matter as much as you think. We have youngsters and graybeards in our -classes. Give it a try.” At the door he paused, “You get out of anything -what you put into it.” - -Still smarting under the unaccustomed pressure her parents were trying -to exert, Judy started making her lunch. In her resentment she forgot -the hours, the days of loneliness. She wrapped her sandwich and put it -in her bag with pad, pencils, crayons, and change purse. With that awful -camp looming on the not too distant horizon, she was determined to have -a really good time today. Something exciting! But what? She couldn’t -climb mountains by herself. Besides, all the trails were miles away. For -a moment she considered Fran and as quickly dismissed him. He was busy -all day riding the bus. All he ever did was to wave his hand and smile -as he passed her. - -With the collapse of her plans to act, other means of retrieving the -summer from “total loss” occasionally occurred to her. A job. Audrey, in -a letter, described hers with such loving detail as quite to overshadow -the meager news about her erstwhile boy friend. - -A job? Judy tried, but her disappointing attempts always followed the -same pattern. - -“Have you any experience?” “None?” “Sorry.” or “We have all the help we -need. You must apply early in Aspen, long before the season.” - -Judy surrendered. Actually she was enjoying this unexpected leisure. -Lonesome sometimes? Yes, but free, free to wander about.... - -Entering the shop of Berko Studio, she exhausted the patience of the -elderly salesman before she selected her two views of Aspen and the -mountains nearby. How much there was to see in this wonderful world of -the Rockies! A thought flashed through her mind. Why not come back with -an article for the _The Plow_, her high school paper? The October issue -was always lavishly devoted to a Vacation Series. - -“My Summer in Aspen.” She shook her head. What had she done that was -interesting? Precisely nothing—yet. - -“Aspen Past and Present.” Decidedly better, she thought. But it had its -drawbacks. You must have an encyclopedia or some means to acquire -information. She meditated. She had finished every book she owned. The -library! She slung her bag over her shoulder, thankful that Aspen had -one! - -She reached the library in a half-hour’s brisk walk and found to her -surprise it was an insignificant corner of a large red brick structure, -“The Aspen Bank.” Thinking she must be mistaken, she circled the block -only to discover the bank building had still another entrance with an -inconspicuous sign, “Wheeler Opera House, 1881.” She stood there -puzzled. Could this be the opera house where world-famous singers and -actors had appeared in the old mining days? Why, only the other night -her father had brought home some colored photographs. Together they had -fairly drooled over the plush and gold interior, more than four hundred -gilt chairs in the orchestra, stage boxes upholstered in red plush. Her -mother had remarked with chilling candor, “It’s nothing like it used to -be. It was twice burnt down and twice restored.... We’re going there on -Thursday night. The Juillard Quartet is giving a Lecture—Recital. You’ll -see it then.” - -“It’ll be a wonderful evening,” her father promised, “and I’ll take you -on a personally conducted tour of the House.” - -Judy retraced her steps. The Opera House could wait. - -A single room lined with books—that was the library! A placard -prominently placed on the wall cautioned “Silence.” The only person in -the room besides herself was the librarian, sitting at her desk and -looking rather forbidding in her horn-rimmed eyeglasses. - -Judy searched the shelves. Still under the spell of the old mining days, -she selected _Aspen and the Silver Kings_. It was a large, heavy book, -its text liberally interwoven with pictures. She sat down at a table to -examine it more leisurely. Mule teams with heavy wagons carrying the -silver ore over Independence Pass, a road thirteen thousand feet high. A -trip over this scenic wonder was, even to the passengers in Kit Carson’s -stage coach, a fearsome thing. A hut near one of the mine shafts. Five -men playing cards. A snow slide and the five were buried under -twenty-five feet of snow. - -She turned the pages. The coming of the first railroad, a queer-looking -train pulled by two engines, smoke belching from its odd-looking -funnels; people rushed down to the depot with flags, yelling themselves -hoarse. It was a great day. Ore could now be moved by train! - -Judy cheerfully skipped the pages. She still hoped for something more -personal, maybe romantic. It was the human element she anxiously sought. - -She read on. Under the intriguing title, “Horace Tabor, the man who -preferred love and Baby Doe to his silver empire,” Judy recognized -romance. This was the sort of pioneer life that appealed to her! - -She looked at Tabor’s picture, a tall, well-built man with fine features -and a long silky mustache. While not exactly a Don Juan, he was -devotedly loved by two women, both of them interesting characters. - -Augusta, his wife, came with Horace Tabor from Maine. In Leadville they -opened a general store and in a short time Horace became postmaster and -then mayor of the seventy shanties that comprised Leadville at that -time. Augusta, even as the mayor’s wife, took in boarders to help with -the family budget. Tabor generously staked the miners to food, picks, -shovels, dynamite, anything they needed to get on with their -prospecting. Augusta objected to his easy-going ways. Money was hard to -make and they often quarreled. - -But Tabor in staking the miners got a share in whatever they found. The -mines began to pay off and Tabor became rich. From “Little Pittsburgh” -alone he made five hundred thousand dollars in fifteen months. He bought -other mines. He was civic-minded, gave Leadville the Opera House and a -Grand Opera House to Denver, was spoken of as the future United States -Senator. But the Tabors were unhappy and their quarrels increased. - -At the age of forty-seven he met the beautiful blonde, Mrs. Harvey Doe, -known as Baby Doe. It was love at first sight! Tabor begged Augusta to -give him a divorce. She refused. He offered her mines, properties. -“Never,” she repeated. After five years of wrangling in court, she gave -him the divorce and accepted the mines. “Some day,” she told the -newspapers, “Tabor will return to me when that blonde hussy grows tired -of him.” - -Judy wondered what became of Baby Doe. No doubt, somewhere among the -pages of the book something more would be told. - -She went over to the desk. “I’d like to take this book home.” The -librarian looked at the title and raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you think -this is a little technical?” she smiled indulgently. “We have a copy of -_Lorna Doone_, _Jane Eyre_.” - -“Thank you,” Judy smiled, “but I read those.” - -“Dickens?” The librarian suggested helpfully. - -“This book’s history, isn’t it?” Judy said, holding the book -possessively. “I like history and since I’m staying in Aspen, I think I -ought to look into—” - -“Very well,” the librarian said kindly. “How shall I make out the card? -There’s a deposit of one dollar, which will be returned to you when you -leave Aspen.” - -“A dollar!” Judy exclaimed. To give up so much money even if only -temporarily—she emptied the contents of her bag on the librarian’s desk, -although she knew all the time that it contained only twenty-five cents. - -“May I take the book for a quarter and bring the rest of it tomorrow?” - -“No, dear. You come tomorrow and in the meantime I’ll put the book aside -for you, although,” she added with a smile, “no one has taken it from -the shelf in years.” Her smile was so friendly, Judy wondered how she -could have thought her grim and forbidding. - -Judy stood there in a quandary. It was much too early to go anywhere for -her lunch and she no longer wished to remain in the library. The Wheeler -Opera House again obtruded itself upon her thoughts. It was just around -the block. Since she was here— - -“Miss...” Judy began. “Wilkes,” the librarian finished for her. - -“Miss Wilkes,” Judy began again, “would it be all right for me to go -into the Opera House now? That is, is one permitted to just go in to -look around?” - -“Yes, of course. The entrance is at the extreme end of the bank -building. There’s a sign, ‘Wheeler Opera House.’” - -“Yes, I saw the sign.” - -“The Opera House is at the very top of the building. It’s a steep climb -and the door may be locked, but you can try.” - -Judy felt grateful to the librarian who had assisted her in this happy -solution. She could spend an hour “exploring,” her favorite expression -for any walk or errand in Aspen. She reached the entrance of the Opera -House and ran up the wooden steps that led into the hall. It was dingy, -not in the least what she had expected. An enormous, an apparently -never-ending flight of stairs appeared ahead of her. Worse than anything -was the deafening sound of musical instruments coming at her like waves -from every part of the building, like a giant orchestra forever tuning -up. As she stood there irresolute a pianist could be heard, the music -coming from under the staircase. For a little while it drowned out the -din of the other players. - -A light now dawned on Judy. This was where the students practiced! She -recalled her father speaking of them as the lucky ones who didn’t have -to go to private homes such as theirs. He surely must have been joking! -Bank, library, practice rooms, and Opera House, all in one old brick -building! Her eyes measured the staircase. She began to climb and -increased her speed to get there quickly. By the time she reached the -landing, she was out of breath. More doors leading to more practice -rooms. If anything, the cacophony had increased. - -Another staircase stretched ahead, seemingly to go to the roof. She -slowly ascended. The sounds of the instruments grew muffled, then almost -ceased. On the landing there was only one door, marked “Entrance.” She -gently turned the knob, pushed the massive door, and stepped within. -There was a prolonged whine as the door closed behind her. She stood -there, blinking at the glare of white lights on the stage. Four -musicians were sitting before their music stands and were playing with -such absorption that her mouselike entrance went unnoticed. A -quartet—she recognized the instruments. - -She looked about her diffidently. A glow from the windows in the balcony -shed a soft light over the auditorium. She saw the walls, papered in -deep red embossed with gold medallions. But there were no gold and plush -boxes, nor hundreds of gilded chairs! - -She couldn’t remain standing there like a statue. If she sat down in one -of the orchestra seats, she might be seen. The balcony would be best; -besides, from that point of vantage she could see everything better. She -moved quietly along the wall, tip-toed up the circular stairs, and -gently lowered a seat. The hinge snapped and the seat fell with a bang. -The quartet was playing softly, which made matters worse, and only when -it began its brilliant finale did she slide into the seat. She looked -about her. It was easy to picture the one-time audience, all satin and -brocade, glittering with diamonds and jewels. She was jolted out of her -pleasant fancies when one of the musicians stepped forward to address -the empty auditorium. - -“In order to give the student body and our guests some greater insight -into the music of Bartok, each member of the quartet will play a solo -passage and follow it with his interpretation. In this way, we feel that -those unfamiliar with the work of Bartok will learn to understand its -profound meaning and—” - -The voice of each of the successive players was pleasant. They explained -long and difficult passages, preceded by equally long and difficult -excerpts from the music. Judy sighed. And this is what her father had -promised would be a wonderful evening! She sat there, her lips -compressed. If this is what the Juillard Quartet was going to play -Thursday night, wild horses wouldn’t drag her here again! - -Her eyes ached from the harsh lights on stage. One could hear as well -with eyes shut. Her father often did. The musicians’ faces, their voices -and their music faded, then melted into an exciting vision.... - -She recognized immediately the figure of Horace Tabor. His thick, silky -mustache was unmistakable. And that was Augusta, his wife, as she -upbraided him as she swept the stage, her long, black skirt swishing -about her, her eyes flashing, her hair like a tower on her head. - -“Is that how you repay me for the many years of hard work, traipsing all -the way from Maine to Colorado? And now that you are rich, you think you -can desert me for that baby-faced blonde, Baby Doe?” Her voice quivered -with anger and disdain. - -“Be reasonable, Augusta,” Tabor’s voice was firm, yet sad. - -“Reasonable! I will never give you a divorce. Never!” - -“But, Augusta, you forget. I have my divorce!” - -“One that I will never recognize!” she wildly interrupted. - -“Baby Doe is now my wife. I love her!” - -And there clinging to Tabor was Baby Doe, her soft curves pressed close -to him, her head crowned with golden curls resting on his breast. - -“She, that creature, will be your ruin!” Augusta said and pointed her -finger derisively. “You’ll never become Senator tied to her! You’ll -never be anything! You’re finished!” - -“Augusta,” Tabor spoke with sorrowful dignity. “I have made you rich. -I’ve given you mines. You want more money, very well! Only I will have -Baby Doe....” And he clasped the silent clinging figure closer to him. - -Augusta rose to her full height, like an angry prophetess of old. “She’s -after your money, your fortune. And when that is gone, she’ll leave you! -Some day when you are ragged and poverty-stricken, you will wake up. -Wake up!” - -Judy felt someone shaking her arm. “Wake up!” the voice repeated. She -opened her eyes with difficulty. A boy was bending over her. - -“The rehearsal’s over. The quartet will be leaving in a few minutes and -lock up.” - -Judy looked at him, her mind still hovering between the past and the -present. “Who are you?” she asked. - -“My name’s Karl. I’m a violin student. I’ve been listening to the -rehearsal. Please come along. I don’t want to get locked in here.” - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -“I just closed my eyes for a minute,” Judy said as she followed him down -the balcony steps. - -“It was a long minute, closer to thirty,” he laughed. “I saw—or rather -heard you—as you lowered that seat—sort of crash landing.” - -“I know. I was petrified when it fell. A broken spring, I guess.” - -They neared the entrance door. The music stands were folded and the -players were talking and laughing among themselves. Judy and Karl left -unnoticed and ran swiftly down the two long flights of stairs. - -“They’ve stopped practicing!” Judy said, surprised at the silence in the -halls. - -“Of course, lunch time. Most of the students eat at the houses, you -know, the dorms where they live.” - -“You too?” - -Karl shook his head. “I came weeks before the Music Festival started. I -live with my uncle.” - -They stood for a moment. The sun felt warm and pleasant after the -mustiness of the Opera House. They looked at each other curiously. - -“Well,” the boy smiled, about to leave. - -“Karl,” Judy said hesitantly. She didn’t want him to go, not just yet. -He was nice—didn’t treat her like a child. - -“Karl,” she said with a little more confidence, “where are you going to -eat your lunch?” - -“Anywhere,” and he shrugged his shoulders as he tapped the pocket of his -coat bulging with a yellow bag. - -“I have my lunch along too. The Chairlift is where I nearly always go. -There are benches and one can buy something to drink right there.” - -“O.K.,” Karl said. “It’s one of my favorite spots too.” They started -walking. - -“By the way, what’s your name?” - -“Judy.” - -“Judy,” he repeated. “I once knew a girl who was called Judith.” - -“You did? What was she like?” - -“It was a long time ago when I lived with a family abroad,” he said -quietly and quickly changed the subject. - -“How did you like Bartok? Or didn’t you hear any of it?” he said with a -good-natured smile. - -“Of course I did!” Remembering how little of it she had really heard, -she went on carefully choosing her words. “I found it difficult to -understand—to—” - -“You’re right,” he interrupted, much to Judy’s relief. “I’ve heard it -now five times and each time I discover something new in it. It’s great -music. Like Milhaud and the other moderns, you’ve got to hear them again -and again. I came especially to hear Bartok’s piece because I’m studying -it. I can’t wait to hear it again on Thursday night.” - -“Oh, yes, Thursday night.” - -“Expect to be there?” Karl asked. - -“Naturally,” Judy answered. “My parents count on my going.” - -Her recent resolution flashed through her mind. “Wild horses wouldn’t -drag me here again!” But it was different now. Now there was Karl! - - - - - 6 - KARL - - -They walked on, Judy matching with ease Karl’s long stride. One block, -then another. She gave him a quick sidelong glance. He was much taller -than she was. His appearance was all that she could have wished. His -eyes—well, she had noticed them from the first, blue and dreamy. Even -his chin came in for some scrutiny. Her grandmother had often summed up -a person. He’s got a weak chin, vacillating, will never amount to -anything—or he’s got a strong chin, shows character. Karl’s, she -thankfully noted, was of the strong variety. So absorbed was she in her -appraisal of Karl that she was scarcely aware of the silence between -them. - -When he began to whistle, a sad, plaintive melody, she realized at once -that she must say something. Silence could be devastating! How often she -and her friends discussed this very problem! What to say to a boy you -hardly know, especially when dancing, when it takes all your ingenuity -to keep your mind on those intricate steps, or when walking, as at the -present moment. She must say something—anything, if only something -brilliant or clever came to mind. - -“Er—Does your uncle live around here?” she asked brightly. - -“No,” Karl said, leaving off his whistling. “If we were walking in the -opposite direction, I could have shown you his place on Main Street. He -has an apartment over his business. Maybe you’ve seen it? It’s called -the Swiss Shop.” - -“Yes, I think I have, if it’s the one with the window full of carved -peasant figures, gnomes and cuckoo clocks!” - -“Yes, that’s it!” Karl interrupted. “I arranged that window display -myself,” he added with a touch of pride. - -“Really?” Judy tactfully refrained from saying how ugly she had thought -it. “I’ve passed it many times. Does the name Swiss Shop mean that your -uncle imports these things from Switzerland?” - -“Yes, and lots of other articles besides; jewelry and scarves, sweaters -for skiers and mountain climbers. Of course, cuckoo clocks are his real -hobby.” - -“I can’t imagine who would want to buy a cuckoo clock,” Judy ventured to -say. - -“No, neither could I, at first, but they do. Tourists, lots of them, -especially from Texas—they’re our best customers. Personally, I think -they’re a nuisance, a mechanical bird popping at you every hour. It can -be quite annoying when you practice.” - -The jinx of silence was broken for the moment. Judy knew she had to keep -the talk flowing. The subject of clocks could be pursued. - -“The kind of clocks I like best,” she said, “are the antique ones from -our American Colonial days. My grandmother collects them. She has one on -every mantel, over every fireplace in her house! They’re really -beautiful, usually of mahogany, with delicate pointed spires, like a -church steeple. Of course, none of them work. When you really wish to -know the time, you have to dash into the kitchen to look at the electric -clock fastened to the wall.” - -“Well, what’s the good of them—just ornaments?” - -“Grandma says they can be made to work if she ever got around to finding -a really dependable clockmaker,” Judy finished, rather crestfallen. The -subject of clocks was definitely exhausted. - -It was while they stood at a crossing, waiting for some cars to pass, -that Karl, as if struck by some original idea, said, “How do you like -Aspen?” - -Judy frowned, summoned up all her dramatic fervor, and in deep, -reproachful tones declaimed, “Et tu, Brute!” - -Karl turned to her, a puzzled smile on his face, then he laughed -outright. “Why do you spout ‘Julius Caesar’? What do you mean?” - -“Because that’s all anyone has asked me ever since I came to Aspen! Nor -do they ever bother to listen to an answer.” - -“So, I’m in their class!” Karl gave her a quick look. “You’re a queer -duck!” - -His pleasant and forthright manner, above all his acceptance of her as a -companion, put her at ease. The ice was broken. They reached the -Chairlift, found a bench, and ate their sandwiches. Judy shared her -malted milk and consumed most of Karl’s chocolate bar. The empty chairs -of the lift went monotonously skyward, unnoticed by the girl and boy. - -Judy, now uninhibited by any barrier of self-consciousness, pursued her -usual method of satisfying what she termed her inquiring mind. She asked -questions and Karl spoke freely. - -She learned he would be eighteen in October and would enter his last -year at Music and Art High School in New York. That he had private -instruction in violin and in theory and practiced three hours a day, -week ends longer. - -“What will you do after graduation?” the young inquisitor went on. - -“I don’t know—I can’t say. College, perhaps? It’s a hope, but a dim one. -If I’m to pursue music as a career—things are a bit mixed up just at -present.” He paused, as if weighing the matter. - -“You see,” he said in a serious voice, “I owe it to my father to become -a fine musician, if possible a great one. That’s my mother’s dream. It’s -mine also.” - -Judy shook her head. It all sounded very dull and depressing. - -“Then all your life is just school, music lessons, and practicing. You -never have any time for any fun—for sports, for nothing except work!” - -“No, perhaps not,” Karl said cheerfully. “But it all depends on what you -want to do—to accomplish.” He went on. “But I don’t lack for exercise, -if that’s what you mean. I have a bicycle and a newspaper route. I get -plenty of fresh air. I even have a pupil. Maybe I’ll get another,” he -said hopefully. “The money will be very useful.” - -“Money!” For the first time Judy was critical of her new, much-prized -friend. Idealists didn’t worry about money. “Is that all that matters? -Money?” - -“Yes, money is important,” Karl said emphatically. “My mother works at a -music shop. She spends two hours and more each day traveling on the -subway. When she gets home at night, tired as she is, there’s dinner to -prepare, things to do in the house, people to see—a few friends. -Concerts, of course. Someone I should hear—always my interests guide -her. So it’s up to me to do well in my studies, in my music, and earn a -little money to justify her sacrifice. She doesn’t call it sacrifice. -She loves what she’s doing and is buoyed up by her ambition, her -certainty of my success.” Karl had spoken with considerable heat, but -now he added quietly, “So you see how important are the few dollars I -earn, to pay part of the cost of my lessons.” - -“You didn’t understand me, Karl,” Judy said humbly. “Money is important -to us too. But what I meant is that there are other things that don’t -cost anything and are important too.” She spoke diffidently, trying to -formulate thoughts she had never seriously considered but accepted as -the air she breathed. - -“There are books—and friends—and art.” Still struggling to express -herself, she raised an arm to the mountains. “And nature!” - -Karl nodded his head in agreement. “Of course, I like all those things. -Who wouldn’t? I love to read, although the only time I have is usually -late at night when I should be asleep. As for friends, I would be -untruthful if I didn’t admit I miss having close friends, even one. At -first, even though I could speak a little English, I was considered a -foreigner.” - -At Judy’s exclamation, “That’s so narrow-minded!” Karl calmly said, -“That all passed in a year or two. I’m friendly with boys in my class -and I know a few of the girls. But they’re just as busy as I am, in -different ways, perhaps. There are some in the class, of course, who -don’t take their future careers seriously and they look down upon those -of us who do. They manage to have a good time, sports, girls, movies, -everything!” He shrugged his shoulders. “I have to go my own way. -Someone has said that to be lonely makes one strong. I’m not so sure. -One misses an awful lot.” - -For once Judy was at a loss for words. She was touched by Karl’s simple, -unaffected words. To think that she had complained of being lonely! Her -mother and father led busy lives, but she knew she was never far from -their thoughts. They filled the house with gayety. Yes, they worked, her -mother and father. - -“What about your father, Karl? Doesn’t he....” - -“I thought you understood,” Karl interrupted her sharply. “He’s been -dead for eight years. He died four months after he was liberated from a -concentration camp.” - -“Oh!” was all Judy could say. - -The floodgates of memory were loosened. - -“He was a great violinist.” The boy’s face was transfigured by a -passionate devotion. “He had made a great name for himself. My mother -told me of his triumphs. And he could have escaped in time as he advised -others to do, but he refused to leave until he succeeded in getting my -mother and me out of Austria. Then it was too late. He was picked up -with others and sent to the Polish border—” - -“But you say he was freed, taken from that—that camp—” - -“Yes, for three, perhaps it was four wonderful months we were together. -But he was a shadow, thin, emaciated, sick. But his spirit was exalted. -Something I couldn’t understand, being the child I was. But I felt his -excitement, that poured itself out in his love for me. I could feel his -eyes bore into me as he talked. His faith was something unbelievable. In -spite of all he had gone through, he believed in the goodness of people, -the mercy of God. While he was in there, in daily expectation of—you -know—he wrote a piece of music—for himself and for the others waiting to -die. He sang that piece to me. He played it over and over. ‘Some day,’ -he said, ‘it will be the theme of a larger work for the land of our -hope—Israel!’ He was only thirty-five when he died.” - -“I didn’t mean to bring back all those terrible memories. I’m sorry, -Karl,” Judy’s voice trembled. - -“There’s nothing to be sorry about any more. What happened to my father -was the fate of six million others! Just because they were Jews and -other brave ones who dared to risk their own lives to help them!” - -He turned to Judy as if to brush away these thoughts. “Even my mother -could not dwell on her miseries. When Uncle Yahn asked us to come to -America, we were glad. I was even happy.” - -He got up, then sat down again. “I never talk about that which has -happened. One cannot forget. The present is to be lived—the future lies -before us. I believe as my father did that a better world is at hand.” -He paused. “I have told you more than I’ve told anyone in the seven -years we’ve lived in America. So, enough about me!” He seemed determined -to change the subject. - -“What are you studying in Aspen, Judy? What instrument do you play?” - -“Instrument?” Judy repeated. She found it difficult to make the -transition from his tragic story to her own self. - -“I’m not a music student. I’m just here because of my parents. I did -study the piano for years, but I didn’t enjoy the drudgery of practice.” - -Then seeing the disappointment on Karl’s face, she went on, “I love -music and I like to play for my own pleasure. But, you see, there’s -enough music in our house and some to spare! Father’s a violist and -Mother’s a singer. I thought I would round out the picture and try -something else.” - -“Such as what?” Karl asked smiling, but persistent. - -“If you promise not to laugh at me, the fact is I can’t make up my mind! -Sometimes I want above everything to become a writer. I love everything -about books, biographies, history, poetry, plays and novels, of course. -My teacher at school has been very encouraging.” She paused, her brow -furrowed in thought. Some instinct warned her not to speak of her more -recent passion for acting. “But for the last two years,” she went on, -“I’m mad about painting! Last summer and on all vacations I sketch with -my grandfather. He says I have talent. Maybe he only says that to make -me keep on painting. I asked him for his advice, which shall it be? Do -you know what he answered?” - -Karl was interested. “What?” - -“‘You’ve got a big appetite. Go ahead, do both! There’s no law to -prevent an author from illustrating his own stories!’” - -Judy shook her head. “You see, darling as he is, he doesn’t take me -seriously either.” - -Karl laughed. “I like that grandfather of yours. He just wants you to -make up your own mind. You still have lots of time to decide. But it’s a -long, hard road. A true artist lives only for his art.” - -“That’s just the trouble with it. There’s so much I want to see and do, -not just be a person dedicated to art! Take my mother and father. They -live for their art!” Judy grimaced, “Some day when father’s old, -forty-five or fifty, perhaps he’ll get recognition! Everyone says Mother -has a wonderful voice. She has engagements all year. But is that enough? -No! She has to study languages, acting, and her singing. Lately her -manager suggested she take up dancing! Did you ever hear of anything so -crazy, at her age!” - -“Some fine singers go into operettas and musicals.” - -“But she hasn’t time as it is, ever to enjoy herself! At least Father -once or twice a year takes off a week end and goes on a ski trip or a -mountain climb. But Mother, no! She’s either too tired or must rehearse -or the house has been neglected and she wants the chance to catch up on -it, or her—well, it’s always something! Even here at Aspen, which she -tells everyone is simply idyllic, she works and worries.” - -“Worries about you?” - -“Me? Of course not! She’s worrying about the concert at which she’s to -be the soloist. I couldn’t bear such a life!” - -Karl was deep in thought, analyzing, as was his nature, all that Judy so -impetuously revealed. “I don’t think you really understand your mother, -Judy,” he said. “She possesses that inner fire that drives her on. She’s -probably far happier than you think. I’m willing to say, without knowing -her, that excepting her family, singing is the biggest thing in her -life.” Judy seemed unimpressed. “What are your parents’ names?” he -asked. - -“Lurie. My father’s John and my mother, Minna.” - -“Your father is John Lurie? I’ve heard him play. The students worship -him. He’s a wonderful violist! He’ll be a second Primrose, someday.” - -“Tell that to Father and he’ll love you. Primrose is his hero,” Judy -said airily. - -Karl looked at Judy and shook his head. “With such parents, to throw -away the chance of being a musician!” - -“If everybody did exactly what their parents did, there’d never be any -progress or change in the world. Shoemakers would continue to be -shoemakers, plumbers would go on plumbing.” - -Karl burst out laughing. “Say, little philosopher, how old did you say -you were? Sixteen?” - -For a moment Judy thought of correcting this slight error. I’m going to -be sixteen, but she quickly concluded, one needn’t be too exact! She -smoothed her new plaid skirt, looked at it with satisfaction. How lucky -that she put it on this morning before her mother had a chance to -shorten it. It certainly added distinction—even dignity. - -The church bell rang and Karl looked hastily at his watch. One-thirty! -“I have to get along.” He got up and threw his coat over his shoulder. -“Must be at the _Aspen Times_ by two.” - -“_Aspen Times?_” Judy inquired eagerly, her eyes large with curiosity. - -“No, I’m not the music critic,” he said. “I have an easy, pleasant -little job there twice a week. Today I distribute posters to hotels, -stores, the inns, and nail some on telegraph poles. A boy I know, Fran, -is taking me around on the bus.” - -“Fran who drives Little Percent?” - -“Yes, you know him?” - -“Mmmm. Mother says he drives like a madman. He brought us from the -Glenwood station to Aspen and he certainly gave us an earful, -Aspen—past, present and future.” - -Karl was amused. “He knows Aspen all right. Of course, he should, living -here all his life.” - -“He missed his vocation. He should be driving a large sightseeing bus, a -megaphone to his mouth—” - -“Nonsense,” Karl said. “I like Fran. He calls himself dumb, but he -isn’t. He’s awfully kind and—” - -“Oh, you mean he’s got a good heart?” Judy interrupted. - -“I mean he’s a good guy generally. You should see him ski! He’s -wonderful. He took me on. I hadn’t been on skis since I was nine years -old. Before I knew it, he had me doing jumps. A late April day, the snow -was perfect, like powder—” - -“I’m only joking. I know he’s all right. Remind him for me that I still -haven’t climbed any mountains.” - -“O.K. I’ll give him the message. By the way, Judy, do you usually eat -your lunch here?” - -“Yes, I do,” was Judy’s all too prompt answer. - -“Then, if I don’t see you at the concert Thursday night, I can find you -here sometimes.” - -“Not see me at the concert?” she swiftly considered. To listen to Bartok -with Karl would be pleasant. Without him.... - -“Why don’t you come to dinner with us Thursday night?” she said. “Then -we can all go together.” She smiled, not a little pleased at her -brilliant inspiration. - -“I don’t like to barge in on your parents. They don’t know me—” - -“That doesn’t matter. Mother adores me to have company. You see, we -never fuss.” - -“Well, if Uncle Yahn doesn’t feel deserted, it’s a deal. I’d love to -know two such artists as John and Minna Lurie!” - -When he was long out of sight, Judy recalled she didn’t even know his -name or his uncle’s. She thought how she would inform her mother. “I’ve -asked Karl whose uncle owns the Swiss Shop to have dinner with us.” -“Karl who?” her mother was sure to ask. “Oh, I’ll cross that bridge when -I come to it,” Judy’s solution to any vexing problem. - -She went back to the bench. There was still an hour or more before her -mother would arrive home. With considerably less enthusiasm than usual, -Judy took out pen and paper to continue the letter to her grandparents -begun the day before. She was filling pages, so she imagined, but the -pen remained quiet in her hand. Her thoughts were of Karl. What was his -life like, living with strangers who took him in out of pity? And his -father! She shuddered. She knew something of those vague, unbelievable -horrors of the Nazis. But it was all so long ago. Nobody seemed to -remember any more. Why? - -She folded the still unfinished letter and put it in her bag. Tomorrow, -she promised herself, she would write a real letter to them—tell them -about Karl. They will understand his sufferings. They will love him. - -They will love him! Why only “they”? Why not—“There I go letting my -imagination run wild.” And smiling to herself, she collected her -possessions and walked leisurely toward her home. - - - - - 7 - A FAMILY ARGUMENT HAPPILY RESOLVED - - -Mrs. Lurie mounted the sagging steps of their villa, which she -cheerfully if a bit resignedly called her Victorian relic. Elated that -she had managed to finish her classes and her teaching ahead of -schedule, she was particularly pleased with herself at having resisted -the temptation to rehearse her aria. - -“No,” she had said with a faint tinge of regret. “I have a date with my -daughter. We’re going to the Pool. She’s been looking forward to it for -weeks. Tomorrow, perhaps?” - -The front door of the house was unlatched as was the trusting custom of -all dwellers in Aspen. “Judy!” she called. There was no answer. Even the -piano was silent, the warm sunny day having apparently won the battle -between the students’ struggle, duty versus pleasure. - -Mrs. Lurie was annoyed at not finding Judy at home, but she knew she -herself was to blame. In the argument over the camp this morning, she -had overlooked telling Judy she would try to be home early. It was only -two-thirty. There was ample time, she reflected. She would, in the -meanwhile, get ready: put on her yellow sunback cotton, long reserved -for this occasion, her yellow and gold sandals. She lightly brushed her -brown hair, yellow where the sun had bleached it. She was grateful that -nature had provided her with hair that fell in soft, natural waves. Mrs. -Lurie was far from vain, but she was pleased at her image reflected in -the mirror. - -Another trip to the sidewalk and still no sign of Judy! Mrs. Lurie -re-entered the house, laid out Judy’s shorts and sleeveless blouse. This -was a slight risk she felt impelled to take. Her daughter had for years -made a fetish of selecting her own things and rebelled at any -infringement of her rights. Mrs. Lurie had encouraged her to do this. -But time and again she wished Judy’s taste wasn’t so lurid. That skirt, -for example, she wore this morning—not even shortened. Mrs. Lurie -glanced at the clock and concluded this was no time to think about such -matters. The car that was to fetch them to the Pool would arrive in ten -minutes. - -She made her third trip to the sidewalk, scanning the street as if by -sheer wishing she could conjure up Judy into appearing. At last! There -she was, dawdling along at a snail’s pace, walking with an abstracted -air as if in another world. - -As soon as Judy was within hailing distance, her mother called in a -voice that would have roused a Valkyrie from her mountain fastness. - -“Hurry, Judy! You’re late!” - -Judy looked around, startled at the familiar voice, then seeing her -mother, she quickened her steps to a run. There was no thought or -remembrance of a visit to the Pool. Her mother was home. She would tell -her about Karl. The need to talk was overpowering. - -“Mother, I want to tell you something exciting!” - -Mrs. Lurie tried not to show her annoyance. “Judy,” she interrupted. “I -made such an effort to get home early. Mrs. Freiborg and her daughter -will be here in less than ten minutes. Go in and wash up quickly. I’ve -laid out your things on the bed. Brush your hair. We can’t keep them -waiting.” - -But Judy wasn’t listening. Her face was still glowing as she followed -her mother into the house. “I’ve got to tell you something quite -wonderful that happened. I met the nicest boy—” - -“Boy?” Mrs. Lurie turned to her daughter. “What boy? Where?” There was a -perceptible note of sharpness in her voice. - -“We ate our lunch together at the Chairlift. He’s a music student and -studies the violin.” - -“That’s nice, dear,” Mrs. Lurie interrupted, giving Judy an indulgent -smile. The boy, thank goodness, wasn’t some nondescript. A music student -had an open sesame to Mrs. Lurie’s regard. - -“But now, hurry, dear,” she said brightly. “You’ll tell me all about him -later.” - -“Later, always later,” Judy grumbled to herself, her high spirits dashed -for the moment. “You know, it only takes me a few minutes to change.” - -“And,” Mrs. Lurie added, following her own train of thought, “please -don’t wear that skirt again until I’ve taken inches off the hem. It’s -bad enough without trailing your ankles.” - -Mrs. Lurie gave a noncommittal grunt as she packed bathing suits and -caps into a zippered bag. Judy put on the shorts and blouse without any -audible objection and stood near the mirror. - -“In this sort of thing you’ll have to admit, Mother, everyone looks -alike. But a skirt like my plaid gives one a certain air—personality!” - -Her mother shrugged her shoulders. She knew it was useless to argue, but -she couldn’t resist saying, “I think you’re more appropriately dressed -as you are now, for a warm summer day. As for that skirt which you chose -against my better judgment, all I can say is that it rivals the crazy -quilt on your grandmother’s Colonial bed.” - -An impatient honk of the horn ended the argument as Judy and her mother -hurried to the walk just as the dusty blue sedan pulled up in front of -the door. - -Judy sat in the back seat next to a pale, freckled-faced girl with -straight honey-colored hair. Her large hazel eyes were continuously -fastened on her mother. - -“This is Anne,” Mrs. Lurie smiled at both girls. “I know you’re going to -like each other.” - -Mrs. Freiborg, a slight, distinguished-looking woman whose manner -reflected the importance her husband had achieved in the music world, -also turned and said affably, “I’m glad, Judy, you and Anne will get -acquainted at last.” Immediately both mothers were engaged in an -animated conversation and promptly forgot the existence of their -daughters. - -The girls sat in strained silence. Judy wondered why her mother was so -sure she would like this girl. With an effort she broke the silence. - -“I’ve never been in the pool as yet, have you?” - -“Yes,” Anne said in a flat voice, reluctantly shifting her eyes from her -mother’s back to Judy’s face. “I take swimming lessons.” - -“I’ve been swimming for ages,” Judy said with a slightly superior air, -“but I would love to learn how to dive.” - -“I used to be so scared of the water,” Anne confided, “but I’m not -anymore. Mother says lots of girls are afraid—” - -“Did she? I guess I belong to the foolhardy type. You still scared?” - -“No. I find it easy in the pool. I wonder why it’s so different from the -lake where I just used to sink.” - -“If the pool’s salt water, that would explain it.” - -“What difference would that make, being salty or not?” Anne asked with a -puzzled look. - -“Because in salt water, you’re buoyant, that is light. If you ever tried -swimming in the ocean, you would immediately see the difference.” - -Anne shook her head still uncomprehending. Judy tried to remember the -explanation in her science book. “You—er—that is, the body displaces -less water when it’s salty. You sort of float, being so much lighter.” - -She tried to elucidate her point more clearly. Science, she knew, wasn’t -her strong point. Then she dismissed the subject with a shrug. - -There was no further conversation, scientific or otherwise, and the -girls seemed unfeignedly delighted to part company at the parking area. - -As they walked toward the hotel, Mrs. Freiborg discovered several -acquaintances. She stopped with each, just to say a word, but the -minutes lengthened and added to Judy’s impatience. - -“Mother, must we wait for them? Can’t we go ahead?” - -Mrs. Lurie unexpectedly agreed and tactfully informed Mrs. Freiborg they -would meet later. - -Entering the hotel with her mother, Judy felt considerably more at ease -than on her previous visit. - -The sunny terrace dotted with tables and gay umbrellas was a lovelier -sight too than she remembered. To her surprise everyone seemed to know -her mother. Their progress toward the pavilion was a sort of slow -triumphal procession. “Come back and sit with us—” “We’ve saved room for -you at our table.” Again and again they were stopped and Judy -introduced. There followed the kindly inquiries, “And how do you like -Aspen, Judy?” And as usual, before the girl could think of a reply, the -talk drifted into other channels. - -At last they reached the pavilion. Dressed in their bathing suits, they -stepped gingerly on the wet, slippery stones of the pool. Instead of the -longed-for plunge into the water, Mrs. Lurie suggested they first get a -good sunburn. “Besides,” she added mysteriously, “someone’s coming here -especially to meet you.” - -Judy slumped down on the thick carpet of grass near her mother’s table. -She gazed at the water, enchanted by the azure color that was achieved, -as she learned later, by the paint on the bottom of the pool. - -At an adjoining table, two women were playing Scrabble with fierce -concentration, but their absorption in the game didn’t prevent their -cross-table conversation with numerous friends. - -“How did you like the concert, Minna? I admit there’s no one who can -conduct the way Izler Solomon does—” - -Judy was left with her own thoughts. She barely noticed her mother leave -her seat to meet a young girl coming toward her. But she looked up -sharply when she heard her say, “Lynne, I’m so glad you were able to -make it. I almost gave up!” - -So that was Lynne! Judy watched as they stood talking. She’s pretty, and -very young looking, Judy admitted grudgingly. Yes, for once, her parents -were right. She was beautiful! Judy admired the slender, graceful figure -in the black skin-tight bathing suit. She noticed the coal-black hair -and how Lynne wore it in a chignon low on her neck. - -Judy saw her mother nodding in her direction. “They’re talking about me. -Mother’s probably telling her all my shortcomings and my latest—that I -don’t like the idea of going to a camp—that is, her camp. Probably -asking her to give me a talking to.” Just as Judy feared, her mother -returned to her table and Lynne came directly to where Judy sat -scowling. - -“Hello!” said Lynne, sitting down next to her on the grass. “I’m Lynne -and you’re Judy, the girl who doesn’t want to go to my camp. Is that -right?” she asked with a delightfully disarming smile. - -Judy found her anger dissolving at Lynne’s unexpected warmth. - -“I don’t especially care about a day camp,” Judy said lamely. - -“Why? Did you ever go to one?” - -“No,” Judy said, surprised at Lynne’s directness. “But I’ve friends who -went and were bored.” Judy knew she would have to defend her opinion if -she was to escape. “I feel as they do,” she went on. “I like to paint -when I feel like painting, swim or read or do any activity when I’m in -the mood, not just at certain set periods.” - -“I see,” Lynne said, with just a suspicion of a smile on her lips. -“You’re afraid of regimentation. But don’t you find that unless one -plans to do a certain thing at a definite period, one never gets around -to it at all?” - -“I do,” Judy said, but even as she spoke, she was conscious of the many -things she never managed to get around to doing. “Of course, I’d feel -very differently about going to a sleep-away camp,” Judy went on with -more confidence. “Sometimes you go on canoe trips and long, exciting -hikes, mountain climbs and spending nights in a hut, preparing your own -meals—things you can’t possibly do by yourself.” - -“That’s true,” Lynne agreed, “but no one could recommend such a program -for very young children. Those are the ones we try to reach. They can -live at home with their parents and yet for part of each day have -companionship of other children and do interesting things.” - -“A lecture instead of a swim,” Judy groaned inwardly and yet she -couldn’t help being interested in spite of herself. - -“You see,” Lynne went on, “children of professional people, musicians -especially, frequently have long separations from their parents—tours, -long or short, recitals, rehearsals at all sorts of inconvenient times. -They miss their mothers and fathers. And I find that it’s just as -important for the parents who want their children with them when it’s at -all possible. Here at Aspen our camp serves such a purpose.” - -“Yes,” Judy said. “I guess it’s wonderful for young children, but I -don’t fit into that picture. I’ve always had my grandparents in such -emergencies and when I don’t, I manage all right by myself.” Her eyes -wandered to the pool. - -Lynne touched her shoulder. “Let’s get our swim now. We can finish -talking later.” - -Lynne gave a few deft twists to hair, tucked it under her cap and went -swiftly to the diving board. Judy watched as she ascended the high -board. There was a splash as her body, taut and graceful, hit the water. -A few seconds later, Lynne coming up from her dive called to Judy to -follow. - -Judy shook her head. “I can’t dive.” - -“Then fall in or use the ladder.” - -Obediently Judy went to the ladder, holding the rail firmly as she -descended the slippery steps. With her back to the pool, she braced -herself for the shock of cold water as she cautiously reached for the -last rung. Wildly trying to grasp the receding rail, she fell in, -hitting the back of her head with a resounding smack. With a few strokes -she came to the surface only to find Lynne laughing. - -“That’s what you call a perfect take-off. How’s the head?” - -“The head’s all right, but the water! It’s warm! It’s like swimming in a -bathtub.” Judy grimaced with keen disappointment. Her eyes were burning -and her nose was itching. “And it’s full of chlorine,” she added -indignantly. - -“You’ll get used to the chlorine and the temperature is divine. We -ordinary folks love it. Come on, you polar bear, I’ll race you to the -end of the pool.” - -They enjoyed the swimming, but Judy soon tired. “I can’t understand it, -Lynne,” she said, breathing like a whale, “I usually can swim a -half-hour without feeling it. Now after only ten minutes, I’m pooped.” - -“So am I,” Lynne said cheerfully. “It’s the altitude in Aspen that makes -breathing difficult, especially swimming or mountain climbing. I’m -gradually getting used to it, and so will you. Let’s go out. I have a -big bath towel and we can stretch out on the grass and dry in the sun.” - -“Hi, Lynne!” A man was walking toward them accompanied by Mrs. Lurie, -Mrs. Freiborg, and Anne. “Lynne, aren’t you coming in for another swim?” - -“I’ll join you later, Allen. Judy and I want to rest for a while. - -“Allen’s my husband. Don’t you think he’s handsome? And he’s wonderful!” -Lynne’s eyes sparkled. “Don’t think I’m prejudiced. Everyone loves him.” - -Judy’s eyes followed the tall, powerful, dark-skinned figure. “He must -be very strong,” she said, not knowing what else to say. - -“And sweet and considerate and talented! Don’t get me started on the -subject of Allen!” However, she went right on. “He helps me at the camp -too. Twice a week when rehearsals are over early, he comes over and -plays baseball with the little ones. They adore him! Can you imagine -those tots hitting the ball with a bat bigger than they are and racing -for bases? It’s a riot!” - -The sun, even as the afternoon was drawing to a close, was still warm -and glowing. Lynne turned on her side, her face close to Judy’s. - -“Let’s go back to what we were talking about. No day camp can hope to -offer the things you speak of, Judy. Our children are young—” - -“That’s my real objection, Lynne. I met Anne today. She’s supposed to be -one of the older campers. Maybe she’s eleven or twelve, but she seems so -much younger—” - -“Yes, I’m surprised you noticed it. Anne’s shy besides being a little -immature in some ways. With some children the process of growing up -takes longer,” Lynne said thoughtfully. “I won’t go into all the reasons -for it, but in Anne’s case, she’s finding herself. She’s very talented -in singing and acting. Our little camp has done a lot for her already. -She’s going to come through fine.” - -“Lynne,” Judy said hesitantly, “I hope you won’t mind my being awfully -frank with you. I really can’t see myself as a camper with such -youngsters. Now if I could help in some way—I get along with children—” - -“What did you say?” Lynne interrupted excitedly. “You’ve given me a -terrific idea! I think it was taking shape inside me all afternoon while -we was talking.” She stared at Judy appraisingly. “You could become my -helper! You’re intelligent and for fifteen—” - -“Nearly sixteen,” Judy interrupted. - -“So much the better,” Lynne smiled happily, “I don’t expect you to -understand these children and their problems. That isn’t necessary.” -Lynne paused, expecting Judy to say something. But the girl was so -surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation that she wasn’t sure -she had understood Lynne correctly. - -“As a matter of fact,” Lynne went on, completely captured by her idea, -“I’ve been trying to get someone to replace Claire. She has to return -home next week. You’ll be perfect. Claire has been responsible for songs -and stories, arts and crafts for the younger ones. Your mother told me -you’re rather good at that sort of thing. What a blessing for me! Arts -and crafts—that’s where you could fit in. What do you say, Judy?” - -“I love to paint and make things, but I couldn’t teach anyone, honestly, -I couldn’t.” - -“There’s no need to teach,” Lynne said reassuringly. “The children -create. We only direct them how to use their tools. If you come while -Claire is still with us, you could watch how she makes things out of -wire and puppets out of papier-mâché. And in the meantime you will get -to know the children. I have a feeling you’ll do well.” - -Judy was overwhelmed and a little frightened. Yet, she was already -seeing herself telling Karl about this new, this fantastic thing, a job! - -“You’ve never seen my camp?” Lynne asked. - -Judy shook her head, still immersed in an imaginary conversation with -Karl. - -Lynne took no notice of Judy’s abstraction and lovingly described the -camp site, an immense corral that belonged to a farmer who leased it to -her for the summer. “There are cows and a few horses who graze at a -comfortable distance. The children love the animals.” - -Judy was now listening, hanging on every word. - -“There are two ponds with ducks and every morning there is a regular -ceremony of feeding them with chunks of bread donated by the local -bakery. On the sandy beach of the pond the children have their sings, -which they grandly call concerts. When the singing is over, Claire tells -them a story and encourages them to act it out.” - -“That must be fun,” Judy said. - -“Twice a week I take a group of the children riding. They love the -stables and the horses and the ride over the dirt road into the open -country. While I’m away, Claire is in charge.” - -“How long are you gone from camp?” Judy asked worriedly. The words “in -charge” had serious overtones. - -“Just a little over an hour. There’s a shed with tables and benches that -we use as an art room, and a hayloft houses our much overworked -phonograph and the costumes for our playlets.” - -“It sounds like a very busy morning,” Judy said, a little dubious of her -ability to carry on such a varied program. - -“Not really,” Lynne said. “At twelve-thirty we are all ravenously hungry -and we spend the lunch period in our grove of aspen trees. It’s a cool -and restful spot, a lovely end to our morning. At one o’clock we drive -the children back to their homes.” - -“It sounds wonderful,” Judy said breathlessly. “I think I would like to -try it.” - -“Good. Let’s start tomorrow. And, Judy,” Lynne said with that dazzling -smile Judy loved, “I don’t expect to exploit my young helper. While I -can’t pay you a salary, your mother will not have to pay any tuition for -you—or she can pay and you receive it back as a bonus. That’s the -arrangement we have with Claire, except that she lived with us and was -able to take advantage of music events—and dates! Judy, you’ll get good -experience as a junior councilor-in-training. Do you like the idea?” - -“I think it’s absolutely terrific. I never dreamed of anything like -that. I can hardly wait to tell Karl.” - -Lynne looked a little bewildered. “Karl? Who’s he?” - -“He’s a boy I met, a music student. He believes that everyone, I mean -boys and girls, should help the family earn money.” - -“Oh? And at what tender age does he suggest one starts?” - -Before Judy could answer, the swimmers returned, dripping pools of water -around them and demanding that Lynne and Judy join them for a last swim. - -Lynne got up and addressed the little circle, calling them by name, -“Allen, Mrs. Lurie, Mrs. Freiborg, Anne, I have an announcement to make. -I want to present a new member of the Festival Day Camp staff, Judy, our -new junior councilor.” - -There was a faint gasp from Mrs. Lurie. Then everyone applauded and went -joyfully to the pool for that last dip. - - - - - 8 - SMUGGLER’S CAFÉ - - -It was undeniably rewarding, Judy discovered, to be suddenly elevated to -the position of junior councilor. She received the congratulations of -her mother, still in a mild state of shock, and an enthusiastic pat of -assurance from her father. - -But one thought clouded Judy’s satisfaction. When would she be able to -see Karl? How was she to tell him her news about camp? If she didn’t let -him know at once why she could no longer meet him for lunch at the -Chairlift, he might think she’d forgotten. Worse still, that she didn’t -care! - -In a novel she had picked up and eagerly devoured, the word “tryst” was -prominent in the story. In fact, all the harrowing events that pursued -the unlucky heroine were the result of her not keeping a certain -appointment. As Judy sat brooding over this knotty problem, her eyes -fell on the telephone—of course. Her mother was busy in the kitchen -preparing dinner. Her father was out for the moment. Now was undoubtedly -the perfect time. She looked up the number in the directory and called. -Karl himself answered the telephone. - -“It’s me, Judy.” The great news was conveyed. “Wonderful! Good for you!” -Judy hurried on to the crux of the matter. “I can’t ever make it for -lunch any more—What’s that? A customer? I should come to the Swiss Shop -after camp? Yes, I can. All right, we’ll decide then—” - -The next two days of Judy’s apprenticeship were rather a let-down. It -wasn’t only that Claire was as beautiful as a Greek goddess, and withal -so capable! Judy watched her as she transformed a bit of wire into an -amusing figure. With what patience she encouraged the little ones to -fingerpaint while at the same time, with exasperating ease, she gave -casual direction to those busy with their puppets! - -It was small consolation to know Claire was eighteen. But the real hurt -was inflicted by the children themselves. They either ignored her or -made unflattering remarks. - -“Your hair’s not nearly as nice as Claire’s,” one pretty little innocent -observed. - -“It’s cool this way,” Judy said, apparently unruffled, but she touched -the offending pony tail with a mental note to attempt something more -sophisticated. - -Willie, whose affection she believed she had won by bestowing much labor -and many smiles upon his daubs, moved his head closer and closer to hers -with fascinated interest. At last he pointed to her teeth, “It comes out -at night when you sleep, doesn’t it?” - -Judy gave an embarrassed laugh. She had forgotten the existence of the -small wire brace she wore over a recalcitrant tooth to keep it from -protruding. - -“Don’t be silly. When you grow up and one of your teeth is crooked, -you’ll have to wear a brace like mine, maybe a much larger one.” - -“Does it hurt?” he persisted. - -“No, it doesn’t.” She closed her mouth with a snap. Otherwise the words -“little brat” might have been audible. - -Claire was still there, kind and helpful, but a trifle unconscious of -the children’s studied indifference. - -“Let me help you,” Judy said time and again, only to be rebuffed. - -Less than a week later Claire left amid a scene of tears and -heartbreaking farewells. She had scarcely left the camp premises when -the children of their own accord turned to Judy, ready to transfer their -affection to her. How could they forget their adored Claire so quickly! -Judy wondered if she had even been so callous or so lacking in loyalty -in that faraway time when she was seven or eight years old. - -When she saw Karl at the Swiss Shop, he made light of her complaints. -“All kids are like that.” - -The shop was empty. Uncle Yahn was taking his siesta. “All Europeans -take an afternoon nap. Besides, he gets up at five o’clock every -morning.” - -They sat down at his improvised desk on which were spread sheets of -music. - -“I’ve been trying to enlarge that little melody of my father’s. Write it -for violin, piano, and oboe, as a start—I want to make something fine -out of it. I will—some day! But I don’t know enough yet about other -instruments.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I’m just sentimental.” - -“No, it’s a wonderful melody,” Judy said, surprised at her own -vehemence. “You can make variations on it, like Paganini did on his -beautiful theme. Why don’t you talk to my father about it? He loves -composing.” - -“Your mother says it’s all right for me to come?” Karl asked. - -“Of course,” Judy said, painfully aware she never did get the chance to -tell her mother she had invited Karl for dinner. - -“Seven o’clock all right?” - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -“Or before,” Judy said with decision. She felt certain that her mother -would put no obstacles in her path now that it was a “fait accompli,” -another expression from that same, much-prized novel. - -At home that evening she avoided discussing the less happy details of -her day at camp and artfully turned the conversation to the Juillard -Concert. - -“Which reminds me, Minna,” her father said, “I have two extra tickets. I -wonder whom we can ask?” - -“I—er—asked Karl to come with us,” Judy said haltingly. “He has his own -student ticket, but I asked him to have dinner with us so that we could -all—” - -“Karl?” her father asked. “You know him, Minna?” - -Mrs. Lurie shook her head. “And why to dinner?” she asked, her eyebrows -raised. - -“You remember, Mother. He’s the music student I told you about. Studies -the violin. He lives with his uncle who owns the Swiss Shop. I tried to -tell you—” Judy said, almost in tears. - -“That’s all right. Only I wish you wouldn’t be so impulsive. However, -since you’ve asked him,” her mother added with a smile, “there’s nothing -more to be said.” - -“I’ll bring in the dessert,” Judy volunteered, happy to escape any -further discussion. - -“I suppose there’s no harm in having him, especially as Judy has already -done the inviting. We’ll have the uncle too,” Mrs. Lurie added as an -afterthought. “It might be interesting to meet a native Aspenite.” - -Judy, standing at the kitchen door, listened breathlessly to this -exchange. - -She entered immediately carrying the bowl of stewed peaches. “Oh you -don’t have to invite the uncle,” she said, forgetting she was not -supposed to have been within earshot. - -“May as well be hung for a sheep as a fowl,” her father said -enigmatically. “Your mother is asking them both.” - -“Karl will be glad. He didn’t want to leave his uncle before dinner,” -Judy said, suddenly convinced she had the most understanding parents in -the world. - -On the night of the concert the guests arrived in good time. Karl seemed -completely overshadowed by his large, ruddy-faced relative. After the -uneasy introductions, Uncle Yahn singled out Judy and handed her a -prettily wrapped parcel. - -“This is for you, a little present.” - -“What is it?” Judy asked, her eyes glistening with anticipation. - -“Open it and see for yourself,” Uncle Yahn smilingly ordered. - -It was a small cuckoo clock! She swallowed hard to conceal her -disappointment, and with a mischievous glance at Karl’s glum face said, -“Isn’t it adorable!” - -Uncle Yahn beamed. “You see, Karl, I told you she would find it most -admirable.” - -Mr. Lurie and Uncle Yahn seemed to take to each other at once. There was -a lovely sunset, just perfect for their cookout. Both were hovering over -the crude stones of the grille, watching the steak but more intent on -their talk, skiing and music. - -Mrs. Lurie, relaxed and comfortable in a reclining chair, was -entertaining Karl. - -“There I was, announced in all the papers and posters as the great lyric -soprano,” she smiled. “You know the extravagant language of those -billings—and my accompanist had broken his wrist an hour after we got -off the plane. The manager combed the city for someone to accompany me. -We decided to cancel the engagement when at the very last moment a noted -pianist, just returned from his tour—” - -Judy had heard the story. Her attention wavered as she caught snatches -of the conversation between her father and Uncle Yahn. She heard Karl’s -name and moved a little closer to them. - -“It looks as if Karl will have an unusual opportunity, that is, if he -proves himself worthy.” Uncle Yahn wagged his head mysteriously. - -“What opportunity?” her father asked. - -“It’s a little too early to talk. Nothing is definite, but my -sister-in-law’s letters in the last two weeks are filled with this -miracle, as she calls it.” - -Mr. Lurie was interested and Uncle Yahn went on to explain. “A close -friend of my poor brother managed to escape to America before it was too -late. It was my brother who insisted that he get out. He was unmarried,” -Uncle Yahn went on, “and could take the risks and he did. After many -hair-raising experiences, he reached America and because he knew someone -in Chicago, he went there. He got a job as a waiter in a restaurant. The -rest is like a fairy tale. He met a man, a customer in the restaurant. -They became acquainted, drawn together by the love of music. This -stranger offered him a job. No, not as a musician but as a worker in his -plastic factory. Now comes the fairy tale. After ten years, he is now a -partner and rich! A few months ago he came to New York on business. He -stopped in at Ditson’s to buy some music. Karl’s mother works there. -They met. You can imagine the scene! He insists upon providing for -Karl’s musical education. He says it is only justice!” - -“And now?” Mr. Lurie asked. - -“If Karl will put his music before everything else, put himself in Mr. -Werther’s hands, his future is assured! He will have the best teachers, -study abroad.” - -“But why abroad?” Mr. Lurie interrupted. “We have the finest schools and -teachers right in America.” - -“That is true,” Uncle Yahn conceded, “but Mr. Werther received his -training in Vienna. He feels that with the stamp of European approval, -Karl will achieve recognition so much sooner.” He smiled and shrugged -his shoulders. “The decision need not be made for a year, perhaps two. -Karl finishes high school in a year. Then it will be up to him.” - -The steak was finished and placed on a platter. There was laughter and -anecdotes and beer. Judy mechanically chewed a piece of steak, her eyes -staring at some far-off place. Why did this busybody of a rich man have -to come and snatch Karl away just when she was getting to—she hesitated -to name her feeling—like him so much. - -She glanced at Karl. He looked untroubled and was enjoying himself. So -was Uncle Yahn. She was worrying needlessly. It was only talk—Isn’t that -what Uncle Yahn said? The decision need not be made for a year or two. -So much could happen! Karl might prefer to go to the Curtis Music School -in Philadelphia or David Mannes right in New York. Anything was better -than having an ocean between them! - -If she studied like mad, she could be through with school and college in -six years—be equipped to teach—earn money—six interminable years! And -why college, she argued with herself. Many clever people never— - -“You’ve hardly touched the good meat on your plate,” Uncle Yahn -observed, gently nudging her. “Dreaming instead of eating! That’s not -what makes a nice, plump young lady.” - -Nor did she fall asleep during the two hours of chamber music of the -Juillard Quartet. She was too excited. Karl sat next to her, his fists -under his chin, his body thrust forward, his eyes glued to the players. -An occasional smile and a well-directed poke from his elbow helped her -to listen. - -During intermission she told Karl she liked Bartok better, hearing the -music a second time. “And I love seeing the red and gold opera house -again. But,” she added laughing, “the music can’t compare with the -thrilling play I dreamed up about Baby Doe and Horace Tabor when you -woke me up.” - -After the concert, the Luries decided to prolong the evening’s pleasure. -They would go to Smuggler’s Café for refreshments and talk. Uncle Yahn -excused himself, “No night life for me.” But Lynne and Allen joined the -party and Judy’s cup of delight was full. They too would meet Karl. - -Candles dimly lit the room. A boy played the guitar and sang. When he -left off strumming and singing, someone started the jukebox. Wonderful, -exciting jazz! Allen and Karl were discussing the merits of their -instruments, where they were bought, how many thousands of dollars it -took to own a really good violin or viola—Lynne was talking camp—Judy -was filled with a vast content and smiled at everyone. - -The sputtering candles in the dimly lit room, the singing and guitar, -the jazz still throbbing, waiters hurrying by with ice cream floats -dizzily topped with whipped cream—Lynne and Allen, her parents, gay and -carefree—above all, Karl! This was Aspen life! At last she was part of -it! - - - - - 9 - A SMALL TRIUMPH - - -Judy’s days seemed to speed on wings. Since she had joined the camp -staff, she was given a wider scope for her talents as Lynne recognized -her interest in stories and her flair for translating them into dramatic -episodes. - -All camp activities now centered upon the coming exhibition for Parents’ -Day. Old sketches were reworked. A new one, its selection and production -left in Judy’s hands, was now in rehearsal. Examples of the varied arts -and crafts ornamented the walls of the shed. Judy made a lively poster -of a boy and girl dripping rainbow-hued paint from their attenuated -fingers pointing to the words, “See What We Made.” The repertory of -songs and dances was played endlessly on the wheezing victrola and -rehearsed with zest. Allen came as frequently as possible to coach his -diminutive baseball team and then stayed to hammer away, improvising -props and sets. It was work but lots of fun, and the children were eager -to stay an extra hour to perfect their show. - -Yet there was hardly a day that Judy didn’t see Karl. After the children -were driven to their homes, the camp bus dropped her at the Swiss Shop. -The hour, sometimes two, spent with Karl cemented what was now a close, -a tender friendship. They recommended their favorite reading to each -other and exchanged books. Sometimes they argued about world affairs, -about which neither was too well informed; or religion, a subject that -Judy suddenly discovered as being important. Karl knew someone in the -Israeli Symphony Orchestra and there was much talk and speculation about -that little country. Judy found Karl’s ardor and interest in Israel -contagious, and the remembered discussions in her grandparents’ home -took on new meaning. - -Judy was happy, unspeakably happy, until for four days her well-timed -visits to the Swiss Shop had been fruitless! Karl was nowhere in -evidence. She was surprised and hurt, but too proud to mention anything -to Lynne. Like the heroines in her literary world, she put aside her -personal grief and rehearsed her little troupe with fanatical zeal. The -words frequently heard in her home, “The show must go on,” were -frequently in her thoughts. - -At last everything was in readiness. Figures of wire dangled in the -breeze over the entrance and the puppets sat on the shelves ready for -their part in the show. Behind a screen were the props for Billy the -Goat. The set for Peter and Wendy was hauled out of the shed. There were -only twenty campers, but all twenty were eager to shine. - -It was a perfect day. The parents and guests arrived at ten in the -morning and would stay through lunch. They sat on the hard, backless -benches in the hot sun of the compound and watched the program with -enthralled interest. When it was over, the applause was terrific. - -Lunch time was a mad scramble. The children rushed to extract their -individual lunches from the heap of lunch boxes, all singularly alike. -Drinks and ice cream had to be taken from the coolers and benches -carried up the hillock to the grove of aspen trees. Everyone, or nearly -everyone, helped. Mrs. Freiborg, assisting Lynne and Judy to carry one -of the benches, never ceased to express her enthusiasm. - -“And,” she continued as they awkwardly struggled up the path, “I can’t -thank you enough, Lynne, for all you’ve done for Anne.” - -Lynne gave a pleased smile and Mrs. Freiborg went on. “I don’t say that -Anne was the most wonderful Wendy, but that she consented to play the -role at all surprised me. It was always Peter she fancied and yet she -played Wendy with such feeling.” - -“Let’s drop the bench right here,” Lynne said. “I’m too tired to carry -it any further.” She sat on it and motioned the others to do the same. - -“Don’t thank me for Anne’s performance. Judy is the little wizard who -deserves our thanks. I helped occasionally with the direction. Allen and -the farmer who owns this property built Wendy’s house out of some -discarded plywood. Luckily it didn’t fall apart as it did at one of the -rehearsals. But Judy selected the sketch, cast the players, and produced -it.” - -Mrs. Freiborg smiled, “Judy?” - -“Yes,” Lynne answered. “She had the idea that Anne would rid herself of -the concept of not wanting to grow up by having her take the part of -Wendy, a mother image. A sense of responsibility, a maturity would -develop—gradually.” - -“Lynne,” Judy interrupted, bewildered by these high-flown words, “you -know I didn’t figure it out that way! I just thought it would do Anne -good to look after someone else, like the Lost Boys—and after the first -try-out, I saw she could do it.” - -“And your instinct or whatever you choose to call it was correct.” Lynne -put her arm around her young assistant. - -Yes, it was a small triumph for Anne and for Judy as well. Mr. Lurie -strutted about the camp accepting compliments, he who was so modest -about his own work. And Mrs. Lurie, still sitting in the hot sun, smiled -with pride whenever she caught her daughter’s eye. - -Judy was grateful her mother had come. She knew it entailed her giving -up an important rehearsal that morning and that she would have to make -it up that afternoon and again in the evening. Her debut with the entire -Festival Orchestra was only five days off. It was from Lynne and Allen -that Judy learned how much depended on this performance. Success might -lead to an engagement at the City Center Opera Company of New York! As -Judy mopped her own moist face, she thought more than once that her -mother ought to get out of that sun. - -At last the picnic, the games, the excitement were over! The parents -took the children home. Allen was busy burning rubbish while Lynne and -Judy were methodically taking down the exhibits. - -Judy was thankful the tension of the last few days was behind her. Now -she would have the leisure to think. Why hadn’t she heard from Karl in -five days? Had she said anything? Absent-mindedly she fingered a puppet -and threw it into the rubbish heap. - -“What are you doing?” Lynne asked sharply. “Those puppets are not to be -thrown out! The children expect to take them home.” - -She glanced at Judy’s troubled face, then said with her usual -gentleness, “Why are you scowling? I thought you’d be happy. Everyone -praised you—” - -“It’s nothing, Lynne. I guess it’s the heat.” - -“But it’s much cooler now.” Lynne’s eyes twinkled. She thought of one -subject certain to chase the gloom from Judy’s face. - -“By the way,” she said with affected nonchalance, “guess who I met this -morning at the post office. Karl!” - -Judy perked up perceptibly. - -“I asked him where he’d been keeping himself, that I hadn’t set eyes on -him for a week.” - -“What did he say?” Judy mumbled almost inaudibly. - -“That he’s been busy, frightfully busy. Imagine, he’s entered a -competition, written an original piece based on some theme—he was rather -vague about it. But he’s been working on it every spare moment and -expects to play it himself. He had to get an accompanist—your father’s -idea. Isn’t it exciting?” - -“Yes, it is. It’s wonderful! Did you say something about an accompanist? -Who is he, Lynne?” - -“It’s a she, a very nice girl, one of the students,” Lynne said -brightly, too preoccupied with the cleaning up to notice the deep flush -that suddenly appeared on Judy’s face. Lynne went on, “He put up a -notice on the bulletin board and got an immediate response. The girl -volunteered her services and isn’t charging Karl anything.” - -“Really?” Judy said, immediately suspicious. - -“Yes. You see it works both ways. She’s anxious to perfect herself as an -accompanist and is interested in helping Karl at the same time.” - -Judy emitted a long, skeptical “Hmmmm.” Interested in Karl, not in -helping him, she thought to herself as she tried to shake off her -mounting anguish. She tormented the wire figure in her hand. “What’s she -like?” Judy asked in a tone elaborately casual. - -“I really don’t know much about her, but I gather from what Karl said -that she’s an older girl, that is, older than he is. He seems very -pleased about her.” - -Judy gloomily digested this piece of information while lost in thought. -Karl had made no effort to tell her the great news—no. He had a new -confidant now, had no need for her. Only her grandfather, voicing -Hamlet’s foreboding of evil, would understand. “O my prophetic soul” now -found a sympathetic echo in Judy’s heart. - -Lynne looked up and eyed Judy keenly. “Why are you looking so tragic? I -know what’s the trouble,” she said affectionately. “You’re just -overtired. Let’s drop everything and go to the pool. It’ll be cool and -refreshing and we can finish up tomorrow. What do you say?” - -“I don’t know. I ought to go home.” - -“Help me pull this last box of stuff into the shed. There, that’s fine. -Allen, don’t burn anything more. We want to leave as soon as possible.” - -After everything was carefully stowed away, Lynne walked to the log -fence. “Let’s sit up here until Allen’s ready.” - -Judy climbed up next to Lynne. - -“On Saturday,” Lynne said, “we have a beautiful, free day, no concert, -no rehearsal, no camp. For a long time Allen and I have planned to visit -Toklat. You’ve heard of the huskies, the wonderful Alaskan dogs that -live there, trained and bred by Stuart Mace.” - -Judy nodded. - -“I think you’ll love seeing them. Allen’s crazy about dogs and he’s been -dying to go there ever since we came to Aspen. And not a stone’s throw -from Toklat is a real ghost town, the kind you’ve been babbling about. -Ashcroft, once larger than Aspen, is still deserted after seventy -years.” - -“You mean the silver-mining town?” Judy asked, interested in spite of -herself. Karl’s faithlessness receded for the moment. - -Lynne nodded. “The same. And maybe we’ll top off the day with a ride up -the Chairlift.” - -“You mean—you want me to go along?” - -“Of course.” Pleased at having roused Judy from her lethargy, Lynne -said, “I’m glad you like the idea. It’ll be fun having you with us, -almost like having my sister Jane. I miss my family. I haven’t seen them -in a year. So you see how much I need you!” - -Is Lynne saying that just to cheer me? - -“Saturday? I’d love to go. It’s wonderful of you to ask me.” After a -pause she sighed, “How I wish Karl could come too—” - -“Well, maybe he can—but Saturday is a very busy time at the Swiss -Shop—but I can ask him.” - -“He’ll probably have other things to do besides the Swiss Shop.” Lynne -looked at Judy, understanding the girl’s troubled spirit. - -“Karl or no Karl, we’re going to have a good time! Now, what about that -swim in the pool?” - -“No. I’ll go home. Mother’s rehearsing this afternoon and again tonight. -She’ll be tired. I want to help with dinner.” - -As they bumped along the stony road that separated the camp from Aspen, -Judy was silent. She thought of the sad things she would have to -communicate to her diary. Her happiness was forever gone! Her lips -twisted into what was intended to be a cynical smile. A broken heart? As -a potential writer she was critical of the phrase. No, not broken, but -damaged, certainly. Karl had deserted her for another! - - - - - 10 - A CATASTROPHE WITH A HAPPY ENDING - - -Dinner was long over. The dishes washed, only the burned pots remained. -While preparing the meal, Judy’s thoughts had been engaged on more -important matters. Karl’s cruel neglect! She told herself, so what? It -isn’t the end of the world! But in her heart she felt it was. Mr. Lurie, -perched on the step-ladder, was putting away into the inaccessible -closets plates and platters Judy had managed to assemble for this, her -first experiment in preparing dinner. - -As she scrubbed at the stubborn stains on the aluminum, she was -thoughtful. She’d come home early, early enough to see her mother wasn’t -feeling well. Minna had sunk into a chair, too tired, she admitted, to -move. It was at Judy’s insistence that she went to bed. What mattered -that the onions were burnt to a crisp, that the creamed spinach had -emerged like green glue? The smiles and pleasantries of her parents were -compensation enough. - -Minna had sat through the dinner, refreshed by her nap, the color once -more back in her cheeks. She ate little. Occasionally she touched her -throat, a gesture no one noticed. It was only when pouring coffee that -her hand trembled so violently that the cup and saucer fell from her -hands. - -“What made me do that?” she asked in a troubled whisper. - -“It means that you’re going right back to bed for another rest before -the boys come to rehearse.” And with a great show of assumed -indifference, he persuaded her to lie down once more. - -The telephone rang. Judy, struggling with steel wool and pot, paid no -heed to the insistent ring. Her father, still perched on the ladder -trying to fit a platter into a space several inches too low for its -bulk, said, “Take the phone, Judy.” - -She dried her hands on her apron and unhurriedly reached the phone. No -one ever calls me, she thought with a touch of bitterness as she picked -up the receiver. - -“Hello. Who’s this? Judy?” - -“Yes, it’s me, Karl,” she answered, too surprised to say more. - -“Is your father going to be home tonight? There’s something I’d like to -talk to him about.” - -“Oh, Father?” An unreasoning resentment filled her. So it was her father -he wanted to see—not her! Maybe it was always her father, or her mother— - -“He’s rehearsing tonight, that is, Mother is,” she said dully. “He’ll be -kind of busy.” - -There was a long, disappointed, “Oh!” at the other end of the wire. Judy -clutched at a straw. With a quick, turnabout gayety, she said, “Other -people are available. Maybe—” - -“Do you think I could come over and listen in?” Karl asked eagerly. -“Your father said I might come sometime but we never made it definite. -Then—I could see you too.” His voice rumbled away in silence. - -“Hold the wire, Karl, I’ll ask him.” - -She made a wild dash to the kitchen and found her father lighting his -pipe after his kitchen labors. She asked her question. - -“Oh, I guess it’s all right. I did promise—” - -She barely allowed him to finish and bounded back to the parlor, -knocking over a spindly chair in her marathon. - -“Father says it’s all right. Yes, eight o’clock.” - -She tore back to the kitchen, picked up a dust cloth, and began to tidy -up the place. She was considering her strategy. “I’ll ask him -immediately why he didn’t take _me_ into his confidence. And who is this -girl, this accompanist? I won’t beat about the bush and I won’t act as -if I cared.” She gave the table an extra rub and with a flourish of the -cloth she swept some sheets of music to the floor. - -“My goodness!” her father exclaimed as he picked up the scattered -sheets. “What an eager beaver we’ve become! Is it Aspenitis or -Karlitis?” he said grinning. - -Judy felt her cheeks grow hot. “Father,” she said, “if that’s the way -you appreciate my services, making despicable jokes—” - -“Oh, come now, Judy, can’t you take a bit of razzing?” He looked at her -flushed face and said with great sweetness, “I’m glad you know Karl. I -think a lot of that boy and I don’t mean only in the music field. He has -character and a great deal of talent and with hard work, I think his -future looks bright. I’m trying to help him in a small way.” - -She looked up gratefully. “Karl said he wanted to talk to you.” There -was much more she wanted to say but she suddenly remembered her hair, -her dress. - -When the doorbell rang, a spruced-up Judy greeted the musicians and -Karl. The music stands were taken from the hall closet, the lamps moved -into place, and the men sat down busily chatting among themselves. - -Judy motioned to Karl. “We can sit over here on this little sofa.” An -innate delicacy made her refrain from calling it “the Victorian -loveseat,” her mother’s term for this small, uncomfortable, but charming -little piece. “We can see and hear perfectly,” she said as they seated -themselves. - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -“I hear you’ve entered a competition for original compositions,” Judy -said, plunging right in without further preliminaries. - -“Yes. I guess Lynne told you, although I did want to keep it a secret,” -he said somewhat sheepishly. “For one thing, it hasn’t been accepted as -yet. I wanted to surprise you. I’m still working on it.” - -“I thought it was finished.” - -“No. That’s what I wanted to consult your father about. Maybe I should -leave it with just a piano accompaniment since that’s pretty well worked -out and the accompanist plays it well.” - -For one bleak moment Judy regretted she hadn’t touched the piano all -summer. If she had, maybe—Aloud she said brightly, “I hear your -accompanist is not only beautiful, but plays like an angel!” - -Karl looked puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re driving at. Marie Hoeffer -is a fine young lady but she’s no Rubinstein, if that’s what you mean.” - -Judy smiled her skepticism. - -“She came to Aspen for a summer of music,” Karl went on, “but I guess -she’s chiefly concerned with having a good time,” he laughed -good-naturedly. - -Judy knitted her brows. A serious musician one might respect. But for -someone to come to Aspen under the cloak of music deliberately to waylay -and ensnare a boy like Karl, that was a more serious matter! - -The men were tuning their instruments and in the jangle of sounds she -remained silent. But her curiosity was sorely tried. How old was she? -Where did she come from? If from California or Maine or Alaska, all was -not lost! She would have to go back to those remote places— - -“I hear she’s quite ancient,” Judy said at last, her voice drooling -sweetness. - -Before Karl could gather up his forces to reply, Mrs. Lurie came into -the room. She looked beautiful but terribly pale. - -“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I hope you’ll forgive me,” she -said, speaking barely above a whisper. - -“You didn’t keep us waiting at all,” Mr. Lurie said. “We had lots to -discuss. But now, my dear, we’re ready, if you are.” - -Minna took up her position at the piano. Her husband tapped his bow and -the opening measures were begun. Minna was given her cue to start. She -sang a few bars, then stopped as if displeased with the tone. - -Mr. Lurie held up his bow. “We’ll start again. We play five measures, -Minna, then you come in.” - -The opening bars were repeated. Minna came in at the appropriate beat. -She sang three bars, then another. She opened her mouth for the next -high note. There was a hoarseness, a thickness, then nothing. Finally a -heartbroken whisper broke the strained silence. - -“John, I can’t sing—I’ve lost my voice—” - -In the confusion that followed, Judy only remembered the terror in her -mother’s eyes and her father’s gentleness as he calmed her. - -“Karl,” Mr. Lurie said quietly, “Dr. Keene lives down the block. No use -telephoning, his wire is usually busy at this hour. Go quickly and tell -him to come.” - -The musicians left, murmuring their sympathy. Mr. Lurie carried the -inert and almost helpless Minna to her bed. She was suffering now from a -chill and Judy, without having to be told, fetched the hot water bottle -and extra blankets. - -She returned to the parlor and stared at the empty chairs, the shining -music stands, the blaze of lights. She began pacing the tiny room. All -these weeks she hadn’t given a thought to her mother, thought only of -Karl. She murmured an inarticulate prayer—“Oh, God, don’t take away her -voice. She’ll die if she can’t sing.” Her mother’s words spoken weeks -ago beat upon Judy’s memory. “Struggle to get this far—” Judy knew now -that it took a great deal to make an artist, hours, days, years of work. - -“God,” she murmured again, putting her fist to her mouth to keep it from -trembling, “help her!” - -She heard the back door open and then close. That must be the doctor. -The waiting was intolerable. She put away the stands and the lamps and -chairs were back in their accustomed places. Anything to keep busy! Karl -tiptoed into the room, “The doctor is with your mother.” - -Judy nodded. He made her sit down and clumsily patted her shoulder. - -At last Dr. Keene came into the room followed by Mr. Lurie. - -The doctor smiled a greeting to Judy and told John to sit down. “I want -to talk to you,” he said in his breezy voice. - -“If you don’t mind, I’d rather stand. Shall I send the youngsters from -the room?” - -“No, they can stay. Perhaps Judy can be of some help and, anyhow, it -will be necessary for her to understand her mother’s condition.” - -“Yes, yes!” John said impatiently. “Go on!” - -“You heard me tell Minna,” the doctor proceeded calmly, “there is no -visible damage to her throat or her vocal cords.” - -“I thought you just said that to prevent her worrying, for psychological -reasons,” John interrupted. - -“Partially,” Dr. Keene nodded in agreement. “But I am convinced also -this will clear up in a matter of days. If it shouldn’t,” he paused a -moment, “then other measures will have to be taken. But we’re going on -my diagnosis for the present until I see the necessity of changing it.” - -John gave an audible sigh of relief. - -“I’ve watched Minna all summer. She’s driven herself too hard, -particularly as she continues the same pace all winter. She’s overworked -and there are other contributing causes. Luckily, she has a fine -constitution, otherwise I wouldn’t be so optimistic.” - -At last John seemed calm enough to sit down. “You’re right, of course. I -should have seen this thing coming. She’s taken this concert too -seriously—and her teaching and her own lessons—to say nothing of helping -students who should be on their own.” He spoke disjointedly. “She never -spares herself.” He shook his head. “Then there’s the house, the meals, -and she worries about Judy. I should have put my foot down,” he said -reproaching himself. - -“No, John. There’s nothing you or anyone can do about a person who has -this excessive drive. Without it a great talent often peters out.” - -Dr. Keene paused to light his pipe. “John, your wife needs rest, bed -rest, and she is absolutely forbidden to use her voice, even to whisper. -Whatever she requires or wishes to communicate must be written down. -With good, light, and nourishing food, plenty of fluids, and the -complete rest of her vocal cords, she will be all right.” He smiled -reassuringly at Mr. Lurie. “She’ll sing at the concert. I gave her my -promise and I mean to keep it.” - -“Doctor, you can really promise—” - -Dr. Keene nodded. “Unless something unforeseen—but I don’t anticipate -any complications. I’ve come across this condition several times, -particularly with pianists and singers. It is aggravated by too much -exposure to the sun, later followed by a chill, exactly as was the case -with Minna.” - -The doctor looked thoughtful. “I would like to suggest you have a nurse -except that I know that one is impossible to be had. Our Pitkin County -Hospital is understaffed. Who’s going to help you, John? I know you’ve -got to teach. Classes must go on—” - -“Private lessons can wait or be postponed. It’s the music school that -bothers me and—” - -“Father,” Judy broke in, “you’re forgetting me. Dr. Keene said I could -help.” - -“And I’ll take your place at camp,” Karl said eagerly. “It’s only -mornings and I can arrange it, if you wish, Judy.” - -Dr. Keene got up. “That settles everything nicely. Judy, you and your -father will relieve each other. Remember again, absolute silence on your -mother’s part in her cure. I’ve given her a sedative and I advise you -and your father to go to bed.” - -Mr. Lurie accompanied Dr. Keene to the door and Judy followed with Karl. -While the two men were exchanging some final words, Judy said, “I can’t -thank you enough, Karl, for offering to help at camp. But I’m worried, -too. You need every hour of practice.” - -“Haven’t you enough on your mind without taking me on too? I’ll manage,” -he said cheerfully. “Besides, I want to help. I’m doing very little -really and Uncle Yahn won’t mind. He admires your family so much.” - -He held Judy’s limp hand. “Don’t you understand how much your family -and—you have meant to me this summer?” - -Dr. Keene motioned to Karl and said, “Come on, young man, we’ve got to -let these people get some rest.” - -For four days Minna Lurie’s room was in semidarkness. No one rang the -doorbell and no one was permitted to telephone. The music students came -quietly, played with unusual softness and left just as unobtrusively. -When Judy saw the first one arrive, she was alarmed and hastily -inquired, “Shall I send the young Paderewski away?” - -Minna wrote with a still unsteady hand, “No. Like hearing piano.” - -Preparing three meals a day might have taxed an even older girl than -Judy, but her confidence was undaunted. No worker in a scientific -laboratory studied instructions with more meticulous care than Judy -lavished over the fine print on boxes of jell-o, cream of wheat, or -custard puddings. - -The doctor smiled and told her a nurse couldn’t have been more -efficient. On the following day Minna was permitted to sit in a chair -for a few hours, the sun allowed to filter into the room. - -Judy stood at the window, enjoying the play of the sunshine on the -trees. She turned as she heard the gentle tapping of the pencil. Minna -held up her pad. “I want you to go outdoors for a breath of air. Take a -long walk.” - -“No, Mother. Father won’t be home for hours. I won’t leave until he—” - -“I’m staying with Mother and you’re to go out,” Lynne said breezily as -she greeted them. - -Judy warningly touched her lips. Lynne nodded, “I know the rules. I’ll -do all the talking. I’ve so much to tell Minna—Now run along. I only -have an hour and a half.” - -As she followed Judy into the hall to speed her on her way, Judy asked, -“How’s Karl making out at camp?” - -“Not badly, but nothing sensational. He has too much on his mind. Three -days were quite enough—I can manage for the rest of the time until you -get back. Now go! To use your own overworked phrase, ‘tempus fugit!’” - -Judy stood on the porch, hesitating. Where? Her feet led her unerringly -to the practice room where she knew Karl would be working. She smiled -joyfully as she heard his violin. She could recognize that tone no -matter how many violins were playing! Hmmm, and that must be the -accompanist, Marian. She stepped inside and sat down unnoticed. The -playing went on. At a propitious moment of silence, she cleared her -throat noisily. Karl turned, saw her, a smile lighting up his face as he -waved his bow. The rehearsal went on. Talk—repetition of parts—more -talk. Judy sat wondering if she should leave. Then Karl’s voice, “Hold -it, Marian—” - -He strode over to Judy. “It’s just wonderful to see you! I know your -mother’s coming along great. Your father and Lynne told me.” He looked -pensively at her, “You look peaked—” - -“I’m all right, now that I know Mother’s going to be able to sing—How’s -the piece coming along?” - -“Slowly. It sounds so wonderful in my head, but when it comes to setting -it down—it takes so much time and I feel so pressed for time—” - -“I know. Sometimes I think of a story—everything seems so right until I -come to writing it down.” She looked at him smiling, “But you have a -wonderful basic theme. It has power to move one—nothing can spoil that. -Folk tunes could be introduced, you know, the way Dvorak did in his ‘New -World Symphony.’” - -He shook his head approvingly. “I can clarify things just by talking -them out with you. I miss you, Judy—so much!” - -“Me too,” the budding author sighed, throwing grammar to the winds. - -An impatient chord at the piano— - -“I can’t keep Marian waiting. Tomorrow she comes at one o’clock and -leaves at three—” - -Another chord and the slightly sharp voice, “Work before pleasure—” and -Marian smiled with a condescending graciousness, “Hi, Judy!” - -Judy smiled back absently. Karl was saying urgently, “Meet me here -tomorrow at three.” - -Judy nodded, “I’ll arrange it somehow.” - -When she reached home, Lynne was ready to leave. Mrs. Lurie’s eyes -brightened as she looked at her daughter. She hastily scribbled on her -pad and held it aloft, “You’ve color in your cheeks and your eyes have -their old luster. You’re one of those who blossom in sun and air.” - -“Yes, Mother,” Judy sweetly agreed, but she was deeply aware of the real -reason for the glowing cheeks and brightened eyes—and judging from the -smile lurking on Lynne’s face, so was she! - -That evening Mr. Lurie examined his schedule and announced with great -satisfaction, “Yes, I can come home early tomorrow—last session at -two-thirty. If I get a ride, should be here ten minutes later.” - -By two-thirty Judy was dressed. Her mother was in a comfortable chair, -her music in her hands which she could study silently. That morning her -pad had pleaded for a rehearsal. The doctor was obdurate. “One hour -before you appear at the concert. Not before.” - -Judy gave herself another fleeting glance at the mirror. The -candy-striped blue and white cotton with its full skirt looks cool, Judy -considered, even if I’m melting inside of it. The embroidered collar, -stiffly starched, scratched—but then, she smiled, Karl has never seen -this dress. Maybe it didn’t have the smart elegance of Marian’s tie -silk, but it was fresh looking! - -As she glanced at the clock, now two-forty-five, she reviewed the things -she must tell her father—the egg nog, ready in the refrigerator, the -watercress sandwiches. She tiptoed into the bedroom. - -Minna’s eyes opened. A descriptive arm indicated the window saying -plainly, “Why wait? Why don’t you leave now?” - -“There’s not that much rush. I’ll play something. The P.S. (the family -abbreviation for Practice Student) hasn’t arrived. Something sweet and -soothing to induce sleep.” - -Remembered bits of Chopin Nocturnes, the “Minute Waltz,” and the fingers -stumbled exactly at the same tricky places. Another look at the -clock—the piano was gladly relinquished to the late and harried P.S. - -Judy went to the porch and anxiously scanned the street. She returned, -stared at the clock as its hands moved relentlessly. At five minutes to -four she heard her father’s leisurely step. - -“You’re an hour later than you promised—” she said accusingly. - -“Dear old faculty meeting—a special one!” he said apologetically. “You -needn’t hurry back. I’ll fix dinner—” - -Judy was already at the door, mumbling something incoherently about egg -nog, refrigerator, watercress—hearing only her father’s puzzled -exclamation, “Where’s the fire?” as she recklessly rushed down the porch -steps. - -The cool, refreshing wind blew through her hair, but she arrived at the -Hall hot and breathless. - -Judy blinked. The room seemed dim after the sunlight. Two boys were in -the room, one at the piano, the other toying with an oboe or flute—she -couldn’t tell which. They stopped talking as she entered. She recognized -the colored boy whom she had met with Karl. “A brilliant student,” Karl -had told her, “completely at home in what must be a new and strange -environment.” - -“Aren’t you James Powell?” she asked. - -“Yes, of course, and you’re Judy. Hello!” - -“Hello,” came in hollow tones from some remote region of Judy’s chest. -“You didn’t happen to see Karl here, did you?” she asked diffidently. - -“He left with a very cute number some fifteen minutes ago,” the other -boy volunteered with an innocent smirk. - -As Judy made no comment, James added quickly, “He seemed very put out, -Judy, he’d been waiting around so long—” - -“Yes, I’m late, but it couldn’t be helped.” - -“After supper I’ll stop at his home—I’ll give him a message for you.” - -“Don’t bother, James, but thanks just the same.” - -On the street, the warm sunshine enveloped her like a cloud. She raged -at herself, at her father. Why couldn’t he tell those stuffed shirts—And -Karl? Well, he just decided I couldn’t get away—and, of course, nobody -could use the phone. She tried not to feel hurt, yet he could have -waited a little longer. - -Her dress looked squashed, the collar itched, her throat felt parched. -She was tired, too. All that useless running and waiting—and hungry. She -always felt hungry when she was miserable. - -“No, I won’t go home and sit around while Father cynically probes, ‘Why -back so soon?’” - -She opened her bag, powdered her shiny nose, wiped the perspiration from -her neck and face. A look into her change purse fortified her. - -“I’m going to get the biggest chocolate fudge whipped cream ice cream -soda I can buy!” - -She walked on aimlessly until she recognized the Cafe and Snack Bar -they’d visited the exciting night of the Juillard Concert. It seemed so -long ago! How happy she had been, sitting next to Karl—Lynne and Allen, -her mother and father—everyone so gay. - -She stepped up to the entrance and looked in at the curtained window. It -was empty, except for a waiter. No, there in a far corner a table -glittered with silver and glassware, a teapot, cups and saucers. And -there—coming to the table was Karl! What heavenly luck! How surprised -he’ll be when he sees me! At that moment Marian sat down, some music -sheets in her hand. Judy stood there ashamed, unable to move! Their -heads were close together. Marian was laughing—and Karl looked, yes, -looked adoringly into her eyes, just as he looked at Judy at times. She -tore herself away. - -She walked woodenly on the familiar and often dearly loved streets and -at last stumbled home, bone tired. - -As soon as dinner was over and her mother comfortably in bed, Judy -pleaded weariness. - -“Good idea for us all to get to bed early. Tomorrow is the big day,” her -father smiled. - -“You’re sure Mother’s going to be able to sing? It’s wonderful, Father—” - -Judy picked up her book, an ancient and much worn copy of _Les -Miserables_ that she had found in some neglected cabinet. The title -appealed to her. With a deprecating little smile at her father, she -ascended the staircase, much as Sidney Carton is said to have ascended -the gallows. - - * * * * * * * * - -It was a quarter to four on Wednesday afternoon. The Amphitheater, as -the Big Tent was sometimes called, was packed, every seat taken. - -Judy, no longer the lonesome stranger of those first weeks in Aspen, -knew many people. The children of the camp were there. Even the youngest -came to hear his father play in the orchestra. They waved and smiled to -her and she waved back. But she was tense and frightened, impatient for -the concert to begin, and wishing it were over. Her mother was well, the -doctor was more than satisfied. But could that terrible thing happen -again— - -Mr. Izler Solomon, the conductor, stood on the podium, bowing to -acknowledge the applause. Judy sat through Beethoven and Prokofieff, -hardly knowing which was which. Her mind was a blank, her heart was -pounding. - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -Minna Lurie stepped on stage, bowed at the ripple of applause. Judy -stared open-mouthed. Was that her mother? So poised, so beautiful, in -that shimmering green dress? Solomon lifted his baton. The orchestra -began. - -Minna Lurie’s lovely voice, as if in defiance of the enforced rest, -filled the tent. The flute, then the oboe followed her clear notes. The -strings came in. Judy sat in a transport of joy. It seemed as if her -mother’s voice soared into the orange supports, into the poppy-colored -sides of the tent. She felt an ecstasy she had never experienced. - -The applause was deafening. “Wonderful!” “Magnificent!” - -Judy sat unable to move. Someone gripped her shoulder. It was Lynne. -Judy got up dazed. “Wasn’t she marvelous, Judy? I’m so excited!” Lynne -said. - -People were leaving their seats and the crowd swirled around them. Lynne -said something about Saturday. - -“What did you say, Lynne?” Judy asked. - -“You remember. We’re going to Toklat and Ashcroft on Saturday.” - -“But I thought you went last Saturday?” - -“No, we wouldn’t go without you.” Lynne was pushed down the aisle. -“Saturday,” she repeated. “We’ll call for you at nine o’clock—” - -Karl had made his way through the crowd. He pumped Judy’s hand until it -ached. The crowd moved toward the exits and Judy and Karl were carried -along in its stream. They stood at the tent opening, the large flaps -framing them. The field where hundreds of cars had been parked was being -emptied swiftly. Many young people, their arms linked, were walking over -the rough ground. Now the last stragglers appeared, the men of the -orchestra, carrying their instruments. Judy whispered, “Mother and -Father will soon be coming too.” - -“Judy,” Karl said huskily, “why didn’t you come yesterday?” - -“I couldn’t leave Mother,” she said, turning her head so that he -shouldn’t see the hurt that was all but forgotten. - -The sky was beginning to darken. Something sang in their young hearts. -There was no need for words. They just stood there quietly, foolishly -smiling at nothing at all. - - - - - 11 - JUDY, AMATEUR PSYCHOLOGIST - - -With the exaltation of a young acolyte returning to a sacred task, Judy -appeared at camp the morning following the concert. - -“Now let’s feed the ducks. Who’s in charge?” - -“Paul.” - -Their white-feathered friends were placidly waiting at the water’s edge -and after they were fed, swam out toward the middle of the pond. - -The children took their seats at the long wooden table. - -“Where’s Willie?” Judy asked. “I saw him just a few minutes ago.” - -“Don’t bother about him! He’s a pest!” - -“But I must—Oh, there he is under the table.” - -On being called and asked to sit with the others, Willie looked up and -shook his head. “I don’t want to.” - -He seemed so content playing with his little mounds of dirt that Judy -didn’t insist. The children were waiting. She set bowls of wet clay and -tubes of paint on the table and distributed pipe cleaners. - -“See how pliable they are. They bend easily to any shape and with a pair -of scissors can be cut any length. I’m going to try to make a man out of -this wire and fill in the face with clay.” - -The little group became interested. They suggested their own ideas, -horses and snakes, violins and trombones. All were soon completely -absorbed. Judy, her head bent, was delicately painting the eyes and -mouth of her figurine. A stream of icy water descended on her back. -Jumping from shock and surprise, she lost her balance and fell from the -backless bench, her skirt flying ignominiously over her head. The -children were convulsed with laughter as the water continued its steady -stream. - -Rising clumsily to her feet, she looked around for the cause. There a -few feet back of her sat Willie holding the garden hose while the -children frantically cried, “Turn it off!” - -For one brief moment Judy stared at the little boy’s cherubic face. The -words of Gilbert and Sullivan flashed through her mind, “Let the -punishment fit the crime.” She grasped the hose and turned it on Willie. -“Now you know how it feels to get soaked to the skin with all your -clothes on.” - -The children shouted their approval. “He deserves worse than that—” -“Always tinkering with that hose—” - -Judy asked the children to go back and finish their projects. With as -much dignity as she could command, she and Willie, both dripping pools -as they walked, went toward the barn. Surprisingly enough, Willie hadn’t -uttered a sound nor shed a tear! She helped the boy change into a pair -of shorts discovered among the costumes and Lynne’s discarded bathrobe -did service for her. Together they hung their wet clothes on the fence -where the hot sun would soon dry them. - -“Willie,” she said, “let’s sit on the grass for a few minutes before we -go back to the others.” She studied the boy and wondered what went on in -that little head, behind the woebegone little face. - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -“I thought you liked me—Don’t you?” She pleaded. “I had to punish you -for your naughtiness.” - -He said nothing for a moment, then unexpectedly, he put his hand in -hers. “I didn’t mean to do anything bad.” His large eyes looked at her -earnestly. - -“But, Willie, you’re not a baby. I’m afraid I’ll have to mention this to -your mother.” - -“Mommy’s sick. She’s always sick. You mustn’t bother her.” - -Judy was perplexed. “Willie,” she said gently, “tell me why you put the -hose on me?” - -He looked at her as if surprised at her obtuseness. Then he blurted out, -“I wanted to water my garden and you were in the way.” - -“Your garden? I didn’t see any garden.” - -“Oh, yes, there was, right under the table. I just wanted to water it -the way I do at home.” - -“I see,” Judy said, not really seeing but trying to understand. - -“I can water all I like, all afternoon until Daddy gets home. Your hose -here is heavy. I couldn’t hold it right—” - -While the little boy was talking, Judy vaguely recalled Allen’s speaking -about Willie’s parents. His mother had had a breakdown of some sort; -mountain air and rest were supposed to help. His father played the drums -and timpani in the orchestra and had a part-time job besides. The boy -was of necessity much alone. The camp had been such a happy solution. -But Judy had forgotten the story and its possible bearing on little -Willie. - -“The next time you want to water your garden at camp, you must first ask -permission,” she said. She put her arms about the boy. “After all, I’m -not a tree.” They both laughed gaily. When they returned to the others, -Judy couldn’t help noticing an air of pleased expectancy on their faces -as if they rather hoped more fireworks were in order. - -“Willie didn’t intend to do anything mean,” Judy said offhandedly. “He -was trying to water his garden,” and she pointed to the twigs planted in -the mud. - -Happy to dismiss the subject, she asked, “Let me see, children, what -you’ve accomplished?” - -She was delighted with their skill and assured them that the Aspen -church would want to acquire the animals and assorted instruments for -its bazaar. “Then your parents can buy them right back again,” she said -laughingly. - -“Wouldn’t it be nice to let Willie take charge of feeding the ducks this -week? You don’t mind, Paul, do you?” - -“But I do mind.” - -“Look, Paul, Willie’s only five years old, the youngest in camp. Don’t -you think we could show him we don’t bear any grudge, that we trust him -enough to give him this responsibility?” - -The appeal to Paul’s better nature succeeded and Willie was acclaimed -the mascot for the week. In the days that followed Willie followed Judy -about camp much as the little lamb is said to have followed Mary. - -Several days later a jeep stopped at the camp entrance. Judy was in -charge as Lynne had taken a group horseback riding. A man stepped out of -the jeep and moved in long, easy strides toward them. She wondered who -he could be until she heard Willie joyfully call out, “Daddy! Daddy!” - -She stopped the victrola and managed a sickly smile of welcome. Willie’s -father! He’s come to complain about the hosing I gave his boy—maybe -withdraw him from the camp? - -The man gave a brisk, “Hello, kids!” and stopped to rough up his little -boy’s hair. He was young and handsome. - -“Are you Judy?” he asked, addressing her. - -She nodded and murmured, “Yes.” - -“I was driving by. I can only stay for a minute. Is Lynne around?” - -“No. Is there anything I can do?” she asked weakly. - -“Just tell Lynne I wanted her to know how sorry I was to have missed -Parents’ Day. I couldn’t get away.” - -“Whew!” Judy almost said aloud in relief. “I’ll tell her,” she smiled -for the first time. - -“But it’s you I really came to see.” - -“Me?” She was thankful the children had run off to play. She was -beginning to marshal her defenses as to just why she had done what she -had— - -“Yes, you,” he repeated. “That’s what I wanted to talk to Lynne about. -Willie’s mother asked me to give you a present but I don’t know what -girls like—I thought Lynne would help me out. But never mind—” and again -he smiled. - -“But I don’t deserve—I’m very fond of Willie but—” Her words tumbled -over each other. - -Before she could protest any more, he stuck some bills in her hand. “Get -something for yourself, please,” and with a hasty “good-bye,” he was -gone. - -She had come into a fortune of three dollars. After the first pleased -sensation of having money of her own, she pondered on how to spend it. -That very afternoon she went to the library to secure the book on Aspen -history that had been waiting for her and her dollar deposit for over a -month. The rest of the money went for presents; a beautiful linen -handkerchief for her grandfather, no trouble about that. He adored fine -handkerchiefs! Grandmother’s was more difficult. After much hesitation, -examining each case of knickknacks with the greatest care, she finally -selected a brooch made of two crossed skis. Still she hesitated. Suppose -Grandma doesn’t like it? She never likes any present. Judy heard her say -time and again to anyone who gave her a gift, “Now why did you have to -spend money on me? You know I don’t need anything!” Judy gave the brooch -another admiring look. “Well,” she confided to the all-too-patient -shop-owner, “if Grandma doesn’t like it, it certainly won’t be wasted. -It’ll look stunning on my sweaters.” - -Nor was Willie left out of her calculation. Once her deposit was -returned, he too would get a present. That was only fair, she decided, -since he was the author, so to speak, of her good fortune. - -She reached home tired and hungry. - -Her father was sitting at a desk absorbed. He looked up at her with an -abstracted air and said, “Mother went out marketing. Got a chance to go -in somebody’s car. She’ll be back soon. Have a nice day?” - -“Lovely,” and Judy patted the gift-wrapped package. She watched him -silently for a while. Writing music out of your head without playing an -instrument was something she couldn’t fathom. He continued writing. - -“I’ll set the table,” she offered. “Anything else?” - -“No—well, yes. There’s the music stands to pull out. I borrowed some -extra ones. There’ll be eight of us, I imagine.” - -“What, a rehearsal again?” Judy asked. “I thought you and Mother were -going to have people over tonight just to have fun.” - -Mr. Lurie got up and reluctantly closed his desk. “So we are,” he smiled -at her. “Whenever musicians get together, they make music. That’s their -fun.” - -“Hmmmm,” was all Judy said. - -“What’s that book you brought home?” He glanced at the title. It was his -turn to say, “Hmmmm.” - -“You’ve forgotten, Dad, I’m going with Lynne and Allen to Ashcroft. I -thought I’d give Lynne a shock by surprising her with my knowledge of -the history of these parts around here. No one seems to know anything -about Ashcroft.” - -“Very commendable,” her father said seriously. “By the way, if you -should uncover any clues to hidden treasures overlooked by the early -settlers, let me know. A few silver nuggets would come in very handy.” - -“Oh, Father,” Judy said impatiently. It’s no use, she decided. - -During dinner Mr. and Mrs. Lurie were discussing the next important -event of the concert season. In addition to the regular program, -original compositions would be played. The judges would make the award -to the composer of the best piece of original music and to the most -promising conductor. - -“Is Karl’s composition going to be played that day?” - -“No,” her father answered, “he’s not satisfied with it.” But added with -real conviction, “I’m certain it will be heard later.” - -Judy immediately lost interest in their talk and pointing to her book, -asked to be excused. “I have work to do too.” - -Her mother appeared impressed. But her father said, with that dead-pan -expression he loved to assume, “I hope the Beethoven Quintet will -provide pleasant background music for your scholarly labors.” - -Giving him scarcely a smile, although she was laughing inwardly, she -ostentatiously picked up the library book and went to her room. - -Propped up in bed, surrounded with well-sharpened pencils, reams of -paper and her diary, she turned on her radio tuned to some weird jazz. -She began to read. - -The idea of writing a story for the _Plow_, while still nebulous, had -not been discarded. If she wrote something that would stun her -classmates into admiration— - -Facts, dull facts: drilling—pumps—shafts—mining operations. It was -disappointing! - -Undiscouraged she plodded on, skipping whole pages. At last she was -rewarded by a tiny paragraph that she recorded on her note pad. - -“Aspen, situated in one of the most beautiful valleys of the world, is -surrounded by giant mountains which guard her treasures. Ashcroft, her -near neighbor, just as beautifully situated, makes the picture complete. -Together, their silvery riches give promise of greater treasure than has -yet been found in the marvelous state of Colorado. Who can foretell the -future?” - -Judy looked blankly at the word “future.” “That rosy future had come and -gone,” she sagely commented to herself. But how did it all start? By -more diligent searching, she discovered something more of the early -beginnings of Aspen and an occasional reference to Ashcroft. Again she -faithfully recorded a brief summary of her findings. - -“Henry Gillipsie, a man of thirty-one, a graduate of Kansas Agricultural -College, left his home to seek his fortune mining gold. When he reached -Leadville, the town was in a ferment. Silver had been discovered in the -mountains of Colorado! He turned from his dreams of gold to the surer -thing—silver. True, there had been news of an Indian uprising; a United -States Major had been killed and some soldiers, but Gillipsie made up -his mind to go. He got a horse and a pack mule, took his son and -persuaded a friend to join him. Some twenty-five other prospectors -followed Gillipsie’s trail. All staked out their claims, Gillipsie even -buying two mountains. Although a truce had been concluded with the -Indians, Gillipsie and the others decided to return to Leadville. -Besides the Indians, winter was coming on. But he was no sooner back -than he began worrying about his holdings. Once the thaw set in, -thousands would go over Independence Pass and might take possession of -his claims. He told his fears to a friend who knew all about mines and -mine country. - -“‘How can we get across the Pass in winter? The reports are terrible. -Men and mules bogged down in snow—broken legs—starvation.’ - -“Together they worked out a plan. They built snow boats of good, strong -lumber and loaded them with two hundred pounds of provisions and plenty -of blankets. The boats, really giant sleds, would be pulled by miners. -All would travel only at night when the snow was hard-packed, making the -going easier. - -“Still the men objected. ‘How do you expect us to walk over snowdrifts -twenty-five feet deep?’ - -“Undaunted, Gillipsie and his friend had the answer. ‘We’ll need -snowshoes. Since we can’t get the webbed kind, we’ll make them out of -board, eight feet long, the way the Norwegians do.’ - -“When Gillipsie and his fourteen men, a strange looking pilgrimage, -arrived at their camp, Aspen’s mining history began. - -“More settlers arrived, lured on by the tales of fabulous riches. They -spread out to Ashcroft, only twelve miles away. The success of Horace -Tabor, the owner of the two most famous mines in Ashcroft, stimulated -the miners.” (Horace Tabor, the romantic figure who loved Baby Doe) she -parenthesized, for the benefit of her grandfather. - -“But Ashcroft developed slowly. The mountains were not only high but -inaccessible. Progress was slow. In the meantime, Aspen moved on to -quicker glory. A one-gauge railroad—buildings went up at terrific -speed—churches, schools, a bank, the _Aspen Times_—living expenses were -high—flour cost one dollar a pound.” - -The music from her radio egged on Judy’s flagging spirit. Further -reading only revealed the names of Tabor’s two mines at Ashcroft. It was -in vain she looked for more news of Baby Doe. There was nothing. Only -the gloomy recital of the ruined silver kings. - -History book and diary fell off the bed. She switched off the lights and -turned off the radio. The researcher wearily yawned and slept. - - - - - 12 - ASHCROFT, THE GHOST TOWN - - -The weather all summer had been fine. When there was an occasional -shower it came, considerately enough, late in the afternoon. It never -interfered with the outdoor activities and indeed was only noticed by -the concert-goers, who heard the brief but heavy drumming on the canvas -of the huge tent. - -This Saturday morning was no exception. The sun rose brilliantly and the -air was crystal clear, a perfect day for the excursion to Toklat. To -Judy there was only one drawback: if only Karl could have come. Yet he -might turn up with Fran, late in the afternoon. - -She paced the walk outside her home. Lynne and Allen were late. She -thought of that silly old adage about the early bird! All those pancakes -she’d left uneaten! There’s such a thing as being too prompt! But, she -grudgingly remembered, in that not so distant past she had been the one -for whom others had waited. - -At last their station wagon approached. - -“We overslept!” Lynne gaily announced as the car stopped. Judy climbed -in. - -The winding road to Toklat hugged the mountain and although Allen drove -at only a moderate speed, a number of furry animals, feeling much at -home in the early morning stillness, flipped across their path to escape -only just in time! Once they all breathlessly exclaimed, “There’s a -deer,” but it was so fleet of foot as it bounded into the woods that -they couldn’t be sure. - -At the entrance to Toklat was a handsome wood and stone structure, -Toklat Lodge. Early as it was, people were already lined up to make -their reservations for the luncheon they hoped to enjoy later. The food -at the Lodge was famous. Everyone knew about the gourmet dishes and the -perfection of its service. But Lynne, with a shade of regret in her -voice said, “That kind of elegance is not for us or our budget. -However,” she smiled as she indicated the lunch basket on the back seat, -“we’ve come prepared.” - -They parked the car in the shade of some trees and beyond a log fence -enclosure they could see the heavy wooded area where the dogs lived. Mr. -Mace, they were told, would arrive later to take visitors through the -gate and see and hear all about the Huskies. - -On the other side of the road stretched a vast, treeless meadow abruptly -ended by the range of mountains rising sheer from the valley. There were -some houses sparsely set in the field. - -“Is that part of Toklat, too?” Allen asked the man idly standing guard -at the gate. - -“Nope,” came the laconic answer. “That’s Ashcroft.” - -In the clear sunlight the houses seemed close at hand. They could count -eight, maybe ten. Judy recalled the description of Ashcroft described in -her library book, “The giant mountains guarding their silvery treasure.” -She wondered what there was to guard in that desolate spot now. She was -eager to go there at once. The tour could wait. Judging by the crowds -already arrived, there would be a number of tours. Besides, if Karl did -come, he would expect to meet her at Toklat. - -Lynne agreed, but Allen preferred to remain in the hope of having a few -words alone with Stuart Mace. They would meet later “over there,” -meaning Ashcroft. - -“And don’t forget the lunch,” Lynne cautioned. - -Crossing the rough fields overgrown with wild, prickly grasses, they -soon came close enough to see the houses—large, three stories high, the -frames of gray, weather-beaten timber, ageless. Two of them had wooden -signs nailed over the entrance, “Groceries,” “Drygoods.” They tried to -look in and discover if anything remained of the boasted merchandise. -But the windows were barred. They walked down to another house further -down the field, but that too had the doors and every window boarded up. - -“You’d think from the care with which they closed the houses they -expected to return,” Lynne said wonderingly. - -All had the sad, forlorn look of houses long empty and deserted. But one -house, larger than the others, gaped wide open. Glad of the opportunity -at last to satisfy their curiosity as to what the interior might be -like, they stepped inside. Had vandals carried away the staircase to the -upper chambers, or torn out the partitions that must have once divided -this huge room? - -The window frames in the upper portion of the house were hung with vines -through which no ray of sun could penetrate. From the heavy beams under -the roof, wisps of clothes waved weird and ghostlike in the slight wind. -The two girls stood huddled together and felt like intruders as they -talked of the people who once must have lived there. Judy, her -imagination in full flight, pointed to the tattered garments. - -“Look, I can make out a miner’s cap—and there’s an old bearskin coat. -They probably had to shoot the bear, eat the meat—bear meat is very -good, you know—and then use the fur to keep from freez—” - -She stopped in the middle of her rhapsody. A pair of small beady eyes -looked down on her. She could distinguish a wing—then another. It moved! -more wings—more beady eyes. Wings fluttered—began to circle near them. - -“Bats! The place is full of them. They can attack us—get into our hair!” - -Without a moment’s delay, they flung hands over their heads and rushed -to get out, stumbling over the ancient doorsill in their hasty exit. - -Once out in the sunny meadow, Lynne laughed at herself. “I feel like a -goose running out the way I did. Who ever heard of bats attacking -anyone?” - -“Is that so?” Judy said warmly. “One night a few summers back a bat got -into my bedroom. It flapped around horribly, looking for me. I still get -the creeps when I think of it. If Grandpa hadn’t come in—” - -“O.K. I’ve heard of bats in the belfry,” Lynne said dryly, “but never -mind. Have it your own way.” - -They walked on to examine the few remaining houses. Except for the ruins -of a fence and an upside-down hut that was probably once an outhouse, -nothing remained to indicate that people once lived there. - -“Ashcroft is sure a ghost town,” they both agreed. - -They started to trudge back. They had gone further than they expected -and found the walking hard and tiring. When they stopped once or twice -to rest, they thought they heard the unmistakable chop chop of an ax. -Following the direction of the sound, they came upon a cabin, no larger -than a good-sized woodshed. Near it stood a man swinging his ax with an -easy, steady rhythm. - -He looked up as they approached and said, in answer to their greeting, -“’Tis a fine morning.” He nodded and smiled at them. - -They could see at once that he was old, very old. His face was -crisscrossed with fine lines, but his blue eyes were bright and he held -himself so erect that Judy involuntarily straightened her slumping -shoulders. - -“Isn’t that pretty strenuous?” Lynne asked, pointing to the huge tree he -was splitting. - -He smiled again. “I’m eighty-two and never felt better. We’ll need all -the wood we can cut.” He spoke with the pride of the very old whom the -years have used well. - -Judy walked closer to the cabin and the door being ajar, she looked -inside—two cots, some shelves sparsely stacked with cans of soup, some -other foodstuffs. - -“You don’t live here, do you?” she asked, her voice incredulous as she -again faced the old man. - -“Yes. My pal and I, we live here. We’re the only two natives left in -Ashcroft.” - -“You are?” Lynne and Judy said in one voice. - -“Let’s stay here for a while,” Judy whispered. “The meadow’s so flat, we -can’t help seeing Allen when he comes looking for us.” - -Lynne nodded. “May we sit here a little while and rest, Mister? We -expect to meet someone later.” - -He seemed pleased. “I’m glad of your company.” He picked up his ax and -placed it against the woodpile. - -“Set yourselves down. Make yourselves comfortable—the logs or the -grass.” - -He sat down on the fallen tree and Judy, on the stiff undergrowth, -looked up at him with deep, commiserating eyes. - -“I don’t see how you can bear to live in that little cabin all winter. I -should think you’d die of lonesomeness or freeze to death!” - -“It’s never that cold, Miss. The sun’s good and hot even on the coldest -days. And I’m used to it.” - -He looked at Lynne. “Came here as a boy when my father worked in the -silver mines and I’ve stayed here, off and on, ever since.” - -He fished out a pipe from his shirt pocket and the girls watched the -gnarled fingers first clean it and then stuff it with some yellowish -weed. - -“Was Ashcroft ever like Aspen? You know what I mean, well populated, -with lots of mines?” Lynne asked, as the old man puffed contentedly on -his pipe. - -“Well, yes and no. Ashcroft was built up before Aspen, but Aspen got -ahead faster.” - -“Why?” Judy asked. - -“I’ll tell yer. For one thing, the mines out this way were hard to work -and new mines weren’t easy to locate. At Aspen things were different. -New veins kept on being opened all the time and they weren’t so hard to -mine. Nature favored it more, or maybe it was better equipment. Anyhow, -prospectors and settlers both got discouraged. They gradually took off. -Yep, they just moved away. A lot of them dragged their houses with them -by mule team.” - -“What about Montezeuma and Tam-o-shanta? They were here. Horace Tabor -made a big success of his mines.” Judy wagged her head in the manner of -one who had spent her life in the bowels of the earth. - -Lynne looked at her in surprise. “How do you know?” - -“Oh, I’ve been reading up about it,” she answered with a superior smile. - -But the old man saw nothing strange in Judy’s erudition. - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -“The young lady’s right,” he said. “Montezeuma had plenty of good ore -and it did well. Made Tabor a tidy fortune. But it was too high. Nearly -thirteen thousand feet. Dragging supplies out there was hard, but only a -man like Tabor could make a good thing of it.” He nodded at them and a -great smile spread over the wrinkled face, deepening the two well-marked -furrows around his jaw. - -“Tabor built a mansion out here, real elegant, gold paper on the walls. -Built it for Baby Doe. That’s the second Mrs. Tabor that maybe you heard -about.” - -“Yes. Did you ever see her?” Judy asked, with mounting interest. - -“Well, in a manner of speaking. Saw her coming and going. The day she -came out to see Montezeuma, Tabor was that happy he declared a -twenty-four-hour holiday for everyone working in the mine. He was a real -silver king.” The old man shook his head appreciatively. “He treated -everyone that day to all the liquor he could drink.” - -But his smile quickly faded. “Augusta got that mine too.” He sat -thinking for a moment. “Not that you can altogether blame her, the first -Mrs. Tabor. She’d helped him when he was—well, nobody. And now that he -was rich and famous, she wanted to hold on. Guess she loved him, so she -said right out in all the newspapers.” - -“Augusta seems to have done very well for herself,” Judy commented -sternly. - -Again Lynne lifted her eyebrows. She was certain now Judy had been -boning up not only on the history but on the gossip column of those -days. - -“Well, did Horace Tabor and his new love live happily ever after?” Lynne -asked lightly. - -Judy brushed aside the question. “What happened after the Silver Panic, -Mister? Did Baby Doe leave Tabor when he became poor?” - -“No, Miss.” The answer was emphatic. “She stuck to him through thick and -thin. Nobody expected it of her—she was that young and handsome. When -she married Tabor, the biggest people in Washington came to the wedding. -Tabor was an important man, not only rich. He’d done a lot for -Leadville—the opera house and then at Denver, built a hotel and lots -more. - -“The State of Colorado was grateful and he become a Senator for a -while.” His words came more slowly as if the embers of his excitement -had died out like his pipe. - -“Well, Augusta made such a scandal of his leaving her that she spoiled -his chances in politics. Then comes the Panic—1893! Baby Doe, from being -the millionaire darling of a silver king, came down to even taking in -washing. She proved herself a good wife and faithful.” - -“I knew she would,” Judy said triumphantly. She wanted to know more. “Is -that all?” she asked. - -“No.” The old man shook his head gravely. “As I was saying, Tabor lost -everything and what he didn’t lose, he’d given to Augusta. She was rich -and stayed rich. All that remained to Tabor was one mine. He still owned -Matchless. It wasn’t paying any but he had great faith in it. When he -was on his deathbed, he tells Baby Doe, ‘Hold on to Matchless. It’ll -make a fortune yet.’” - -“And did it?” Judy asked anxiously. - -The old man shook his head. “She held on to it because Tabor told her. -She become that poor, she didn’t have a roof over her head. So she moved -out to the mine. Lived alone in a one-room cabin.” - -He leaned forward, holding his young listeners. - -“Gettin’ enough to eat wasn’t all her trouble. Tax collectors came out -to the mine and she held them off with a gun. But she had friends who -stuck by her, respected her grit, like that Jacob Sands of Aspen and -some others, I forget the names. They spent money to clear her title to -Matchless so that she could hold on to it, to the very end. She held it -for forty years, but it never paid any.” He sighed deeply. - -“They found her one day, her body dressed in rags, her feet covered with -newspapers to keep out the cold—found her frozen to death.” - -For a while no one spoke. Then as if wishing to break the pall of -sadness that engulfed him, Lynne asked, “Do you ever get to Aspen?” - -“Sometimes. We have friends over there,” and he pointed in the direction -of Toklat. - -Looking across the field, they saw Allen coming toward them with great -long strides. “Had a wonderful time with Mr. Mace,” he said as soon as -they were within earshot. Then coming closer he noticed the old man. -Allen’s eyes seemed to ask, “Where did you pick up this ancient?” - -“Allen,” Lynne said quickly, “this gentleman is one of the two natives -of Ashcroft—and still lives here.” - -“I’m happy to know you,” Allen said, shaking his hand. - -They repeated the Baby Doe story for Allen’s benefit as they spread -their lunch, which they insisted the old man share with them. When they -left, he stood there waving, a tall spare figure, framed by the deserted -houses and the brooding mountains. - -Allen hurried them along. “What an extraordinary man Mace is! What skill -he uses in handling his dogs!” - -“What’s so special about that?” Judy asked, still ruminating about the -ups and downs of Baby Doe. “Horses pull wagons and dogs pull sleighs. -Why is Mr. Mace so wonderful?” - -“For one thing, kid,” Allen said, annoyed at Judy’s lack of enthusiasm, -“he was with the ski troops that saw Arctic duty in World War II. He -learned about dogs the hard way.” - -Allen turned to a more appreciative audience. “Lynne, I guess none of us -realized what these mountain troops went through out in that wasteland -of snow and ice. The pilots they saved, the planes and cargo they -salvaged—” - -“What had the dogs to do with the pilots?” Judy asked. - -“Fierce storms often forced the planes down,” Allen explained patiently. -“Mace was in charge of a division whose job it was to search for and -rescue the flyers and, of course, to save the air cargo on which their -lives depended. You see, Judy, only dogs and dog-sleighs can travel over -that sort of country.” - -They moved along at a snail’s pace as Allen became more and more -engrossed in his subject. “Mr. Mace had to train the dogs, keep the -drivers from fighting each other. Tempers get ugly under such -conditions. The war went on. Sleighs wore out. He had to make new -ones—new equipment.” Allen shook his head. “Mace is a modest man. You -have to drag the story out of him.” - -“How did he happen to get to Ashcroft?” Lynne asked. - -Allen laughed. “I asked him that myself. It seems that when the war was -over, they didn’t know what to do with those wonderful dogs. The top -brass ordered them sold. Mace said he’d grown to love working with dogs. -The thought of giving it up made him wretched. He saved some money and -he bought all the top-strain dogs he could afford. He and his wife -decided to take their dogs to Aspen to breed and train them, as a -hobby.” - -“What did he do before the war?” Lynne asked. - -“Some kind of research on flowers that grow on the Rocky Mountain -slopes. But when he came back, there was no interest in that sort of -thing. And there weren’t any jobs that he could find to do around Aspen. -So he decided to move out to Ashcroft. Land was cheap and snow lay on -the mountains seven months of the year. Dog-sledding and skiing had -become a great national sport. So he decided to turn his hobby into a -job! He and Mrs. Mace worked through one summer and a long hard winter -to build the log and stone lodge we passed. Guests can stay there and -enjoy long trips into the mountains with the dog-sled teams and—” - -Lynne, interrupting him with a laugh, said, “You’re so wound up talking -about Mr. Mace, you forgot about the tour. I can see from here people -crowding through the gate.” - -They made the remaining distance on the run. They arrived in time to -join the twenty or thirty others all trying to squeeze as close as -possible to the owner and guide, while Judy unabashed scrutinized every -likely or unlikely person that might be Karl. - - - - - 13 - THE HUSKIES - - -Stuart Mace was dressed in well-fitting khaki trousers and a plaid shirt -open at the throat. His sturdy bronzed neck suited the finely molded -features of his face and his smile was warm and friendly. - -“As you see,” he began, “we have a great family of dogs, bred for hard -work in the mountains, ice and snow. From our original nine dogs we have -eighty, among them some of the finest leaders and teams in the country.” - -He motioned the group to follow him. Individual kennels shaded by trees -extended in all directions. The dogs, tied by long leashes, had a great -deal of freedom. They looked at the visitors unmoved. None barked. Mr. -Mace pointed out common characteristics: their large, long-haired -bodies, the markings on their bodies, their intelligent faces, their -long pointed ears and bushy tails. As Mr. Mace passed the dogs, he -fondled them and those who were by chance overlooked snuggled up to him -and their eyes begged for his caress. - -“Let’s have a look at some of the very young dogs,” Mr. Mace said, the -crowd at his heels. He picked up a beautiful furry puppy and held him in -his arms like a baby. - -“This Alaskan dog is only three months old. We know by this time that -she will never do the work our dog teams must do.” - -“How do I know?” Mr. Mace smiled at the man who asked the question. - -“We have our way of knowing. When I decide that such is the case, we -sell them as pets. They make good watch dogs and are gentle and -affectionate.” - -“What does it cost to buy such a puppy?” Allen asked in a low voice. - -“About a hundred dollars, only what it cost us to raise and feed the dog -for the three months.” - -Judy looked at Allen, who was whispering something to Lynne. - -In that momentary lull she could hear Lynne’s answering whisper, “But -what would we do with him when you’re away on tour for eight weeks and -I’m busy teaching?” - -“When do you throw them the meat?” a little boy asked as they went on -among the older dogs. - -“We’re not in the zoo, my little friend. No lions or tigers here,” Mace -replied with a grin. “These dogs are never fed any meat. Up in the -Arctic regions, the dogs get walrus and chunks of seal. But here, it’s -not necessary. See that box of food next to each kennel? When a dog is -hungry, he goes over and eats what he wants of it. It’s a mixture of the -best scientific foods these dogs require.” He pointed to the pans of -water near each kennel. “They need lots of water during the summer -months, but in the winter the snow is enough.” - -“Gee, these dogs are kind of lazy—the way they just sit around.” Mr. -Mace overheard the little boy’s complaint. - -Mr. Mace smiled at the boy. “Don’t you think these dogs deserve a rest -after working hard from November through April? This is their vacation, -son,” he said kindly. “That’s how we keep them fit and happy.” - -They were now among the full-grown dogs selected for their team work. -“Eight, ten, sometimes twelve dogs make a team,” Mr. Mace explained, -“depending on the distance to be traveled and the load to be pulled. The -dogs are harnessed in pairs, but the leader runs in single harness in -front. Teams must be well matched, not only for beauty and appearance, -but in strength and size. But the leader is the prize of the pack—like -this one here.” Mr. Mace bent over to pet him. - -“He’s pure Malamute strain. That’s one of the best. See his powerful -chest, his long bushy tail, like the others, only longer and bushier. -Look at his feet, those powerful nails, the short hair cushioning the -toes, the long hair between. He is sure-footed, intelligent, and has a -fine sense of smell. Never forgets a road once he’s been over it, never -forgets commands once they’ve been mastered. And he has character! Don’t -laugh,” he smiled at Judy. “This dog has got character. He demands -obedience from his team. Where he goes, the team must follow.” - -Mr. Mace turned his attention to a large handsome dog that seemed -unresponsive to his petting. “She’s Eskimo, and she’s brooding. We took -away her puppies some days ago and she’s still unhappy.” - -A little boy, more venturesome than the others, went over to her. “Don’t -go near her,” Mr. Mace said. “She’s not vicious, none of them are, but -she’s best left alone at present.” - -The crowd moved on. The boy who had just been admonished stood in front -of the kennel watching the sulky animal. As Judy tried to pass, the boy -stood talking to the dog. - -“What’s the use of being sore?” He stepped closer. “Come on, let’s shake -hands.” - -The dog lifted her leg and gave the boy’s chest a shove. He went down as -if hit by a load of bricks. The boy lay there, stunned. Judy screamed, -“Mr. Mace! Mr. Mace!” - -It was her frightened call that brought Mr. Mace loping back. He picked -up the frightened boy and said severely, “You’re not hurt, but I warned -you to let that dog alone.” - -Mr. Mace walked on and the group, a little sobered, followed. - -“How much cold can these dogs stand?” Lynne asked. - -“In the far north they can take a temperature that goes to sixty or -seventy degrees below zero. We, of course, haven’t such extremes of cold -here, but it’s plenty cold in the mountains in the winter. When we take -people on our sledding trips over snow-covered trails, we stop overnight -at a cabin we’ve built. Our riders enjoy a good fire, a comfortable bed -and a meal. - -“But,” he went on, “the dogs are just unharnessed, fed, and go to sleep -in the snow. You’ve noticed these Huskies have thick coats of fur and -nature further protects them with a wool matting close to their hide. So -you see,” and he smiled at Lynne, “these dogs can stand all kinds of -weather.” - -“Look at that dog there,” a woman exclaimed. “I’ve never seen such a -handsome dog! His black markings on the forehead and nose are so -striking against his white coat!” All turned to look. “See how he stands -there as if he enjoyed our admiration.” - -“Of course, she does,” Mr. Mace said. “She’s our prima donna, one of our -famous movie stars. She’s only completely happy when she’s in front of a -movie camera.” - -“Can she do some tricks for us now, please?” - -“I’m afraid not. Our dogs have performed often right out here in these -very mountains. You’ve probably seen them on your own TV’s at home, -thinking they were made in the Arctic! But most often when Hollywood -needs our dogs, we just board a plane and go there.” - -There was more, much more. Eighty dogs are a lot of dogs to see and Judy -must have looked as she felt, very weary. The tour was over. - -As they neared the exit, Mr. Mace turned to the crowd still following -him. “Like to hear my dog concert?” - -“Sure!” everyone said. - -“Kyloo,” Mr. Mace addressed a powerful Husky whose kennel was near, “how -about some music for these nice people?” - -Kyloo didn’t seem interested. - -“Now come on, Kyloo,” Mr. Mace’s voice was coaxing. “Don’t be shy. I’ll -start you off.” - -Mr. Mace thrust back his head and a loud, prolonged wail came from his -throat. - -Kyloo didn’t need any more urging. He tilted back his head, opened his -wide jaws and the same powerful, prolonged note issued from his throat. -It re-echoed through the grove and grew in volume as the wail was taken -up by the eighty dogs. - -It was a strange, primitive call, high and piercing. Yes, it was a kind -of song, the dogs’ farewell to the visitors, farewell in music. - -While Allen stayed on to take some snapshots of the dogs, Lynne and Judy -followed others into the Arctic Trading Shop, a lovely log cabin -displaying rare and unusual things. When at last Allen joined them, they -returned to the car to drive back to Aspen. - -It was only as they drove through Main Street past the Ski Lodge and -Chairlift that Judy suddenly remembered. - -“Allen,” she said, putting her hand on the wheel, “aren’t we going up -the Chairlift? You promised!” - -“Judy, I hate to say it, but the answer is ‘no.’” - -“Why?” she asked, unable to hide her disappointment. - -“Well,” Allen said slowly as if to lessen the blow, “chiefly because -Lynne and I went up last Saturday.” - -“You went up?” Judy repeated, reluctant to believe such treachery, going -up without her! - -Allen nodded. “You see, a lot of Festival people planned the trip, -getting some special rate and Lynne and I couldn’t resist a bargain! -But, Judy,” Allen smiled sheepishly, “I think we’re sort of glad you -weren’t along to witness our disgrace. We got off at Midway!” - -“How could you get off when the chairs keep moving all the time? The -machinery never stops. I’ve watched it a hundred times.” - -“Well, it takes a bit of agility, but everyone has to get off at Midway -for a few minutes. The mechanism changes direction at that point. You -walk a few feet and leap on again. That’s where the chair immediately -swings out over a bottomless chasm! I decided I had enough! Dangling -like a clothes hanger from that slender cable was too much for me. I had -no stomach to ride over that yawning abyss and then ascend to thirteen -thousand feet!” - -Judy looked at Lynne. “Is he joking? He gave up just like that?” - -“We gave up, just like that,” Lynne said laughing. “Allen shouted to me, -‘I’m getting off at Midway. Not going further. You keep going if you -wish, but I don’t think it sensible.’ - -“Jouncing along, my nerves a bit jittery, I guess I was secretly glad -and yelled back, ‘I will too.’ My young campers were below me, swinging -along, waving their hands and laughing. I knew we would have to brave -their jeers, if not their scorn. But we did.” Lynne and Allen exchanged -glances as if there were some reason for their lack of hardihood. - -“So like a cautious young couple with good reasons for our caution,” -again that special smile for Allen, “we walked down a steep mining road -that took us back to Aspen. It was wonderful even if we didn’t get to -the top.” - -Allen patted Judy’s shoulder. “I guess it isn’t so bad when the -mountains and the chasm are blanketed in snow. Leave something for -another time or another year. You’ll be coming to Aspen again. Everyone -does.” - -“I hope so,” Judy said with forced resignation. Then she remembered -Ashcroft and the dogs. “It’s been such a perfect day. How can I ever -thank you!” - -The car pulled up in front of Judy’s house. “I’m sorry we can’t stop -in—marketing, and dinner still to get,” Lynne said. “We’ll see Mother -and Dad in a few days—we have something very special to tell them.” - -Judy wondered. - -Lynne went on, “You know, Allen and I feel flattered. You didn’t mention -Karl’s name once all day!” - -“But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t think of him. Everytime I looked at -those gorgeous Eskimo dogs with their sad, dreamy eyes, I thought of -Karl. Isn’t that strange?” - -“Truth is stranger than fiction,” Lynne laughed. “I’m afraid you’ve got -a real case! Good-bye, dear!” - -“Good-bye!” - -“Something special to tell them?” Judy repeated to herself as she slowly -mounted the porch steps. “Maybe that’s why Allen didn’t want Lynne to go -further on the Chairlift. After all, they are married two years—” - - - - - 14 - “CONFIDENTIALLY YOURS” - - -“... and so, dear Grandpa, I’ve brought you up on all the latest news. -One or two things more. Mother is still hopeful for an early audition -for the City Center Opera Company. Father continues to write -incomprehensible notes on his music sheets—and literally walks on air -when it goes well. Other times he just looks black and frustrated, -staring into space as if listening. But his work at the school is fine. -And his quartet is making a name for itself in this oasis we call Aspen. -There! That’s enough about them! - -“I can see you look at me in that way you have and say, ‘What about -you?’ - -“That’s not so easy to answer. Part of me is getting along swimmingly. -Lynne says I have a gift with children! Imagine, I who during those -first days at camp felt like wringing their individual and collective -necks! - -“Happy as I am to have that wonderful job, that’s not the important -thing in my life. Mother is blind and so is Father! The great change in -my life—in me, has come since I’ve known Karl! When I first wrote to you -about him, I told you of his looks, his love and knowledge of music, his -almost unnatural devotion to his mother! But our friendship, oh so -necessary to both of us, has deepened, has matured into something quite -wonderful! Please don’t smile. I couldn’t bear it and somehow I know you -won’t or I wouldn’t be writing as I do. - -“When I see him, his nearness gives me a joy I can’t explain. We see -each other nearly every day—if not at his Uncle Yahn’s Swiss Shop, then -he drops in here. We never finish all we have to say. I know his -character, his thoughts, his dreams. I weep for all his father has been -through. Remember the prophets of the Old Testament you used to read to -me? I listened with only half an ear. But Karl knows a lot of Jewish -history and I’m learning fast. When Grandma hears of this phenomenon, -she will be glad that all her efforts to fill the huge gap in my -ignorance has at last born fruit. I’m beginning to glimpse what she used -to call ‘our great heritage.’ - -“But Mother sees little of all this greatness in Karl. She treats him -like any other music student. - -“‘How are things going, Karl?’ Then she’s off to the kitchen or -marketing or sometimes, more lately, to rest. Father is more interested, -but he too is preoccupied with his own work. So I have become more -necessary to Karl as he is to me. - -“I love him! There, I have written the word. I dream of what he’ll be -some day, how I can help and how I can become that which he seems to see -in me. Will our discovery of each other in Aspen flower into something -as wonderful as the present? Don’t tell me I’m young! Juliet was only -fifteen! Happily for us, there are no Montagues and Capulets with their -senseless feuds to try to keep us apart! - -“I know my own feelings, but how can I know that Karl loves me? I do -know he likes me a lot, but even so, there are complications! - -“Karl works with a pianist and she’s fiendishly clever! She’s pretty, -very superior, and treats me like a child! She’s old, at least twenty. -For all that, she looks so dainty and petite. And I’m awkward, stupid -and tongue-tied when I’m with her. - -“Karl asked me to meet her. I was terribly curious about her and agreed -although I knew in advance I wouldn’t like her. Twice was enough! I’ll -not subject myself again to such humiliation. I asked him why he allowed -her to order him around and make jokes about the most serious things? - -“His only answer was, ‘She knows her piano. I don’t. I’m lucky to get -that ribbing. It helps to keep one’s feet on the ground. Besides, she’s -fun to be with!’ - -“He looked at me in surprise. ‘You used to have a sense of humor, Judy. -What’s become of it? I hoped you’d enjoy Marian as much as I do.’ - -“I couldn’t tell him I never want to see her again! She stirs up the -ignoble in me. I know, at least I feel, she’s trying to entice Karl, -trying to get him in her clutches, away from me. Probably, she -recognizes the genius he’ll become some day! I try not to think of her -and often I forget her completely, especially when Karl and I are -together, alone. - -“Good-bye, Grandpa. Keep well and know I love you. This letter is for -you only. I won’t mail it until I’ve written another for Grandma with -all the concerts, lectures (ugh!), recitals and rehearsals—in short, -with all the news that’s fit to print. O.K.? - - Lovingly and confidentially yours, - Judy” - - - - - 15 - THE MOUNTAIN CLIMB - - -It was the middle of August and the season in Aspen was drawing to a -close. In a little more than two weeks, the students of the Festival -would begin to trickle back, some to college, others to jobs. The -artists and faculty members were already speaking of their fall -engagements to travel all over the United States, Canada, and South -America. - -But in the meantime, as if the planners of the Music Festival wished to -end the Festival in a blaze of glory, life in Aspen increased to a -furious tempo. Lectures, recitals, concerts, music in one form or -another filled the days and nights. No one seemed to feel the strain -except Judy. She wondered sometimes, did the nearby mountains ever tire -of this constant paean of music? - -One evening Mrs. Lurie casually announced at dinner, “We’re all going -tonight to a lecture at the Seminar Building.” She turned to Judy. “You -remember that attractive ultramodern building near the Tent? You loved -the paintings exhibited there on those circular walls.” She shook her -head meditatively, “Those paintings by American artists were given by -Mr. Paepcke. He’s certainly been very generous.” - -“Allen and Lynne are going to pick us up in their car,” her mother went -on cheerfully. “Oh, here they are!” - -After the usual greetings, Mrs. Lurie said, “Judy’s coming with us. The -lecture will be over by ten.” - -“What’s the lecture about?” Judy asked. - -Her mother answered, “‘Modern Trends in Disharmony.’ It should be -wonderful!” - -Judy shuddered. She remembered other “wonderful lectures” through which -she had sat bored and rebellious. In that brilliantly lighted hall one -had not even the small luxury of being able to fall asleep! - -“They’re playing a wonderful Western at the Isis,” Judy said -desperately. - -“A Western!” her mother and Lynne said. “They’re dreadful!” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” Allen said quite unexpectedly. “Daredevil riding on -magnificent horses, hairbreadth escapes, mountain scenes like our -Rockies—” His eyes flashed. “They’re packed with excitement—loads of -it.” - -Judy looked at Allen, then shifted her gaze to her father. In his eyes -too there was more than a glint of interest. - -“Come to think of it,” Allen went on, “it’s funny, we haven’t been to a -movie all summer.” - -“What’s funny about that?” Lynne asked with marked disappointment at -Allen’s bourgeois taste in films. “Of course, we haven’t been to a -movie, nor have we seen any television. And we certainly haven’t missed -either.” She looked for encouragement to Mr. Lurie as she went on. - -“Who wants to see gun-shooting, Hollywood cowboys tearing up and down -mountains when one can enjoy a delightful evening listening to ‘Modern -Trends’!” She smiled at John certain of his unqualified support. - -Instead of an answering smile, he cleared his throat and said with a -deprecating air, “I agree with Allen. There’s something to be said for -these Westerns. The sight of horses leaping from crag to crag, men -hurled from saddles, climbing inch by inch over backbreaking trails—” He -laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “It fills me with a nostalgia.” - -“But this lecture, John,” Minna said in a quiet, determined voice, “is -by one of the foremost musicologists.” - -“One of the greatest,” Lynne added. - -Allen placed his large, friendly hands on Judy’s shoulders. “Have a -heart, Lynne. This kid has listened to music and lectures without let-up -for seven long weeks. Sure, it’s been great, but maybe she’d like a -change of diet.” - -There was a flurried consultation between Lynne and Minna. Then with a -martyrlike smile, Lynne said, “Allen, dear, since you feel so strongly -about Judy’s state of mind, of course, we’ll go to the Isis.” - -Allen brazenly winked at John. Then everyone laughed. Judy was unable to -see the joke. As they walked along the quiet streets, seeing her father -and Allen in such high spirits, she wondered. Had they made all that -fuss on her account or were they satisfying some secret desire of their -own? - -The very next day John Lurie announced his decision to climb Maroon Peak -on Sunday. All summer he had been promising himself one good climb. The -movie did it! As Judy phrased it, “The close-up of the mountain trails -whetted his ‘blunted purpose,’” something she had culled from her -favorite play of Shakespeare. Whatever the reason, John Lurie cleared -his calendar and made his plans. - -Fran accepted the role of guide, since he knew the trails well. Karl was -invited “to please a certain nameless young lady,” he said. “Oh, -Father!” came ecstatically from Judy at this bit of news. Minna was -invited but refused as she didn’t feel equal to so difficult a climb and -might spoil the day for the others. - -The final arrangements were discussed. Extra jackets and sweaters were -to be taken in their knapsacks as the summit was often bitterly cold, -even in summer. Each one was to provide his own sandwiches and a drink -of some kind or water in a canteen and heavy socks and shoes were to be -worn. The agreed to meet at eight o’clock in the morning at the foot of -the trail twelve miles from Aspen. Judy and her father were getting a -lift through the kindness of a neighbor, but Fran cheerfully volunteered -not only to get Karl and himself to the trail, but also to have a car -meet them at seven that night to take them back to Aspen. - -The night before the climb Judy lay in bed unable to sleep. A whole day -with Karl ahead of her! She felt like a general mapping out her -strategy. Her father would race ahead with Fran, but she, affecting an -air of languor (lovely thought, she hoped she could bring it off!) would -set a slower pace and Karl, with his usual consideration, would be -beside her. She sighed luxuriously. There would be hours and hours to -talk! And at the summit, resting amid the clouds, they would read -poetry! She had slipped a volume of her grandfather’s poems into the -knapsack, just in case—although she knew a few of them by heart. - -As she tossed on her bed, the thought of Marian crossed her mind. Karl -hadn’t mentioned her name in days, yet her pretty face still troubled -Judy. Jealous! Of course not! That was over and done with. “Jealousy was -degrading,” she muttered into the pillow, turning it for the tenth time. -It was good to feel cleansed and serene. But a sweet and consoling -thought lulled her to sleep. The words repeated themselves like a -lullaby: “Marian would soon return to Chicago. Soon, soon—the sooner, -the better!” - -“Judy, you’re a fine one to depend on! I thought you’d be up at dawn.” -It was her father, fully dressed, ready for their trip. - -They reached the trail long ahead of the scheduled time. During the -half-hour wait the crystal-clear air gave Judy such an appetite that she -consumed a sandwich and was nibbling on a hard boiled egg when her -father rescued what remained of her lunch and replaced it in his -knapsack. - -At the sound of a motor Judy jumped up, “Here they are!” - -A beautiful, shiny, black convertible roared toward them, swung into the -brush and came to a stop. She stared at it. Every car in Aspen was laden -with weeks of dust. No one they knew ever bothered to clean a car that -would get just as dusty an hour later. - -Fran stepped out of the car and walked toward them. His face was -shining, his heavy boots were laced to the knees, and a coil of rope and -knapsack were jauntily slung over his shoulder. - -“Where’s Karl?” Judy asked as he came nearer. - -“He’s here. Like a real gentleman, he’s helping the lady.” - -“The lady?” Judy repeated stupidly, her eyes fixed on the car. - -Yes! There she was walking with Karl, a hand on his arm, a dainty figure -in dark blue jeans, a cap to match and a bright red sweater. It couldn’t -be—No!—that was impossible! - -They approached slowly. Karl, with a battered old rucksack borrowed from -his uncle, heavy-booted and heavy of tongue, smiled feebly, “I hope you -won’t mind. Marian begged to come along.” - -Marian gave Judy a little nod and held out her pretty manicured hand to -Mr. Lurie. “I know I’m just an interloper, but to be in the heart of the -Rockies and not able to boast of one little climb—” She gave Mr. Lurie a -ravishing smile. - -“Little climb,” Judy muttered under her breath, but she noticed that her -father looked as pleased as Punch and said, “We’re delighted to have you -come along.” - -“That’s sweet of you, Mr. Lurie.” Then as if just remembering Judy’s -existence, she said, “How are you?” And without waiting for an answer -continued, “I bet you’re glad not to be the only girl in the party!” - -“Well, let’s get started,” Fran said. “We’ve a novice with us,” he -chuckled. “Marian may look like an ad for the ski patrol, but, brother, -she’s never climbed a mountain except in a car. Well, there always has -to be a first time. Besides, if we hadn’t Marian’s car, we would have -had to hike the twelve miles to get here. The guy who was to take us -found himself with five passengers for Denver. A break for him, but—” - -Judy stood in the circle and except for a hollow “Hello, Marian,” had -been too numb to say anything. Her heart was sore with all her useless, -foolish planning. As her grandmother remarked when an irrepressible -neighbor invaded her privacy with stupid visits and more stupid -conversation, “This neighborhood was always so lovely. Now _she_ has to -move next door. There’s always a fly in the ointment!” - -Mr. Lurie was laughing at something Marian was saying. He turned to -Fran, “Maybe you’re right about the stylish outfit, but why didn’t you -tell Marian to wear heavy shoes?” - -“I did tell her.” - -“They both did,” Mirian said with a careless shrug. “But I don’t own a -pair of delightfully sensible cowhide boots such as Judy is sporting.” - -Only Judy noticed the subtle sarcasm, “delightfully sensible.” She -looked at her thick socks, the mud-colored boots inherited from her -mother’s climbing era. She clenched her teeth. - -“Don’t worry about me,” Marian added lightly. She lifted a trim little -foot. “These sneakers are the best—new and strong. I’ll manage.” - -Judy said nothing but silently prayed those sneakers of hers would fall -apart and expose her bleeding toes on the rocks. - -They began to climb in single file. The first half hour was easy, a slow -upward grade. Marian’s teasing voice could be heard. - -“You call this a climb?” - -She talked incessantly until Fran told her brusquely to save her breath. -“You’ll need it,” he warned. - -The next three or four hours were hard. Fran leaped ahead like a goat -while Judy and her father, with set faces and their bodies bent forward, -plodded steadily on. Breathing hard and frequently panting, they were -glad of the rest periods Fran ordered at fifteen-minute intervals. The -trail led over rocks and huge boulders, mud ankle deep from hidden -springs. The trees grew more sparse, then disappeared altogether. In -spite of herself, Judy was enjoying the climb, the exertion, the clear, -exhilarating air, the sudden views of deep chasms that fell away a -thousand feet. - -Of Karl and Marian they saw nothing after the first hour. Every once in -a while Fran would give his weird call, “Halloo,” and on hearing a faint -answering “Halloo,” would say briefly, “They’re on the trail. O.K. Let’s -keep moving.” - -At one-fifteen the three stopped for lunch. They were on a plateau of -smooth rock and before eating, they rested, lying down on the hard -surface to dry their soaked shirts and perspiring bodies, then turned -over on their stomachs, warming their backs in the hot rays of the sun. -In five minutes they were completely refreshed and sat up to eat and -marvel at the view. - -Giant peaks cut into the sky, deep forests of black pine were far below, -and in the distance a thread of silver shimmered, a river, perhaps -unknown, uncharted on any map. In a craterlike hollow, barely seen at -first, lay a lake of dazzling color, like a giant emerald, sparkling in -the sun. - -Mr. Lurie at last broke the silence. “You know,” he said in a meditative -voice, “it’s hard to explain one’s love for mountain climbing to anyone -who doesn’t share your enthusiasm. Most people see it as a foolhardy, -backbreaking, unnecessary exertion. ‘Knock yourself out! For what?’ they -ask with undisguised condescension, sometimes with a sort of incredulous -contempt. And we lovers of the sport can’t explain.” He flung out his -arms in a sort of ecstasy. “We say it’s the extraordinary view one gets -as a reward for the struggle. No,” Mr. Lurie continued, letting his arms -drop beside him, “you get an incomparable view from Pike’s Peak driving -up in a car or bus. No, it isn’t the view alone.” - -“It’s like a dare or a challenge, isn’t it?” Fran said. “You set out to -do what you know is hard and tough. Maybe reach a peak no one ever saw -before. You don’t go out for the pleasure of the kill as a hunter does. -You’re making a new trail of following someone else’s who had dared -before you. And when you’ve done it, boy, you feel good!” - -“That’s about it, Fran. You’ve conquered one of the difficulties Nature -constantly presents. You push yourself ahead, beyond endurance -sometimes, but when you reach the summit, you want to shout, ‘Look, I’m -here too! I share your lonely grandeur if only for a moment of time.’” - -Then in a more matter-of-fact tone he said to Judy, “I guess you haven’t -climbed enough to feel that way about it, but it’s that spirit in one -form or another that has led to opening up parts of the world that would -otherwise have remained unknown.” - -“Oh, I agree with you perfectly, Father, but I was only wondering what -happened to Karl and Marian.” - -“Yes, where are they?” Fran said impatiently. “We’ve been here for half -an hour.” - -Mr. Lurie looked at his watch. “It’s only one-twenty-five. How long do -you figure, Fran, it will take us to reach North Maroon Peak?” - -“At least another hour. We ought to leave now.” - -Fran gave his call and after repeating it several times, a faint answer -could be heard. At last, they caught a glimpse of the two figures slowly -toiling upward. - -“They’re O.K. Come on, let’s push on,” Fran said, settling his rope and -knapsack on his shoulder. - -“I think we ought to wait for them,” Mr. Lurie suggested. “Marian looks -as if she could use a little encouragement.” - -Fran grudgingly agreed. “They’re holding up,” he grumbled, still chafing -at the delay. They watched the slow, painful progress of the two -climbers and noticed Karl at times pulling Marian by her hands over the -large, smooth boulders. - -At last they reached the plateau. Their faces were drawn, streaked with -dirt and grime. They dropped down wearily and Marian stretched out flat -on her back as if she never expected to rise again. Her eyes were closed -as she groaned, “I ache in every bone, every muscle of my body. It’s -going to be years before I feel human again.” - -As for Karl, his weariness soon left him. He rested as the others had -and sat up. Wordlessly, he looked at the magnificent range of peaks -jutting into the sky. Then he murmured something: “What wonders He has -given us this day to behold,” adding the Hebrew words. - -“Is that a prayer of thanksgiving?” Judy asked quietly. - -Karl nodded. - -Fran, always practical, broke in, “Have you eaten yet?” - -“No,” Karl said as if awakened from a dream. “I’m glad you reminded me. -I’m hungry as a bear.” - -He reached into his rucksack and took out a brown paper bag and a -daintily wrapped box. - -“Better have something to eat, Marian,” he said, placing the package -beside her. - -“Thanks. I don’t want anything.” - -“Look, folks,” Fran said impatiently, “if we’re to make the top and get -down before dark, we have to leave in ten minutes.” - -“I’m ready to leave as soon as you say,” Karl answered, “but I can’t -speak for Marian. Look at her right sneaker. The sole has been flapping -for the last hour. It’ll be off entirely any minute.” - -They examined the sneaker and even Judy hadn’t the heart to gloat or to -say, “We told you so.” - -Marian lifted her head from the stone. “Please, all of you, go ahead -without me. You’ll find me here when you get back. I’ll drink in the -view. In fact, I’ll do anything but climb another foot of this mountain. -Unfortunately, I’ll have to climb down!” - -Mr. Lurie laughed. “Marian, you’ll feel better after you’ve eaten and -rested a few minutes longer. You’ll get your second wind.” - -“Second wind!” She moved uneasily to a different position. “I used that -up long ago. What I need is a pair of bellows to keep my lungs going, to -say nothing of a relay of fresh, untrodden feet!” - -Judy too couldn’t help laughing. She sat down next to Marian and fed her -pieces of orange. She put a sandwich in her hand and coaxed her to take -a bite, then another, until it was finished. - -“You’ll be all right, Marian. I have an idea. Father has some string in -his knapsack. Fran can wind it around your sneaker to reinforce it so -that it holds.” - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -“Please,” Marian pleaded, “all of you, go ahead and that includes Karl. -I’ll sleep here peacefully with the birds and beasts—and mountains, and -dream peacefully of a hotel room with a hot, steaming bath!” - -“No,” Karl said firmly, “I’m not leaving you here alone.” - -“It’s a darn shame,” Fran protested. “You’re the one, Karl, who wanted -to see Maroon Peak most of all.” He turned dejectedly to Mr. Lurie. -“What do you say, Professor?” - -“I agree with Karl. We can’t leave Marian alone. There’s no actual -danger. We don’t expect any landslide or sudden snow flurry.” He looked -at the unclouded sky. “But,” he paused as he tried to hide his own -disappointment, “maybe we should give up and all of us return together.” - -Judy looked heart-broken. “Marian, I know you feel better now. Why don’t -you let Fran fix your sneaker?” she urged. “I know it worked with a girl -who went up Mt. Washington with me! We’ve gone three quarters of the -way. To turn back now is to admit defeat! You’re spoiling everybody’s -fun. Don’t you see!” - -“No, I don’t see. But I don’t want to be a spoilsport either.” She -dragged herself to a sitting position. - -“Once I played in a golf tournament,” she went on. “At the end of -eighteen holes the score was tied. I’d just gotten over the flu and I -shouldn’t have played at all. I was all beat out but I played another -nine holes before the match was finished. It didn’t kill me. All right, -you win!” - -Judy felt a new respect, almost an affection for this girl whom she had -secretly called her “hated rival.” - -Fran fixed the offending sneaker and then he announced in his best -“guided-tour voice,” “Let everyone attend to his needs.” And with that -command the boys and Mr. Lurie discreetly retired to a declivity and -were quickly out of sight. - -“Where are they going?” Marian asked. - -“You know. You heard Fran. This gives us our chance too. I’ve learned on -other mountain trips,” she said as she led Marian down to a deep cleft -among the rocks. - - - - - 16 - NEAR TRAGEDY AND RESCUE - - -The last hour was brutal. Mr. Lurie took the lead with Karl and Judy -close behind. On hands and knees they crawled over boulders until they -secured a foothold. At one spot Judy was left dangling until her father -and Karl inched toward her on their stomachs and pulled her to safety. - -Marian’s role was more passive. The coil of rope that Judy had -skeptically regarded as a showpiece for Fran now proved its usefulness. -Tied under Marian’s arms, he hauled her over rocks and boulders she -pluckily attempted but could not scale. - -At last they reached the summit. Their salute to the mountain peak was -brief. A sharp wind blew through their wet and clammy sweaters. Jackets -and windbreakers were pulled from knapsacks. They stood awed and -shivering, surrounded by the nearby peaks, silent in the vastness of its -forbidding grandeur. Only the cairns, little heaps of massed stones, -marked the path of retreat to a world of safety. Mr. Lurie put his arm -around Judy and held her close. Fran, as moved as the others, -relentlessly pointed to the slanting rays of the sun. - -Ten minutes later, they began the descent. Fran rushed ahead with Karl -and Judy followed him down the dizzying path. It was fun racing down at -almost breakneck speed. The boulders that had defied them and were so -hard to grip on the upward climb were friendly on the descent. They sat -and slid down, the well-padded leather seats of their pants taking the -punishment instead of their young, tough bodies. - -Looking back at intervals, they saw Mr. Lurie patiently guiding Marian -down the trail, supporting her as she slid down the slippery boulders. -Still high above them on the trail, they looked unbelievably small -silhouetted against a background of rock and sky. - -With high spirits and exuberant bursts of laughter, the three -forerunners reached the plateau they had left only an hour and a half -earlier and were content to rest as they waited for Marian and Mr. -Lurie. - -“If you’re game, we can take another trail down,” Fran said. “It’s a -little tough in places, but much shorter. We’ll see what they say when -they get here.” - -When Mr. Lurie and Marian approached and were within hailing distance, -Fran called, “Hurry, I want to—” - -He got no further. He and his companions eyed Marian with amazement. Her -jeans were torn. Long strips of fabric hung in ribbons and light pink -stuff showed through the rents of the once slick garment. Her cap was -gone and Mr. Lurie’s leather jacket hung loosely on her shoulders. With -her rumpled curls falling limply over her brow, she looked like a -desperate young bandit. - -“Well, here I am,” she greeted them, “a thing of rags and patches, minus -the patches.” She flopped down beside them with an anguished “Oh!” as -her knees crumpled under her. - -Fran gave her a sad, appraising glance. “I was just saying, there’s -another trail down. We’ll have to slide on some ice, but it’s nothing -much and we can save an hour, maybe more.” - -Mr. Lurie shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe we better stick to the -same trail even if it’s longer.” - -Marian perked up, suddenly alert. “Fran, did you say we can save an -hour? That would get us down by six or seven. Golly, what’s keeping us? -It can’t be worse than what I’ve been through already!” - -“No,” Fran said reassuringly, “in many ways it’s easier. Just a slide or -two, nothing to it.” - -“Good! I’m ready,” she said, getting up shakily. “The sooner this -ghastly trip is over, the better.” She tenderly felt her mud-spattered, -torn jeans. “If these rents get any worse, I may be very anxious for -night to fall,” she said, still able to smile at herself. - -In twenty minutes they reached a gully, crossed it, and came to what -looked like an icefield. At one extremity it sloped precipitously and -beyond it lay a stretch of flat land with scrub. - -“From there on,” Fran gestured, “there’s a trail going straight down. I -heard it was once the bed of a river made from centuries of melting snow -from the mountain top. Anyhow, the trail’s pretty dry at this time of -year. Steep all right, but short.” - -He picked up a large, sturdy stick that lay discarded among the stones -and walked on the ice, hitting it several times, testing it. - -“Couldn’t be better.” He turned and faced his companions. “Each of us -will in turn sit on this ledge of ice, getting as close to the very edge -as we can. Then let yourself go. Slide down the ice. That’s all there is -to it. I’ll go down first. Remember, the main thing is to let yourself -go—easy like. There’s some brush that I’ll grab as I hit the bottom and -break my speed. Then I roll over. But you don’t have to worry about -that. I’ll be there as you come down.” - -He threw down the stick, adjusted his rope and knapsack, and sat down on -the ice as if on his own toboggan. Without another word, he slid down -the ice. It was over. Before they knew it, they saw him roll over, pick -himself up, and wave. Mr. Lurie went next, then Karl. There were the -three of them waving and smiling, urging Judy and Marian to follow. - -Judy turned to Marian, “You want to go next?” - -“No, you go. I want to see how you make out.” - -Judy sat down as the others had, closed her eyes to block out the steep -drop. She shot out like an arrow and before she knew it, she felt her -father’s powerful arms grasping her. - -She stood up now and waved with the others. “Come on, Marian, it’s -nothing.” - -“What’s she waiting for?” grumbled Fran. - -Marian stood there, Fran’s discarded stick in her hand, looking like a -statue contemplating the ice. - -All yelled together, “Sit down! Slide! Don’t keep standing there!” - -She heard them for her answer came clearly. “No, I can’t sit down on -that cake of ice! It’s too cold. I’ll go down standing. I’ve got the -stick.” - -“You’re crazy,” Fran shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to make -sure his voice carried. “Sit down! Don’t be an idiot! Sit!” - -Before he could shout another warning, she stepped firmly on the icy -slope, took another step—a terrifying shriek tore the air! They saw the -stick fly from her hand. She pitched forward, doubled over, then rolled -down the other side of the precipice. - -Judy couldn’t look—was afraid to look. Fran’s practiced eye marked the -direction and he and Mr. Lurie ran to where she fell. Karl and Judy, -panting with fright, followed. - -She lay there stunned—or dead. They didn’t know which. They could only -hear their own heavy breathing. Fran was bent over her. Mr. Lurie was on -his knees with Fran. They touched her hands, her face. She opened her -eyes. - -“That you, Professor?” She tried to smile but the pain in her badly -bruised face made the smile a grimace. “You see, I got here on my own -after all.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She tried to turn her head. -“I just want to investigate—the damage.” - -“Don’t move, Marian!” Mr. Lurie said quickly. His face was pale, his -voice tense. “You may be badly hurt. At first one can’t tell ... shock, -you know—” - -“Nothing hurts, except—all of me.” Again, that grimace of a smile. -“Ouch! My ankle!” - -Fran looked stern. “You’re mighty lucky! If you’d rolled another hundred -feet—there’s a sheer drop over there.” He shook his head, the picture of -misery. “I’ll never understand why you did it.” - -There was no further talk. Mr. Lurie and Fran made a carry out of Fran’s -rope, cutting it and weaving it like a basket. They spread their jackets -over the rope and carried Marian gently to a spot where shrub and a huge -rock gave some shelter from the wind. Her ankle bulged big over the -sneaker, which miraculously held together. Extra sweaters were piled on -Marian, whose teeth were now clattering like castanets. - -“I’ve got something to fix her up,” Karl said as he took a large thermos -from his rucksack. “Hot coffee! Uncle Yahn’s idea.” - -It was a godsend. Marian sipped it as if it were nectar and immediately -felt warmer. Judy and the others had a few good swallows and nothing -ever tasted half as good. - -Mr. Lurie now took command. “Fran, go down the trail. Make as good time -as you can and notify the ski lodge of the accident. They’ll send up -relief. They always do. That’s the unwritten code among mountain -climbers. Judy will go with you. Karl and I will remain with Marian. -After the ski lodge has been notified, try to get Judy home. Her mother -will start to worry. Oh, yes,” he said as an afterthought, “have you the -keys to Marian’s car?” - -Fran nodded. - -“Good! That will help rounding up volunteers.” - -Fran stood irresolute. “I think maybe you should go down the trail with -me, not Judy. We can make better time and you’re the one who can get a -rescue party together.” - -“He’s right, Father,” Judy broke in. “Let me stay with Marian and Karl.” - -After a moment’s hesitancy, Mr. Lurie agreed that this was the wisest -thing to do. Without another word he took off his sweat shirt and made -Judy put it on. Fran did the same, giving his to Karl. Neither of them -now had any protection against the increasing cold and wind except their -thin cotton shirts. - -Judy protested but Mr. Lurie said, “Don’t worry about us. At the speed -we’ll be going, we’ll keep warm enough.” - -He stood there for a moment thinking. “It’ll be four or five hours, if -we’re lucky, before anyone can get here. The cold’s going to get worse. -Keep close as you can to each other. Your bodies will provide some heat. -So long, kids. Keep your chins up!” - -With that he and Fran were gone. - -It was a long vigil. Judy and Karl sat huddled together close to Marian. -Darkness fell quickly. They tried to pass the hours talking of school, -their plans for the future. They sang snatches of songs and discovered -to their surprise they dozed off while they thought they were still -singing, only to wake, cramped and stiff with the cold. - -They had no watch by which to measure the passing hours, but when the -moon lighted up the dismal, fearsome darkness, they cheered! They knew -how much the moonlight could ease it for those who, guided only by -lantern, must make the steep, hazardous climb to reach them! - -In one of the quiet lulls between sleep and wakefulness, Judy, no longer -able to bear the increasing pangs of hunger as well as the weight of -silence said, “I know a poem. It’s called ‘The Trail’ and it’s symbolic -too. My grandfather wrote it for my grandmother.” - -“Good,” Marian drawled from under her heap of jackets. “We’re the -helpless victims. We’ll listen.” - -“I’m not sure I remember it exactly—” - -“So you’ll skip a few lines. We won’t know the difference.” - -“Want to hear it, Karl?” Judy asked, suddenly feeling shy. - -“Of course I do.” - -“You know,” Judy said half defensively, “my grandparents climbed -mountains all their lives, even went up Mt. Rainier.” - -“Never mind the build-up. Just begin,” Marian ordered, like a stage -manager. - -Judy cleared her throat. - - The rocky trail - Steep-periled cliffs and far below - The deep ravine where mountain torrents flow. - Stay for a moment on this extended ledge. - Look back the way we’ve come. - Far, far below the starting of The Trail - The distant lakes that lie like mirrors - To the Heavens. - The hush of silence, the stillness of the scene, - The circling hawk, the woods, the valleyed hills - A panorama of the world. One seems enchanted in a land of dreams - Come, come away. I ask no better trail than this; - Thy voice, thy love, thy hand in mind, thy kiss. - -“It’s beautiful,” Karl whispered. “Do you think I’ll ever meet your -grandfather?” - -“Yes. He knows all about you.” - -“But he left out a lot of things a realist like myself would have -included,” Marian said with a sigh. “That’s the trouble with being a -poet. What would rhyme with broken ankles or shredded pants!” - -“I suppose,” Marian went on, as she cautiously tried to change her -position, “you’ve sharpened a carload of pencils to carry on and maybe -even snatch the mantle from your grandfather!” - -Embarrassed, Judy muttered, “I’ve never been able to write even a -jingle!” - -She impulsively put her hand on Marian’s. “I know how you must feel, all -that pain and probably starving too. Why don’t you lay your head on my -lap—you tell her, Karl! That rock must be cutting ridges in her scalp!” - -Marian took the proffered hand. “Why stop at the scalp?” she said -lightly. “I’m certain it’s penetrated deep below the bony structure. I -wouldn’t be at all surprised if the brain was in danger! At least it -certainly feels addled. No thanks, Judy dear, I’ll stay as I am. -Besides, one pain offsets another. I didn’t know I was hungry until you -mentioned it.” - -It was the first time Marian had displayed any affection for Judy. There -was a significant pause. Then Marian went on. - -“I have to get something off my chest. For weeks I thought of you as an -insufferable brat and,” she went on quickly before Judy could interrupt, -“I know what you thought of me—a vampire trying to ensnare Karl! Don’t -deny it! You gave yourself away more than once,” she gloated happily. - -“Stop talking such rot!” Karl said, bristling with suppressed anger. -“Between the two of you—” - -But Marian went on serenely. “Now I take it all back. I like you, Judy, -and I hope you like me.” - -“Marian, you’re just the most,” Judy gulped. “I guess I was—I don’t -know—maybe I didn’t take the trouble to understand you. I was awful,” -she said, on the verge of tears. - -“As for Karl,” Marian continued in a voice as if she had already joined -the heavenly choir—“I have a Karl of my own. His name happens to be -Charles, which is close enough. He’s very sweet—too much money for his -own good—too much of a playboy—but very sweet,” she repeated sleepily. -“And now I think I’ll take a little nap.” With that she closed her eyes. - -When the rescue party arrived, they found the three fast asleep, fallen -on each other, in a state of complete exhaustion. Awakened, they were -given hot drinks and food. Marian was lifted onto a stretcher and -covered with blankets. There were sweaters and coats for Judy and Karl, -and friendly hands helped them down the mountain. By midnight they -reached the foot of the trail. An ambulance waited there and in less -than an hour Marian was in Pitkin County Hospital. Her mother and the -impeccably dressed Charles flew in from Chicago the next day to visit -the invalid. They found her holding court with two Appalachian mountain -climbers, visitors in Aspen, a reporter from the _Aspen Times_, a -photographer, and others. - -For two issues the _Aspen Times_ featured the story as “Dramatic -Adventure Up Maroon Peak.” Marian, looking very chic in her elegant -lounging robe, was photographed with her broken ankle, chipped knee, -lacerations, and bruises under the caption, “Lucky Girl.” Fran, Karl, -Mr. Lurie, and Judy also came in for their share of glory. - -But the real heroes, the _Aspen Times_ noted in its editorial, were the -six volunteers who reacted immediately to the plight of those on the -mountain. - -“... there are no tangible rewards. No law requires them to undergo the -physical hardship and possible danger to aid the injured girl. - -“We are proud of the men who answer to an unwritten code, always present -in the mountains, to go to the aid of his fellow man when in danger. The -men who participated in the rescue are the real heroes and merit the -gratitude of all.” - -None subscribed more feelingly to this sentiment than did the little -band of five who were the principals in this adventure on Maroon -Mountain. - - - - - 17 - CLOUDS ON THE HORIZON - - -A letter from home! That was what Mrs. Lurie still called the much -prized letters from her mother that arrived at regular intervals all -through the summer. Minna herself was an indifferent correspondent and -John occasionally scrawled a few lines with a program enclosed of past -or coming events. - -Yet the grandmother’s letters never held any reproach for the long -silences. She related family events with gusto, the small or large -happenings of her own household ... the guest who came for a week end -and stayed the week. Frequently Minna was concerned, often annoyed. - -“Mother’s incurably hospitable! It’s a shame, she never gets any rest—” - -Mrs. Lurie seemed to have forgotten those years when she, her brothers -and sisters filled the house with their guests. She never wondered then -how her parents bore up under the strain. A feast or a snack, long past -midnight, radio blaring, the rug turned back for dancing, late -breakfasts and untidy bedrooms, bathing suits drying on antique chairs, -dates and parties—and the tired voice, “Everyone in? Thank goodness. Try -to keep quiet—Your father needs his rest.” - -“Incurably hospitable!” Minna repeated, while John patiently waited to -hear the letter so recently arrived and cause of his wife’s outburst. - -“Listen to this, John! ‘I finally succeeded in getting Sam Sterling and -Jennie Coleman to come down together for a week end. You remember -Jennie? She’s been a widow for eight years, but is still hopefully -looking over the field. I don’t blame her—she’s lonely. - -“‘Sam is as charming as always. He’s still unmarried and lives alone -since his sister died. Need I say more? I still believe propinquity is -the best matchmaker. - -“‘Shortly after dinner, when we were about to sit down to a game of -canasta, Jennie whispered to me, “I can’t find my bridge!” - -“‘“Your what?” I asked. - -“‘“My denture. I couldn’t stand the pressure—that steak, I guess.” - -“‘What a night! We were too embarrassed to tell Sam and C.B. why we -ransacked the house. Along about midnight, I thought of the garbage! -Jennie and I lifted that five-foot can, dragged it down the cellar steps -and emptied its contents on the cement floor. There we found it, neatly -wrapped in her monogrammed handkerchief, safe and snug among the coffee -grounds and tea bags!’” - -John was laughing. “Only your mother would think of the garbage!” - -“Honestly, John, I don’t see how Father puts up with Mother’s passion -for doing good! Think of all those remote cousins, aunts, and uncles, -content and accustomed to family indifference, suddenly recalled from -oblivion—and the inevitable letter, inviting them to leave the hot city, -come down for a week end—” - -Minna smiled in spite of her serious misgivings. “But these people must -bore Father and her too. She abuses her health. Father ought to put his -foot down!” - -John merely shook his head. “Your father adores your mother. He thinks -these successive waves of self-torture are an endearing weakness and so -plays along. It’s a gift—to be so selfless, doing kind and gracious -things—actually enjoying doing them.” - -When for ten days after the climb up Maroon Peak there was still no -letter from “home,” Mrs. Lurie became anxious and put in a long distance -call. Her mother tried to sound cheerful but Minna could detect her -anxiety. “Father didn’t wish me to write that he was ill.... He’s doing -nicely.... Yes, he’d love to see you, but he wouldn’t want you to leave -until the Season is over.” - -That night the Luries had a conference and made a quick decision. Mrs. -Lurie and Judy would leave Aspen as soon as they could get plane -reservations for New York. Mr. Lurie, because of his commitments, must -wait until the official closing of the Music Festival, then he would -follow by train with most of their luggage. - -Little Percent Taxi, which had blossomed into a travel bureau, secured -the necessary plane tickets from Denver to New York. In two days Minna -and Judy would leave, travel over the famous Independence Pass to -Denver, conveyed there by a Little Percent Taxi. “The charges for the -ride,” John cynically observed, “were far from little.” - -Minna began to pack. There were frequent interruptions, last-minute -interviews, and conferences about the coveted appearance in New York. - -Judy too had things to do—her farewell appearance at camp—the library -book to be returned and, with the dollar deposit, purchase the gift for -little Willie. She paid a hurried visit to Uncle Yahn with the hope of -seeing Karl. It was an almost unbearable disappointment that Karl was -nowhere in sight and she had to be content with his uncle’s easy -assurance that he would give him her message. - -The morning before their departure, Judy and her mother were in the -kitchen packing the remaining utensils. - -“This pressure cooker weighs a ton, Mother. Why do you always take it -with you?” - -“I wouldn’t know how to keep house without it, so don’t drop it,” her -mother answered, looking up from her own labors. Her eyes rested on her -daughter. - -“Goodness, I’ll have to get you some new bras as soon as we get home. -You’ve developed a bosom in these two months!” - -Judy was flattered by this reference to her budding curves, but she -looked at her mother, “Is my body the only thing that has developed?” -she asked hopefully. “There is such a thing as mind as well as matter.” - -Mrs. Lurie tried to repress a smile. “You’ve developed in other ways, -matured. Perhaps it was the regular duties at camp and its -responsibilities.” She looked thoughtfully at her daughter. “Anyhow, -whatever the reason,” she said with unwonted tenderness, “it was good to -have you with us this summer. And when I was ill—I don’t know how we’d -have managed without you.” - -Mrs. Lurie was undemonstrative. She knew herself to be reserved almost -to a fault, and she secretly envied the mothers who could display their -affection. She now added a little self-consciously, “I hope, Judy, that -you liked being with us as much as Father and I loved having you. It’s -been our first summer together in years.” - -“Yes, it was nice, Mother, much nicer than I expected.” Her mother -looked disappointed. Her eyes seemed to say, “Is that all?” - -“Let’s sit down and rest for a little while?” Mrs. Lurie suggested. Judy -pulled up a stool while her mother sank into a chair. - -“Then you are glad you came with us?” her mother asked again. - -“Of course,” Judy answered quickly, thankful for the interlude in the -drudgery of packing and the chance for a talk with her mother. “It was -fun,” she went on, her arms hugging her knees, “to be included in -everything, or nearly everything you and Father did. I love Aspen and -things here are exciting. You just breathe and music seeps in, like some -pleasant, contagious disease! I think I’ll go back to my piano—” There -was an imperceptible pause. “Now especially, that—” - -“I’m so delighted,” her mother broke in, too pleased at this admission -to notice her daughter’s emphasis on the “Now especially,” or the -revealing smile that accompanied it. - -“Father will be as happy as I am—Go on, dear.” - -“What more can I tell you? It was because of you and Father that I came -to know Lynne and Allen and I love them dearly. They’ve been so -wonderful to me. But, Mother,” she paused and said shyly, “don’t you -think that—er—er—Karl had something to do with my maturing, as you call -it?” - -“Karl?” Her mother raised her eyebrows in surprise. “It was very -pleasant to have him around.” Noticing her daughter’s reproachful -glance, she went on briskly, “He’s a fine boy, hard-working and very -talented.” - -Judy nodded vigorously, her eyes glowing with pleasure. - -“Yes, he’s wonderful, isn’t he? If only you knew him as well as I do! -But surely there’s something unusual ... something special you must have -noticed—” - -“Unusual?” Mrs. Lurie who rarely smoked, lighted a cigarette to gain -time before replying. Her face clouded as though she resented Karl’s -being introduced into a conversation that concerned only themselves. - -“Yes,” she said at last in a quiet, judicious voice, “remarkably -dependable. I think you can feel proud, considering how young you are, -that Karl has chosen to make you his friend.” - -Judy’s face darkened. She resented the calm, dispassionate voice of her -mother, her ignorant appraisal of how much Karl meant to her. - -She answered heatedly, “Friend! Suppose I was to tell you that I love -Karl!” - -Minna put down her cigarette. “You’ll be in and out of what you call -love a dozen times before you’re much older,” she spoke calmly, but was -now thoroughly roused. “What can you know about love or speak of love at -your age?” she added more sharply. - -“Why not?” Judy asked bristling. “Grandpa was in love with Grandma when -he was eighteen and she was only fifteen and they’ve been happy all -their—” - -“Things were different in those days,” her mother interrupted. “Women -had no careers or rarely did. Because your grandmother married so young, -she never went beyond her freshman year at college. You certainly want -to go to college!” - -“Did I ever say I wasn’t going to college? I intend to go, although I’ve -heard you say dozens of times that Grandma is better read and better -informed than most college graduates you knew. And what about Abe -Lincoln?” she hurried on. “What schooling did he have and everyone knows -that his speeches are considered—” - -“Look, Judy, what are we arguing about?” Mrs. Lurie said wearily. “I’m -only saying that you are too young to think of Karl or anyone else -seriously. You’re only fifteen!” - -“I’m practically sixteen—or will be in a few months.” - -“Come, dear, let’s forget the argument. How about a cup of tea?” Mrs. -Lurie said, anxious to restore the good feeling between them. - -Judy glumly assented. Mrs. Lurie went to the stove and put on the -kettle. “I guess people will be coming in droves tonight,” she said -pleasantly. “Oh!” she interrupted herself, “I just remembered. Karl -phoned last night when you were at the drugstore. I completely forgot to -tell you.” - -Judy muttered to herself, “Forgot to tell me and I was unable to sleep a -wink last night, worrying.” - -“Did he leave any message?” she asked tensely. - -“Yes, he did. I think I remember his exact words.” Unconsciously Mrs. -Lurie mimicked the halting words of the boy. “There will be a moon -tomorrow night. I’d like to take Judy for a walk so that we can say -good-bye to Aspen together.” She laughed good-naturedly. “It was so -deliciously young!” - -With an angry cry the girl faced her mother, “You’re heartless! What’s -more, you haven’t a shred of feeling—no soul!” - -Minna felt outraged. She turned her puzzled gaze upon her daughter. -“What did I say to bring that on?” Her lips tightened. “Since you get so -wrought up about trifles, so emotional over nothing, I think it will be -just as well if you said good-bye to Karl right at home. After all, the -moon will be just as visible from our porch.” - -“You mean to say that I can’t go out with Karl tonight? Our last night -together!” - -“That’s exactly what I do mean.” - -“I intend to go and you can’t stop me!” Judy’s face was flushed, the -tears falling unheeded. She rushed from the room, “I hate your -dominating ways!” - -Mrs. Lurie’s anguished eyes followed her daughter. “No, she couldn’t -mean that—she couldn’t—what’s become of the little girl I adore so?” she -asked herself miserably as she paced the floor. “She looks upon me as an -enemy! Until a year ago she was so easily managed! So content with her -grandparents—It wasn’t our tours! They’re never long. Besides, I’m -entitled to live my own life,” she told herself defensively. “I have my -career!” She sat down dejectedly, her head in her hands. “It is my -fault. I haven’t tried enough. I must find a way to reach her—but I must -protect her against her foolish, extravagant ideas of romance—” She went -back to the stove, mechanically turned out the light, stood there -staring bleakly into the empty cups. - -Tempers cannot remain at fever pitch all day. Judy was sorry, ashamed of -her outburst. If her mother had only understood how much Karl meant to -her! To forbid a last walk together—she would appeal to her father. No, -that was useless. She knew her parents always supported each -other—family discipline! - -Mrs. Lurie too had second thoughts. Why had she been so stern, so -unfeeling? Could one experience love at fifteen? or sixteen? If she had -met John at that age, would she have felt as Judy did about Karl? These -thoughts harassed her all day whenever she paused in her work. - -That evening Karl came dressed in his city clothes. Judy watched him as -he talked with her father. He’s so handsome! She watched his face light -up with a smile, then become serious. The ill-fitting suit couldn’t hide -his strong, broad shoulders. Clothes don’t make the man! - -Her father beckoned to her. As she joined them, he said, “Karl has some -very exciting news—” - -“If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell Judy myself,” Karl gently -interrupted. “We’re going for a walk—” - -“I’m not so sure about the walk,” Judy said uncertainly. - -At her father’s look of surprise, she said with an attempt at lightness, -“According to Mother, I’m supposed to be doing penance tonight. I’m not -to move off the porch while Karl gives me a lecture on astronomy.” - -Her father smiled. “Sounds pretty dull. Doing penance for what?” - -“Something I said. I was furious about—never mind!” She glanced at Karl, -not wishing to go on. - -“Let’s go over to speak to Mother. There she is next to the punch bowl.” -He piloted them to where Minna was serving refreshments. - -“Minna,” he began, as he drew his wife to the comer where Judy and Karl -waited, “I understand you’ve forbidden the time-honored custom of two -youngsters taking a walk by moonlight.” He smiled, “Any crimes committed -of which I am ignorant?” - -“No crimes, unless impertinence, defiance—” She stopped and looked at -her daughter’s eyes, pleading. Was Judy solely to blame for the scene? -As her mother, wasn’t she being a little ridiculous? The girl had asked -for sympathy and understanding and all she had given her was logic and -cold reasoning! The wisdom and tenderness of her own parents during her -adolescence flashed through her mind. Why wasn’t she like them? Instead -she was following the pattern of Grandmother Fannie, Judy’s -great-grandmother! She recognized herself with a start—she had always -admired the grim strength of that remarkable old lady and yet with what -delight she had heard her mother tell how she had been brought to terms! - -“What was it you asked me, John?” Minna asked, recalled to the present. - -“The youngsters want to take a walk. Any valid objection?” - -“No, I don’t think so,” she said lamely. - -She turned to her daughter. “I guess I was just putting myself in your -great-grandmother’s shoes. She had very definite ideas about—life. -Sometime I’ll tell you about her. But,” she added with a smile, “I don’t -measure up to her, nor do I really wish to.” - -Judy looked at her mother. “Thanks awfully. You know I didn’t mean any -of—” - -“I know, dear,” her mother spoke gently. She turned to Karl. “Only don’t -stay out late. Remember, we leave very early tomorrow morning.” - - - - - 18 - A DREAM IS CRYSTALLIZED - - -“Cute, aren’t they?” The woman smiled indulgently at the man standing -beside her, as she watched Judy and Karl make their way through the maze -of guests. - -The man nodded. “I’ve seen them together many times—those who’ve -forgotten call it ‘puppy love.’ It’s a beautiful time! Wedekind calls it -‘Spring’s Awakening.’” The man looked thoughtful. “It can be desperately -serious too. I’ve never forgotten my first—” - -The boy and girl couldn’t help hearing the whispered words and tried to -look as if they hadn’t heard. - -They stood on the porch a moment. The sky was heavy with stars -brightened by the crescent moon. It was so wonderful to be together away -from the prying eyes of others. They walked arm in arm down the silent -street, absorbed in their thoughts. - -Judy wondered about her mother; her recent turnabout, her surrender. We -love each other. Why do we hurt each other so often? She glanced at -Karl. His face was serious. Had it anything to do with the news he -wished to tell her? - -When they reached the Chairlift, Karl’s face brightened. “Let’s sit -here. This is where we ate our first sandwich together.” He smiled. -“Remember?” - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -They sat close, their arms and hands interlocked. - -“It’s too bad you have to leave so soon—” - -“I know. I just hope Grandfather’s illness isn’t serious. It frightens -me!” - -“It can’t be so bad, otherwise your grandmother would have telegraphed.” - -“I guess you’re right. He was never sick a day until that attack four -years ago. A walk with him or a talk was an adventure.” She stopped, -embarrassed. “You must be tired hearing me speak of him so much.” - -“You know very well that isn’t so. Actually since I’ve known you and -have heard you talk about grandparents, aunts and cousins, I’ve had a -longing to be part of a big, interesting family.” - -Judy nodded. “It is fun when the clan gets together. Grandmother’s house -can expand like an accordion. My cousins and I usually beg to sleep -overnight. Couches miraculously open into double beds, cots are hauled -from the attic. It’s bedlam, really, but we love it. On Thanksgiving Day -two turkeys are necessary to feed the hungry mob. The Seder, the -Passover Feast, is unforgettable—dignified and joyous. The story of the -Passover, the Exodus from Egypt is especially interesting today—the -songs are fun and such food—until you could burst!” She smiled at Karl. - -“You’ve been to a Seder, haven’t you?” - -“Not for a long time. Not since—My mother is sad at such times.” - -“Next year you and your mother will come to us,” Judy said with warmth. -“We’d love it. After all, a table that seats twenty-five can just as -easily have two more.” - -After a moment she said, “A big family’s pretty wonderful but when you -come down to it, it’s your own parents that matter. You have to live -with them!” She smiled, “and they with us! I’ve discovered in the last -year or two that parents don’t understand their children, at least in -the growing-up stage. I’m not speaking just for myself. Girls at school -have talked to me and they admit there’s a sort of undeclared war -between them and their parents.” - -“What do kids that age have to complain about? I think you exaggerate. -Small tensions exist everywhere. Parents are only human.” - -“I don’t exaggerate, Karl. Believe me, there’s always something to argue -about! If it isn’t clothes, and their taste is awful, then it’s money! -You’re either a spendthrift or a miser. If you happen to hate math, they -think you should make a special effort and deliver A grades. Your -reading is either childish or far beyond your years. They disapprove of -your best friend and look aghast when at the age of fourteen you wish to -go to a party to which boys are invited!” Judy shook her head solemnly. -“I tell you, either they interfere and make your life miserable or -ignore you altogether!” - -Karl laughed. “You can’t be serious. Your father is terrific and so is -your mother. You don’t know how lucky you are to have such parents.” - -“Yes, I do,” Judy said, on the defensive at once. “I love them. I’m -proud of them, but I don’t understand them. I used to think that Father -was always making fun of me. But now I’m beginning to enjoy his brand of -humor. This summer at Aspen has really made a big difference. He and I -are pals. But Mother is different. It could be funny if it weren’t so -irritating. She treats me like a subject in one of those child-study -books she used to read.” Judy shook her head. “She hasn’t the faintest -idea what goes on in my head, or of my feelings. At least so it appears -sometimes—” - -For the first time Karl looked sympathetic. “I guess that’s true of all -mothers. I’m in that sort of jam myself.” - -“You?” Judy said incredulously. “You’ve said your mother lives only for -you!” - -“Yes, that’s just the trouble,” Karl said gloomily. “It all started -since Mr. Werther came into our lives. That’s what I wanted to talk to -you about. Your father knows, from what Uncle Yahn told him the night we -were at your house and what I’ve told him since.” - -“I remember overhearing some things your uncle said—and that your mother -met Mr. Werther through some—” - -Karl nodded. “Mr. Werther calls it fate ... my mother, the hand of God.” - -“Tell me the rest,” Judy urged. - -“Mr. Werther asked many questions about me. Need I tell you that she -plunged into the subject with enthusiasm! She showed him my photograph, -the prizes I had won—” He shrugged his shoulders. “In short, she gave it -as her unbiased opinion that I was a budding genius! Being pressed for -more details, she admitted we were poor and with few friends.” - -Karl went on. “Mr. Werther is rich. He’s married, but has no family. -Music is still his passion and is bound up in his love and remembrance -of my father. He offered almost at once to become my patron. You know -what that means, Judy?” - -“I guess so. A sort of benefactor?” - -“Well, yes, a patron is a lover of arts who has money and wishes to -encourage some struggling musician or artist. It’s not a new idea. In -medieval times it was the Church that commissioned paintings, allowed -the artist to flourish. Sometimes it was the government or a nobleman -who provided this encouragement. Today Foundations do the same. - -“Anyhow,” Karl went on. “Mr. Werther became fired with this idea. My -mother was quite carried away by his generosity. Both agreed I should be -consulted. My mother wrote all this in her letters. She was careful to -add that after all the offer was made on impulse. He wished to speak to -his wife and that we must not count on it too much. I was interested but -I gave it little serious thought. It was something for the distant -future, if at all.” - -Judy’s face was downcast. Karl asked, “Do you really want to hear all -this?” - -“Of course. Please don’t stop every minute.” - -Thus prodded, Karl continued. “Last week Mr. Werther came again, this -time with his wife. He had made all the necessary inquiries and had a -definite program. He goes to Europe every year on business. Next year, -after I graduate in June, he expects me to go with him. No more talk of -consulting me. The plan is ready. I go to Europe, study in Paris and so -on—” - -“And does your mother now object?” Judy asked, suddenly hopeful of an -unexpected ally. - -“Far from it! Judging from her letters, the sooner, the better!” - -Judy’s face was now as gloomy as Karl’s. - -Fumbling for words, Karl tried to explain this change in his mother. -Loyal as he was, he could not conceal his resentment. “She doesn’t care -that I’m to be uprooted again or separated from those I care so much -about—” He looked yearningly at Judy. “It’s only my career that matters -to her now!” - -“But wasn’t that always uppermost with her?” Judy asked, trying to be -fair. - -“Not the way it is now. Happiness was a goal as well as one’s ambition. -We worked hard but we both loved what we were doing—for each other. -She’s changed, I tell you. She’s possessed by this—glitter of my -success.” He sat there thinking. - -“When I wrote to her about the wonderful friends I made in Aspen, your -parents, you, Fran and Marian, she wrote with such happiness, grateful -that I had such warm friends. But after Mr. Werther came with his golden -promises, her letters became enigmas. New words, new -phrases—‘single-mindedness of purpose, friends must not be allowed to -take time from hours needed for study or practice,’ a whole philosophy -on how to become the great and successful musician!” - -Judy’s heart ached for Karl. With amazing intuition she understood that -his anger was less directed at his mother than at himself and the choice -he must make. - -“I don’t want to be pushed,” he said finally. “I have my own ideas. -Maybe I could get a scholarship and go on as I have, take my chances. I -admit that at first I thought it a pleasant thing to have Mr. Werther -obligingly in the wings, like a good fairy, until I gave the signal. Now -it is he and my mother who give the signals.” - -Judy felt crushed. Her beautiful dream of love and romance was -disintegrating into thin air. How could she combat the forces against -her? Karl’s mother, her own, Mr. Werther—and Karl? Was he so sure of -himself? Wasn’t he glad at first? What really mattered was Karl’s -future! It was hard to look at the question objectively, as if it were -someone else, not one about whom she cared. - -Karl took a letter from his pocket. “Maybe I haven’t done justice to my -mother or her reasons,” he said, with a tinge of self-reproach in his -voice. “She’d gladly keep on working all her life. It’s only my good she -wishes. - -“This came yesterday. Will you hold this flashlight so I can see.” He -turned the pages. “I’ll read part of it to you. - -“‘... Karl, my son, there are hundreds of talented boys who may or may -not be as gifted as you. Everyone cannot get scholarships. There just -aren’t enough. To be able to study with the best teachers, to do this -without worries about money or part-time jobs—the freedom from such -responsibilities often makes the difference between a mediocre player -and a great one. And later one must be heard. Where is the money to come -from in order to play before the right audiences? Write to Mr. Werther -that you accept his generous offer. - -“‘Put away your childish thoughts. Running up and down mountains! -Friends are not so important. That can come later when you have the time -for it. - -“‘The few years ahead may be lonely, for me certainly, but I do not -hesitate, nor must you—’” - -Judy’s hand shook as she held the light. “Your mother is brave!” she -said feelingly, for the first time forgetful of her own unhappiness. - -Karl folded the letter, put the flashlight back in his pocket. - -“I must write to Mr. Werther. But what? He’s waiting to hear from me. He -doesn’t know me. He’s never heard me play. Suppose I don’t live up to -his expectations—and all that money wasted!” He touched Judy’s hair, no -longer the thick pony tail, but hanging soft and luxuriant on her neck. - -“Here I am bothering you with my troubles and uncertainties.” He shook -his head. “Although you’re a kid as years go, you’ve lived all your life -with musicians. You must have heard some of their problems discussed. -Tell me, how does all this strike you?” - -“I’m thinking, thinking hard, Karl.” She stared in front of her. She -must be honest. Suppose this chance had come to another boy, not to -Karl, not to the boy she loved. What would she say? She was remembering -her mother and father speaking. Why had this friend not taken the -position in the orchestra he had wanted so much? Was it because he -didn’t feel good enough? No, it was money! He just couldn’t afford to -wait the six months or more before the position came through. His family -needed money. He took a job with a musical show instead. - -“These men,” her father had said, “never get back to the playing they’ve -been trained for and really love.” - -But Karl with Mr. Werther’s help can get to the top! She pressed her -hands together as if seeking some inner strength. “It’s a wonderful -opportunity, Karl!” She was surprised at her voice, its fire and -enthusiasm. “You shouldn’t hesitate. Such a chance may never come -again!” - -The flame in her eyes kindled his. “That’s what your father said to me -tonight.” - -He took her hands in his, pressing them until they hurt. “I feel as if a -stone has been lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t know how much I wanted -you to say just that.” - -“And you’ll leave in June?” Her voice was small. Her heart, now that it -had spoken, felt like lead. - -And Karl, in his unexpected feeling of relief, noticed nothing of the -effort it had cost Judy to speak so honestly. “We have months before -us—fall, winter, spring! And after I leave, long letters to and from -each other across the ocean. This is not the end for us, Judy, only the -beginning of something wonderful—” - -Judy shivered. Karl took off his coat and placed it on her shoulders. -His arm tightened, holding her close to him. - -“Autumn comes early in the mountains.” - -His head was close to hers. “I can’t put into words what you’ve meant to -me. I’ve found the sweetest, the most wonderful girl in the world. -You’ll wait for me, Judy—You must! You’ll be going to college—” Their -lips met. - -A burst of harsh laughter made them draw hastily apart. Two boys, not -much older than Karl, came from their hiding place and stood before them -jeering. - -“You call that a kiss? Need any help? Give her a good squeeze—that’s -what the kid’s asking for!” They laughed uproariously. There were more -jests, unpleasant—the boys came closer. - -Judy tried to hide her face on Karl’s shoulder but he got up and -advanced toward them. - -“Beat it,” he said sternly, “and be quick about it.” - -“Look, Romeo’s looking for a fight!” - -“Aw, come on,” the other said, “let’s leave the smoochers alone!” - -They ambled off, looking back every few steps to laugh, to whistle, -until they were out of sight. - -“Thank heaven, they’re gone,” Judy whispered. “I was frightened.” - -“The movies must be over,” Karl said absently, as he sat down and put -his arm protectingly around Judy. “Last year, I went with Uncle Yahn to -Hanover, to help him on some business matter. Late in the afternoon we -went to a movie. The place was crowded with college students. At every -love scene there were catcalls—they pelted the screen with peanuts. I -couldn’t understand why they did it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Nor do -I understand them,” and he motioned to the two figures disappearing down -the street. - -“Don’t think about them,” Judy whispered. She wanted to hear again the -words so lovingly spoken, words so full of promise for their future. But -the tender mood was gone. Karl stood up. - -“Come, Judy, it’s time for us to go.” - -They walked back slowly, their bodies pressed close, wishing they could -walk on and on. They forgot the inevitable separation, the drive and -ambition of the most devoted of mothers. A sweetness enveloped them, a -confidence in their future they could neither understand nor explain. - -Karl stood before Judy’s home as if he couldn’t bear to break away. -“I’ll telephone to you as soon as I return to New York.” - -“Mother and I will be staying at my grandparents’ for a week, maybe two. -I gave you their address and telephone number, didn’t I?” - -“Yes.” He stood there awkwardly. “Good-bye, Judy. Say good-bye to your -mother for me. I’ll see your father every day, I guess. Good-bye again—” -He bent down and kissed her on the mouth, holding her tight. Without -another word he rushed down the path. - -As in a trance, Judy walked into the house. The guests were gone. Only -the hall was lighted. She climbed the stairs to her room. - -“Is that you, Judy?” - -“Yes, Mother.” - -“I was just beginning to worry what was keeping you so late.” Her mother -spoke evenly but Judy could detect the annoyance in her voice. - -“Get to sleep quickly, dear.” - -Judy lay huddled on her bed, her clothes negligently tossed on a chair. -She murmured to herself, “He loves me—thank Heaven, he loves me—” She -closed her eyes to live over again this last wonderful hour. - -Between half-consciousness and sleep, she saw Karl bowing before a great -audience in Carnegie Hall, a Stradivarius under his arm. She, looking -beautiful and elegantly dressed, sat in a stage box. As the wife of the -newly acclaimed artist—her lips trembled, overcome with joy. - -A hand lightly touched her forehead. “Feel all right?” It was her -mother. “I got up to get a blanket and saw the light on in your room—” - - [Illustration: uncaptioned] - -“Forgot, I guess,” Judy’s eyelids flickered for a second. She turned on -her side to continue dreaming. - -Mrs. Lurie, sighed, shook her head, and turned off the light. - - - - - 19 - FAREWELL TO ASPEN - - -Pale and apathetic, Judy waited on the porch for the Little Percent to -take them to Denver. It was cold. A mist hung over the valley. The -elation of the previous night was gone. Through the open door she could -hear her parents talking. What can she know of life ... hardship ... -disappointments ... give her stability, direction—They mean me, she -thought bitterly. Then her father’s comforting words about Grandfather— - -The car swung briskly before the house. Fran jumped out, picked up the -suitcases from the porch, and hurriedly whispered to Judy as he passed, -“Sit up front with me. You don’t want to sit with them,” indicating with -a nod the other passengers in the car. - -While Fran stowed away the luggage, the Luries stood at the curb. John -kissed his wife and helped her into the car. Judy still gazed at the -mountains, overhung with low clouds. She sighed heavily. She felt her -father’s hand. He started to say something about Karl. Instead he took -her in his arms. “Clouds have a way of disappearing,” he said gently, -“just as yours will.” He wanted to see her smile. “You’ll soon get a -glimpse of the two characters on the back seat. They’re smothered in -robes and scarves all set for a polar expedition.” He chuckled. “The -ladies may be young and beautiful, but who can tell?” Judy returned his -smile. - -Mrs. Lurie was already seated with the two characters—caricatures would -more aptly describe them, Judy thought. Yet they looked vaguely -familiar. - -“Would it be all right, Mother, if I sat up front with Fran? This little -straight-back seat doesn’t look too—” - -“Of course, dear. You’ll be more comfortable.” - -The car rushed forward in a cloud of dust with Mr. Lurie’s voice -trailing it, “Don’t forget to send me the wire when your plane reaches -New York.” - -Aspen was soon left behind. From the back seat came a continuous stream -of talk. Whenever her mother addressed her, Judy turned with a dull, -indifferent glance. It was during one of these fleeting moments that -Mrs. Lurie attempted an introduction to their fellow passengers. “This -is Miss Simms and Miss Clark—” Judy, wrapped in her own thoughts, -couldn’t care less. - -The sun broke through the heavy mist and the two ladies peeled off -several layers of covering. For all Judy’s abstraction, she couldn’t -help identifying them through their formal address of each other. - -“Miss Simms, that mountain is Granite.” - -“Look at the map, Miss Clark, it’s Mt. Massive.” - -The gray, fuzzy ringleted Miss Clark in her mouselike turban was still -cheering for Granite. Miss Simms, her hair a shiny black, two spots of -rouge giving her an odd, clownlike look, stoutly maintained otherwise. -Suddenly Judy remembered: These were the two birdlike visitors whom she -had tried to sketch at the Seminar Building. - -“I see you lost your job as guide,” Judy remarked to Fran. - -He nodded, “Teachers are smart but queer. Imagine, they came to the -office yesterday just to find out the exact route so they could be -prepared with maps and things.” - -“Not music teachers?” - -“No, High School. They were in Aspen three weeks and took in every -lecture night and day and concerts in between.” Fran shook his head over -such incredible industry. “In the fifteen minutes they were in the -office they gave me advice as if I were their long lost brother.” - -“About what?” - -“About learning. ‘You don’t want to be a cab driver all your life? How -about studying at night? Or taking correspondence courses. There are -some good ones.’” Fran shrugged his shoulders. “I told them I like what -I’m doing—making money, helping Mom out with the kids, skiing in winter, -and I make money then too, enjoying life. They looked kind of disgusted -or maybe just disappointed. ‘Where’s your ambition?’ they asked.” - -The car made a turn skirting a deep precipice. Accustomed to Fran’s -sadistic pleasure in scaring his passengers, Judy repressed her own -impulse to cry out. Besides, there had been enough terrified “Ohs” -during the last two hours. - -“Will I be thankful when we get to Leadville,” Miss Clark said -resignedly. “I understand we can get an excellent meal there—a -restaurant famous in the old silver-mining days.” - -“I’m hungry too. How much longer will it be before we get there?” - -Fran turned around squarely, an old habit of his. “In about an hour or -so.” - -“Don’t you dare turn around like that!” came the stern rebuke. “Look, -another car’s approaching.” - -“Don’t worry, Miss Simms, that car’s not moving, waiting for us to pass, -I guess.” - -They approached the waiting car. It rested precariously on the edge of -the road, part of it in the deep gully. A young man stood beside it, an -anxious smile on his unshaven face. - -“What’s the trouble?” Fran asked, sticking his head out of the window. - -“I hit one of those rocks.” - -Fran didn’t wait to hear any more. He got out, followed by all his -passengers. - -“The rocks must have fallen during the night,” the man went on. “I was -trying to steer clear of one boulder when I hit the other. The tire -blew. I guess we were lucky at that.” - -A baby’s wail startled the group. “Is that a baby crying?” - -The man pointed to a piece of flat ground partially hidden by scrub and -trees. “My wife’s over there. The little feller hasn’t stopped yelling -for an hour.” - -Mrs. Lurie started toward the clearing, followed by the teachers and -Judy. - -“Can we be of any help?” Mrs. Lurie timidly inquired. - -The young woman looked up, a radiant smile transfiguring her thin face. -She was sitting on a rug untidily surrounded by cans, pots, and zippered -bags. - -“Awfully nice of you folks to stop,” she said, talking over the head of -the screaming child. “I was beginning to think ours was the only car on -this terrible road. Your driver going to help my Jim?” - -“Of course,” Judy said quickly. “He’s getting the tools out of the trunk -right now.” - -“What a beautiful baby!” cooed Miss Simms. - -“Beautiful,” echoed Miss Clark. - -“I was just thinking maybe I should warm some milk. He won’t touch the -nice bologna sandwich we brought along.” - -Miss Simms shuddered visibly. “Maybe it’s just as well the little man -refused it. Why don’t you and Mrs. Lurie see about the milk. Miss Clark -and I will amuse the baby.” She firmly took hold of the protesting -child. - -“High-diddle-diddle, the cat and the fiddle—” on and on went the -strangely sweet tones, while Miss Clark bounced the baby up and down in -what even Judy knew was thoroughly unorthodox fashion. The baby quieted -... smiled. - -“Judy,” Fran shouted. “Come over here and lend a hand. We’ve got to get -the car squarely on the road before we can take off the tire. Lucky -she’s light. You, Judy, grab the front with Jim. I’ll take the ditch -side. One, two, three, heave—” The car was set on the road. - -In half an hour tube and tire were patched, air pumped in, and the spare -examined. - -“Everything’s O.K. Where’d you say you were heading for, Jim?” - -“Los Angeles. I’ve a good job I’m to take over in two weeks. A lucky -break. I was laid off back in Detroit for two months.” - -Mrs. Jim joined them and placed the sleeping baby into the car bed. Her -bundles, neatly packed by the faithful, were beside her. - -“Our only worry,” Jim went on, “is where we’re going to live. The -company couldn’t promise a thing.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve got -to take our chances.” - -“Not have a place to live—and with a baby—that’s awful!” Judy exclaimed -involuntarily. - -Mrs. Jim turned. “No, it’s not awful. Jim’s got a job and we’ve got our -health. The rest is in the Lord’s hands. Didn’t He send you good people -along?” - -A few minutes later they were saying good-bye after having wished each -other well. They drove off in opposite directions. - -For a while something intangible silenced the energetic teachers. -Perhaps they and Mrs. Lurie were weighing the possible hazards that -still awaited Jim and his family. - -Fran finally found his tongue. “I think it’s putting quite a strain on -the Lord to expect Him to send a car along—or find sleeping quarters! -Don’t you agree, Judy?” - -“Maybe.” She was thinking of her own problems now dwarfed by the recent -encounter. “Faith is beautiful,” she said dreamily. - -“Beautiful, but not sensible,” Fran answered with a skeptical grin. - -An hour later they reached a town. Passing warehouses and unpretentious -stores, Fran drove straight to a plain-looking restaurant with an -enormous sign, “Welcome to Leadville and Walker’s Cafe and Bar.” - -“Here’s where we eat,” Fran told the crestfallen Judy, who had envisaged -a gilded palace. - -Seated at a longish wooden table, each studied the oversized menu card. -Next to such tempting items as sizzled hamburgers with Western -trimmings, steak hunter style, and the like were pictures of once famous -mines and in fine print, the history of Leadville. Judy, her appetite -for the printed word unimpaired, read avidly while munching her food. - -“The population of Leadville, once sixty-five thousand, has dwindled to -five. Look, here’s a picture of Matchless that Horace Tabor gave to Baby -Doe!” - -“What, another baby?” Miss Simms innocently inquired. - -Judy shrugged her shoulders. - -“Why of all things!” Miss Clark eagerly turned to Fran. “Climax is only -fifteen miles from here. Any chance of our passing it? It’s the biggest -molybdenum mine in the world.” - -“No, I’m afraid not. What kind of a mine was that you mentioned?” Fran -asked, stumped for once. - -“You mean molybdenum? It’s a metal used in steel. You see, being a -chemistry teacher, I happen to know about it.” - -If there was anything left of the glamour of the old silver-mining days, -the Little Percenters got no glimpse of it. On they traveled over the -winding road, seven thousand feet high, the ravines dotted with mines -worked today for uranium and other strategic metals. - -Barely leaving the towering peaks behind them, they drove into the -shining city of Denver, as impressive in its setting of modern -skyscrapers as Leadville was mean and dingy. - -“We’ll soon be getting to the airport, Judy—” - -“Yes, Fran.” - -“I just wanted to tell you that Karl promised to write to me. Could -you—that is when you have time—would you—” - -“Of course, I will. It’ll sort of be a link between us and Karl.” - -“Thanks. I want to ask you something else. Do you think I should study -the way those teachers said?” - -“It would be wonderful if you can manage. Why don’t you speak to them -before they go on the train? They’re very nice and kind. They like to -help people.” - -“I will. One thing more. Books, the kind you and Karl go for—” He -paused, then smiling sheepishly, said, “Maybe I’m biting off more than I -can chew.” - -“No. Books are wonderful. I can send them. We’ve shelves and shelves -filled with them. And I’ll get the list from our librarian. You’d be -surprised at the wonderful books there are, in the libraries just for -the asking.” - -“You see, I don’t want Karl to be ashamed of me—when he comes back—maybe -famous.” - -“When Karl comes back,” Judy’s voice shook a little, “we’ll have a grand -reunion in Aspen!” - -At the airport, Mrs. Lurie shook hands warmly with the teachers, whom -she had gotten to know and like. To Fran she said, “You’re a fine driver -and a kind and capable young man.” - -Judy too made amends for her early indifference. “We’re like ships that -pass in the night,” she told the astonished teachers, “friendly, helpful -ships,” and she smiled enigmatically. - -The Little Percent with its remaining passengers drove off. - - - - - 20 - MOTHER AND DAUGHTER - - -Judy, seated next to her mother, watched as the plane raced along the -runway and without a tremor felt it rise skyward. Experience had already -dulled the fine edge of wonder. - -The girl slumped in her seat, closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. She -had to think. Her mother tentatively turned the pages of a book. - -Judy’s brows were knitted, her lips moved wordlessly. Think things -out—face reality! How often in the months ahead could she see Karl? She -knew his demanding schedule: newspaper route ... final year at school -... homework ... violin lessons ... practice ... practice. The lone -pupil anxiously retained ... concerts ... people to see ... Mr. Werther -... preparations to leave ... when would there be time for her? - -She had recoiled from the thought of the vast Atlantic Ocean dividing -them. But what of the hour and a half journey from his home in -Washington Heights to hers in Washington Square? No more would there be -the casual dropping in as at Aspen. No time for soul-searching talks, -their dreams and hopes: books, America, Israel, even religion! No, nor -hear him play some new, aborted little tune he’d just composed! - -She recalled the romantic stories in magazines she affected to despise -but frequently enjoyed. “True love never runs smooth!” The magazines, -she acknowledged, had cheap, lurid covers but they tell the truth about -love! Her shoulders sank even lower nor could she restrain a deep sigh. - -Mrs. Lurie let the book slide from her hands. She put an arm around her -daughter. Her heart ached for her and she wanted to say something. But -what? I can’t tell her she’ll probably get over it like a case of -measles! Mrs. Lurie blushed at her own callousness. Her fingers pressed -the girl’s shoulders, each finger saying, “I love you. I want to help -you. I want you to talk to me.” - -Her eyes no longer pretending sleep, Judy responded to the unspoken -tenderness. “Mother, did Father tell you that Karl is going away for -perhaps years?” - -“Yes, he told me last night.” - -“And in the months before he goes, how often will I be able to see him? -He’s so busy,” she said dejectedly. - -“If he wants to see you, he’ll make time somehow. Nothing will stop -him.” - -“You think so?” A quick smile lighted the girl’s face, only to vanish a -moment later. - -“He’ll be in a foreign country, meeting students from every part of the -world, maybe travel, get to know clever, sophisticated girls like -Marian—while I remain a dull schoolgirl. What is there so special to -remember about me!” - -“You’re far from dull, Judy, and so much humility isn’t exactly becoming -to you or in character. Remember all the things you threatened to do! -Paint, write—” - -She patted her affectionately. “Besides, Karl isn’t going on a picnic -exactly or touring Europe in the grand manner. He’ll have to work hard, -harder than ever. It isn’t only his violin technique, but studying and -understanding the great music of the old masters as well as the moderns. -He’ll need every ounce of concentrated effort. Since you love him and he -loves you, be content with that! Have faith in each other—” - -Judy pondered. Faith—that’s what Mrs. Jim has. - -Aloud she said, “A week ago, Mother, you spoke very differently. You -dismissed me and Karl as if—” - -“I know.” Mrs. Lurie hurriedly broke in. “I didn’t believe you were old -enough or capable of feeling so deeply about a boy. I’ve done a lot of -thinking since then. Besides, you’re not going to sit idly waiting like -a lily in a pond, looking pale and wistful. In your way you’ll be as -busy as Karl.” - -“You mean college?” - -“Yes. Major in English as you so often said, or sociology. You seem to -have a curious bent in that direction, a heritage, no doubt, from your -grandmother. And you said you wanted to take up your music again—now -it’s sort of inevitable,” she laughed, “if only to keep pace with Karl.” -Mrs. Lurie paused. “Karl will meet young people and,” she added -cautiously, “so will you. You’ll have dates, have fun, and live the life -of a normal young girl. With work to do and plans to make for yourself -and others, the few years of so-called waiting will pass more quickly -than you now think possible.” - -“I hope you’re right, Mother.” Judy’s spirits lifted. - -In a crisp, matter-of-fact voice Mrs. Lurie went on, “Most young people -today have to endure separation before they are ready to make a life -together. They go to different colleges, are often compelled to take -jobs that take them far from their home moorings, like your Cousin -Robbie who got his first opportunity at engineering in South America. -And, of course, today young men have to serve in the armed forces, -usually overseas, even in peacetime. Yet, most of these early loves -endure.” - -“I’m glad you say that, Mother,” Judy’s eyes shone. - -Mrs. Lurie pressed the girl’s shoulder lovingly. She smiled a little -self-consciously. “It wasn’t only your grandparents whose love, as the -novels say, overcame all obstacles—” - -“You and Father?” - -Mrs. Lurie nodded. - -“Funny, I never heard you speak about your romance. Why?” - -“I don’t know. You never asked and we’ve been busy being happy and -enjoying our work. We never think of the past. Maybe when you’re old, -memories are more important. But as I look back, the years of waiting -didn’t hurt us. I saw many of my friends marry while still at college, -the boy and girl graduating together, sometimes with a baby on the -campus. Maybe we would have liked that too, but John was studying and -playing the viola in Philadelphia and getting his M.A. at the same time. -I had school and was studying voice in New York.” She smiled at the -recollection. “It only toughened our resolution to marry as soon as we -could.” - -“I think it’s exciting to know about you and Father. It makes me happy. -If you could do it, so can I.” - -“Of course, you can. There’s only one little difference. When your -father and I went together, what you youngsters call ‘going steady,’ I -was nineteen and your father, twenty-two.” - -“Oh, Mother, what difference does a few years make! The main thing is -that we love each other. Karl is mature, much older than his years. Why -wouldn’t he be with all he’s gone through and endured? He’s not like the -boys who only live for a football game or having a good time.” She -clasped and unclasped her hands, then said quietly, “I want to be -perfect, be all that I know Karl admires. Of course, I won’t be able to, -not always. Maybe never. But I’m going to try.” - -At her mother’s look of slight alarm, Judy laughed. “Don’t worry, I know -I can’t live like a hermit. I’ll go places and to parties when I’m -invited. But,” and she shook her head emphatically, “every boy will know -in advance I’m going steady, at least in spirit!” She laughed gaily at -her little joke. - -It was now Mrs. Lurie who sighed, but with relief! Judy, for all her -acceptance of the role of waiting for her hero to return, would be no -princess locked up in her lonely castle. Her self-pity had vanished. She -was ready to admit that life wasn’t finished at sixteen. - -Mother and daughter leaned back in their seats, relaxed, conscious of a -new closeness. Mrs. Lurie was wise enough to know there would not always -be clear and easy sailing in the months and years ahead. There would be -other storms, other moments of anger or dispute. But the basis for -understanding between them was deep and could never be shaken. - - - - - DISCOVERY AT ASPEN - - - _By_ SOPHIE RUSKAY - - _Illustrated by Janet D’Amato_ - -Judy is a young girl just past her fifteenth year. Her parents are -musicians—staff members at the Music School at Aspen—and they are -anxious for her to share with them some of the enchantment of the famed -music festival in Colorado. - -But for Judy other plans and other dreams are more important. A part in -the new theatre group? Romance? Adventure? Anything but the dreary -routine of piano lessons and practice. In her attempt to escape the -discipline of the musician’s life, she explores Aspen and inadvertently -finds herself caught up in the lore of the early mining history of that -community. Baby Doe, the old Opera House, the ghost town of Ashcroft are -mysterious wonders which begin to awaken in her a new interest in her -surroundings. Her meeting with Karl, a talented refugee from Nazi -Austria, and their adventures together on the snowy mountain cliffs help -to fulfill her dreams of romantic love—an experience through which she -attains not only the depth and understanding of her parents but her own -maturity. - -What threatens to be a dismal summer for Judy becomes a time of -discovery of herself, of music and of America. - - _A Wonderful World Book_ - -Teenage - - - _About the Author_ - - [Illustration: Sophie Ruskay] - -Sophie Ruskay enjoys a family life very much like the one she creates in -_Discovery at Aspen_. Having raised a family of five children, she has -now added twelve grandchildren, many of them teenagers who consider her -their friend and compassionate advisor. She is the author of _Horsecars -and Cobblestones_, a warmly received novel of immigrant life in New York -at the turn of the century. The same understanding which she showed in -that work, she now applies to the story of a young teenager whose -problems and frustrations she depicts with deep sympathy. - -Mrs. Ruskay writes of the world around her with an eager eye and a -responsive spirit. The grandeur of Aspen, its natural beauties, its -cultural life as well as its historical heritage—all are graphically -described. It is in this setting that we see the young generation of -today striving for self-realization, often in rebellion against their -parents during this trying period of adolescence. - -Mrs. Ruskay has been a beloved figure in her community for many years, -participating in the cultural, philanthropic and civic activities as a -creative and energetic leader. She has written and directed a large -number of plays which have been notable for their humor and social -awareness. Perhaps the most significant demonstration of Mrs. Ruskay’s -life-long devotion to literature and drama is seen in her formation and -leadership of a literary class in the Women’s House of Detention in New -York City. - - - Also by Sophie Ruskay: - _Horsecars and Cobblestones_ - Illustrated by Cecil B. Ruskay - - PRINTED IN U.S.A. - - - _Other Wonderful World Books_ - - THE PERSIAN DONKEY BEAD - _By_ MARGARET KRAENZEL - _Illustrated by Peter Fellin_ - -The rich and moving story of a young Iranian boy who leaves his small -farm village to search for his father, with help of an Arab girl, in the -crowded squares, the apartment houses and slums, and even the great -underground bazaar of Tehran. - - FOR LIFE AND LIBERTY - _By_ JANET NEAVLES - _Illustrated by Delia Marcel_ - -Nate rides his thoroughbred filly Liberty Maid on a race to save his -family’s farm from Joseph Brant’s Indians in this fine historical novel -set in upper New York State during the Revolutionary War. - - THE SLAVE WHO SAVED THE CITY and Other Hassidic Tales - _By_ HARRY M. RABINOWICZ - _Illustrated by Ahron Gelles_ - -The glowing, miraculous legends grown around Rabbi Israel Baal Shem-Tob, -the father of Hassidism, lovingly collected and especially adapted for -young readers. - - DOUBLOONS - _By_ MARISTAN CHAPMAN - _Illustrated by Carl T. Herrman_ - -A rousing mystery-adventure story in which four Tennessee boys are -plunged by a hurricane into the Florida Everglades, are “rescued” by -modern pirates and stranded in the Ten Thousand Islands, and discover -pirate gold. - - - New York: A. S. BARNES and COMPANY, INC. - London: THOMAS YOSELOFF, LTD. - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - ---Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public - domain in the country of publication. - ---In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the - HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.) - ---Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and - dialect unchanged. - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Discovery at Aspen, by Sophie Liebowitz Ruskay - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISCOVERY AT ASPEN *** - -***** This file should be named 63217-0.txt or 63217-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/2/1/63217/ - -Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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