(Continued from Page 7) No one knew the real story until just a few years ago, when Sadie James married Bernie Walters. She was the town vamp, a big-city girl who had been around. Well, Carrie sent the newlyweds a very expensive set of silver, with a card enclosed that said, "Something to show my appreciation for all you did for me." If you don't think that created a stir back home! My wife, as well as all the rest of the gossips, could talk of nothing else. Where was Carrie? What was the connection between her and Sadie? That note hinted a fascinating story. After everyone so disposed had been given a chance to guess, Sadie told all she knew about the affair to her best friend, confidentially of course, and after the story had cir-culated far enough, Mrs. Sternberg entered into it to keep the fiction apart from the facts. This is the complete story as my wife told it to me. She had it from various sources, prin-cipally Sadie and Mrs. Sternberg. In spite of her carefree manner, Carrie led a lonely life. She had lost contact with the high school crowd when she had quit school to work. No, she didn't have to quite school for financial reasons, but just wasn't a student. Not that she was the giddy type. She tried hard enough, but lessons didn't come easy to her. So she just quit. She had no intimate boy friends or girl friends until she met Sadie at one of the Brotherhood Lodge meetings. Sadie worked in the commissary at the refinery and lived an excit' ing life. We always thought her a little wild, but Carrie idolized Sadie, probably because this friendship gave her an insight into the fun and action of a popular girl's life. It was almost as good as having the thrills first hand. And Sadie tolerated Carrie, telling her about her dates and about her life in a large city. Finally the inevitable happened. One sultry afternoon in late July, Carrie came home from work a little early. It was payday and she had several bundles under her arms. Carrie seldom spent money for clothes because she had so few occasions to wear them. So, of course, Mrs. Sternberg sensed that something was brewing. As Carrie entered the house, she flipped on the radio too nonchalantly and sank too unconcernedly down onto the lumpy Chesterfield that served as her bed at night. "Why are you home so early?" Mrs. Sternberg asked. "It's pay day; so I thought I'd take the afternoon off and buy me a few clothes. It's about time I dressed up a little," Carrie answered. "What brought this on?" "Nothing. I just get tired of the same clothes." That night after supper, Carrie announced that she was going to a show with Sadie. She would be home early. Mrs. Sternberg's reply was, "I can't say as I like you traipsing around the streets. It don't seem quite ladylike to go without a boy friend at night." Unexpectedly, Carrie flared up suddenly and rathfully. "Do I have to stay home every night in this hole just because I haven't a boy friend?" This surprising outburst shocked Mrs. Sternberg into silence. What was happening to her usually meek daughter? What influence did this new girl friend have upon her? Mrs. Sternberg didn't ask Carrie any more questions. After all, her daughter was nineteen and free to do as she pleased. But just the same she was worried. There was something wrong. Carrie made unusually lengthy preparations for her date with Sadie. For over an hour she preened and plucked and pirouetted in her new clothes in front of her mother's vanity dresser, something very unusual for Carrie. When she left the house there was something glowing in her eyes, as if she were just awakening to some new happiness. Yes, indeed, Mrs. Sternberg was both worried and mystified. You've probably guessed by this time what Carrie had up her sleeve. It was a blind date that Sadie had arranged for her. You know, that girl must have been eating her heart out for a little companionship and romance to have such a cheap affair take on the proportions of a crisis. The inevitable happened. Carrie tried too hard, so hard that she just didn't click. The fellows were cheap flashy dandies, with no tact or respect for a nice girl like Carrie. Among other things, one of them sarcastically called her a "C. B.," a "country bumpkin." And Sadie, the girl Carrie worshipped, laughed and remarked at the aptness of the title. Well, our meek and sensitive Carrie drew her entire sav-ings from the bank and left the next morning for Cheyenne and New York. Her explanation was that she wanted a vacation. That vacation has lasted fifteen years. I suppose the frivolous Sadie, with her talk of romances and dates and excitement, had started a ferment of discontent and unrest in Carrie, and then had inadvertently served as the spark-plug to ignite the explosive. It was more than our heroine could absorb tranquilly. She used what psychologists would term flight and then compensation as emotional outlets. Anyway, you can imagine my surprise tonight to see how far Carrie has traveled on the strength of that initial spark. Carol Blane, torch singer and musical comedy star. That's quite a leap from the quiet western town girl of fifteen years ago. By the way, did you notice any coincidence about the initials of her stage name? There's my train. I'm glad we chanced to get together, for the evening has been pleasant. Look me up if you're ever in Cleveland. How long since I left North Waco? I've never been there. How did I know the story of Carol Blane? That's simple. Life has told the story countless times since the world began. Page Eight Doris Secrist Page Nine