Henderson Daily Dispatch

Too heavy. I'm doing a pretty swell job though, don't you think? Isn't that new pianist a honey?

The father rubbed his chin, watching Dover slowly.

"Well," he admitted, "she's a good piano player all right. But as to her being a honey, I guess you know more about that than I do."

Dover said, dropping his eyes boyishly,

"Oh, I get it. So you know?"

"Know what, son?"

"That Cholly and I have been going around together a lot. I-I'm sorry, Dad. I should have told you. I love her."

"Well, or what, Dover?" Mr. Hayworth's voice was kind. "Have I ever given you any occasion to be afraid of me? Why should you think there is anything you can't tell me? That you'd have to hide—"

Dover sighed, shaking his head.

"This is a peculiar situation, Pop." He stretched out on the bed like the older man as if he meant to make a clean breast of something. "I'm glad to get it off my chest. I guess I did slip something over on you. But it just had to be. It's the only way I could help Cholly, and I was going crazy worrying about her."

The father reached for another pillow, put it under Dover's head, and arranged himself comfortably.

"Let's get to the beginning, son." He took cigars from the table beside him, handing one to Dover.

Dover lit his cigar silently. Then he began. It was difficult at first, but with his father nodding encouragement, or making a small comment, the task became easier.

With slow words, the young man painted a portrait of the girl he loved.

They had met, he told his father, on the yacht. He spoke of Ronny and of Pidson and of the ride home in the moonlight when he had tried to lend Cholly money. She had a mother and seven brothers and sisters to support, but she had angrily refused his help. Then, Dover confessed, he had fallen in love with her. Knowing how his mother would feel, and that his father, too, might be disappointed if he didn't make a brilliant marriage, he had fought for three months to keep from breaking down and letting Cholly know the way he felt.

The radio program was the only way he could think of to ease her burden. She was so little and proud and good. Dover related how he had gone to Job Lane after getting his father's consent to a program, and how they had tricked Cholly into signing the contract.

"But you don't need to worry." Dover sat up finally, and his face was white and strained. "She won't marry me. She turned me down flat. If you ask her to tear up the radio contract, she'll do it in a second. But for my sake—don't do it, Pop. Please!"

(To Be Continued)