Part 6

Kit grabbed his hands, and he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “Hi, Kit,” he said.

“Oh, Frank, it’s _so_ good to see you,” she cried. And breathlessly she introduced him to the young people around her.

He smiled into their young, eager faces, and finally drew Kit over to one side. “Let me look at you,” he said. “My, but it’s been a long time!”

“Too long,” Kit said. “I certainly have missed you.”

“Where are you staying? How much of your time do I get to monopolize? How long will you be here?”

Kit laughed to silence his questions. “One at a time,” she gasped. “We’re all staying at the Willard. Two professors and their wives are acting as our chaperons. I don’t know my schedule yet, but there will be just two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon for sessions. Then I should be free for the rest of the time.”

Frank reached for her bag and laughed. “Then I can get some work done while you’re in town.”

Kit caught his arm. “Why don’t you come back to Elmhurst with me?” she asked.

Frank nodded thoughtfully. “It might be arranged. Now let’s get you to the hotel and checked in. Then dinner, and then whatever you want to do in our nation’s capital.”

Kit nodded. “Of course we have to observe regular hours, Frank,” she said. “I’ll have to check out just as at school if I go anywhere. But first I want to call Mother.”

“Of course you do,” Frank agreed.

“To arrange about your coming, of course,” Kit teased.

Frank ushered her into his car. “Of course,” he said solemnly. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started off. He guided the convertible through the city traffic with ease and pulled up before the Willard Hotel. “Tell you what,” he said. “You go on in and unpack and call home and make whatever arrangements you have to with your chaperons. Then I’ll pick you up for supper in an hour.”

Kit jumped out of the car. “All right, Frank,” she agreed. “But don’t make it more than an hour. I’m starving already.”

He waved to her as he pulled away from the curb. The doorman, with Kit’s bag in hand, guided her into the lobby. A group of students was gathered around the front desk. Kit joined them and nodded to the doorman to put down her luggage.

“Who’s the VIP, Kit?” one of the girls asked.

Kit glanced around at the group. They were all looking at her.

“Oh, a friend of mine,” she tossed off.

“Well, if you like them old ...” one catty voice commented.

A storm of protest broke forth from the group and Kit relaxed as she heard admiring comments about Frank from all sides.

Kit shared her room with Helen Smith from a small college in Iowa, and Bernice Traxler from Northwestern University. Helen was a small, pale girl who had gone to college right from her father’s farm. Bernice was tall and dark and striking looking. Bernice was a native of Evanston and a very sophisticated young lady. Kit wondered fleetingly how Bernice and Helen would hit it off as roommates.

“Do you girls mind if I tie up the phone for a while?” Kit asked. “I want to call my mother.”

“Of course not,” Helen said. “I don’t know anyone to call, anyway.” She laughed, and Kit felt drawn to this honest girl from an Iowa farm.

“Help yourself, Kit,” Bernice said. “I have a million things to do before I let people know I’m in town.”

Kit asked for the long distance operator and completed her call immediately.

“Hi, Mother!” she cried into the phone. “The trip was swell! No, I’m not a bit tired. I got your letter about the wedding and I cried even if I wasn’t there. Frank met me at the station, and I’m going to have dinner with him tonight. I wonder if it would be okay if he came back to Elmhurst with me? I mean, we haven’t decided definitely, or anything. I just mentioned it.” She waited for her mother’s answer.

“That’s swell,” she cried. “Give my love to everyone. I’ll see you all Thursday.”

She set the receiver back on the hook and turned to her roommates.

“Is the man who met you at the station your beau?” Bernice asked.

Kit hesitated. “Well, sort of,” she admitted. “We’re old friends, at least.”

Bernice hummed. “I’d like an old friend like that,” she murmured. “Wouldn’t you, Helen?”

“I thought he was awfully nice looking,” Helen agreed.

Bernice surveyed her wardrobe which was lying across her bed. “I guess I can make myself presentable for the evening,” she decided. Then she turned to Helen. “Can you?” she asked.

Helen stared at her. “But I’m not going anywhere,” she protested. “Meetings don’t start till morning, and I don’t know a soul in Washington. I’ll just slip down for some dinner and then curl up with a book....”

Bernice glared at her in mock severity. “Over my dead body,” she said. “No one comes to Washington and stays home reading. No one who knows me, anyhow. I’m going to do some phoning, and then you and I are going on a night tour of Washington.”

Helen sat down on the edge of her bed. “But I haven’t a thing to wear! I think you’re wonderful to ask me, but really....”

But Bernice was already speaking to a friend over the phone. “We’re two dateless waifs,” she said. “Two girls from the hinterland looking for some fun.” She winked at Helen. “Yes, Arnold, that will be perfect. We’ll be ready in an hour.”

She set down the phone. “You and I have dates tonight. With a Congressman’s son and friend.”

Helen stared at her. “You mean, just like that?”

Bernice smiled at her. “If you don’t really want to go ... if you’re really too tired....” she started, regretting her impulsiveness.

Kit sat down beside Helen. There were tears in the girl’s eyes.

“That’s one of the nicest things anyone ever did for me,” she cried. “But I don’t have anything to wear, and I don’t know how to act with Congressmen’s sons!”

Bernice smiled. “You know how it’s like in a dorm. If you don’t have a dress, you borrow it. Right, Kit?”

Kit nodded.

“And as for Congressmen’s sons, just remember that most of them were raised on some farm in the corn-belt. Right, Kit?”

Kit giggled. “Let’s fix Helen up with a dress,” she suggested. “I have something she can wear, I think.” And she opened the closet door where her freshly unpacked clothes hung. “Let’s see,” she said, running her hands over the hangers. “Try this one.”

Helen gasped at the sight of the white tulle evening frock which Kit laid across her bed. “I ... I couldn’t!” she said.

Kit smiled. “Of course you can. You probably wouldn’t hesitate if you were my roommate at school.”

Helen touched the dress gingerly. Slowly she rose and slipped off her street dress. “I’ll take a shower and then try it,” she consented.

In an hour all three girls were ready for their first night in Washington. Kit was lovely in a simple powder blue street-length dress with a matching jaunty little hat. She wore white gloves and blue slippers and carried a tiny blue bag. Bernice wore a sheath-like strapless black evening dress. Her hair was pulled on top of her head and caught with a rhinestone clip. She pulled on long black gloves and turned to survey her new roommate.

Bernice and Kit were amazed at the transformation. Helen looked like a fragile doll in the white tulle. Her blond hair was caught up high behind each ear and fell in curls at the back of her head. Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“Do I look all right?” she asked timidly.

Bernice looked at her and shook her head. “This will teach me to invite strange women on my dates. What I want to know is who’s going to look at me with you around?”

“You look beautiful,” Kit agreed.

Helen smiled happily. “I feel as if I do,” she said. “That always means I’m going to have a good time.”

Frank was waiting for Kit when she came downstairs to the lobby. She introduced him to Professor and Mrs. Wilson, the chaperons, and then they headed out into the spring night.

Kit sighed happily at the light of the city around them. “I like this,” she said simply. “I have a feeling that this trip is going to be wonderful. Every minute of it.”

“You sound as if you had some doubts before,” Frank said.

Kit told him about her two roommates and the generous gesture Bernice had made. “It just goes to prove,” she said, “that you can’t judge people beforehand. I wish I could get over putting everyone into categories. Just because the girl comes from Evanston and has gorgeous clothes, I expected her to be a snob.”

“Lots of nice people have money,” Frank said as if voicing a platitude. “Now, my little proletarian, where shall we go for dinner?”

They traveled out Connecticut Avenue in Frank’s car. “I think for your first night, the Shoreham,” Frank said gravely. “Just to show you that wealth doesn’t exclude niceness.”

“Don’t be such an idiot,” Kit cried. “It sounds marvelous!”

Together they walked through the handsome lobby of the uptown hotel and out to the terrace where they were shown to a table. Frank ordered dinner while Kit looked about her. She clasped her hands together in sheer pleasure.

While they ate, there was a floor show to entertain them. Then the music for dancing began. Kit grabbed Frank’s hand.

“I know I should wait to be asked,” she said, “but let’s dance.”

Frank put his hand over hers. “Let’s wait just a few minutes, Kit,” he pleaded. “I want to talk to you.”

Kit felt a tingle run up her spine. She shivered.

“Maybe I’m rushing things,” Frank admitted. “But can we talk now about you and me?”

“Of course, Frank,” Kit said slowly.

“I know you’ll think I’m forcing an issue,” Frank continued, “but I think you know I’ve waited a long time, feeling the way I do.”

“Wait, Frank,” Kit said, holding up her hand. “Let’s be very sure we want to talk about this.”

“I know what you mean,” Frank answered. “In a way, it’s easier to go on just being friends ... with no complications. But, you see, the only trouble is that I’m in love with you, Kit. You know that, and I can’t keep still about it any longer.”

It was the first time Frank had mentioned the word love. Kit was amazed at how coolly he said it, and how naturally she accepted it.

She hesitated. “You make me feel very proud, Frank,” she said finally.

Frank looked away. “Oh,” he said.

Kit laid her hand on his arm. “Wait, I don’t think you understand,” she said. “I don’t exactly see how you could, when I don’t, myself. I’m nineteen, and that isn’t exactly young, but it isn’t very old, either. I had everything all figured out for my future, as you know. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t exactly plan on being in love ... just yet.”

Frank smiled faintly. “I’m doing exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t do. Of course you’re too young....”

“Your words had nothing to do with it,” Kit admitted a little sadly. “You see, I’ve been the closest to being unhappy this spring at school that I’ve ever been. I feel like an ungrateful wretch even to mention it. But school has seemed so ... so pointless. I’ve been restless and moody and not interested in what was going on. All the boys seemed so ... childish. All the girls were so ... I don’t know. Kind of boring, with their silly endless prattling about boys and dates and parties. That’s a terrible way to feel about college but I realized I felt that way because of you. You’re in another world. And I’m beginning to think I won’t be happy till I’m in that world _with_ you.”

Frank squeezed her hand. “Oh, Kit,” he said, “I’m not asking you to love me right off. I just want to know I have a chance.”

Kit looked down at the table. “I don’t know how Jean managed it,” she said. “Waiting so long, that is.” She looked up at Frank. “If a girl my age can really be in love, then I really love you, Frank.”

Frank touched her hair with his fingers. “That’s good enough for me, Kit,” he said, grinning. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

They glided across the dance floor, neither one of them seeming to touch the ground. And the hours slipped by too fast. Eventually Frank sighed and led Kit back to the table. “Curfew rings in a few minutes,” he said. “But at least I know that someday there won’t be a curfew for us.”

11. Kit and Frank

Kit’s week in Washington flew by. Frank Howard was with her every free moment, and between times, she attended the lively discussions which were held in the hotel ballroom. The young students heard some of the great minds of the country speak on all phases of history, foreign and American, from the fall of the Roman Empire to the present day.

Kit could hardly believe her ears when Bernice Traxler rose to read a paper on modern Mexico. The girl, who had seemed so frivolous, rose before the assembly to deliver one of the most inspiring and factual reports of the day. Kit wondered how such a popular girl could have found the time to investigate Mexican history so thoroughly. She listened, spellbound, while Bernice told the story of politics in Mexico from the Sixteenth Century and the invasion of Cortez to the present-day Aleman government.

Helen Smith, too, contributed a paper to the meeting. She spoke, naturally enough, about the Midwestern states in this country. And as she talked, Kit began to realize the important role that the farmer plays. Helen, who had had personal experience in the Four-H Club and whose father had been an active member of the Grange, convinced them all that the problems of the American farmer were everyone’s problems.

For a week, both professors and students lectured, compared notes and discussed historical topics. Kit had no paper to read, but she was chairman of a discussion group which handled the problems of modern France. It was an interesting session and set the stage for another one about modern Germany and the four-power division of that country.

Fortunately, the conference was the last on the schedule. It went on for two days, while students and teachers alike tried to reach some conclusion as to the policies of Russia, France, England and the United States. Discussions became heated, and Kit told Frank afterward that she felt as if she had attended a United Nations conference.

“The United Nations,” Frank said, “is _really_ our last hope, I think.” He was escorting Kit into a famous seafood restaurant on the river, and the odor of fresh fish assailed their nostrils as they climbed the steps up to the second floor.

Kit sat down and waited for Frank to order for them. She gazed wistfully down at the Potomac. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Isn’t that the way people felt about the League of Nations after the last war?”

Frank shook his head. “Last time we weren’t even in on the deal. This time we’re one of the leaders.”

Kit smiled a little. “That sounds a little chauvinistic,” she said. “Flag waving.”

Frank grinned. “I didn’t mean it that way. I suppose you feel more confident when your own country agrees with you.”

Kit shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said wearily. “I was so encouraged to think so many students and professors wanted to get together to talk. But after these two days of endless arguments about the four-power pact and Germany, I feel that we left everything in a hopeless tangle. And if we Americans couldn’t agree about it, how do you suppose the members of the United Nations _ever_ will agree?”

Frank covered his hand with hers. “Because, Kit,” he said seriously, “the member nations agree on the very most important thing of all. They are agreeing to talk instead of to throw bombs. Of course they disagree. And they’ll continue to disagree. But as long as they heave words around instead of exploding atoms, they are exercising their rights as human beings. And human beings who act as human beings should, don’t kill each other.”

Kit nodded. “I agree with that, all right,” she said. “For example, if Jean were here, she could back me up in this. There are huge wars which human beings must fight all the time. I’m a soldier in the front lines. Humans have _natural_ enemies, and I’m constantly plotting and arranging the slaughter of these enemies. Jean and the doctors and the other nurses at the clinic do the same thing.”

“Man is _not_ man’s natural enemy. He must learn this. I don’t care if he’s a German or a Russian or an Australian bushman, it’s his business to get along with his fellow man.”

“That’s fine, but he doesn’t,” Kit said. “Look at the history of this country. Young as we are, we’ve had a war almost every generation.”

“The history of this country is an excellent example of our progress,” Frank said. “Many people think that the tensions which exist between the North and the South today are as strong as those in Lincoln’s day. But no one except downright crackpots would ever suggest going through another Civil War. We talk about our grievances. We don’t shoot about them.”

“That’s right,” Kit agreed.

Frank grinned sheepishly. “I know I’m an idealist,” he said. “But I’ve a hunch that before too long man is going to wake up! Someday he’s going to realize that to ally himself with greed, bad temper and bad will towards other men is to sign a pact with our natural enemies. He might just as well suggest that we turn this world over to destructive insects, infectious diseases and man-eating beasts.”

Kit grinned back at him. “This pompano is delicious, but it’s going to taste like sawdust if we don’t stop this.”

“Okay, Kit,” Frank said.

“Now, then,” Kit continued, “are you coming home with me?”

Frank thought for a moment. “I can come now with you and stay a week or so. Or I can come later in the summer. Suppose I leave it up to you?”

Kit smiled. “Come both times,” she urged.

“You’re a forward minx,” Frank said, laughing. “You know I’d like to, but I can’t. Summertime is our busiest time, and I just can’t get away both times.”

Kit considered his answer for a minute. “Then maybe you’d better come later,” she said. “You might have more time, and I’d be settled at home ... you know, unpacked and everything. Then we would have time to do what we want to.”

Frank nodded. “That might be better.”

They ate their dinner in almost complete silence. It was Kit’s last night in Washington, and neither of them was happy about her leaving.

“What time does your train leave, Kit?” Frank asked after a while.

She shook her head dismally. “Around six in the morning.”

“Then I suppose you won’t want to stay up very late,” he sighed. “I thought we might take a drive out Chevy Chase way. The Maryland countryside is lovely at this time of year.”

“That would be fun,” Kit agreed. “And I don’t mind staying up.”

After dinner, they started their slow drive out to Chevy Chase. Kit gazed longingly at the pretty houses nestled in the rolling hills. She pointed to one colonial house which was nearly obscured from the road by a small woods. “That’s just about perfect, I think,” she sighed.

Frank glanced over at the house. “So that’s what you want for a home.”

Kit nodded. “I think I would like to live outside of Washington.”

“That’s a break for me,” Frank teased. “That means, of course, I can keep my job. In case we decide to be married someday.”

Kit laughed. “Yes, I guess it does. But do you know why I want to live here?”

Frank shook his head. “Tell me, Mr. Bones. Why have you selected Washington, of all places in the country, as the place to settle down?”

Kit grimaced at him. “Because,” she said earnestly, “you can have a farm right here....”

Frank threw one hand up in mock horror. “So you want to be a farmer!”

Kit pursed her lips. “What’s the matter with being a farmer? But that isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I mean, you can live in the country and be quiet and surrounded by the beauties of nature, and still you’re not an hour away from the heart of the nation. Imagine living right in the midst of the most exciting events in the world!”

Frank smiled wryly. “Now who’s being chauvinistic?” he asked.

“You’re being awful!” Kit cried. “I’ll bet you never even bother to go to a Senate hearing or the House ... or anything!”

Frank’s smile faded. “I’ll bet I wish I didn’t have to ... as much as I do. You seem to forget I have Senate committees to report to, to try to get money out of, to high pressure into taking some action so that we all don’t have insect plagues.”

Kit grinned and shook her head. “That was a dumb remark. I’m sorry. But anyhow I think it would be exciting.”

Frank glanced at her. She looked as young as a high school girl. “You’re so young and precious and wonderful, Kit,” he said tenderly, “I don’t know why you bother with an old fogey like me. I’ve almost forgotten how thrilled I was the first time I entered the Senate gallery.”

She laughed. “I guess you _are_ an old fogey. But it’s too late to do anything about it now.”

When they returned from their drive, Frank took her to a small restaurant for dancing and a light snack. As they moved out on the dance floor, Kit sighed.

“Why are you always going away from people?” she asked.

Frank shrugged. “I’m not going any place,” he said, holding out his arms to her. “_You_ are.”

Kit made a face at him as they started to dance. “That’s what I mean, silly. First I had to leave college. You know, you think you’re all set to leave and that you never want to see another classroom or textbook again. But then you do leave, and you just can’t bear it. I mean, leaving Uncle Bart and Aunt Della and Jeannette Flambeau, my roommate, and the whole gang. This time it was a little easier because I knew I was going to come here and see you. But now I have to leave you and the new friends I’ve made here. Then I’ll get home and next fall I’ll have to leave Father and Mother and the family. You’re always leaving someone behind.”

“Or being left behind,” Frank said earnestly. “I don’t want to talk about it any more. It’s not much fun being left. And if I started to tell you how I feel about it, I could easily frighten you.”

Kit hesitated. “All right, Frank,” she said. “I guess I’m terrible, worrying about myself when other people have problems, too.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yep, you’re terrible, all right,” he said. “You make me feel like a man who’s bet his whole life savings on a horse race.”

Kit stared at him. “What?” she asked.

He smiled wistfully. “I’m a grown-up man, Kit,” he said softly. “I’ve been in love ... or thought I was in love ... before. But never like this. You’re such a child, still. You should have lots of men in your life. All I can do is make my bet--that’s my whole heart--and stand by and wait till the race is over.”

Kit smiled slowly. “I hope I’ve been honest with you, Frank,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to think I’ve done anything to hurt you. But of course,” she added, “Ralph must have felt the same way about Jean. And that worked out.”

Frank thought of Jean, the calm, efficient, loyal sister who probably would be marrying Ralph MacRae soon. Then he looked down at Kit, the intense, fiery little girl who was out to reform the world. He was baffled by the comparison, but he realized that the same spark of loyalty which characterized her older sister was burning in Kit’s heart.

12. An All Night Vigil

Kit’s homecoming was almost obscured by a great tragedy which had struck the village of Elmhurst. Although May was not yet over, five cases of polio had been discovered in town, and people were becoming panicky.

The four new cases had been sent to the county isolation ward in a nearby town, but young Timmy Lester stayed at the hospital. His case was much lighter than anyone suspected at first, and he didn’t need therapy which the staff couldn’t supply.

When Kit arrived in Elmhurst, she discovered that all public places had been closed down. No movies were being shown. People were urged to stay away from restaurants and swimming pools. They were even discouraged from having large private parties or picnics.

“It’s really too bad,” Doris confessed to Kit. “And a fine summer vacation you’re going to have in Elmhurst,” she added. “It’s a terrible break for you.”

Kit smiled at her younger sister. “Never mind about me, Doris,” she said. “What about the rest of you? You’ve been in school, too. It’s a shame to ruin your vacation.”