PALM SUNDAY
65
gone. I heard her go hack down the hall and then downstairs, and
that was the last word ever said about it between us.
As I grew older, I heard Mr. Verne spoken of several times
by others in a way that made me uncomfortable, and I began to
realize that maybe my experience with him had not been unique.
People
in
general, however, avoided the gossip about him, and his
standing as a singer and artist in our community was as strong as
ever. He had taken to wearing
pince-nez
with a long black ribbon,
which everyone thought made him look very distinguished, and he
sang as often as before at church benefits, at affairs of the Masonic
Temple and other lodges, and
in
every home-talent show during
the winter. At Commencement, the night I graduated, he sat on the
same platform with us, as he was to sing "None But The Lonely
Heart,"
and did, to the usual great applause. Yet everybody in the
town knew about him, including other women besides my mother,
as I was to find out to my embarrassment.
During my last year in high school I had a job on Saturday
nights taking tickets at the movie house, the only night of the week
when the theatre ran two shows. It was on this night, too, when
they always had a couple of vaudeville acts between shows, put on
by some vaudeville people who came down Saturdays from the
city. I loved the job, because I enjoyed seeing the movies and the
acrobats, as well as all the farmer people who came to town Satur–
day nights; and also of course I had free passes, and my girl
Marion, the girl I went with all through high school, always came
and sat in the last row where we could talk once in awhile, and
then waited for me till after the last show was over.-One night
just after the first show went on, the theatre manager came to me,
very excited, and said the vaudeville people hadn't arrived, for
some reason, and would I go and get Ray Verne to come down and
fill
in
with a song or two in case the vaudeville act didn't turn up
before intermission. I said I would and he said Mr. Verne was
probably at choir practice in the Methodist Church and I went up
there. The church was mostly dark, but the tall windows down
near where I knew the organ was were lighted up, so I went in at
the side door and came into the church. As I came in the people
ltopped singing and looked down at me. Nobody said anything.
They looked funny standing there in their everyday clothes, with
hymn
books in their hands, the women with their different hats on,
