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THE SUPPRESSED
JUVENILE
Aft tilUftl there wan no room for Jule.
Kho stood looking after Mu- automnbih’,
n suspicious moisture in her rod brown
eyes.
“I don’t cure/* sho muttered,” I
don’t cure.”
But the words were unconvincing
inrad the suspicious moisture threatened
to form itself into tears and to over
flow. Hli t , turned and went into the
house, shut herself into the dimly liglit
nyl library, where if the tears did over
flow who would not bo seen.
Jule was eleven years old—fourth in
a family of six girls and ti son. Ihe
grown girls were too busy living their
owe lives to have any for dole,
and her father and mother too busy
to give much time to their quiet,
dreamy-eyed little girl, who matde so
few demands of anyone, dulo had
long since come to accept her loneli
ness without complaint.
“I am either too little or too big
to ever bp considered,” she had once
said, and Tom, the big jolly brother,
had pinched her cheek and called 'her
the * * Suppressed Juvenile." The name
haid stuck as nick names and queer
sayings were apt to do in the I rent
family.
“O, Jule does not need us,” Minnie,
the oldest, had said. “She is self-suf
ficient and as cold as a fish.”
Julo’s coldness, however, was most
ly assumed, as could be seen now, as
she lay face downward on a rug, while,
her little body shook with sobs
”l wanted to go,” sho sobbed, ‘‘‘i
don’t always care, 'cause they are a
silly lot. Min and Lucile giggle until
they make me tired; then they are
always picking up that silly Bob Gra
liani, who looks like a dying calf, and
sings ‘I L-o-v-e You’ right in Lucile’s
face- But, today, it was different,
Baddy was along and 1 wanted to go
with Daddy. Ho wanted Nan, though,
I could see be did. Nobody wants me.
1 wish T could grow up and make my
self wanted by somebody.’’
At last when she bad eased the pain
in her heart by her paroxysm of sob
bing, sin* got up and went slowly up
stairs to her room, or rather, to her
sister’s room, where her little white
iron bed stood unobtrusively in one
corner.
IHho went to the closet and took
down a little brown dress, which her
mother had made from an old one of
Nan’s, but in a style that looked liko
a French model. It was of some sort
of golden brown that blended wonder
fully with her copper colored hair and
eyes.
“I’m glad that Nan is my type,”
she said thoughtfully as she slipped
into the dress.
When sho caught sight of the little
brown and golden figure that looked
back at her from the mirror, all the
bitterness went out of her eyes
“ Never you mind,’’ she cooed,
speaking to the imago “You won’t
toe a ‘S ’pressed Juvenile’ always, and
when you grow up you are going to
look enough like Nan to make some
body want you pretty bad ’cause Nan
is the ‘ wonderfulest ’ girl there is.”
Jule was conscious of the fact that
she. looked well dressed as she pulled
her little brown hat close down on her
head and went tripping down stairs.
She went into the dining-room,
where her mother was making sand
wiches to feed her hungry brood on
their return.
Mrs. Trent looked up as Jule en
tered and smiled.
“I’m sorry there wasn’t room for
my little girl, too. Minnie was very
ynthoughtful to ask anyone else.”
“O, that’s all right- Min never
thinks,’’ thero was a tremor about the
lips-
Her mother got up and kissed her
impulsively.
“You look very pretty in that dress,
Jule. Do you mind that it was made
out of Nan’s?”
“I’m only thankful it wasn’t made
out of Min’s Or Lucile’s. ’ ’
Mrs. Trent laughed. “You are a
queer little* thing, Jule. I wish I had
more tim e to devote to you.”
“That’ll be all right. Maybe we’ll
find time to get acquainted when I
grow up. But now I think I’ll go
out into the park* ’’
Out in the street in the glorious Oc
tober sunshine slit* walked rapidly with
the grace of a wood nymph, looking
straight- ahead and never seeing the
people she met, many of whom turned
for a second look at the little brown
and gold figur,. with the dreamy look
oil her face- While she walked the
streets of Atlanta, she was in fancy
treading some mystic of fairy
land. or playing she was a Fairy l’rin
c.ess in disguise.
When she reached the pork, she sank
,down on the first rustic seat she
found beneath a huge tree, whose
leaves were yellow and burnished gold
with the first warm tints of autumn.
It made a wonderful background for
her own brown clad figure as she sat
there. Her head bent over a book,
sho made a picture to go straight to the
heart of an artist.
Jul e had that intense love of books
that often comes to a child, who is
left much alone, and to her book peo
ple were more real than the people she
met. Today, however, she was finding
it hard to keep her mind on the print
ed page. Her hand relaxed and the
book slipped to her feot. Nhe sat- still,
her eyes bent upon the ground.
“Come hack from fairy-land, you
little olfin thing, and toll me what
you dream-”
Jule looked up and her eyes went
quickly over the slim, woll-groomed
young man, who stood before her- Sho
began by being displeased, but when
her eyes met his. so frank and under
standing, she smiled a slow, friendly
smile. When a person Is eleven and
n “Suppressed Juvenile,” an inter
ested person is not to be lightly turned
away.
“May I sit down?” the young man
asked.
.Tulo slipped to one side, making
room for him on the rustic seat.
“Do you know,” the young man
went on. speaking in that low friendly
voice that had won Jule’s confidence.
“You are the most beautiful little girl
I have seen in many a day. You look
exactly like a big brown and yellow
pansy. ’’
Jule laughed, frankly pleased. “Do
you like me?” she asked eagerly- “It
is the dress that makes me look like
a pansy. Nan looked like a pansy
when she wore it, and I am her type.’
“Who is Nan?” the young man in
quired.
“She is my big sister —one of them.
X have three, you know. When there
eir ( . six girls and you are the fourth
one you are apt to boa ‘S ’pressed Ju
venile’ and have to wear made-overs.
This dress was made out of Nan’s.
“You are apt to be a what?”
“H’pressed Juvenile, that is what
Tom calls mo because T am too little
to be of any cons’quence and too big t
be babied.”
The young man laughed* “Is this
sister, who is your type, as beautiful
tils you?” ho asked, trying to suppress
-some of the amusement he was feeling
over Jule’s remarks.
“Lots beautifuler! Nan’s a stun
n r! Im not even good looking; just
quaint. Min says I’ll have style,
though, when my logs get over being
so long. ’ ’
“What are you doing out here, little
elf?”
“Just trying to ’muse myself,” sigh
ed Jule.
“I believe I’d prefer lotting someone
•amuse me.”
“That might be nice. I never had
any one to try it on me. They are
tall too busy, so I am left alon ( > with
my books and my dreams.”
Sho reached down and picked up her
book and from between the pages
clipped a picture of Lucretia Bori.
Jule’s face grew serious as she bent
over and took it in her hand.
“Nan heard her sing once.” Her
voice was so soft as if she had spoken
of some holy thing.
“1 thought so,’’ ho whispered. “Just
tho type that is music mad. W hat is
your name, little elf?”
‘“Jule Trent-”
“Telephone number?”
“Hemlock 1049-” Jule’s eyes be
came mischievous. “My father’s name
is Daniel Trent, banker, and we live
in Druid Hills- Are you the census
man?”
“You just wait, little lady, don t
you move for fifteen mnutes.”
THE WEST GEORGIAN
|[ o hurried away. A sudden reso-
Hution in his face.
When ho came back he lifted his hat
und bowed.
“1 am Clinton Btokoly. Miss 1 rent,
I have your mother’s permission to
lake you to hear Madame Bori sing.
Come, let’s hurry.”
Julc’s eyes opened wide, so did her
mouth.
“Did mother say I might go, hon
est and truly?”
“Sure sho did. Come on-’
“O, my Jimmy Christmas!” cried
Jule. “And I didn’t ovon know 1 was
at the wishing gate when 1 was wish
ing so hard. But a fairy did put it
into your heart to take me, didu t
she?”
“Yes, a little fairy all brown and
gold. ’ ’
“However happened mother to say I
might?” she inquired
“l simply told her I was Clinton
Ntokely, Tom’s very good friend. Be
ing Tom’s friend won the point-”
“(), my jiininy Christmas!” Juilc
forgot her good manners, and stared.
“Then you are Clinton Stokely, the
playwright? Min has been teasing
Tom to bring you to supper. Sho says
lie’s downright mean not to introduce
us to the nicest man he knows.”
“It is kind of your sister to say so,
and if I had known Tom Trent had a
house full of good-looking sisters, I
would have wormed an introduction
out of him before- now.”
When at last they sat under tho spell
of Madame Bori’s wonderful voice,
Jule’s fac-e was wonderful to see.
“O, you little fairy creature,” whis
pered Stokely.
“Gee,” gasped Jule, “I feel all
goose-fleshy! I ’magine I feel just
like Cinderella did when she was wait
ing for the clock to strike twelve. I’m
afraid it will vanish and I’ll find my
self in the park with no fairy prince
in sight. ’ ’
“I’d like to play ‘fairy prince’ to
you often. May I come to see you?”
“O, do you mean to see me?”
“Yes, to sec you and to meet your
mother and those charming sisters.”
“t wish you’d be Nan’s beau. I am
too little to have really, truly beau,
but if you’d be Nan’s it would be nice-
You’d like Nan. I know you would.”
‘‘ I am quite sure I would, since she
is your type.’
“.She’s lots ‘beautifuller” sighed
Jule.
Promptly at six oclock Stokely put
Jule down at the gate of her suburban
home.
“Good-bye, Fairy Prince,” Jule
called amd turned and fled up the walk.
She ran against Minnie coming from
the library.
“What on earth? Jule, are you
wild?”
“Yes, I’m so happy I’m wild.” She
ran into the library, pitched a box of
candy into her mothers lap and grab
bed Nan around the waist, pivoting
around the room till Nan was breath
less.
“Stop it, Jule.” “Tell m 0 what has
happened,” panted Nan.
“I—l went to the park and there a
Fairy Prince found me and carried me
off to Grnad Opera, and I heard Bori
sing. O, Nan, Nan, isn’t she wonder
ful?”
“Why, Jule, you didn’t go anywhere
with a stange man!”
“Listen, mother.”
“He wasn’t a stranger,” defended
Jule. “He was a Fairy Trince and is
going to be my intimate friend.’
“He had my permission,” laughed
Mrs. Trent. “He was no less person
than Clinton Stokely, Tom’s very good
friend ’ ’
, Minnie sank listlessly into a chair.
“Well of all things! For a Suppress
ed Juvenile I call that going some.”
‘‘ We ’ll have to change your name
to Cindorella, Jule,” chorused in Nan.
“All right, I meant to change it
anyway. I’m not going to be a
S ’pressed Juvenile wtoen Mr. Stokely
conies.”
“Who said he was coming?” asked
Minnie, excitedly.
“I did,” replied Jule, looking at
Minnie coldly. “But first of all, he’s
my friend, then lie’s going to be
Nail’s beau. He said he’d like her best,
My dear Serious Sal:
M’y problem is the usual old problem.
I am in love and am asking your ad
vice about something. What can I do
when the boy I worship hardly knows
I exist. I have been told I am nice
looking and am popular enough with
other boys- I have known this boy
about six months and have had a few
dates with him but his indifference to
me is driving mo crazy- Other girls
and boys have told me that this boj
likes me and says nice things about
m e • He is indifferont to just about
everybody since that is his way of
acting. How can I make him notice
mo and cause him to want to go with
mo regularly? I don’t believe X will
o vcr love anyone else as Ido him, so,
please, Serious Sal, help mo solve this
problem.
A WORRIED CO-ED.
You’ll probably feel this same way
about a dozen other boys before the
year is over —co-eds usually do. I
think your trouble is probably that he
was too sure of you. Anyway, since
you aren’t tho only one to whom ho is
indifferent, you shouldn’t feel quite
so down-hearted about it. Maybe if
you would give him a dose of his own
medicine the tables might turn then-
Let things drift along, thank your
lucky stars that you’re popular with
other boys, and give less thought to
the indifferent one who is causing you
so much worry. Pay more attention to
the little blue-eyed boy across the aisle*
from you or the curly-headed boy who
sits behind you in one class and you
may change you r mind completely be
fore you realize it.
Dear Serious Sal:
Tell me a remedy for self-conscious
ness and a feeling of inferiority com
plex. Some of my friends have told
me that I am not bad looking and that
I 'have cute clothes, but still I feel
self-conscious all tli e time that I am
around people, especially boys. I am
usually so timid that I can’t think of
a thing to talk about. I can’t seem
to make friends like other girls do and
I can’t mix with crowds. Will I ever
be able to overcome this awful draw
back? I am writing you because I
have heard of your wonderful ability
to solve all kinds of problems and
think you can help me. Thanks for
your advice.
BLUE EYES.
Well, little Blue Eyes, the best thing
for you to do is to forget yourself
long enough to think about others a
while- I am sure you have a number
of good points which may outnumber
any bad points you may happen to
feel self-conscious about. Wtoy don’t
you cultivate tho friendship of one
girl and then the two of yon can plan
parties, etc- Stay in a crowd lots
and notice other people, forgetting,
labout yourself for th e time being.
Read somo good books so you can be
ablo to carry on a good, intelligent
conversation. Improve your bridge
playing, learn to swim, play tennis and
go out for all kinds of sports and I
think you null find yourself growing
out of self-consciousness gradually.
Dea r Serious Sal:
My problem is quite different from
others that I have read on your page,
but I hope you can be of some aid to
me. I am a rather attractive blond,
a frosliman in college and like to have
a good time with girls and hoys. My
problem is that a boy I go with now
is crazy about me and I only like him
as a friend. I don’t go with anyone
else now because everybody seems to
have the impression that I am in love
with this boy so none of the other
boys ever ask me for dates now. I
like this boy all right and I enjoy go
ing with him but I want to have
other dates and he with other boys
sometimes- JOAN.
You are in a predicament, aren’t
you? I wonder if ther e aren’t some
girls now who are enjoying you be-
cause she’s my type.”
“‘Well, I admire his nerve,” re
torted Nan; but a soft blush crept into
her face and she went over to Jule
and kissed her impulsively.
SERIOUS SAL
cause you have this at loast one boy
in love with you- I think this prob
lem can be easily solved, though. Why
can’t you call up a boy whom you
would like to begin dating and have
him make a fourth in a bridge game
some night. Show him that you enjoy
being with him and make bim have
such a nice time that he will ask to
come back. Have one of your friends
ask someone to date you while you ar e
visiting her. Just bo friendly with the
other boy and be sure that he knows
you aren’t in love with him so he will
understand the situation.
Dear Serious Sal:
I think I have one of the most un
usual cases you have ever heard of.
I am in love, (or 1 think I am) with
an adorable brunette here at West
Georgia. He seems to like me a little.
ll e talks to me and acts as if he really
did like me- Then at times he seems
so indifferent, and doesn’t even know
I exist- He asks me to go places with
him in the day time, but never asks
me for a regular date. And there is
the boy from home who really loves
me. Since I’ve been away at school,
my affection for the home-town lad
has w T aned, and I find myself thinking
of him less and less each day. Now,
here is my trouble: T!he brunette has
found that I have been going with
this home-town boy and thinks that I
am in love with him. The situation is
getting desperate. How must I let tfhe
brunette know that I care for him
and only him?
ANOTHER BRUNETTE CO-ED.
My dear Co-ed:
I must admit you are really in a
jam. Of course, it wouldn’t do to
drop the home-town boy altogether.
Just casually let him know that you
don’t feel the same about him as yon
>once did- It is a good policy to have
many friends, so keep him on
list- Try to make the brunette see
that you really want his friendship.
In a round-about way, you, or one of
your closest friends, can drop a hint
that the local boy doesn mean any
thing to you. Try to do things, and
have things that will induce the bru
nette. That has worked wonders.
My dea r Serious Sal:
Will you give me some advice? I
have been going with a certain boy
since the beginning of school. He has
always seemed to enjoy being around
me. He has asked me for dates all
along, and w e have !had lots of good
times together. Here lately he has
suddenly changed. For what reason
I don’t know. He has given me no
explanation of his actions. I never
date anybody else. So that couldn’t
b e his excuse.
WONDERING.
Dear Wondering:
That’s just the trouble. You have
been going with him so much that
when he stops asking for dates none
of the other boys will ask you for
dates. They think you don’t want
to date anybody but this certain boy-
Now that you are free, be nice to
everyone and pay no attention to thft
young man who has caused you so
much heart trouble.
Cook—“ You are a low down, spine
less jelly fish, and do you know what
I am going to do to you?”
Sam—“ What?”
Cook—“l’m going to break every
bone in your body.”
(It seems that they fell out over a
girl.)
NOT COUNTED
J. T.—“ Darling, am I the first man
you ever loved?”
Kat —“Yes, Smitty, all the others
were fraternity boys.”
BESIDE THE POINT
Keljy—“Congratulate me, dear, I
got the nomination.”
D. W. —“Honestly?”
E. K. —“Why bring that up?”
Father —“Is that young man rather
fast?”
Cricket —“Yes, but I don’t think
that he’ll get away-”
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