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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-” PAGE FOUR