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C i by Litll*.Browa.af
twCtch at toe corners of her 1
** Francis, dear,” she. ronf
“1 am afraid you are right. I can
not even look toward the Walled
House without wondering why it
was built—or catch a glimpse of
that dome without stupid guesses
as to what may go on underneath."
“I think very likely,” he said
soothingly, “we have both exagger
ated the seriousness of your fa
ther’s hobbies. We know that he
has a wonderful gymnasium there,
but the only definite rumor I have
ever overheard about the place is
that men fight there who have a
grudge against one another, and
that they are not particular about
the weight of the gloves. That
doesn’t appeal to us, you know,
Margaret but it isn’t criminal. • t
“If that were all 1” she mur
mured.
I I dare say it is,” he declared.
.
London, as you know, is a hot
bed of gossip. Everything that
goes on is ridiculously exaggerated,
and I think that it rather appeals
to your father’s curious sense of
humor.to pose as the law-breaker. »*
She pressed his arm a little. The
day was overcast, a slight rain was
beginning to fall.
>• Francis,” she whispered, “we
had a perfect day here yesterday.
Now the sun has gone and I am
shivery.
He understood in a moment.
“We’ll lunch at Ranelagh,” he
suggested. “It is almost on the way
up. Then we can see what the
weather is like. If it is bad, we
can dine in town tonight and do a
theater.
“You are a dear,” she told him
fervently. “I am going to get
ready.
Francis went round to the garage
for his car and brought it to the
front. While he was sitting, there,
Sir Timothy came through the door
In the wall. He was smoking a
cigar and he was holding an um
brella to protect hfs white flannel
suit. He^-as as usual wonderfully
groomed and turned out, but he
walked as though he were tired, and
his smile, as he greeted Francis,
lacked a little of its light-hearted
mockery.
In the distance they could hear
the sound of hammering on the
other side of thd wall. Francis
moved his head in that direction.
“I hear that they are preparing
for another of your wonderful en
tertainments over there,” he re
marked.
• * On Thursday," Sir Timothy as
sented. “I shall have something to
say to you about It lateppn.”
“Am I to take inrf|ation?” it I am likely
to receive an Francis
asked.
“I should think it possible,” was
the calm reply.
What about Margaret?”
My entertainment would not ap
peal to her,” Sir Timothy declared.
“The women whom I have been in
the habit of asking are not women
of Margaret's type.”
' “And Lady Cynthia?”
Sir Timothy frowned slightly.
“I find myself in some difficult!
as regards Lady Cynthia,” he ad
mitted. am the guardian of no
body’s morals, nor am I the censor
of their tastes, but my entertain
ments are for men. The women
whom I have hitherto asked have
been women in whom I have taken
no personal interest. They are
necessary to form a picturesque
background for my rooms, in the
same way that I look to the garden
ers to supply the floral decorations.
Lady Cynthia’s instincts, however,
are somewhat adventurous. She
would scarcely be content to remain
a decoration.”
“The issuing of your invitations,”
Francis remarked, “is of course a
matter which concerns, nobody else
except yourself. If you do decide
to favor me with one, I shall be de
lighted to come, provided Margaret
has no objection.”,
“Such a reservation promises
well for the future,” Sir Timothy
observed, with gentle sarcasm.
■ Here comes Margaret, looking very
well, I am glad to see.
Margaret came forward to greet
her father before stepping into the
car. They exchanged only a few
sentences, but Francis, whose In
terest in their relations was almost
abnormally keen, fancied that ha
could detect signs of some change
In their demeanor towards one an
other. The cold propriety of de
portment which had characterized
her former attitude toward hen fa
ther, seemed to have given place\to some
something more uncertain, to
thing less formal, something which
left room even for a measure of
cordiality. She looked at him dif
ferently. It was as though some
evil thought which lived in her
heart concerning him had perished.
** You are busy over there, fa
ther?" she asked.
- In a way,” he replied. We are
preparing for some festivities on
Thursday. M
Her face fell.
“Another party? ii
“One more,” he replied. "Per
haps the last—for the present, at
any rate.”
She waited as though expecting
him to explain. He changed the
subject, however.
“I think you are wise to run up
to town this morning,” lie said,
glancing up at the gray skies. “By
the-bye, if you dine at Curzon street
tonight, do ask Hedges to serve you
some of the ’99 Cllquot. A marvel
ous wine, as you doubtless know,
Ledsam, but it should be drunk, Ail
revoir! »»
Francis, after a pleasant lunch at
Raqrlagh, and ha vi ng .arranged
wfth Margaret to- dlfib With her- in
Curzon street, spent an hour or two
that afternoon at bis chambers. As
he was leaving, just before five, he
came face to face with Shopland de
scending from a taxi.
“Are you busy, Mr. Ledsam?” the
latter inquired. “Can you spare
me half an hour?”
“An hour, if you like,” Francis
assented.
Shopland gave the driver an ad
dress and the two men seated them
selves in the taxicab.
Any news?” Francis asked curl
ously.
Not yet,” was the cautious re-.
piy- It will not be long, how
■
ever. r
.. Before you discover Reggie Wil
more?” - -----------.....-V
The detective smiled in a supe
rior way.
-1 I am no longer particularly in
terested in Mr. Reginald Wilmore,”
he declared. “I hawe come to the
conclusion that his disappearance
is not a serious affair.
It’s serious enough for his rela
tives,” “Not Francis objected.
If they understand the sit
uation,” the detective rejoined. “As
sure them from me that nothing of
consequence has happened to that
young man. I have made inquiries
at the gymnasium in Holborn, and
in other directions. I am convinced
that his absence f'om home is vol
untary, ana that t lere is no cause
for alarm as to liis welfare.
"Then the sootuyou make your
way down to Kensington and tell
his mother the better,” Francis said,
a little severely. “Don’t forget that
I put you on to this.
“Quite right, sir,” the detective
acquiesced, “and I am grateful to
you. The fact of it is that in
making my preliminary investiga
tions with regard .to the disappear
ance of Mr. Wilmore, 1 have stum
bled upon a bigger tiling. Before
rmtny weeks are past, I hope to be
able to unearth one of the greatest
scandals of modern times.
“The devil!” Francis muttered.
He looked thoughtfully, almost
anxiously at his companion. Shop
land's face reflected to the full his
usual confidence. He had the air
of a man buoyant with hope and
with stifled self-satisfaction.
> ■ I am engaged,” lie
“upon a study of the methods and
habits of one who I believe to be a
great criminal. I think that when 1
?>lace my prisoner in (he bar, Wnin
wright and these other great artists
in crime will fade from the mem
ory.”
“Is Sir Timothy Brast your
man?” Francis asked quietly.
Hts companion frowned porten
tously.
No names,” he begged.
.. Considering that it was I who
first put you on to him,” Francis
expostulated, “I don’t think you
need be so sparing of your confi
dence. > •
Mr. Ledsam,” the detective as
sured him, "I shall tell you every
thing that is possible. At the same
time, 1 will be frank with you.
You are right when you say that it
was you who first directed my at
tention towards Sir Timothy Brast.
Since that time, however, your re
lations with him, to an onlooker,
have become a little puzzling.”
“I see,” Francis murmured.
“You’ve been spying on me? M
Shopland shook his head In dep
recating fashion.
A study of Sir Timothy during
’the last month,” he said, has
brought you many a time into the
focus.”
Francis for the first time was con
scious of an utterly new sensation
with regard to his companion. He
watched him through half-closed
eyes—an insignificant-looking little
man whose clothes, though neat,
were ill-chosen, and whose tie was
an offense. There was nothing in
the face to denote unusual intelli
gence, b,ut the eyes were small and
cunning and the mouth dogged.
Francis _ looked away out of the
window. A sudden flash of realiza
tion had come to him, a wave of
unreasoning but positive dislike.
When do you hope to bring your
case to an end?” he asked.
The man smiled once more, and
the very smile irritated his com
panion.
tt Within the course of the next
few days, sir,” he replied.
«> And the charge?
The detective turned around.
Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “we have
been old friends, if you will allow
me to use the word, ever since 1
was promoted to my present po
sition in the force. You have trust
ed me with a good many cases, and
I acknowledge myself your debtor,
but in the matter of Sir Timothy
Brast, you will forgive my saying
with all respect, sir, that our ways
seem to lie a little apart. ••
Will you tell me why you have
arrived at thnt conclusion?” Fran
cis asked. “It was 1 who first in
cited you to set a watch upon Sir
Timothy. It was to you f first men
tioned certain suspicions I myself
had with regard to him. I treated
you with every confidence. Why
do you now withhold yours from
me?”
** it Is quite true, Mr. Ledsam, ■
Shopland admitted, “that it was you
who first pointed out Sir Timothy
as an interesting study for my pro
fession, but that was matter of
months ago. If you ill forgive
me saying so, your relations with
Sir Timothy have altered since then.
You have been his guest at the
Sanctuary, and there Is a rumor,
sir—you will pardon md if I seem
to bo taking a liberty—that you
are engaged to be married to hts
daughter. Oliver Viattfih’gjgldfiM."
GRIFFIN DAILY NEWS
~’~rm eetm to be toiertMy ~wet
informed as to my affaire, Shop
land," Francis remarked.
“Only so far as regards Timothy," your as
sociations with Sir was
the deprecating reply. “If you will
excuse me, sir. this is where I
should like to descend.”
<« You have no message for Mr.
Wilmore. then?” Francis asked.
“Nothing definite, sir, but you
can assure him of this: His broth
er is not likely to come to any par
ticular harm. I have no absolute
information to offer, but if is my im
pression be that Mr. Reginald Wilmore
will home before a week is past.
Good afternoon, sir.”
Shopland stepped out of the taxi
cab and, raising his hat, walked
quietly away. Franks directed the
man to drive to Claries street. As
they drove off he^as conscious of
a folded piece of paper in the cor
ner where his late companion had
been seated. He picked it up,
opened it, realized that it wns a let
ter from a firm of lawyers, ad
dressed to Shopland, and deliberate
ly read It through. It was dated
from a small town not far from
Hatch End:
Dear Sir:
Mr. John Phillips of this firm, who
Is coroner for the district, has de
sired me to answer the enquiry con
tained in your official letter .of the
13th. The number of bodies recov
ered from the Thames In the neigh
borhood to which you allude, dur
ing the present these year, has been seven.
Four of have been identified.
Concerning the remaining three
nothing has ever been heard. Such
particulars as are -on our file will be
available to any accredited repre
sentative of the police at any time.
Faithfully PHIiXlPS yanra, _ __,
& SON. •
The taxicab came to a sudden
stop. Francis glanced up. Very
breathless, opland put his head
in at the window.
“I dropped a letter,” he gasped.
Francis folded It up and handed
It to him.
“What about these three uniden
tified people, Shopland?” He. asked,
looking at him intently.
The man frowned angrily. There
was a note of defiance in his tone
as he stowed the letter away in
his poeketbook. '
“There were two men and one
woman,” he replied, “all three of
the upper classes. The bodies were
recovered from Wilson’s lock, some
three hundred yards from the
Walled House.”
Do they form part of your case?”
Francis persisted.
Shopland stepped back.
“Mr. ^.edsam,” he said, “I told
you some little time ago that so far
as this particular case was con
cerned I had no confidences to
Share with you. I am sorry that
you saw that letter. Since you did,
however, I-hope you will not take
l
“Mr. Ledsam," He Said, Told
You Some Little Time Ago That
So Far as This Particular Case
Was Concerned, I Had No Confi
dences to Share With You.”
it as a liberty from one in my po
sition if I advise you most strenu
ously to do nothing which might
impede the course of the law. Good
day, sir!
CHAPTER XIV
F RANCIS, hour before in that dinner pleasant which half- he
spent in Margaret’s sitting-room,
spoke to her of her father’s kind
ness to the carter's horse, of the
dogs’ home near Wardour street.
She listened sympathetically to his
description of the place.
“I am not in any way surprised
at the incident," she remarked.
“My father spends nt least an hour
every day, when he is down at
Hatch End, amongst the horses, and
every time a fresh crock, is Jbnmght
down, he is as interested as though
It were a new toy.”
“It is a remarkable trait In a very
remarkable character," Francis
commented.
tt I could tell you many things that
would surprise you,” Margaret con
tinued. “One night, for Instance,
when we were staying at the Sanc
tuary, he and I were going eut to
dine with some neighbors- and he
heard a cat mewing In the hedge
somewhere. He stopped the car,
got out himself, found that the cat
had been caught in a trap, released
It, and sent me on to the dinner
alone whilst he took the animal
back to the veterinary surgeon at
the Walled House. He was simply
white with fury whilst he was tying
up the poor thing’s leg. I couldn't
help HsWng him what he would
have done if he could have found
the farmer who set the trap. He
looked up at me, and I was almost
frightened. ‘I should have killed
him,’ he said—and I believe he
meant it. And, Francis, the next
day we were motoring to London
and saw a terrible accident. A mo
tor bicyclist came down n side road
at full speed and ran into a motor
lorry. My father got out of the
car, helped them lift the body from
under the wheels of the lorry, and
came back absolutely unmoved.
'Serve the silly young fool right!’
was his only remark. He was so
horribly callous that I could scarce
ly bear to Bit by hl» ride. Do you
understand that
;
lint easy,* he admitted.
There was a knocfcr’at the door.
Margaret glanced at the clock.
<< Surely dinner can't be served
alreadyshe exclaimed. Come
In.”
Very much to their surprise, it
was Sir Timothy himself who en
tered. He was in evening dress and
wearing several orders, one of
which Francis noted with surprise.
“My apologies,” he sold. "Hedges
told me that there were cocktails
here, and as I am on my way to a
rather weary dinner, I thought I
might Inflict myself upon you for a
moment."
Margaret arose at once to her
feet.
“I am a shocking hostess,” she
declared. "Hedges brought the
things in twenty minutes ago. ■i
She took up the silver receptacle,
shook it vigorously and filled three
glasses. Sir Timothy accepted his
and bowed to them both.
“My best wishes,” he said. “Real
ly, when one comes to think of it,
however much it may be against my
Inclinations I scarcely see how I
sfyfll sent. be I believe able to thut withhold both my have con
you
at heart the flair for domesticity.
This little picture, and the thought
of your tete-a-tete dinner, almost
touches me.
“Don’t make fun of us, father,
Margaret begged. “Tell us where
you are going in all that splendor?"
* Sir Timothy shrugged his shoul
ders.
"A month or so ago,” he ex
plained, "I was chosen to Induct a
scion of royalty into the under
standing of fighting as it Is indulged
in at the National Sporting club.
Tills, I suppose, Is my reward—an
invitation to something in the na
ture of a state dinner, which to tell
you the truth, 1 had forgotten until
my secretary pointed it out to me
this afternoon. I have grave fears
of my being bored or of misbehav
ing myself. I have, as Ledsam here
knows, a distressing iiabit of truth
fulness, especially to new acquaint
ances. However, we must hope for
the best. By-tlie-bye, Ledsam. in
case you should have forgotten, I
have spoken to Hedges about the
’99 Cliquot.” , ;
“Shall we see you later?” Mar
garet asked, after Francis had mur
mured his thanks.
“I shall probably return direct to
Hatch End,” Sir Timothy replied.
“There are various little matters
down there which are Interesting
me just now—preparatory to my
party. Au revoir! A delicious
cocktail, but I am inclined to resent
the Angostura."
He sauntered out, after a glance
at the clock. They heard his foot
steps as he descended the stair's.
“Tell me, what manner of a man
is father?” Francis asked im-
pulsively............................................................
“I am his daughter and I do not
know,” Margaret answered. “Be
fore he came, I was going to speak
to you of a strange misunderstand
ing which has existed between us
and which has just been removed.
Now I have a fancy to leave it Until
later. You will not mind?”
“When you choose,” Francis as
sented. “Nothing will make any dif
ference. We are past the days when
fathers count seriously .in the things
that exist between two people like
you and mej who have fek life.
Whatever your father may be, what
ever he may turn out to be, you
are tire woman I love—you are the
woman who is going to be my wife.”
She leaned toward him for a mo
ment. *
j “You have an amazing gift,” she
' whispered, “of saying just the tiling
one loves to hear in the Way that
convinces.
Dinner was served to them in the
smaller of the two dining-rooms, an
exquisite meal, made more wonder
ful still by the wine, which Hedges
himself dispensed with jealous care.
The presence of servants, with its
restraining influence upon conversa
tion, was not altogether unwelcome
to Francis. He and Margaret had
had so little opportunity for general
conversation that to discuss other
than personal subjects in this pleas
ant, leisurely way had its charm.
They spoke of music, of which she
knew far more than he; of foreign 1
travel, where they met on common
ground, for each had only the tour
ist’s knowledge of Europe, and each
was anxious for a more individual
acquaintance with it. She had
tastes in books which delighted him,
a knowledge of games which prom
ised a common resource. It was only
whilst they were talking that he
she realized how with few a shock the how that young
was, years lay
between her serene school days and
the tempestuous years of her mar
ried life. Her school days in Naples
were most redolent of delightful
memories. She broke off once or
twice into the language, and he lis
tened with delight to her soft ac
cent. Finally the time came when
dessert was set upon the table.
“I have ordered coffee up in the
little sitting room again," she said,
a little shyly. “Do you mind, or
would you rather have If here?'”
“I much prefer it there,” he as-
sured her.
They sat before an open window,
looking out upon some elm trees in
the boughs of which town sparrows
twittered, and with a background of
roofs and chimneys. Margaret’a
coffee was untasted, even her ciga
rette lay unlit by her side. There
was a touch of the old horror upon
her face. The fingers which lie
drew into his were as cold as Ice.
“You must have wondered some
times,” she began, “why I ever mar
ried Oliver Hildttch.”
“You were very young,” he re
minded her, with a little shiver.
“and very Inexperienced. I suppose
he appealed to you in some way or
another. »*
“It wasn't that,” she replied. "He
came to visit me at Eastbourne, and
he certainly knew all the tricks of
making himself attractive and
agreeable. But he never won xny
heart—he never even seriously took
my fancy. I married him because I
believed that by doing so I was
obeying my father’s wishes.”
"Where was your father at the
time, then?" Francis asked.
"In South America. Oliver Hlk
ditch was nothing more than a dit
charged employee of hte, discharget
for dishonesty. He had to leava
South America within a week to es
cape prosecution, concocted and on the way to
Europe he the plot which
yery .pearly ruined joy_.life. He
(To b« continued)
t •
mmmmmmmm
Our Daily Story
Water From His
Canteen
By ANTHONY REIMERT
Holding the sheriff's five-year-old
boy before him on the saddle, the
Kid had dashed through the encir
cling posse and won his way to
safety. Not a man had dared to
fire.
It had been a daring and spec
tacular move, this of the Kid, bad
man, multiple piurderer, stealing
the sheriff’s child at dawn from
his own house and dashing away.
There was not a horse that could
overtake the Kid’s in flight. The.
Kid was safe once he put the moun
tain pass behind him.
And, once across the ninety-mile
stretch of desert, he was safe from
pursuit
The Kid drew rein at last, and
for the first time cast a glance at
the sleeping child he carried. He
was a fair-haired little boy. Some
thing leaped into the Kid’s heart.
Bad man though he was, there had
once been a time—shucks, he didn’t
want to think of that I Only the
Kid was so absolutely like Marne’s
child, the little boy that should by
rights have been his, if Mame
hadn’t gone back on him and start
ed him down the long, very long
road.
He rode on. The child awoke
and cried in the stranger’s arms.
The Kid drew his slicker over the
kid’s face, shielding him from the
sun. They were entering the dee
ert now. He poured a little water
from libs canteen down the kid’s
Id^Oe C0ffif0rt *
The ninety miles were a long dis
tance and tire well was very far.
Even the child’s additional slight
weight was u handicap. The sun
glared down more fiercely. Again
the child awoke. He cried for wa
ter. The Kid poured him out a lib
eral drink, and he drank it greedily.
The Kid looked at his canteen.
The water problem was one thing
that he had not considered, fie
poured a few drops down his own
parched throat. He urged on his
tired horse. Only half the dis
tance covered, and the heat was
fearful. The sweat had all but
ceased to flow from his pores. The
Kid felt burning to a cinder.
The child was awake now, and
w hining continuously. He stretched
out his hands. The Kid refused to
look. He refused to listen. He
kept his eyes fixed on the faint blue
ridge against the distant sky that
was his
Suddenly the horse stumbled. It
regained its feet and stood with
heaving flanks and drooping head.
The Kid. with the kid in his arms,
slipped from its back.
The horse slipped to its knees.
It lay on the sand. The spurt, the
long run, combined with the lack of
water, had finished it. Already its
eyes were glazing.
The Kid, who was merciful to
his beast, having ascertained that
there was no hope, put a bullet
through its brain.
The child was moaning feebly.
He looked at his canteen. Just
enough to take him afoot to the
well. Not enough for two. slick-| t
Wrapping the child in his
er, he deposited it in the shadow i
cast and started. by the body of the dead horse, j
“Reckon he’ll live till the posse
finds him,” he mumbled.
He walked unsteadily on. His
throat was burning. He stopped
and took down (jfis canteen. He
raised It to his lips. He let it fall
with a curse. Why was he think
ing of Mame and that boy of hers?
An oath broke from him. Again
he raised the canteen. Again he
lowered it.
* Then, with sudden, resolute steps,
he strode back to the child. It lay
upon its back, moaning feebly. The
kid poured a long drink down its
throat
It was odd how, with that, his
own torture seemed to decrease, the
burning pain to become less unbear
able.
All through the long afternoon
the Kid poured the contents of the
canteen, little by little, down the
bid’s throat.
“Thunder! fit The sheriff sprang
to the ground and snatched up his
child. It was alive. It knew him
and snuggled up to him. He poured
water down Its throat. He had no
eyes for the dead man beside iL
“Sheriff! One of the posse
touched him on the arm. "He died
of thirst. Burned out And the
child—’’
“My God!” the sheriff muttered,
fighting back the tears.*'
(<S). 1924, Western Newspaper Union.)
The average age of a clergyman
jn the Church of England is said
to be 60.
SENORITA EVA PLATT
£
■: •;
J
/ : ;■•'?*!
:• ••
. Ov -
jb&jK Wm
%
J
8enorlta Eva Platt received a
million and a half votes In a beau
ty contest held under the auspices
of s Mexico City newspaper, win
ning the title of most beautiful girl
in Mexloo. 8h r comes from the
state of 8onora.
— ■MM
T?iirc*
(Continued from Si Page 3)
possible. We are also trying to
sustain our • reputation for excel
lent deportment.
Sixth Grade B.
In our grade we are striving
to have perfect order.
Those that were perfect in or
der are O. D. Adams, Jack Bow
den, Neary Buckner, Wil
lie Cox, Elizabeth Collier, Mary
Crenshaw, Gordon Futral, Irene
Golden, Reba Jones, Cecil Putman,
Mary Turner, Lovie Thaxton, and
Blondine Underwood.
Tuseday we held our presiden
tial election. The men in the race
were Calvin Coolidge, John W.
Davis and Robert La Follette.
Our class voted for and elected
Davis, Davis had 36 and Cool
idge 4.
MILLER GRANT,
Class Reporter,
Sixth Grade A . v!
Last Friday we had a Hallowe
en program in our class, which we
u enjoved nJOytU verv very roueh rouen ’ Thoso ln08e tak lak _
ing part on the program were Jo
I Hem P hi ”. Elizabeth Yar
brough, Sarah Lou Byrd, Mollis
sa Patrick, Louise Smith, Martha
Henslee, Charlotte Tyus, James
Pailey and Frank Lindsey. Molisa
sa Patrick brought a real pump
kin, fixed as a jack-o-lantern and
it, together with the spooky ghost
stories told by several in the class,
made us glad we didn’t have to
wait until dark to go home.
CHARLOTTE TYUS,
Class Reporter.
Seventh Grade B.
This class has been standing
monthly tests during the past
week.
MILLARD SMITH,
Class Reporter.
Seventh Grade A.
This class has been trying to
reach a grade average of 100 per
cent in spelling per pupil for
the month of October, but so far
only the writer has succeeded.
However, 17 out of 35 have made
A this month.
Another aim of this class, is to
make 100 per cent in attendance,
and ... thls P**t week the has
score
been made,
NELLE ENGLISH,
Sam Bailey School Reporter.
NORTHSIDE.
The boys of Northside were de
lighted with the new football
which was purchased this week
for the school.
We Sincerely regret that illness
prevented Miss Stallworth from
being present Tuesday and Wed
nesday, but welcomed Mrs. H. P.
Powell, who taught during her ab
sence.
Friday being circus day in Grif
fin, the children were very en
thusiastic over being able to con
tribute to the parade with the
animals they made Wednesday up
der Miss Flemister’s direction. The
first grades made elephants; the
second monkeys holding balloons;
the third lions in cages; We hope
every one saw the menagerie.
Third Grade A.
The pupils of third grade A en
joy thoroughly the stories in the
new Elson Reader, This book
goes hand in hand with the Elson
Good English, adopted two years
ago, and a great deal of the work
can be nicely correlated.
Edna Belle Oates has the honor
of being the only pupil in the
class having made t wo headmarks
so far in spelling.
Third Grade B.
Third grade B has done some
good work in penmanship this
week and is doing nicely with the
arm movement.
In “Good English” we are learn
mg a poem, I. Wynken, Blynken
and Nod,” which the children have
enjoyed.
Willie Cook has a star in spell
ing this week.
Tuesday in "Good English,”
Lewis Miller wrote’ this sentence
on the board to illustraty? the use
of I as a word: “When I went
home today I had a fight.” After
school that day, the first thing
that greeted the teacher was a
fight between Lewis and Wayne
McKneely. Wayne said, "Miss
Mary, I just wanted to
is’ sentence true."
■; .v Ip
FOURTH WARD SCHOOL
The second grade children are
very glad to have two of their
former school mates back with
them, Mary Langford, who moved
to Florida in September and on
account of sickness, joined us
this week. For two weeks we
have not had any children tardy.
Second Grade A. /..||
In our arithmetic match this
week Opal Putman led the entire
grade in rapid answering of com
binations up to twenty. Her name
was placed on the honor roll in
arithmetic to remain there u
some member of the class i
ceeds in having his name repl
Opal Putman's by being able
give the answers to the combina
tions more rapidly.
Several members of the class
have challenged Opal Putman for
another race next week. ..
Third Grade.
Do you know that we have an
R.O.T.C. at the Fourth Ward m
School? Yes, the third grade is
a military room, only the govern
ment doesn’t furnish our boys with
uniforms and we don’t have to
come back to school afternoons.
Each month, six captains are
elected by popular vote. They in
turn select six lieutenants. This
gives two officers to each section.
They are responsible for the law
and order of their respective dom
panies, have charge of the water
line, pass the paper baskets, and
use brooms and dust cloths when
needed. "£k
This past month Capt. Margaret
Mitchell has served with Lieut.
Eugene Banks; Anne Scott Gunter
and Oliver Sholl; Ruth Austin
Cedi Sofley; Marion Slade-
Felton Jones, Eleanor Brisc; ,B -
and Ben Stuckey.
We also had an election day n
fourth to see about a prt
dent for the United States i f
America. After our teacher ha i
talked and explained it all, s o
said, “Now children, who is the
democratic candidate for presi
dent?” and before any of the girls
could answer a boy hollowed out:
“Mr. Gumming. *1
Half holiday Friday for the cir
cus. We hope the crowd all got
to go and had a good time.
34 CHILDREN.
Report of the Fifth Grade. v
We appreciate Mr. Lester’s
letting ub out in time to see the
parade and the half holiday. Those
who made headmarks in spelling
this week are Winifred Wilborn,
Elerson Jenkin.-, Jessie Milam, Za
ra Westmoreland and Malcolm
Newman.
In the arithmetic match the
boys are 22 and the girls 31.
We had only one tardy this
week.
The children enjoyed the story
that Mr. Jones read us the other
day.
The name of the story was “The
Negro Excursion.” .
WINNIFRED* WILBORN,
Reporter.
Seventh Grade.
The seventh grade has had ne
tardies this week and only one
pupil abseht. This is remarkably
considering Friday being circus
day.
Friday this school let out at
10:25 on account of Sparks cir
cus. We all enjoyed the holiday
and wish to thank out benefactor,
Mr. Lester.
MARGUERITE POWELL,
Reporter.
Sixth Grade M.
Those who made a perfect rec
ord for the week in spelling are
Marie Pannell, Joe Caldwell and
Nashli George.
James Cook’s name has been oil
this roll since its beginning un
til this week. He missed a word
this time, the only one since we’ve
had the record. We are proudeof
his work.
Our grade is enjoying the prac
tice tests in arithmetic we began
recently. m MS®
ETTA JONES,
Rep *