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W. N.U. S E R V I c E J!», fV
CHAPTER II
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! "What!” Joe exclaimed. Their
mother looked up, with her ready
tut-tutting noise.
“It’s a terrible winter; there’s
many worse off than ourselves,”
Mrs. Carscadden said, vaguely
> moralizing.
“We’re going to be bad enough
off,” Joe told his mother, darkly,
going on with his meal.
! “Sheila, they never fired you!”
Angela’s grieved, sweet little voice
said sadly.
; “Indeed they did, then. He said
I was too fresh.”
1 Mrs. Carscadden was pouring tea
in her turn. She looked at her daugh
ter patiently.
“You’d be saucy to the boss,” she
observed mildly.
“Oh, well, this is only Wednesday,
and I’m there till Saturday,” Sheila
said lazily.
“There’s hard times coming to
this city that you don’t know the
meaning of,” Joe observed, without
looking up.
“But you’ll get another job, Joe,”
Angela said, anxiously.
“Oh, sure I will!” he answered,
glancing up with an effort. “But it
gripes me,” he added resentfully,
“to have Sheila here act as if it
was all a joke.”
“Well, it is,” Sheila assured him,
good-naturedly.
She was relaxed and lazy, her
senses dulled by the food and
warmth and leisure into a pleasant
sort of torpor.
Joe looked at her, and her blue
and-cream-and-copper beauty blazed
back at him like a star. There was
a faint stain of color in her cheeks
now, her eyes smoldered with smoky
sapphire shadows, the film of silky
hair was sprayed once more across
her forehead.
“Sure, I’ll get a job, all right,”
Joe grumbled, mollified. He was
secretly proud of Sheila and even
comforted, deep in his heart, by the
spirit she showed. But he was tired,
angry jobless, young and in love.
He thought of Cecilia.
As if she read his thoughts—in
deed, she often seemed to do so—
Sheila’s next words were of Cecilia.
“We came home together, Cecilia
and I.”
“None of you’ll ever know the
har’rd times I’ve known,” the moth
er’s voice said, dreamily.
“I’m going down to see her, now.”
“Going to tell her, Joe?”
“Ford,” Joe said, brooding,
“asked me would I take a steward’s
job on a fruit boat. A swell chance!”
“Oh, heavens, what fun!” Sheila
exclaimed, her eyes dancing.
“Forty a month,” he muttered.
“But all your expenses, Joe!”
“I turned it down. I’m going to
get forty a week, or nothing,” he
said stubbornly.
“Eight pound a month would be
big money, at home,” Mrs. Cars
cadden mused.
“Mrs. Carscadden, me dear’r,”
said a gentle voice at the door. A
neighbor had unceremoniously
opened it. “Mrs. Bur'rke—” she an
nounced apologetically.
“Oh, God help the poor soul—and
me ating me supper!” the other
woman exclaimed, instantly rising,
llmmediately she was gone, and Joe
had disappeared, too, leaping down
stairs on his long legs, to see his
IIIIIIIIIIHIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIiniIIIiIIIHIIIIIIIin
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Wallace Beery—John Howard—Dolores Del Rio
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“SON OF THE NAVY”
JEAN PARKER—JAMES DUNN
Cecilia.
Sheila and Angela finished their
tea peacefully, cleared the kitchen
and then sat on lazily, chatting,
laughing.
“Oh, wait until I show you my
new purse, Angela!”
Sheila went to get it. She re
turned to the kitchen and put it into
her sister’s hands, and Angela
turned the dark smooth beauty of
the leather back and forth admir
ingly.
“Guess what I paid for it. Ten
cents.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did. At the rummage sale at
St. Leo’s. I went in there at noon.”
“Ten cents!”
“It has initials on it—they’re in
side. That’s why it was cheap. But
what do I care about that? I’ll bet
it cost a lot, once.”
Angela opened the flap, looked at
the three initials. ,
“G. C. K.,” she read aloud, and
then a number on East Eighty
eighth Street.
“Sheila, what do you suppose it
feels like?”
“To be rich?”
“Well. To have everything.”
“Here’s what I was thinking,”
Sheila said, and hesitated again. “I
was thinking,” she pursued, “that—
bt n if
w I F* Jr
to!***! \/ /
HUA
“Prayer,” Angela answered
instantly.
that there must be something—
something in some girls that makes
them different from the others—that
lifts them out—out of it.”
“Out of what?” Angela asked in
tently.
“Well, everything. Poverty, hard
work—this,” Sheila answered, with
a gesture that included the kitchen,
and the poor apartment, and the
house that contained them. “Lots
of the women who are rich today
were poor once; they were office
girls once,” she explained. “What I
want to know is, what got them out
of it, what changed things?”
“Prayer,” Angela answered in
stantly.
“Oh, prayer! I might have known
you’d say prayer!” Sheila ex-
EARLY COUNTY NEWS, BLAKELY, GEORGIA
claimed, disappointed. Tears stood
in her laughing eyes. “But I mean
something else than prayer,” she
explained.
“There is nothing else but pray
er,” Angela stated solemnly.
“You can’t tell me that all the
rich women whose pictures are in
the society sections on Sundays got
there by prayer!”
“Oh, no, Sheila, of course not.
But what have they got, after all?
How much does the honor and glory
of God—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Sheila
interrupted. And suddenly covering
her face with her hands, she was
crying.
Angela knew these tears. The
stormy, brilliant older sister gave
way to them almost as readily as to
laughter, if less often. But they
always wrung Angela’s heart, nev
ertheless.
Presently Sheila stopped crying
as abruptly as she had begun and,
straightening up, dried her eyes
firmly, sniffed, gulped, and smiled
at her sister. '
“This girl,” she said, touching the
blue purse and speaking in a voice
made rich and thick from tears,
“this girl probably spends three
months in the country every year. If
she meets a man, all she has to do
is ask him to come to dinner. Chick
en, ice cream, clean tablecloth—she
has ’em every day. If I meet a man
I like, what break do I get? I don’t
even know his last name!”
“You mean Peter?” Angela asked,
timidly.
“Peter —what?” Sheila said, blow
ing her nose again, looking defiantly
at her sister, with a reddened nose
and wet eyes. “I met him my last
night of vacation, at a barbecue. I
had to leave next morning. There
are seven million people in this city;
there are five hundred thousand
women working. A swell chance I
have of ever finding him again!”
Angela’s expression was one of in
finite distress. But she spoke cou
rageously.
“God could do it.”
“Well, then, why doesn’t He?” the
other girl demanded. “I walk up a
different street every day at noon.
I look at every boy I see in the
subway. I’ve never seen him.”
“Maybe you do too much,” Angela
suggested unexpectedly. “Maybe
you ought to just—trust.”
“And then he’d open the door of
the kitchen and put his head in?”
“It mightn’t—happen that way.”
“How would it happen?”
“In some way we couldn’t see
coming, Sheila.” Angela was very
serious. Sheila stared at her: spoke
impulsively.
“Well, will you pray about it, An
gela, if I stop?”
“I am praying about it!” Angela
said, her cheeks red.
“What, now?”
“Right now. And I’m remember
ing,” said Angela, “that without this
kitchen door opening—without any
one coming in—it could begin.”
There was a pause. “It’s one min
ute to nine,” Sheila said, then yawn
ing and smiling and stretching, “and
when the clock strikes, I’m going to
bed.”
The kitchen door did not open;
there was no telephone to ring; the
radio was still. Yet, before the
clock struck, the beginning of the
miracle was upon them, and the
current of Sheila Carscadden’s life
had changed forever. Long after
ward, she was to look back upon
this quiet evening with Angela, look
back upon the rebellious, copper
headed girl who had been laughing
and crying in the chair opposite An
gela, and ask herself, if she could
call back that too-potent prayer
from her innocent little sister,
whether she would do so or no.
The seconds ticked by. Angela
was handling the blue morocco
purse.
“There was a blue coat for
twelve,” Sheila said. She yawned
again, made a movement toward
rising.
“Sheila!” Angela said. “Look!”
In her fingers were green bills;
she spread them on the table. Two
twenties and a ten.
“Where—what—?” Sheila stam
mered, stupefied.
“They were in the purse—right
here, in this little inside pocket, fold
ed tight.”
“They weren’t!”
“But they were.”
“Heavenly day!” Sheila said, sit
ting down again.
“Your coat!” Angela exclaimed
with an exultant laugh.
“Oh, and everything—Oh, Angela,
what luck! Angela, fifty dollars—
for ten cents!”
They were still rejoicing and mar
veling, still spreading and inspect
ing and handling the money, five
minutes later, when their mother
came back.
Mrs. Carscadden looked tired, as
indeed she well might: she was pale,
her hair and gown disordered, her
face wet with sweat. But her eyes
shone with the mystic light of the
priestess who has been officiating
at the oldest of earth’s mysteries.
“Well, the Bur-rkes’ve got their
boy!” she observed, sitting down '
heavily, and wiping her forehead.
“Now maybe they’ll make a little
fuss over their ger’rls. Light the
kettle there, Sheila—l’ve been weak
for a cup of tay this hour gone.”
The girls spread their treasure be
fore her amazed eyes; her look
tightened.
“It’s well you have their street
number there, that you can take it
back to them and not I’ave anny of
the rummage sale ger’rls forget to
retur’rn it,” she observed instantly.
“Mamma, it’s hers'!”
Mrs. Carscadden’s brow clouded.
“You’ll take it back, of course,
Sheila,” she said.
“Listen, Mamma—”
Ponderously, Mrs. Carscadden re
turned from the stove with the new
boiling kettle, poured the hot water
upon the cool tea leaves in the emp
ty pot.
“Save your breath, Sheila,” she
directed. “We’ll have no stealin’
here, thanks be to the glory of
God!”
She stirred her tea, took a heart
ening sip, and pushed the hair from
her wet forehead with a great clum
sy hand that was like a caricature
of Shelia’s fine, square, young one.
“If there’s annything cud make
widowhood light to ye, it’d be seein’
a ger’rl in that fix!” she muttered.
Immediately she perceived that
there was small sympathy in the
air, and reverted to the moment’s
problem again.
“What’s that street number
there, Angela?”
Angela reluctantly consulted the 1
purse, read out the number.
“Is that annywheres near where j
you work, Sheila?”
“No, ma’am,” Sheila answered re- ■
spectfully, but with bitterness in’
her tone. “It’s way up on the East i
Side.”
“But you cud get up there tomor
row, dear?”
“Sheila was silent for a full min
ute, during which she looked down
at her own fingers, twisting the
purse.
“Listen, Mamma, I bought this!”
she burst out presently.
“Now, that’s no way to talk, Shei
la,” her mother murmured, unruf
fled.
“But Mamma, I bought it. If a
girl is such a fool that she gives
away a purse with money in it,
doesn’t she give away the money as
well as the purse? Doesn’t she,
Ma?” v
“Doesn’t she?” Angela echoed ea
gerly.
“That’s the devil timptin’ ye,”
Mrs. Carscadden said, inflexibly, but
gently, as to a persistent child.
“That’s no way to talk.”
“It’s a perfectly sensible way to
talk,” Sheila muttered, under her
breath.
“No, dear, it’s her money. It’s
not yours.”
“Mamma, how many people do
you suppose would take it back?”
This kind of sophistry got nowhere
with Mrs. Carscadden. She had nev
er read a book of philosophy or
theology, but she was sure of her
ground here.
“That has nothing to do with it,
lovey.”
“Mamma, listen. They’re proba
bly rich people—this came from Tif
fany’s. She’s forgotten it a hun
dred times.”
Silence. Sheila opened, shut,
snapped, reopened the bag, before
adding:
“If Joe says it’s all right, can I
keep it? Listen, Mamma, I’ll not
waste it, honest I won’t. There was
a coat at the rummage today that
would save money.—l’d wear it two
years, I’d wear it three years—”
The mother did not speak. She
looked up from her tea, looked down
again.
“No wonder we’re poor!” Sheila
said angrily, “if we can throw mon
ey away like this!”
“Mother,” Angela said earnestly,
her hands clasped imploringly, her
flower-like face pale with emotion.
“Mightn’t God intend Sheila to have
it?”
“No, dear He’d never intind an
nyone should have stolen goods.”
“Stolen!” Sheila said hotly, and
was still.
Joe came in; they consulted Joe.
And Joe said of course the fifty had
to go back. Sheila sat on the arm
of his chair, and wept, but she knew
there was no gainsaying Joe’s de
cision. They were all “said” by
Joe; even Neely and Marg’ret, mar
ried and gone, still came back some
times to ask advice of wise, gentle,
clever Joe.
"Because, look here, Sheila,” Joe
reasoned, “suppose it had been a
diamond ring?”
“Well, it isn’t, Joe.”
“No, I know it isn’t. But suppose
it had been a diamond ring in that
same little pocket, what then?”
“I’d think lucky her that had a
diamond to lose!” Sheila persisted
stubbornly. But she was beaten,
and she knew it. “It makes me cry,
thinking of my blue coat!” she said.
“Let me buy your coat for you.”
“You, Joe!” She kissed the rough
hard young face. “You that have
lost your job, and want to marry
Cecilia!” she mourned, rubbing her
cheek against his.
“Celie’s been crying, too,” he
said, in his good-humored patient
way. “It’s your turn, Ma.”
“There wds weeks I fed the lot of
ye on syrup and oatmale,” Mrs.
Carscadden observed, unalarmed
“I guess the bad times won’t come
to that.”
“Why, no, because we have each
other!” Angela exclaimed, in her
soft, ecstatic voice.
On the morning after the eventful
day of the lost jobs and the discov
ered money, they all breakfasted to
gether, and once again Sheila re
turned to the attack.
“Listen, Ma, supposing I go to
this Eighty-eighth Street place, say,
Saturday afternoon. It’ll be my last
morning at the office, and I’ll be
free after one. And supposing that
some butler or somebody won’t let
me in to see this “G. C. K.,” who
ever she is, and suppose they’re
nasty to me. Then am I to hand it i
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The place where quality counts—
The place where goods are fresh—
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over to somebody who'll pocket It
themselves?”
“It’d be no sin on your soul if they
did,” Mrs. Carscadden answered
readily.
“I’ll tell you what!” Sheila sud
denly exclaimed. “I’ll get myself
up—well, you wait!”
Her eyes were dancing.
“I’ll fix ’em I’ll bet I get my blue
coat!” she said.
“Sheila, how?” Angela demanded,
eagerly. But Sheila would only
laugh, and made no answer.
That evening, immediately after
dinner, when Joe and Angela and
Mrs. Carscadden were lingering
over the remains of the meal, Sheila
suddenly appeared in the bedroom
door. Or rather, someone appeared
who must be Sheila, but who was
not instantly identified even by her
mother, brother and sister.
She had strained her hair back
from her always rather pale face,
which was devoid of powder or lip
red, and looked young and pathetic.
She wore an old black dress of An
gela’s that was scanty and tight on
her more generous figure.
“Me mamma and papa is dead,
and I wor’rks for a lady that bates
me,” she said, in the soft, pathetic
accents of County Mayo. “I found
the little purse, and sure I fought at
fir’rst I cud pay me doctor’s bills
wit’ it. But thin I rimimbered that
there’d be no blessin’ whatsoiver on
that—”
The appreciative laughter of Joe
and Angela interrupted the pitiful
story. Even Mrs. Carscadden
laughed. But immediately her face
sobered into a sort of scandalized
pride in this prodigy who was her
child, her rebellious daughter.
(continued)
HOWARD’S MILL
Mr. and Mrs. E. Z. Hill, of Donal
sonville, spent Sunday with Mr. and
Mrs. Emmett Hill.
Mrs. Ozella Pierce, of Center
Hill, Fla., is spending the summer
months with her son, Mr. C. L.
Pierce.
Mr. Robert Forrest spent Saturday
night with his friend, Mr. Cooper
McLendon.
Mr. A. J. Donley, of Donalsonville,
was in our burg Sunday afternoon.
Roy Pierce returned home Satur
day, after spending the week with
his grandmother in Donalsonville.
Messrs. J. A. Howard, J. E. Bar
field and Henry Culpepper were vis
iting in Delwood, Fla., Sunday.
Mrs. J. H. Williams and daughter,
Lillian, dined Sunday with Mrs. J.
E. Barfield.
Dunking School
Evelyn Orr, a Los Angeles de
partment store salesgirl, read that
dunking is good etiquette if you do
it right, and persuaded one of the
big doughnut companies to establish
a school of dunking, declares the
American Magazine. She has
taught over 2,000 dainty dunkers
successfully—but bearded men have
trouble.
Hat Excuses Speeder
Miss Julie Welton of San Fran
cisco, appearing before a judge on
a charge of reckless driving, plead
ed that it was all the fault of her
latest style trick hat which obstruct
ed her view and caused a collision.
The judge took one look at the hat
and ruled: “You win; it certainly
must have been the hat.”
DEPARTMENT OF BUSINESS,
ANDREW COLLEGE— WiII open its
bookkeeping and accounting, and
its shorthand and typing depart
ments to men and women on June
fourth. These departments fully pre
pare you for bookkeeping, steno
graphic, secretarial, and executive
positions. Special attention given
deficiencies in arithmetic, spelling,
penmanship, and business English.
Regular fall term begins September
17th. Write at once for particulars.
Address: O. H. McLENDON, Direc
tor, Box 235, Cuthert, Ga. 4-11-8 t
CITATION
GEORGIA, Early County: *
To whom it may concern:
Notice is hereby given that W. A.
Evans, guardian of Leone E. Black
Evans, appointed by the proper au
thority in Early county, State of
Georgia, has filed his application to
.sell the following property in this
county to pay debts and expenses:
An undivided one-sixth interest in
fifty acres of land off lot number
one hundred ninety-five (195) in the
28th land district, Early county,
Ga., and said application will be
heard at the May term of the court
of Ordinary of this county.
This the 6th day of May, 1940.
D. C. MORGAN, Ordinary.
CITATION
GEORGIA, Early County:
To whom it may concern:
Mrs. l£dna B. Stephenson having
in due form applied to me for per
manent letters of administration up
on the estate of D. S. Stephenson,
deceased, this is to notify the next
of kin and creditors of the said de
ceased, D. S. Stephenson, that said
application will be heard before
me at the regular June Term, 1940,
of the Court of • Ordinary of said
County. Witness my hand and offi
cial signature, this 4th day of
May, 1940.
D. C. MORGAN, Ordinary.
ADMINISTRATOR’S SALE
GEORGIA, Early County:
The undersigned, as administrator
of the estate of Hartwell Hunter, by
virtue of an order of the Court of
Ordinary of said county, will sell at
public outcry, on the First Tuesday
in June, 1940, at the court house
door in said county, between the
legal hours of sale, the following de
scribed land:
All that part of lot of land No.
three hundred and twenty six in the
26th district of Early County,
bounded by a line beginning on the
southern boundary line of said lot
which is 366 2-3 yards west from
the south east corner of said lot,
thence running west along said
boundary line 366 2-3 yards, thence
north parallel with the original line
660 yards, thence east parallel with
the original line 366 2-3 yards,
thence south 660 yards to point of
beginning, containing fifty acres,
more or less.
Said sale will be for cash, and
subject to confirmation by the un
dersigned.
J. L. HOUSTON, Administrator.
MASONIC NOTICE
® Magnolia Lodge No.
86 Free and Accept-
Masons holds reg
u^ar commun oatloni
011 the first and third
/ xj/ ’ Monday nights in
each month. The
time is 8 p. m. in the summer, 7 :30
p. m. in the fall and spring and 7 p.
m. during the winter. Visiting breth
ren are cordially invited to attend.
J. D. HALL.
Worshipful Master.
J. E. HOUSTON, Secretary.
BLAKELY CHAPTER NO. 282
ORDER EASTERN STAR
Holds regular meeting nights ev
ery second and fourth Thursday
nights, 7:30 o’clock p. m.
MRS. CLEO GRUBBS,
Worthy Matron.
MRS. WILLINE HALL,
Secretary.