Newspaper Page Text
THURSDAY. MAY 17, 1945
°ss
GEORGE F. WORTS
WNU Release.
HOSCHTON
CLUB MEETS
The April meeting of the Hosch
ton Woman’s Club was held in the
Hoschton School Auditorium which
was very attractive with pot plants
and spring flowers.
The meeting was called to order
and presided over by the president,
Mrs. H. P. DeLAPerriere. Hymn,
'America; flag salute given in uni
son; reports called foT.
Roll call and the minutes were
read by the recording secretary,
Miss Myrtice Allen.
The two-year term of officers
having expired, the following were
elected for the ensuing year:
President, Mrs. W. D. Bell; vice
president, Mrs. H. P. DeLaPerriere;
recording secretary, Mrs. Harlan
Sell; corresponding secretary, Myr
tice E. Allen; treasurer, Mrs. Lena
Barnett; reporters, Mesdames Lois
DeLaPerriere and Leila Jarrard.
Talk, The Peferct Prayer, and
closing prayer, Mrs. H. P. DeLa-
Perriere.
During the social hour the host
esses, Miss Mae Ola Bishop, Mrs. M.
B. Cruce, Miss Carol Langford and
Mrs. Guy Roberts, served delightful
fruit salad with iced tea.
Club hostesses for 1945-46, Sep
tember: Mrs. Leila Jarrard, Mrs.
Ralph Freeman, Sr., Mrs. John
Langford.
October: Mrs. L. C. Allen, Mrs.
M. B. Allen, Miss Myrtice E. Allen.
November: Mrs. H. P. DeLa-
Perriere, Mrs. Lois DeLaPerriere,
Mrs. Arthur DeLaPerriere.
December: Mrs. Jack Pirkle, Mrs.
Rus Pirkle, Mrs T. E. Sherwood.
January: Miss Mae Ola Bishop,
Miss Carol Langford, Mrs. Guy Rob
erts.
February: Mrs. Dean Lott, Mrs.
Lloyd Lott, Mrs. Ralph Lott.
March: Mrs. W. D. Bell, Mrs.
Lena Barnett, Mrs. Harlan Sell.
April: Mrs. C. T. McDonald, Mrs
A. D. Murphy, Mrs. B. F. Wilson.
Honorary members: Mrs. M. Bla
lock, Mrs. Alex Mahaffey, Mrs. M.
B. Cruce.
Hostess Committee: Myrtice E.
Allen, chairman, Mrs. T. E. Sher
wood, Mrs. John Langford.
lMe,VMrs..Messrse R Mnda
SOIL CONSERVATION
By C. R. HALL
Seventy farms in Jackson County
have done terracing since the first
of January, 1945. This includes
about twelve hundred acres. All
these farms have established the
necessary outlets by planting sere
cia or kudzu. There should be
around four thousand acres terraced
in this county this year. If you have
a soil conservation plan on your
farm, we will be glad to run your
terrace lines and supervise the ter
racing for you. If you haven’t a
plan, we will be glad to make a
plan and work with you to get your
work done.
If you haven’t planted your sere
per acre, and harrOw in with drag
month. Land should be prepared
and let settle before seeding is
done. When land is settled, then
sow your seed, thirty to fifty pounds
per acre, and harrow in with drak
harrow.
Eight cars of basic slak have been
delivered already, twenty-five cars
have been ordered. Be sure to get
your orders in now if you haven t
in now if you haven’t done so.
To Be Sure —Insure With
H.T. MOBLEY
Fire—Life —Health
And Accident
INSURANCE
JEFFERSON GA.
CHAPTERXIX
She staggered out of the door
which the three struggling men had
crashed open. She crossed a little
porch and walked down a step into
the yard. She stopped beside a
stunted tree.
Pierre was standing less than a
yard away from the two fighting
men. The revolver was raised. He
was waiting his chance to shoot
Steve without hitting Winthrop Lan
ning. *
Zorie remembered her father’s
saying, “Hold your breath when you
pull the trigger.” She drew a deep
breath. The air was cool and sweet
with the early morning fragrance of
Chinese jasmine.
She aimed the pistol at Pierre’s
head. She held the trigger back.
The explosions almost Ricked the
pistol out of her hand . . . But she
did not once blink. Pierre spun
about. The revolver dropped from
his hand. He pitched forward into
the mud.
One of Steve’s muddy fists struck
Mr. Lanning in the motith. She saw
Mr. Lanning sag to his knees with
his hands covering his mouth.
All of the strength left Zorie. The
pistol slipped out of her hand and
she sat down in the mud.
Then Steve’s strange, rumbling
voice said, “Baby, we did it!”
She put her hands to her face.
She felt sick and confused. Her
hands and her feet were throbbing
with pain. Steve was trying to lift
her up, but she was too weak to
help.
Steve sat her down in a chair on.
the little porch. She saw him at
tending to Mr. Lanning. Steve had
found some pieces of rope. He
tied Mr. Lanning’s hands together,
then he tied his ankles together, just
as Mr. Lanning had tied hers, in the
garage at Uluwehi. And she won
dered what, after all he’d been
through, was keeping Steve alive.
It occurred to her that he had
managed to reach this cabin only in
time to save her from death at the
eager hands of Pierre. Pierre was
evidently dead. She had deliberate
ly shot him, but she had no sense of
satisfaction, and no sense of guilt.
It hadn’t been a question of killing
him or of not killing him, when she
had emptied the automatic pistol at
his head. It had been simply a
question of stopping him from shoot
ing Steve. ,
She was amazed to find that she
herself was still intact, that she was
alive. But at this moment, it seemed
of little importance.
She heard Steve talking, in his
strange, throaty voice to Basil
Stromberg. She heard Steve say he
was sorry he had shot Mr. Strom
berg in the shoulder.
“I intended,” Steve said, “to shoot
you in the head.”
She heard other voices, and
thought she was imagining them—
the sharp, thin voice of the admiral,
and the excited voice of Paul. It
was, Zorie decided a moment be
fore she slid out of the chair un
conscious, very ironical. She had
tried so desperately to detain Mr.
Stromberg until Paul and the ad
miral arrived. And here they were!
The days were difficult, especially
the first ones, but it was the nights
that Zorie really dreaded. Every
night, even with her bedside lamp
on, all the things she wanted to for
get kept coming back and living
themselves all over again, so that,
in spite of sleeping capsules, she
could not sleep.
There was no order to these im
ages. They came as they pleased,
although they usually started with
her meeting Steve Duncan beside a
telephone pole, with the smell of
wet trees in the air, and her ad
miration of the strength and skill
with which he quartered Mrs. Fol
some’s thirty tea invitations.
There were times when she could
see some of it humorously; when,
for example, her bold attempt at im
personating Anna Boland and hold
ing Mr. Stromberg—until help came
—made her think of another girl
who had had to tell one thousand
and one stories on consecutive nights
in order to earn the right to live.
Scheherezade, Zorie reflected, must
have beep a very inventive girl in
deed. One night had been enough
for Zorie.
Through it all, like a golden
strand, ran the realization that not
once during that long dreadful night,
had she been a coward. Not once
had she slipped back into the prison
of her timidity. She had been fright
ened, but she was proud of herself
for having been brave throughout.
And if her shining new character
could weather that test, she had
earned a lifetime’s right to it.
A morning came when Zorie felt
amazingly better. She had had a
good night, fairly free from disturb
ing images. She ate a big break
fast and she asked the nurse if she
couldn’t get dressed and sit out in
the sunlight on the little lanai that
adjoined her bedroom.
“Can I see some people?” Zorie
asked. “I would love to see some
people.”
“What people would you love to
see?” her nurse asked.
“I would love to see Lieutenant
Duncan.”
“Yes,” her nurse said. “My intui
tions told me that you probably
would.” •'
She went out to find Steve. Zor.ie
had had reports on Steve’s prog
ress. It had been like him to spend
only one day in bed. Since then he
had been up and about. He had even
flown to Honolulu and back.
Zorie was not quite sure how she
would handle Steve, but only be-
cause she was not sure how Steve
would want to be handled. She had
nothing to go on except one offhand
reference Mr. Lanning had made in
the cabin.
He had said, “Amber was always
jealous of you. She knew that Steve
had fallen in love with you.”
It was little enough to go on, but
it might be a straw in the wind.
She wondered if Paul had mentioned
that everything was over between
them. ■%
Zorie arranged her hair and put
on her makeup with the greatest
care; then she dressed. She looked
at herself in the pier glass. She
was wm and thin, and her eyes
were huge. She looked fragile but
she was appealing—if you liked that
type. Stie hoped that Steve would
go completely to pieces over that
type.
She we*t out onto the lanai,
stretched out in a luxurious Manila
chair, and listened to the soft roar
of the distant surf and sniffed the
fragrances that drifted to her from
the garden.
Steve came out onto the lanai—but
he was not alone. The admiral trot
ted along beside him.
Steve wore white slacks and a fad
ed blue cotton polo shirt against
which his muscular darkness was
striking. He bore surprisingly few
evidences of that battle to the death
—almost to the death—in the mud
at Kokee. There was a small swell
ing above his right eye, a healing
scratch on his chin. That was about
all. He was as splendid as usual,
and the moment she saw him, that
old feeling came over Zorie.
His blue eyes were sparkling. He
carried a ginger flower lei in one
hand. He bent over and looped it
about her neck.
“With the compliments,” he said
in his deep, lazy voice, “of the
Democratic Administration, the
He was waiting his chance to
shoot Steve without hitting banning.
cheering populace, and the entire
United States Navy—with especial
gratitude from my chief in Hono
lulu.”
The admiral said excitedly, “But
how are you, my dear?”
“Practically recovered, thank
you.”
“We’ve been very anxious about
you—and very anxious to see you.”
“The nurse,” Steve reminded him,
“said ten minutes, and not to excite
her.”
“But ten minutes won’t begin to
be long enough!” Zorie protested.
“There are so many things I want
to know! Where are Mr. Stromberg
and Mr. Lanning?”
“In Honolulu—in custody,” Steve
answered. “I saw them a couple
of days ago. They are still a little
bitter at the way you outsmarted
them on one point after another all
night long and held them until the
U. S. Navy arrived. But they be
lieve in putting credit where it be
longs. They admire you tremen
dously. They spoke of you so flat
teringly that my ears burned for
you.”
“What will happen to them?”
Steve shrugged. “The case is out
of my hands and I can now return
to my job at Pearl Harbor. I do
not like Naval Intelligence and I
hope I will never be assigned to it
again.”
“There is one thing I am very
curious to know,” Zorie said. “Does
this magical radio device that all
this excitement was about—this JY
419—really exist?”
“That,” Steve gently answered, “I
consider a military secret not to be
entrusted to the mercy of an inno
cent young girl.”
“I will try,” Zorie said, “to blush
with maidenly modest shame for
asking the question. There’s anoth
er thing that’s puzzled me. I’m
granting, of course, that you are
bright.”
“Next to being a genius,” Steve
said, “comes the ability to recognize
it.”
“The historic night I met you in
the raw by the trash basket, you
thought for a moment that I was
Anna Boland.” v
“Well?” said Steve.
“Later, when the admiral decided
take e p % you must have
realized that my presence might
jeopardize your plans.”
“I gave it some thought,” Steve
admitted. “While I was waiting out
side your Aunt Hannah’s, I tried to
look at it as my war-muddled friends
would look at it. I reasoned that
they knew Anna Boland had been
shot in Berlin, that it would be very
easy to check up on you, and that
they would realize that, if I were
double-crossing them, I wouldn’t be
dumb enough to associate openly
with Anna Boland . . . Will you
please tell me why you brought
along that thesis on the re-tooling of
the Waffenfabrik Krupp plant? I
honestly think it was that harmless
piece of literature that tipped the
scales.” r
“Your grandfather,” Zorie an
swered, “was standing over me
while I packed. We were trying to
catch a plane. Remember? I
grabbed everything in sight. I hap
pened to grab that.”
“But why had you saved it?”
“You wouldn’t understand, ** Zorie
answered. “Only a girl who has
copied dozens of theses and knows
how badly most engineers spell and
punctuate would understand . . .
There is another question, Steve . . .
Pierre—”
“I am so sorry,” Steve gravely
stopped her, “to have to tell you
that that gallant fellow died of lead
poisoning.”
During these long white nights,
she had wondered so often if Pierre
had died. Now that she knew, she
could face it as a moral issue. She,
Zorie Corey, had deliberately shot
and killed a man! But now that she
knew, she experienced no sense of
guilt. The fact was chilling, but it
left her with no regrets.
“If you don’t mind,” Steve was
saying, “there are some things my
grandfather wants to consult you
about.”
“The Book?” Zorie asked.
“No. The admiral has somehow
acquired the notion—perhaps from
the recent front page headlines in
which you have figured so prettily—
that you are an unusually clear
minded, judicious young woman. He
is, for example, determined to keep
my brother in the doghouse for cer
tain careless things he said on the
historic night of the dinner party.”
“Where he belongs!” the admiral
said belligerently.
“Well,” said Steve, “I argue that
the admiral was throwing his weight
around too freely when he dragged
Paul out here. I also argue that the
admiral is making a pest of himself
in popping in on all his grandchil
dren the way he does and trying to
run their lives.”
“But it’s good for them!” the ad
miral cried. “It keeps them on
their toes!”
“One moment, Admiral,” Steve
said firmly. “Court is now in ses
sion and you are out of order.”
The admiral’s white hair stirred in
the soft sea breeze. His china-blue
eyes were glowing with determina
tion. His jaw was more prominent
than usual.
“Now, look here, my dear—” he
began with his amazing vigor.
“It’s no use, Admiral,” Zorie said.
“If you really want my opinion—
Steve is right.”
“But Paul needs a lesson!” the
admiral shrilled. “He needs the
healthy, wholesome kind of outdoor
work he’ll get on a plantation. Fur
thermore—”
“Admiral,” Zorie stopped him,
“you don’t understand Paul. He be
longs where books are. Let him go
back to Ellery ton.”
“And lose you?” the admiral
yelped.
“But I’m staying here to help you
with your book.”
“But you’re marrying Paul!”
Zorie looked quickly from his
seamed red face to Steve’s big brown
one. She sat forward in her chair.
“Hasn’t Paul told you? We agreed
the other night we are completely
wrong for each other. Our engage
ment is broken. In fact, Paul broke
it himself.”
“This,” Steve said lazily, “is very
interesting. I don’t know when I’ve
heard anything so interesting.”
“Our ten minutes are up,” said
the admiral.
“Admiral,” said Steve, “will you
kindly tell that nurse that I’ve got
to have five minutes alone with her
patient?”
“She won’t like it,” said the ad
miral.
“She will love it,” Zorie assured
him.
The admiral trotted out. Steve
pulled a chair across the lanai so
that it was close to Zorie’s and fac
ing her. He sat down, bent for
ward, and looked at her. His blue
eyes were very serious. He took
her hands.
Zorie’s heart was beating rapidly.
She was reasonably certain that, in
a very short time, she would be in
this man’s arms. Something in his
manner made it seem imminent.
She recalled a night on the Pacific
when she had stood beside Steve at
the rail and watched the moon come
up. Amber had crossed the deck
and said, in her assured way,
“Steve! When are you going to ask
me for a dance?”
At that time, as Zorie recalled it,
she had reflected with bitterness that
she wouldn’t have the courage to ask
a man to dance with her if she lived
to be a hundred.
“Steve,” she said, “I love you. I
wonder if you love me.”
“Zorie,” Steve answered, bending
closer, “I have been in love with you
from the night I met you in the
rain.”
Zorie got up. “Steve,” she said,
“if there is anything I can say or do
to encourage you, don’t hesitate to
ask for my co-oprration.”
[THE END]
THE JACKSON HERALD, JEFFERSON, GEORGIA
Fair View Woman's Club
Fair View Woman’s Club met at
the home of Mrs. C. E. McEver, Wed
nesday, May 9, with five members
present. Mrs. Heyward White and
Mrs. Sam Brooks joined our club,
which mak§s us a total of 17 mem
bers. Mrs. Homer White and Mrs.
Newell Maddox were our visitors.
HOSCHTON CHAPEL SCHOOL
(Colored)
Hoschton, Georgia
COMMENCEMENT PROGRAM
Tuesday, May 15, 1945 —8:30 (E. W. TANARUS.)
Play, Mother Goose 1 Primary Grades
Play, Third Grade Review ..Primary Grades
Play, The Squiggsbee School Elementary Grades
Admission 15 cents
Thursday, May 17, 1945—8:30
Processional
Music Faith Of Our Fathers
Scripture Mr. Luther Morrison
Invocation Deacon Carl Yarbrough
Music Holy, Holy, Holy
Oration, Today and Tomorrow Mary Sue Yarbrough
Music Londanderry Air
Salutatorian .Minnie Finch
Class Poem, The Skyride Nora Bell
Valedictorian Minnie Ruth Finch
Music All Through the Night, Old Welsh Air
Presentation of Speaker Principal Ilene Craft
Address Rev. C. L. Daugherty
First Baptist Church, Gainesville.
Music, The Lord Is My Shepherd T. Hoschat
Music, Lullaby Boys’ Group
Presentation of Certificates By Speaker
Class Song
Announcements
CLASS FLOWERS: Red and White Roses
CLASS COLORS: Red and White
CLASS MOTTO: “Let Us Strive On.”
CLASS ROLL
Minnie Finch
• Minnie R. Finch
Mary Sue Yarbrough
ATTENTION FARMERS!
Make Your Own Bean Beetle Exterminator
On account of gas and tire rationing we are
releasing our Formula to the public. Bean
Beetle Exterminator kills Bean Beetles, Cab
bage Worms, all Flea Bugs on any and all Gar
den Vegetation instantly. Also insects on To
bacco Plants in bed or field, including Worms.
Kills Chicken Mites and Lice, Ants and
Roaches. Also insects on Flowers and Shrub
bery and is used for spraying Fruit Trees and
Cotton. Is easy to make.
. Ingredients can be bought in any drug store.
Costs less than 6 cents per pound. Can be used
in Wet or Dry Spray. Get this and help win the
war by raising more food.
Club in with your neighbors and get this 3 formulas
for SI.OO. Full instructions sent. Money
refunded if not satisfactory.
SOUTHERN STATES CHEMICAL CO.
P. O. Box 261 Glasgow, Kentucky
Jr
.
Since we still do not have an agent
to give a demonstration, each lady
brought her crochet, embroidery, or
mending work. Time and place of
next meeting will be decided later.
By Secretary.
INVEST IN WAR BONDS!