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About The Henry County weekly. (McDonough, GA.) 18??-1934 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 28, 1921)
•><OR IO L E THE POETESS. Synopsis.—Proud possessor of a printing- press, and equipment, the gift of Uncle Joseph to his nephew, Herbert Illingsworth Atwater, Jr., aged thirteen, the fortunate youth, with his chum, Henry Rooter, about the same age, begins the publication of a full-fledged news paper, the North End Daily Ori ole. Herbert’s small cousin, Flor ence Atwater, being barred from any kind of participation in the enterprise, on account of her in tense and natural feminine desire to “boss,” is frankly annoyed, and not at all backward in saying so. However, a poem she has written is accepted for Insertion in the Oriole, on a strictly commercial basis—cash In advance. PART I—Continued. — 3— Herbert at once withdrew a few steps, placing his hands behind him. “Listen, here,” he said, “you think we got time to read a lot o’ writin’ In your ole handwritin’ that nobody can read anyhow, and then go to work and toll and moil to print it on the printin’ press? I guess we got work enough printin' what we wrote for our news paper our own selves! My goodness, Florence, I told you this isn’t any child’s play!” Florence appeared to be somewhat battled. “Well,” she said. “Well, you better put this poem in your ole news paper if you want to have anyhow one thing in it that won’t make everybody sick that reads it.” “I won’t do it!” Herbert said, more firmly. “What you take us for?” his partner added, convincingly. “All right, then,” Florence respond ed, with apparent decisiveness. “I’ll go back and tell Uncle. Joseph and he’ll take this printing press back.” “He will not take it back. I already did tell him how you keep pokin’ around tryin’ to run everything, and we just worried our lifes out tryin’ to keep you away. He said he bet it was a hard job; that’s-what Uncle Joseph said. So go on, tell him anything you want to. You don’t get yor ole poem in our newspaper!” “Not if she lived to be two hundred years old!” Henry Rooter added. Then lie had an afterthought. “Not unless she pays for it.” “How do you mean?” Herbert asked, puzzled. Henry’s brow had become corrugat ed with no little professional impres siveness. “You know what we talkin’ about this morning,” he said. “‘How the right way to run our news paper, we ought to have some adver tisements in it and everything. Well, we want money, don’t we? We could put this poem in our newspaper like an advertisement; that is, if Florence lias got any. money, we could.” Herbert frowned. “If her ole poem isn't too long. I guess we could. Here, let’s see it, Florence." And, taking the sheet of paper in his hand, he studied the dimensions of the poem, though without paining himself to read It. “Well, I guess, maybe we can do it,” he said. “How much ought wo to charge her?” This question plunged Henry Rooter into a state of calculation, while Flor ence observed him with veiled anxi ety ; but after a time he looked up, his brow showing continued strain. “Do you keep a bank, Florence —for nickels and dimes and maybe quar ters, you know?” he inquired. It was her cousin who impulsively replied for her. “No, she don’t,” lie said. “Not since I was about seven years old!” Florence added sharply, though with dignity. “Do you still make mud pies in your back yard, pray?” “Now, see here!” Henry objected. “Try and be a lady anyway for a few minutes, can’t you? I got to figure out how much we got to charge you for your ole poem, don’t I?” “Well, then,” Florence returned, “you better ask me somep’m about that, hadn’t you?” “Well,” said Henry Rooter, “have you got any money at home?” “No, I haven’t.” “Have you got any money with you?” “Yes. I have.” “How much is it?” “I won't tell you.” Henry frowned. “I guess we ought to make her pay about two dollars and a half,” he said, turning to his part- 1 r,er. Herbert felt deferential; It seemed, to him that he had formed a business association with a genius, and for a moment be was dazzled; then he re membered Florence’s financial capac ities, always well known to him, and lie looked depressed. Florence, her self, looked Indignant. “Two dollars and a half!" she cried. “Why, I could buy this whole place for two dollars and a half, printing press, railing, and all—yes, and you thrown in, Mister Henry Rooter!” “See here, Florence,” Henry said , earnestly, “haven’t you got two dol | lars and a half?” “Of course she hasn’t!” his partner j assured him. “She never had two ; dollars and a half in her life!” ; “Well, then,” said Henry gloomily, | “what we goin’ to do about it? How much you think we ought to charge her?” Herbert’s expression became non committal. “Just let me think a min ute,” he said; and with his hand to bis brow stepped behind the unsus picious Florence. “I got to think,” he murmured; then with the straightforwardness of his age. be suddenly seized his damsel cousin from the rear and held her in a tight but far from affectionate em brace, pinioning her arms. She shrieked. “Murder!” and “Let me go!” and “Help! Hay-yulp!” “Look in her pocket,” Herbert shouted. “She keeps her money in her skirt pocket when she’s got any. It’s on the left side of her. Don’t let her kick you ! Look out!” “I got it I” said the dexterous Henry, retreating and exhibiting coins. “It’s -one dime and two nickels —twenty cents. Has she got any more pock ets?” “No, ] haven’t!’’ Florence fiercely informed him. as released her. “And I guess you better hand that money you don’t want to be arrested for stealing!” Henry was unmoved. “Twenty cents,” he said calculntingly. “Well, all right; it isn’t much, but you can have your poem in our newspaper for twenty cents, Florence. If you don’t want to pay that much, why take your ole twenty cents and go on away!” “Yes,” said Herbert. “That’s ns cheap as we’ll do it, Florence. Take it or leave it.” “Take it or leave it,” Henry Rooter agreed. “That’s the way to talk to her; take it, or leave it, Florence. If you don’t take it you got to leave it.” Florence was indignant, but she de cided to take it. “All right,” she said coldly. “I wouldn’t pay another cent if I died for it.” “Well, you haven’t got another cent, so that’s all right,” Mr. Rooter re marked ; and he honorably extended an open- palm, supporting the coins, toward hjs partner. “Here, Herbert; you can have the dime, or the two nickels, whichever you rather have. It makes no difference to me; I’d as soon have one as the other.” Herbert took the two nickels, and turned to Florence. “See here, Flor ence,” he said, in a tone of strong complaint. “This business is all done and paid for now. What you want to hang around here any more for?” “Yes, Florence,” his partner faith fully seconded him, at once. “We haven’t got any more time to waste j around here today, and so what you j want to stand around in the way and everything for? You ought to know yourself we don’t want you.” “I’m ry>t in the way,” said Florence Hotly. “Whose way am I in?” “Well, anyhow, if you don’t go,” Herbert informed her, “we’ll carry you downstairs and lock you out.” “I’d just like to see you 1” she re-j turned, her eyes flashing. “Just you dare to lay a finger on me again!”! And she added, “Anyway, if you did. ' those ole doors haven’t got any lock on ’em. I’ll come right straight in and walk right straight up the stairs \ again!” Herbert advanced toward her. “Now you pay attention to me,” he said. “You’ve paid for your ole poem, and ! we got to have some peace around here. I’m goin’ straight over to your mother and ask her to come and get you.” Florence gave up. "What differ- j ence would that make, Mister Taddle tale?” she inquired mockingly. “I wouldn’t be here when she came, j would I? I’ll thank you to notice there’s some value to my time, myself; < find I’ll just politely ask you to ex- | cuse me, pray!” With a proud air, she crushlngly j departed; and returned to her cwn HENRY COUNTY WEEKLY, McDONOUGH, GEORGIA, home, far from dissatisfied with what she had accomplished. Moreover, site began to expand with the realization of a new importance; and she was gratified with the effect upon her parents, at dinner that evening, when she informed them that she had writ ten a poem which was to be pub lished in the prospective first number of the North End Daily Oriole. “Written a poem?” said her father. "Well, I declare! Why, that’s remark able. Florence!” “I’m glad the hoys were nice about it, said her mother. "I should have feared they couldn’t appreciate It, after being so cross to you about let ting you hnve anything to do with the printing press. They must hnve thought It was a very good poem.” “Where Is the poem, Florence?” Mr. Atwater asked. “Let’s read it and see what our little girl can do.” Unfortunately Florence had not a copy, and when she informed her fa ther of this fact, he professed himself greatly disappointed as well ns anxious for the first appearance of the Oriole, that he might felicitate him self upon the evidence of His daugh ter's heretofore unsuspected tnlent. Florence was herself anxious for the newspaper’s debut, and she made her anxiety so clear to Atwater & Root er, Owners & Propreitors,” every afternoon after school, during the fol lowing week, that by Thursday fur ther argument and repartee on their part were felt to he indeed futile, and in order to hnve a little peace around there they carried her downstairs. At least they defined their action as “carrying," and, having deposited her in the yard, they were obliged to stand guard at the doors, which they closed and contrived to hold against her until her strength was worn out for that day. Florence consoled herself. During the week she dropped In on all the members of “the family”—her grand father. uncles and aunts and cousins, her great-uncles—and In ench instance, after no protracted formal prelim inaries, lightly remarked that she wrote poetry now; her to appear ,S - - “Look in Her Pocket,” Herbert Shout ed. ‘‘Don’t Let Her Kick You!” in tiie forthcoming Oriole. And when Great-Aunt Carrie sr.id, “Why, Flor ence, you’re wonderful! I couldn’t write a poem to save my life. I never could sec how they do it,” Florence laughed, made a deprecatory little side motion with her head, and responded: “Why, Aunt Carrie, that’s nothing 1 It just kind of comes to you.” This also served* as her explanation when some of her school friends ex pressed their admiration, after being told the news in confidence; though to tiie teachers she said, smiling ruefully, as in remembrance of midnight oil, “It does take work, of course!” When opportunity offered, upon the street, she joined people she knew — and even rather distant acquaint ances —and walked with them a little way, and with unaffected directness led the conversation to the subject of poetry, including her own contribution to that art. Altogether, if Florence was not in a fair way to become a poetic celebrity it was not her own fault but entirely that of the North End Daily Oriole, which was to make its appearance on Saturday, but failed to do so, on account of too much en- ! thusinsrn on the part of Atwater & ; Rooter in manipulating the printing press. It broke, had to be repaired; and Florence, her nerves upset by the accident, demanded her money back. This was impossible, and the postpone ment proved to lie nn episod,e; more over it gave time to let more people know of tiie treat that was coming. Among these was Noble I)i!i, Flor- ' ence’s Ideal. Until tlie Friday follow ing her disappointment she had found : no opportunity to acquaint this being with tiie news; and hut for an encoun ter, partly due to chance, he might ] not have heard of it. Mr. Dill was twenty-two, but that was his only per eeptible distinction. Lu was kind, usually, and not unpleasant in appear ance or attire; yet ha had neither beauty nor that look of power which Is said to joggle women from their natural poise. He was the most every day young man in all the town; and Florence’s selection of him to be her Ideal still awaits a precise explana tion. Nevertheless, it had happened; and a sentimental enrichment of color In her cheeks was the result of her catching sight of him, as she was on tlie point of opening and entering her own front door that Friday afternoon on her return from school. He was pnssing the house, walking somewhat dreamily. Florence stepped Into the sheltering vestibule, peeping round it with ear nest eyes to watch him as he went hy; obviously he bad taken no note of her. Satisfied of this, she waited until he was at a little distance, then ran lightly to the gate, hurried after him, and joined him. “Why, Mr. Dill!’’ she exclaimed, in her mother’s most polished manner. “How surprising to see you! I pre sume, as we both happen to be walk ing in tlie same direction, we might just ns well keep together.” Mr. Noble Dill inquire* about Aunt Julia. (TO BE CONTINUED.) PLANTS GUARDED BY NATURE As “Infants," the Saplings Are by Nc Means Defenseless Against ln< jury From Fire. Young long-leaf plants protect them selves against forest tires in a most interesting and remarkable way. Foi four or live years the stems of the infant trees attain a height of only us many Inches above tlie soil. Dur ing this time their bark Is extraordi narily thick, and that alone gives some protection. But in addition tlie long -needles spring up above tlie stem, aud then bend over on all sides in a greeu cascade which falls to the ground In a circle about the seedling. 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At the conclusion of the search the prisoner pointed to the dull-looking ing coin and in a suppliant tone asked the warden: “Would you mind letting me keej that with me?” “Why?" asked the warden. “Oh, just a little sentiment, I sup pose,” tlie prisoner explained. “You know, it’s tlie first dollar I ever stole.” Lesson from Northcliffe. Lord Northcliffe, owner of many newspapers and‘magazines, including the London Times and the London Mail, still goes out as a reporter. lie says: “If I wanted tj be a good build er I would learn to be a good brick layer,” another way of saying what an American would phrase as “knowing one’s business from the ground up." Success comes only from thorough knowledge of a business or profession It is as important to know the primary facts of a business as it is for at astronomer to know mathematics. Tin man who depends upon the knowiedgt of others in the fundamentals of hit business is always in danger.—Chlcagt Journal of Commerce. 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