Newspaper Page Text
'legal notices.
GUARDIAN’ S SALE.
GEORGIA—Mitchell County.
xJnder and by virtue of an order
of the Court of Ordinary of Musco¬
gee County, granted at the June
Term, 1925, of said Court, will be sold
before the Court House Door of said
fitounty of Muscogee, between the le
kMl hours of sale, to the highest bid
fft' for cash, on the first Tuesday in
August, 1925, all of the real estate
hereinafter described, to-wit:
An undivided one-fifth remainder
interest in that I'own lot in the Town
of Pelham, Mitchell County, Georgia,
being and containing one acre, Hand more
or less, and bounded North by
Avenue, East by Church street, South
by what is known as the T. C. Cleve¬
land *s the lot, Reid and property. West by what is known
S^id property will be sold as the
property of Inez Jones. Terms Cash.
This July 2, 1925.
MRS. MARY E. JONES,
Guardian of Inez Jones,
a minor.
NOTICE TO CONTRACTORS.
9 Notice is hereby given by the Board
Commissioners of Roads and Reve¬
nues of Mitchell County that said
Board will receive sealed bids or pro¬
posals at the office of said Board on
th# 4th day of August, 1925, for the
following purposes to-wit:
For furnishing ail materials and
doing and furnishing all work and la¬
bor, tools and equipment, for the grad
ing and paving with concrete certain
streets in the Town of Pelham, Mitch
ell County, Georgia, being parts of
public roads of said County, to a
<p said ith of 18 feet designated along the and center des¬ of
streets, as
cribed* in plans and specifications of
file in this office and for the distances
and at the places of beginning and
ending said paving shown and speci¬
fied in certain plans and specifications
for said grading and paving, and the
materials to be used therefor, of file
and posted in the office of said Board
bf Commissioners of Roads and Reve¬
nues of said County at the Court
(ijbuae ^Payment at Camilla, for said Georgia. work of grading
and paving, in accordance with
specifications, will be made by said
Board within 30 days from the date
of the completion of said work ac¬
cording to said specifications, and the
acceptance of the same by this Board,
aaid work to be completed by the con¬
tractor within -6 months after the let¬
ting of said contract.
The successful bidder will be re
.quired Jfetions to 389, comply 389-C, with 389-D the Volume terms
W22 Supplement of Park’s Annotated
Code of Georgia, 1914, and all
of the State of Georgia covering the
letting Said of such contract.
Board, however, expressly re¬
serves the right to accept any or
reject all or any of said bids or
posals.
This July 8, 1925.
G. B. BAGGS,
W. B. NEVELS,
a Clerk of the Board of Com
^ missioners of Roads
% Revenues of Mitchell Coun¬
ty.
NOTICE OF SALE.
GEORGIA—Dougherty WHEREAS, County.
on the 24th day
June, 1925, in the matter of
Hancock Mutual Life Insurance
Wiy ittrah, v. George W. and Martha A.
a decree was passed by the
Honorable Wm. H. Barrett, Judge
the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District
Georgia, Albany Division,
that unless one principal note
Seven Thousand Dollars
the sum of Four Hundred and
five ($455.00) Dollars as interest to
October 1, 1922, with accruing inter¬
est on said principal sum of $7,000.00
and on said interest note of
per cent, from October 1, 1922,
and ten per cent, of said principal and
interest as attorneys fees and
of the cause, were paid by the defen¬
dants George W. Shiver and
A. Shiver on or before the 6th day
of Jjily, 1925, that the undersigned
appointed as commisssioner should
advertise and sell the lands hereinaf¬
ter described in order that the pro¬
ceeds might be applied to the pay¬
ment of said indebtedness;
vie re as said amounts of money were
rW. paid on or before the 6th day
July, 1925, as provided in said de¬
cree;
Now, therefore, under and by virtue
of said decree there will be sold in
front of the court house door in Mitch¬
ell County, Georgia, between the le¬
gal hours of sale, on the first Tues¬
day in, August, 1925, at public out
crji, to the highest bidder for
the following described property, to
wit:
d^fche J&ne Hundred Twenty (120) acres
South side of lot Number Two
Hundred Ninety-four (294) describ¬
ed as follows:
Commencing at a point on the
South lot line of said lot a distance
of Two Hundred Seventy (270)
East of the Southwest comer of said
lot; thence North a distance of One
Hundred Sixty-two (162) feet; thence
West a distance Two Hundred Sev¬
enty. (270) feet to a point on the ori
I^mh lot line of said lot; thence
a distance of Fourteen Hun¬
dred Eighty-eight (1488) feet; thence
East a distance of Thirty-three Hun¬ the
dred (3300) feet, to a point on
original East lot line of said lot;
thence South a distance of Fifteen
Hundred Fifty (1550) feet; thence
West a distance of Seventeen Hun¬
dred Forty-two (1742) feet; thence
South a distance of One Hundred
(U>0) feet, to a point on the original
SWnth line of said lot; thence West a
distance of Twelve
Eighty-eight (1288) feet, to
ing point. Being in
(11th) Land District of
ell County, Georgia. Two
(200) acres more or less, being all
lot number Thirty-six (36) in
Twelfth (12th) land District
Mitchell County, Georgia, except Fif-
1 1 ^( 50 ) acres in the shape of a square
i™the immediate Southwest
thereof. The purchaser at said
will be required to deposit with
Commissioner at the time of said sale
10 per cent of his bid, the balance
to be paid upon confirmation of the
court. In the event the sale is not
confirmed the amount so deposited
will be returned by the Commissioner
without deduction.
This 7th day of July, 1925.
JAS. TIFT MANN,
Commissioner.
APPLICATION FOR DISCHARGE.
GEORGIA—Mitchell County.
Whereas, Mrs. E. D. Glausier, Ad¬
ministrator of E. D. Glausier, deceas¬
ed, represents to the Court in her pe
or^^hat said estate: she This ^^ltySiffist^d
all is, therefore, to cite
creditors, persons show concerned, kindred and
to cause, if any
can, why said Administrator should
not be discharged from her adminis
^ mission, and on the J ece j first v * Lf Monday tte J s °- m f ^ Au¬ is ‘
gust, 1925.
R. E. L. CULPEPPER,
Ordinary.
APPLICATION.
GEORGIA—Mitchell County.
Mrs. Ada L. Cochran having in due
form applied to me for
letters of administration, upon the es¬
tate of Robert T. Cochran,
this is to notify the next of kin and
creditors of the said Robert T. Coch¬
ran, deceased, that said
will be heard before me at the regu¬
lar August Term, 1925, of the
of Witness Ordnary of said County.
my hand and official
nature, this 6th day of July, 1925.
R. E. L. CULPEPPER.
NOTICE OF APPLICATION
CONSTITUTIONAL
GEORGIA—Mitchell County.
E. B. Mullins has applied to me
exemption of personalty, and
apart and valuation of a
and I will pass upon the same at
o’clock A. M. Monday, August
1925, at my office in Court House
Camilla, Georgia.
Witness my hand and official
ture, this July 8th, 1925.
R. E. L. CULPEPPER,
NOTICE OF LOCAL LEGISLATION.
An Act to be effective in Mitchell
County, Georgia, relating to dogs and
the protection of live stock and poul¬
try from damage by dogs; regulating
the keeping of dogs; and authorizing
their destruction in certain cases; pro¬
viding for the determination and pay¬
ment of damages done by dogs to live
stock and poultry; imposing powers
and duties on certain county officers;
and for other purposes.
June 19, 1925.
Casket In Which
Darwin Lay For
36 Hours, Found
LONDON.—‘An old oak casket that
that has stood in the comer of the
coach house of the New inn, Fara
borough, for many years has just
been identified as one made for the
burial of Darwin, the author of “The
Origin of Species.”
Mr. Seeley, who recently took over
the premises, had the tarnished plate
cleaned, and to his surprise the fol¬
lowing inscription was revealed:
“Charles Robert DaTwin. Died Apr.
19, 1882. Aged 73.”
Inquiries show that the casket was
made from old timber on the estate
belonging to Darwin, at Down, close
to Famborough, and it is stated that
his body actually rested in it for 36
hours.
Then a Westminster abbey funeral
was arranged and another casket was
dispatched from London and was
used.
Bryan Says People
Must Be Final Judges
In Evolution Case
MIAMI, Fla.—Regardless of the
court’s decision the people must be
the final judges of whether evolution
shall be taught in the school declared
William Jennings Bryan in an ad¬
dress before the Miami Kiwanis Club
here yesterday.
If adverse to the righteous thing
the decision of the court in the
Seopes trial at Dayton, Tenn., will
not stand, Mr. Bryan predicted. The
principal thing, he declared, is that
facts will be brought put, and facts
form the basis of all human action.
He said he had no fear of the out¬
come of the trial.
“Have no fear that an adverse de¬
cision will settle the question of re¬
ligion,” Mr. Bryan said. “Nor will
a favorable decision settle the ques¬
tion of evolution. If evolution is a
good thing, a decision against it will
not prevent it from winning in the
end. If real religion is a good thing,
it will triumph. If the facts show that
evolution is a dangerous thing, the
result will be that the American peo¬
ple will find methods of enforcing
their will. The courts cannot destroy
a righteous thing.”
The wide publicity given evolution
and religion is focusing the attention
of the world on a subject the people
did not fully understand, the speaker
pointed out. Mr. Bryan defended the
constitutionality of the Tennessee
act, declaring that “the law doesn’t
prevent the press and the people
from discussing evolution. It does
not say it is unlawful to teach evolu¬
tion- to man. It means it is unlawful
to teach in public schools that man
descended from a lower form of life.
The law doesn’t say Mr. Scopes can¬
not believe in evolution. It says he
cannot teach the subject. The law
is simply an effort to control the pub¬
lic schools.
The legislature is the most logical
body to regulate the education of
j 26,000,000 children in the public
| sdl0 ° ls and \ is absurd to P®™ 1 *
1 teaching of such an important subject
! according to the teacher’s own ideas,
Mr. Bryan declared.
i__ ]
I Instructor of Parrots
Teaching parrots to talk provides
a New York with a liviua
SO BIG
W
I
By
EDNA FERBER
WNU 3# nr Us*.
(Continued from page 6)
cheeks, dear eyes, nimble brains it
was because Pervas brought them the
food that made them so. Something
of this she tried to convey to Pervua.
He only stared, his blue eyea wid^ and
unresponsive.
“Farm work grand! Farm work is
slave work. Yesterday, from the load
of carrots In town I didn’t make
enough to bring you the goods for th*
child so when it comes you should have
clothes for it. It’s better I feed them
fro tha Uva stock M
Pervus drove into the Chicago mar¬
ket every other day. During July and
August he sometimes did net have his
clothes off for a week. Together he
and Jan Steen would load the wagon
with the day’s garnering. At four he
would start on the tedious trip into
town. The historic old Haymarket on
West Randolph street had become tiie
stand for marSfet gardeners for miles
around Chicago. Hgre they stationed
their wagons in preparation for the
next day’s selling. The early comer
got the advantageous stand. There
was no regular allotment of space.
Pervus tried to reach the Haymarket
by nine at night. Often bad roads
made a detour necessary and he was
late. That usually meant bad business
next day. The men, for the most
part, slept on their wagons, curled up
on the wagon seat or stretched out on
the ffcks. Their horses were atabled
and fed in near-by sheds, with more
actual comfort than the men them¬
selves. One could get a room tor
twenty-five cents in one of the ram¬
shackle rooming houses that faced the
street. But the rooms were small,
stuffy, none too clean; the beds little
more comfortable than the wagons. Be¬
sides, twenty-five cents ! You got twen¬
ty-five cents for half a barrel of toma¬
toes. You got twenty-five cents for a
sack of potatoes. Onions brought
seventy-five cents a sack. Cabbages
went a hundred heads for two dollars,
and they were five-pound heads. If you
drove home with ten dollars in your
pocket it represented a profit of ex¬
actly zero. The sum must go above
that. No; one did not pay out twenty
five cents for the mere privilege of
sleeping in a bed.
One June day, a month or more after
their marriage, Selina drove into Chi¬
cago with Pervus, an incongruous little
figure in her bride’s finery perched on
the seat of the vegetable wagon plied
high with early garden stuff. It was,
In n way, their wedding trip, for Selina
had not been away from the farm since
her marriage.
As they Jogged along now she re¬
vealed magnificent plans that had been
forming In her Imagination during the
past four weeks. It had not taken her
four weeks—or days—to discover that
this great broad-shouldered man she
had married was a kindly creature,
tender and good, but lacking any
veetlge of initiative, of spirit. She
marveled, sometimes, at the memory
of his boldness In bidding for her lunch
bor that evening of the raffle. It
seemed Incredible now, though he fre¬
quently referred to It, wagging his
head dogglshly and grinning the broad¬
ly complacent grin of the conquering
male. But he was, after all, a dull
fellow, and there was in Selina a dash
of fire, of wholesome wickedness, of
adventure, that he never quite under¬
stood. For her flashes of flame he
had a mingled feeling of uneasiness
and pride.
in the manner of all young brides,
Selina started bravely out to make her
husband over. He was handsome,
strong, gentle; slow, conservative, mo¬
rose. She would make him keen, dar¬
ing, successful, buoyant Now, bump¬
ing down the Halsted road. She
sketched some of her plans in large
dashing strokes.
"Pervus, we must paint the house in
October, this before the frost sets in, and
after summ er work Is ov er. Then
that west “sixteen. We’ll”drain It."" J
“Yeh, drain,” Pervus muttered. “It’s
clay land. Drain and you have got yet
clay. Hard clay soil."
Selina had the answer to that. “I
know it. You've got to use tile drain¬
age. And—wait a minute—humus. I
know what humus is. it’s decayed
vegetables. There’s always a pile by
the side of the barn; and you’ve been
using it on the quick land. All the
west sixteen Isn’t clay. Part of it’s
muckland. All it needs is * draining
and manure. With potash, too, and
phosphoric acid.’ 1
Pervus laughed a great hearty laugh
that Selina found surprisingly infuriat--,
big. “Well, well, well! Schoolteacher
is a farmer now, huh? I bet even
Widow Paarlenberg don’t know as
much 5 as my little farmer about”—he
exploded again—“about this, now, pot¬
ash and—what kind of add? Tell me,
little Lina, from where did you learn
all this about truck farming?”
x “Out of a book,” Selina said, almost
snappishly. “I sent to Chicago for It.”
“A book! A book!” He slapped his
knee. “A vegetable farmer out of a
book."
“Why not! The man who wrote it
knows more about vegetable farming
than anybody in all High Prairie, He
knows about new ways. You’re run¬
ning the farm just the way your father
ran It.”
“What was good enough for my fa¬
ther is good enough for me."
“It Isn’t!” cried Selina, “It isn’t!
The book says clay loam Is all right
for cabbages, peas, and beans. It tells
you how. It tells you how 1” She was
like a frantic little fly darting and
pricking him on to accelerate the stolid
sluggishness of his slow plodding gait
Pervus stared straight ahead down
the road between hi* horae’s ears much
as Klaas Pool had done so maddeningly
on Selina's first ride on the Halsted
road. "Fine talk. Fine talk."
“It Isn’t talk. It's plans. You've got
to plan."
"Fine talk. Fine talk.”
“Oh I” Selina beat her knee with an
impotent fist.
It was the nearest they had ever
come to quarreling. It would seem
that Pervus had the best of the argu¬
ment, for when two years had passed
the west sixteen was still a boggy clay
mass, and unproilfle; and the old
house stared out shabby and paintless,
at the dense willows by the roadside.
They slept that night In one of the
twenty-flve-cent rooming houses. Rath¬
er, Pervua slept. The woman lay
awqke, wept a little, perhaps. But In
tko (if he morntnar had been Parvoa mleht have noted
a man given to noting)
that tiie fine jaw-line was set as de¬
terminedly as ever with an angle that
spelled inevitably paint, drainage, hu¬
mus, potash, phosphoric acid, and a
horse team.
She rose before four with Pervus,
glad to be out of the stuffy little room
with its spotted and scaly green wall
paper, Its rickety bed and chair. They
had a cup of coffee and a slice of bread
in the eating house on the first floor.
Selina waited while he tended the
horse. It was scarcely dawn when the
trading began. Selina, watching It
from the wagon seat, thought that this
was a ridiculously haphazard and peril¬
ous method of distributing the food for
whose fruition Pervus had tolled with
aching back and tired arms. But she
said nothing.
She kept, perforce, to the house that
first year, and the second. Pervus de¬
clared that his woman should never
work In the fields as did many of the
High Prairie wives and daughters.
Selina learned much that first year,
and the second, but she said little. She
kept the house in order—rough work,
and endless—and she managed, mirac¬
ulously, to keep herself looking fresh
and neat. She understood now
Maartje Pool’s drab garments, harassed
face, heavily swift feet, never at rest.
The idea of flowers in bowls was aban¬
doned by July. Had It not been for
Roelfs faithful tending, t.he flower
beds themselves, planted with such
hopes, would have perished for lack of
care.
Roelf came often to the house. He
found there a tranquillity and peace
never known in the Pool place, with
its hubbub and clatter. In order to
make her house attractive Selina had
actually rifled her precious little bank
hoard—the four hundred and ninety
seven dollars left her by her father.
She still had one of the clear white
diamonds. She kept it sewed In the
hem of an old flannel petticoat.
The can of white paint and the
brush actually did materialize. For
weeks it was dangerous to sit, lean, or
tread upon any palntable thing In the
DeJong farmhouse without eliciting a
cry of warning from Selina. She
would actually have tried her hand at
the outside of the house with a quart
can and a three-inch brush If Pervus
hadn’t Intervened. She hemmed dimity
curtains, made slip-covers for the hid¬
eous parlor Bofa and the ugliest of the
chairs. Subscribed for a magazine
called House and Garden. Together
she and Roelf used to pore over this
fascinating periodical. If High Prairie
had ever overheard one of these con¬
versations between the farm woman
who would always be a girl and the
farm boy who had never been quite a
child. It would have raised palms high
in an “Og heden!” of horror. But
High Prairie never heard, and wouldn't
have understood If It had.
Selina was up dally at four. Dress¬
ing was a swift and mechanical cover¬
ing of the body. Breakfast must be
ready for Pervus and Jan when they
came In from the barn. The house to
clean, the chickens to tend, sewing,
washing, ironing, cooking. She con¬
trived ways of minimising her steps, of
lightening her labor. And she saw
clearly how the little -farm was mis¬
managed through lack of foresight,
imagination, and—she faced it square¬
ly—through, stupidity.. _S_hp was fond
this great, kJndlyT blundering; stub¬
boy who was her husband. But
saw him with amazing clearness
the mists of her love. There
something prophetic about the
she began to absorb knowledge of
farm work, of vegetable Culture, of
Listening, seeing, she
about soil, planting, weather,
The daily talk of the house
fields was of nothing else. About
little twenty-five-acre garden
there was nothing of the majes¬
of the Iowa, Illinois and Kansas
farms, with their endless billows
wheat and corn, rye, alfalfa and
rolling away to the horizon.
was done in diminutive
Selina sensed that every inch
soil should have been made to yield
the utmost. Yet there lay the west
useless during most of the
reliable never. And there was
money to drain it or enrich it; no
cash for the purchase of profit¬
neighboring acreage. She did not
the term intensive farming, but
was what she meant.
During that winter she was often
lonely. She never got over
hunger for companionship. Here
was, a gregarious and fun-loving
burled in a snow-bound Illi¬
prairie farmhouse with a husband
looked upon conversation as a
not a pastime. She
much that winter about the
sordidness of farm life. She
saw the Pools; she rarely saw
one outside her own little house¬
The front room—the parlor—
usually bitterly cold, but some
used to slip In there, a shawl
her shoulders, and sit at the
window to watch for a wagon
go by, or a chance pedestrian up the
She did not pity herself, nor
her step. She felt, physically,
well for a fluid-bearing woman;
Pervus was tender, kindly, sym¬
If not always understanding.
struggled gallantly to keep up the
decencies of existence. She
the glow of Pervus’ eyes when
appeared with a bright ribbon, a
collar, though he said nothing
perhaps she only fancied that he
Once or twice she had
the milt and a half of slippery
to the Pbols’, and had sat In
warm bright bustling
for comfort. Where was ad¬
now? And where was life?
where the love of chance bred In
by her father?
The two years following Dirk’s birth
always somewhat vague in Se-.
mind, like a dream In which hor¬
ror and happiness are inextricably
blended. The boy was a plump, hardy
infant. He had his father’s blond ex¬
terior, his mother’s brunette vivacity.
two he was a child of average intel¬
sturdy physique and marked
good humor. He almost never cried.
He was Just twelve months old
when Selina’s second child—a girl—
was born dead. Twice during those
two years Pervus fell victim to his so
called rheumatic attacks following the
early spring planting when he was
forced to stand in water up to
ankles. He suffered intensely and
during his Illness was as tractable as
goaded bull. Selina understood why
of High Prairie was bent and
with rheumatism—why the
Dutch Reformed church on Sun¬
mornings resembled a shrine to
sick and crippled pilgrims creep.
Selina had been married almost
three years when there came to her a
trout Julie Hempel, now married.
letter had been sent to the Klaas
farm and Jozina had brought it
her. Seated on her kitchen steps in
calico dress she read It.
Selina:—
“I thought it was so queer that you
didn’t answer my letter, and now I
that you must have thought it
that I did not answer yours. I
your letter to me, written long
ago, when I was going over mother’s
things last week. It was the letter
you must have written when I was In
Kansas Olty. Mother had never given
It to me.
"Mamma died three weeks ago. Last
week I was going over her things—a
trying task, you may imagine—and
there were your two letters addressed
me. She had never destroyed them.
Poor mamma . . .
“Well, dear Selina, I suppose you
even know that I am married. I
Michael Arnold of Kansas
The Arnolds were In the pack¬
business there, you know. Michael
gone Into business with pa here in
and I suppose you have heard
pa’s success. Just all of a sudden
began to make a great deal of
after he left the butcher busi¬
and went into the yards—the
yards, you know. Poor mamma
so happy these last few years,
had everything that was beautiful.
have two children—-Eugene and
"I am getting to be quite a society
You would laugh to see me.
am on the ladles’ entertainment com¬
of the World’s fair. We are
to entertain all the visiting
bugs—that is the lady bugs. There!
Is that for a joke?
"I suppose you know about the In-*
Eulalle. Of Spain, you know.
what she did about the Potter
ball. . . .”
Selina, the letter In her work
hand, looked up and across the
and away to where the prairie
the sky and closed in on her; her
The Infanta Eulalle of Spain.
. . She went back to the letter.
“Well, she came to Chicago for the
and Mrs. Potter Palmer was to
a huge reception and' ball for her.
P. Is head of the whole commit¬
you know, and I must say she
queenly with her white hair so
dressed and her diamond
juri her black vel vet and all.
Well; af the"very last minute the Bt
fanta refused to attend the ball be¬
cause she had just heard that Mr*. P.
was an innkeeper’s wife. Imagine!
The Palmer house, of course.”
Selina, holding the letter in her
hand, imagined.
It was in the third year of Selina’s
marriage that' she first went into the
fields to work. Pervus had protested
miserably, though the vegetables were
spoiling in the ground.
Selina had regained health and vigor
after two years of wretchedness. She
felt steel-strong and even hopeful
again, sure sign of physical well-being.
Long before now she had realized that,
this time must inevitably come. So
she answered briskly, "Nonsense, Per¬
vus. Working in the field’s no harder
than washing or ironing or scrubbing
or standing over a hot stove in August.
Women’s work! Housework’s the
hardest work In the world. That’s why
men won’t do It.”
She would often take the boy Dirk
with her into .the fields, placing him
on a heap of empty sacks in the shade.
He invariably crawled off this lowly
throne to dig and burrow In the wee
black dirt. He even made as though
to help his mother, pulling at the root¬
ed things with futile fingers, and sit
ling back with a bump when a shallow
root did unexpectedly yield to his tug¬
ging.
“Look! He’s a farmer already," Per¬
vus would say.
So two years went—three years—
four. In the fourth year of Selina’s
marriage she suffered the loss of her
one woman friend In High Prairie.
Maartje Pool died in childbirth, as was
so often the case in this region where
a Gamplsh midwife acted as obstretrl
cian. The child, too, had not lived.
Death had not been kind to Maartje
Pool. It had brought neither peace
nor youth to her face, as it often does.
Selina, looking down at the strangely
still figure that had been so active, so
bustling, realized that for the first time
In the years she had known her she
was seeing Maartje Pool at rest. It
seemed Incredible that she could Ue
there, the Infant In her arms, while
the house was filled with people and
there were chairs to be handed, space
to be cleared, food to be cooked- and
served. Sitting there with the other
High Prairie women Selina had a
hideous feeling that Maartje would
suddenly rise up and take things In
charge; rub and scratch with capable
fingers the spatters of dried mud on
Klaas Pool's black trousers (he had
been In the yard to see to the horses);
quiet the loud wailing of Geertje and
Jozina; pass her gnarled hand over
Roelfs wide-staring eyes, wipe the
film of dust from the parlor table that
had never known a speck during her
regime.
“You can’t run far enough," Maartje
had said. “Except you stop living you
can’t run away from life.”
Well, she had run far enough this
time.
Roelf was sixteen now, Geertje
twelve, Jozina eleven. What would
this household do now, Selina won¬
dered, without the woman who had
been so faithful a slave to It? Whe
would keep the pigtails—no longer
giggling—in clean ginghams aud de¬
cent square-toed shoes? Who, when
Klaas broke out in rumbling Dutch
wrath against what he termed Roelfs
“dumb" ways, would say, “Og, Poet,
leave the boy alone once. He does
nothing.” Who would keep Klaas him¬
self In order; cook his meals, wash Mn
clothes, iron his shirts, take a pride in
the great ruddy childlike giant?
Klaas answered these questions Just
nine months later by marrying the
Widow Paarlenberg, High Prairie
was rockqd with surprise. For months
this marriage was the talk of the dis¬
trict. So insatiable was High Prai¬
rie’s curiosity that every scrap of
news was swallowed at a gulp. When
the word went round of Roelfs flight
from the farm, no one knew where,
it served only as sauce to the great
dish of gossip.
Selina had known. Pervus was
away at the market when Roelf had
knocked at the farmhouse door one
night at eight, had turned the knob
and entered, as usual. But there was
nothing of the nsual about his appear¬
ance. He wore his best suit—his first
suit of store clothes, bought at thn
time of his mother’s funeral. It never
had fitted him; now It was grotesquely
small for him. He had shot up amus¬
ingly In the last eight or nine months.
Yet”there was nothing of the rldlcn
lous about him as he stood there be¬
fore her now, tall, lean, dark. He put
down his cheap yellow suitcase.
“Well, Roelf.”
“1 am going away, I couldn't stay."
She nodded. “Where?”
“Away. Chicago maybe.” He was
terribly moved, so he made his tone
casual, “They came home last ulglit.
I have got some books that belong to
you.” He made as though to open the
suitcase.
“No, no 1 Keep them."
“Good-by.”
“Good-by, Roelf.” She took the boy’s
dark head In her two hands and, stand¬
ing on tiptoe, kissed him. Be turned
to go. “Wait a minute. Wait a
minute.” She had a few dollars—to
quarters, dimes, half dollars—perhaps
ten dollars in all—hidden away In a
canister on the shelf. She reached for
It. But when she came back with the
box in her hand be was gone.
TO BE CONTINUED.
$3.00 allowed for old cotton mat¬
tresses, no matter what the condi¬
tion, on the purchase priee of any
new mattress at our store. A cash
payment of $2.00 will put any mat
cress in our store in your home. Ask
for further information.McNair-Per
ry Company. tf.