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FERBER EDNA|
ILLUSTRATIONS
BY CLARK ASNBW.
Copyright by
Doubleduy, Pag* * Co.
WNB Sorvlco.
SYNOPSIS
?TER I.—Introducing “So Big”
; D»Jong) In ■ - his - ■ Infancy. - And Cl his
, Sallna JpeJoitg, daughter of
■„,» Peake, gambler and gentleman
ortune. ! Her life, to young woman
MHiventional, in Chicago in 1888, has been un- but
somewhat seamy,
Mmsraliy ahum Julie enjoyable. At school her of
is Hempel, daughter
ABgust klHad Hempel, butcher Simeon la
In a quarrel that U not his own.
IM Selina, “ “ destitute, nineteen years old school- »..»
arootloally becomes a
tsaoher.
tion CHAPTER XT—Selina secures a posi¬
as teacher at the High Prairie
•ohool, Uvlng In the outskirts of Chicago,
at the home of a truck farmer,
Klaas Pool. In Roelf, twelve years
old, inndred son of Klaas, Selina of perceives a
herself. spirit, a lovsr beauty, like
CHAPTER III.—The monotonous life
•f a country school-teacher at that
time, is Selina's, brightened somewhat sensitive,
hr the companionship of the
•rtlstlc boy Koejf.
CHAPTER IV.—Selina hears gossip
aonosrnlng the affection of the "Widow
raarlenberg," for rich and good-looking,
Pervus Delong, poor truck farmer.
Who Is Insensible to the widow's at¬
tractions. feline. For a community "sociable''
prepares a lunch basket, dainty,
but "auctioned,” not of ample proportions, which Is
according to custom. deri¬ The
smallness sion, of the lunch box excites
and In a sense of fun the blddtiif
becomes spirited, DeJong finally secur
log it their for $10, a ridiculously high price.
Over lunch basket, which Selina
and t* DeJong share together, the school
teacher ' ' arranges -.......... to Instruct the good
aatured been farmer, whose education has
neglected.
positions CHAPTER "teacher" V,—Propinquity, “pupil,” in their
of and and
Selina's loneliness in her uncongenial
surroundings, pervus lead to mutual affection
DeJong wins Selina’s consent
to be his wife.
CHAPTER VI.—Selina becomes Mrs.
hardships DeJong, a "farmer's wife," with all the
unavoidable at that time.
Dirk Is born. Selina (of Vermont
plans •took, businesslike and shrewd) has
for building up the farm, which
are ridiculed by her husband. Maertje
Pool, Klaas' wlfs, dies, and aftsr the
requisite decent Interval Klaas marries
the "Widow Paarlenberg." The boy
Roelf, bis sixteen years old now, leavss
home, to make his way to Prance
and study, his ambition being to he
oome a sculptor.
CHAPTER Vlt—Dirk Is eight years
old when his father dies. Selina, faced
with the necessity of making a living
for her boy and herself, rises to the
occasion, and, with Dirk, takes a truck
load of vegetables to the Chicago mar¬
ket, A woman selling in the market
place Is an Innovation frownsd upon.
Chapter VIII
It would be enchanting to be able
to record that Selina, next day, had
phenomenal success, disposing of her
carefully bunched wares to great ad¬
vantage, driving smartly off up Hal
sted street toward High Prairie with
a goodly profit jingling in her scuffed
leather purse. The truth is that she
had a day so devastating, so catas¬
trophic. as would have discouraged
most men and certainly any woman
less desperate and determined.
She had awakened, not to daylight,
but to the tiiree o’clock blackness. The
street was already astir. Selina
brushed her skirt to rid it of the cling¬
ing hay, tidied herself as best she
could. Leaving Dirk still asleep, she
called Pom from beneatli the wagon
to act as sentinel at the dashboard, and
crossed the street to Chris Spank
noebel’s. She knew Clu-is, und lie her.
He would let her wash at the faucet
at the rear of the eating house. She
would buy hot coffee for herself and
Dirk to warm and revivify them. They
would eat the sandwiches left from the
night before.
As Selina entered the long room
there was something heartening, reas¬
suring about Chris’ dean white apron,
his ruddy color. From the kitchen at
the rear came the sounds of sizzling
and frying, and the gracious scent of
coffee and of frying pork und pota¬
toes.
Selina approached Chris. His round
face loomed out through the smoke
like the sun In a tog. “Well, how goes
it all the while?” Then he recognized
her, “Dm Gottes!—why, it’s Mis' De¬
Jong!” He wiped his great hand on
a convenient towel, extended it in
sympathy ta the widow. "1 heerd,” he
said, “I heerd." His inarticulateness
made his words doubly effective.
“I’ve come in with the load, Mr,
Spankaoebel. The boy and I. He’s still
asleep in the wagon. May I bring him
ever here te clean him up a little be¬
fore breakfast r
“Sure! Sure!" A sudden suspicion
•track him. “You ain't slept In the
wagon, Mle’ DeJong! Um Goftesl—"
“Ye*. It wasn't bad. The boy slept
the might threugh. I slept too, quite
a little.”
"Why you didn’t come here? Why—"
At the look la Selina’s face he knew
then. “For nothing yon and the boy
coaid sleep here.”
“I knew that! That’s why."
“Don’t talk dumb. Mrs. DeJong.
Half the time the rooms Is vacant. You
and the boy chust as well—twenty
cents, then, sad pay me when you got
It But anyway you don't come In
reg’iar with the load, do you? That
ain’t for womans.”
"There’s no one to do It for me, ex¬
cept Jan. And he’s worse than no¬
body. Just through September and
October. After.that, jtpaybe—” Her
voice trailed off. it is hard to be
hopeful at thrive in the morning, before
breakfast.
She went to the little wash room at
the rear, tel t better immediately she
had washed vigorously, combed her
hair. She returned to the wagon to
find a panic-stricken Dirk sure of noth¬
ing but that Fifteen he hud been deserted by
ids mother. minutes later the
two were seated at a table on which
was spread what Chris Spank
noebel considered an adequate break¬
fast. A heartening enough beginning
for the day, and a deceptive.
The Haymarket buyers did not want
to purchase its vegetables from Selina
DeJong. It wasn't used to buying of
women, but to selling to them.
Selina had taken the covers off her
vegetables. They were revealed crisp,
fresh, colorful. But Selina knew they
must be sold now, quickly. When the
leaves begun to wilt, when the edges
of the cauliflower heads curled ever
so slightly, turned brown and Ump,
their value decreased by half, even
though the heads themselves remained
white and linn.
Down the street came the buyers—
little black-eyed swarthy men; plump,
short-sleeved, greasy men; shrewd, to¬
bacco-chewing men in overalls. Stolid
red Dutch faces, sunburned. Lean, dark
foreign faces. Shouting, clatter, tur¬
moil.
The day broke warm. The sun rose
red. It would lie a humid September
day such as frequently came in the
autumn to this iake region. Garden
stuff would have to move quickly this
morning. Afternoon would And It
worthless.
The peddlers looked at her bunched
bouquets, glanced at her, passed her
by. It was not* unkindness that
prompted them, but a certain shyness,
a fear of the unaccustomed. Her
wares were tempting but they passed
her by with the instinct that the ig¬
norant have against that which is un¬
usual.
By nine o’eliek trading began to fail
off. In a panic Selina realized that
the sales she had made amounted to
little more than two dollars. If she
stayed there until noon she might
double that, but no more. In despera¬
tion she harnessed the horses, thread¬
ed her way out of the swarming street,
and made for South Water street
farther east. Here were the commis¬
sion houses. She knew that Pervus
had sometimes left his entire load with
an established dealer here, to he sold
on commission. She remembered fhe
name—Talcott—though she did not
know the exact location.
The boy had been almost Incredibly
patient and good. At the wagon he
had stood sturdily next his mother,
had busied himself vastly assisting her
in her few pitiful sales; had plucked
wilted leaves, brought forward the
freshest and crispest vegetables. But
now she saw that he was drooping a
little as were her wares, with the heat
and the absence from accustomed soil.
“Where we going now, mom?"
“To another Btreet, Sobig—"
“Dirk!’’
“—Dirk, where there’s a man who’ll
buy all' our stuff at once—maybe.
Won’t that be fine! Then we’ll go
home. You help mother And his name
over the store. Talcott—T-a-l-c-o
doifble t."
William Talcott had known Pervus.
and Pervus* father before him, and
had adjudged them honest, admirable
men. But of their garden truck he had
small opinion.
In his doorway, he eyed the spare
little figure that appeared before him
all in rusty black, witli its strained
anxious face, its great deep-sunk eyes.
“DeJong, eh? Sorry to iiear about
your loss, ma’am. Pervus was a fine
lad. No great shakes at truck farm¬
ing, though. His widow, h’m? Hm."
Here, he saw, was no dull-witted farm
woman; no stolid Dutch woman truck
ster. He went out to her wagon,
tweaked the boy’s brown cheek.
“Wa-al now, Mis’ DeJong, you got a
right smart lot of garden stuff here and
It looks pretty good. Yessir, pretty
good. But you’re too late. Ten, pret’
near.”
“Oh, net" cried Selina. "Oh, no!
Not too latel" And at the agony In
her voice he looked at her sharply.
“Tell yon what, mebbe I can move
half of ’em along for you. But stuff
don’t keep this weather. Turns wilty
and my trade won’t touch it. . . .
First trip In?”
She wiped her face that was damp
and yet cold to the touch. “First—trip
in." Suddenly she was finding It ab¬
surdly hard to breathe.
He called from the sidewalk to the
men within; "George! Ben! Hustle
this stuff in. Half of It. The best.
Send yon check tomorrow, Mis’ De¬
Jong.”
One hand on the seat she prepared
to climb up again—did step to the
hub. Yon saw her shabby, absnrd
side Warts that were so much too big
farJfee sjta JMte.teyt. _ “If xm'ce lost
! Baying my stuff becauaeydc’re «drry
for me—” The Peake pride.
“Don’t do business that way. Can’t
I afford to, ma’am. My da’ter she’s
j studying to be a singer. In Italy now,
Car’llne Is, and costs like all get-out
Takes all the money I can scrape to¬
gether, Just about."
There was a little coler in Selina’s
face now. “Italy! Oh, Mr. Talcott!”
You’d have thought she had seen It
from her face. She began to thank
him, gravely.
"Now, that’s all right, Mis’ DeJong.
I notice your stuff’s bunched kind of
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Ka She Gathered Up the Reins He
Stood in Hi» Doorway, Cool, Remote.
sxtry, and all of it size. Flxin’ to do
hat way right along?”
"Yes. I thought.......they looked pret¬
ier that way—of course vegetables
tren’t supposed to look pretty, I ex
>ect—” site stammered, stopped.
"You fix ’em pretty like that and
iring ’em in to rue first thing, or send
etn. My trade, they like their stuff
tlnd of special. Yessir.”
As Selina gathered up the reins he
Rood again in ids doorway, cool, re
note, unlighted cigar in his mouth,
while hand-trucks rattled past him,
jarrels and boxes thumped to the side¬
walk in front of him, wheels and hoofs
»nd shouts made a greut clamor all
ibout him.
“We going home now?" demanded
Dirk. "We going home now? I’m
hungry.”
“Yes, Iamb.” Two dollars in her
pocket. Ail yesterday’s grim toil, and
ail today’s, and months of labor be¬
hind those two days. Two dollars In
the pocket of her black calico petticoat.
‘‘We’ll get something to eat when we
drive out a ways. Some uiilk and
bread and cheese.”
The sun Was very hot. She took the
hoy’s hat off, passed her tender work
calloused hand over the damp hair
that clung to his forehead.
She made up her mind to drive east
and then south. Pervus hud sometimes
achieved a late sale to outlying gro¬
cers. Jan’s face if she came home
with half the load still on the wagon!
And what of the unpaid bills? She
had, perhaps, thirty dollars, all told.
She owed four hundred. More than
that.
Fear shook her. She told herself
she wns tired, nervous. That terrible
week. And now tills. The heat. Soon
they’d be home, she and Dirk. The
comfort of it, the peace of it. Safe, de¬
sirable, suddenly dear. No work for
a woman, this! Weil, perhaps they
were right.
Down Wabash avenue, with the L
trains thundering overhead and her
horses, frightened and uneasy with
tiie unaccustomed roar and clangor of
traffic. It was terribly hot.
The boy’s eyes popped with excite¬
ment and bewilderment.
"Pretty soon,” Selina said. The
muscles showed white beneath the skin
of her jaw. “Pretty soon. Prairie
avenue. Great big houses and lawns,
all quiet.” She even managed a smile.
"I like It better home."
Prairie avenue at last, turning in at
Sixteenth street. It was like calm
after a storm. Selina felt battered,
spent.
Then another thought ‘ to her.
came
Her vegetables, canvas covered, were
fresher than those in the near-by mar¬
kets. Why not try to sell some of
them here, in these big houses? In an
hour she might earn a few dollars this
way ht retail prices slightly less than
those asked by the grocers of the neigh¬
borhood.
Agilely site stepped down the wheel,
gave the reins to Dirk. She filled a
large market basket with the finest
and freshest of her stock and with
this on her arm looked up a moment at
the house in front of which she had
stopped. The kitchen entrance, she
knew, was by way of the alley at the
back, but this she would not take.
Across the sidewalk, down a little flight
of stone steps, Into the vestibule under
the porch. She looked at the bell—a
braae knob. “Pull IF!” said the des¬
perate Selina. "I can’t! I can’t!"
cried all the prim dim Vermont Peekes,
la chorus. ”AU right. Starve to death
and let them take the farm and Ditfc,
then.”
At that she pulled the knob hard.
Jangle went the bell in the halt. Again.
Again.
Footsteps up the hall. The, door
opened to disclose a large woman, high
cheek-boned. In a work apron; a cook,
apparently.
“Good morning,” said Selina. “Would
you like some fresh country vege
tablear
"No.” She half shut the door, open¬
ing JL.agaiu.Jtt aak. “Got any fresh
eggs or butter?” A* Selina's negative
she closed the door, belted it. Well,
that was all right. Nothing so terrible
about that, Selina told herself. Simply
hadn’t wanted any vegetables. The
next house, and the next, and the next.
Up one side of the street, and down
the other. Four times she refilled her
basket. At one bouse she sedd a quar¬
ter’s worth. Fifteen at another. Twen¬
ty cents here. Almost fifty there.
Twenty-first street—Twenty-fifth—
Twenty-eighth. She had over four dol¬
lars in her purse. Dirk was weary
now and hungry to the point of tears.
“The last house,” Selina promised him,
“the very last one. After this one
we’ll go home.”
The last house. She had almost five
dollars, earned in the last hour. “Just
five minutes,” she said to Dirk, trying
to make iter tone bright, her voice gay.
Her arms full of vegetables which she
was about to place in the basket at
her feet she heard at her elbow:
“Now, then, where’s your license?”
She turned. A policeman at her side.
"License?”
“Yeti, you heard me. License.
Where’s your peddler's license? You
got one, I s’pose.”
"Why, no. No.” She stared at
him, still.
"Weil, say, where d’ye think you
are, peddlin’ without a license' A good
mind to run you in. Get along out of
here, you and the kid. Leave me ketch
you around here again!”
“What’s tin; trouble, officer?” said a
woman’s voice. A smart open carriage
of the type known as a victoria, witli
two chestnut horses whose harness
shone with metal. “What’s the trouble,
Reilly?” The woman stepped out of
the victoria.
“Womun peddling without a license,
Mrs. Arnold. You got to watch ’em
like a hawk. . . . Get along wid
you, then.” lie put a hand on Selina’s
shoulder and gave her a gentle push.
There shook Selina from head to foot
such a passion, such a storm of out¬
raged sensibilities, as to cause street,
victoria, silk-clad woman, horses, and
policeman to swim and shiver in a haze
before her eyes. The rage of a fas¬
tidious woman who had had an alien
male hand put upon her. Her face
was white. Her eyes glowed black,
enormous. She seemed tail, majestic
even.
“Take your band off me!” Her
speech was clipped, vibrant. “How
dare you touch me! How dare you!
Take your hand!—’’ The blazing eyes
in the white mask. He took his hand
from her shoulder. The red surged
into her face. A tanned weather¬
beaten toil-worn woman, her abundant
hair skewered into a knob and held by
a long gray-black hairpin, her full skirt
grimed witli the mud of the wagon
wheel, a pair of old side boots on bet
Silln feet, a grotesquely battered old
felt bat (her husband's) on her head,
her arms full of ears of street corn,
and carrots, and radishes and hunches
of beets; a woman with bad teeth, flat
breasts—even then Julie had known
her by her eyqs, And site had stared
and then run to her in her silk dress
and her plumed hat, crying, “Oh, Se¬
lina ! My dearMy dear I” with a
seb of horror ami pity. “My dear!”
And had taken Selina, carrots, beets,
corn, and radishes in her arms. The
vegetables Jay scattered all about them
on the sidewalk in front of Julie Hem
pel Arnold's great stone house on
Prairie avenue. But strangely enough
it had been Selimt who had done the
comforting, patting Julie's plump siiker.
shoulder and saying, over and over,
soothingly, as to a child. “There,
there! It’s all right, Julie. It's all
right. Don’t cry. What’s there to cry
for! Sh-sh! It’s all right.”
Julie lifted her head in its modish
black plumed hat, wiped her eyes, blew
her nose. “Get along with you, do,”
she said to Reilly, the policeman, using
his very words to Selina. “I'm going
to report you to Mr. Arnold, see If I
don’t. And you know what that
means.”
"Well, now. Mrs. Arnold, ma’am, I
was only doing my duty. How cud I
know the lady was a friend of yours.
Sure, I—” He surveyed Selina, cart,
jaded horses, wilted vegetables.
“And why not!” demanded .Tuiie
with superb unreasonableness. “Why
not, I’d like to know. Do get along
with you.”
He got along, a defeated officer of
the law, and a bitter. And now it was
Julie who surveyed Selina, cart, Dirk,
jaded horses, wilted left-over vege¬
tables. “Selina, whatever in the world!
What are you doing witli—” She
caught sight of Selina’s absurd boots
then and she began to cry again. At
that Selina’s overwrought nertes
snapped and she began to laugh, hys¬
terically. It frightened Julie, that
laughter. “Selina, don’t! Come in the
house with me. What are you laugh¬
ing at! Selina!” ,
With shaking finger Selina was point¬
ing at the vegetables that lay tumbled
at her feet "Do you see that cab¬
bage, Julie? Do you remember how
I naed to despise Mrs. Tebbitt’s be
caaae she used to have boiled cabbage
on Monday nights?”
"That’s nothing to laugh at, Is It?
Step laughing this minute, Selina
Peake!”
^’11 stop. I’ve stopped now. I wae
just laughing at my ignorance. Sweat
aaO Mood and health and youth go
Into every cabbage. Did you know
that, Julio? One doesn’t despise them
as food, knowing that . . . Come,
climb down, Dirk. Here's a lady moth¬
er used to know—oh, years and years
ago, when she was a girl. Thousands
of years ago.”
Chapter IX
the best thing for Dtxk. The bet*
thing for Dirk. It was the phrase that
repeated Itself over and over in Se¬
lina’s speech during the days that fol¬
lowed In JhJg period of bewfideraeot
aad fatigue Julie had - 75temp*ed to
take charge of Selina much as aha had
done a dozen years before at the time
of Simeon Peake’s dramatic death. And
now, as then, she pressed Into service
her wonder-working father and bound
en slave, August Hempel.
“Pa’ll be out tomorrow and Fll prob¬
ably come with him. Fve got a com¬
mittee meeting, but I can easily—”
“You said—did you say your father
would be out tomorrow i Out where?”
“To your place. Farm."
| | “But why should he? It’s a little
twenty-five-acre truck farm, and half
| time.” of It under water a good deal of the
j | "Pa’ll find for It, never fear.
a use
] He won't say much, but he’ll think of
I things. And then everything will be
j ail right.”
! j A species of ugly pride now pos
sessed Selina. “1 don’t need help.
; Really 1 don’r, Julie, dear. It’s never
! been like today. Never before. We
j were getting on very well, Pervus and
i I, Then after Pervus’ death so sud¬
denly like that I was frightened. Ter¬
ribly frightened. About Dirk. 1 wanted
him to have everything. Beautiful
things. I wanted his life to be beauti¬
ful. Life can be so ugly, Julie. You
don’t know. You don’t know.”
“Well, now. that’s why I say. Well
be out tomorrow, pa and I. Dirk’s go¬
ing to have everything beautiful. We’ll
see to that.”
It was then that Selina had said,
“But that’s just it. 1 want to do It
myself, for him. I can. I want to
give him all these things myself.”
“But that's selfish.”
“I don’t mean to be. 1 just want to
do the best thing for Dirk.”
It was shortly after noon that High
Prairie, hearing the unaccustomed chug
of a motor, rushed to Its windows or
porches to behold Selina DeJong in her
mushed black felt hat and Dirk wav¬
ing his battered straw wildly, riding up
the Halsted road toward the DeJong
farm in a bright red automobile that
had shattered the nerves of every
fanner's team it had met on the way.
Of the DeJong team and the DeJong
dog Pom, and the DeJong vegetable
wagon there was absolutely no sign.
High Prairie was rendered unlit for
work throughout the next twenty-four
hours.
In the twelve years' transition from
butcher to packer Aug Hempel had
taken on a certain authority and dis¬
tinction. Now, at fifty-five, his hair
was gray, relieving the too-ruddy color
of his face. In the last few years he
had grown very deaf in one ear, so that
when you spoke to him he looked at
you intently. This had given Mm a
reputation for keenness and great
character insight, when it was merely
the protective trick of a man who does
not want to confess that he is hard of
hearing.
Selina’s domain he surveyed with a
keen and comprehensive eye.
“You want to sell?”
“No.”
“That’s good. Few years trom now
this land will be worth money.” He
had spent a bare fifteen minutes tak¬
ing shrewd valuation of the property
from fields to barn, from barn to
house. “Well, what do you want to
do, heli, Selina?”
They were seated in the cool and
unexpectedly pleasing little parlor,
with its old Du tel) iusterfset gleaming
softly In the cabinet, its three rows
of books, its air of comfort and usage.
Selina clasped her hands tightly in
her lap—those hands that, from much
grubbing in the soil, had taken on
something of the look of the gnarled
things they tended. The nails were
atort, discolored, broken. The palms
rough, catioused. The whole story of
the last twelve years of Selina's life
was written in her two hands.
“I want to stay here, and work the
farm, and make it pay. I can. I’m
not going to grow Just the common
garden stuff any more—not much, any¬
way. Pm going to specialize in the
fine things—the kind the South Water
street commission men want. I want
to drain the low land. Tile it. That
land hasn’t been used for years. It
ought to be rich growing land by now.
if once it’s properly drained. And I
want Dirk to go to school. Good
schools. I never want my son to ga
to the Haymarket. Never. Never.
A New Store
FREE DELIVERY
A first-class market
and grocery store
that wants your
business. Come to
see us. Prices and
goods guaranteed.
FITZGERALD’S MARKET
Rear Camilla Drug Co. G. H. Fitzgerald, Prop.
"My TSF'doam’t count, except as
something for Dirk to use. I’m done
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“My Life Doesn’t Count, Except as
Something for Dirk to Use.”
with anything else. Oh, 1 don't mean
that I’m discouraged, or disappointed
In life, or anything like that. I mean
I started out with the wrong idea. I
know better now. I'm here to keep
Dirk from making the mistakes 1
made.” * *
Aug Hempel’s tone was one of medi¬
tation, not of argument. “It don’t
work out that way, seems. About mis¬
takes it’s funny. You got to make your
own; and not only that, if you try to
keep people from making theirs they
get mad.” He whistled softly through
his teeth following this utterance and
tapped the chair seat witli his finger.
"It's beauty i” Selina said then, al¬
most passionately. Aug Hempel and
Julie plainly could make nothing of
this remark, so she went on, eager, ex-«
planatory. “I used to think that If
you wanted beauty—If you wanted it
hard enough and hopefully enough—It
came to you. You just waited, and
lived your life as best you could,
knowing that beauty might be just
around the corner. You just waited,
and then it came.”
“Beauty!” exclaimed Juiie, weakly.
She stared at Selina in the evident be¬
lief that this work-worn haggard
her ’
woman was bemoaning lack of per
sonal pulchritude.
“Yes. All the worth-while things in
life. Work that you love. And growth
—growth and watching people grow.
Feeling very strongly about things
and then developing that feeling to—
to make something fine come of It”
She threw out her hands in a futile
gesture. “That’s what I mean bjt
beauty. I want Dirk to have It.”
“For pity’s sake 1” pleaded Juiie, the
literal, “let’s stop talking and do some¬
thing. Pa, you’ve probably got it all
fixed in your mind long ago. It’s time’
(Continued on page 7,
Camilla Council R. & S. M. No. 31
meets 5th Thursday Night at 7:30,
all visiting Companions invited. >
M. A. Warren, Jno. C. Butler,
111 Master. Recorder.
Camilla Lodge No. 128 F. & A. M.
meets 1st Thursday Nights at 7:30,
3rd Thursday Afternoons at 2:80.
Visiting brethren invited.
Jno. C. Butler, J. L. Palmer,
W. M. Sect’y.
Camilla Chapter No. 133 meets 3rd
Thursday Night at 7:30
Companions invited.
P. C. Cullens, Jno. C. Butler,
H. P. Recorder.