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Newspaper Page Text
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THE BREAD LINE
By Eleanor Morris Wilmarth
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
"Stop here, please, Helen."
"You donVmgan that you are go
ing into that horrid place!"
rfThat is my mission, dear. You
see, the church guild has taken
charge for one day. Poor creatures!
My heart pities them so !"
Miss Helen Parr shrugged her
shoulders. Her finely chiseled Up
curled disdainfully. Only that she
was enwrapt in getting the brother
of Ivy Winsted for a husband, she
would then and there have discarded
She had offered Ivy a lift in her
magnificent limousine, and Ivy had
directed her, until now they stopped
in front of a rickety structure that
had once been a cheap lodging house.
A line of men, women and children,
perhaps a hundred or more, lined up
in front of the place. Tragedy, suf
fering, hunger spoke in every one of
the wan, pinched faces. Ivy lifted
her basket from the machine.
"Thanks, dear," she smiled win
somely, and passed inside the lower
story of the building.
There were long tables piled high
with bread and a steam table hold
ing a coffee boiler big enough for a
giant. At some of the tables, as with
Ivy, ladies waiting upon them had
brought baskets and parcels of dain
ties such as cakes, jellies and sand
wiches. Ivy's tender heart went out in ear
nest pity as the bread line was start
ed on its march. Those who wished
to carry home food and coffee were
given the same in bags and pails.
Those who had no home ate and
drank standing at the tables.
Ivy cried silently over the poor
famished little children who came
-'-n in the line and made it an es-
noint to give them a full al-
Long before a tall, graceful
' ' o i whom she had particu-,
larly noticed, reached her, she had
singled him out as one of a class who
had seen better times.
He kept his hat well down over his
eyes but could not disguise the finely
chiseled lower face. He was evident
ly a convalescent, for his shapely
hands were almost transparent He
was neat and clean, but his attire
threadbare. Ivy could not refrain
from speaking to him as he drank a
cup of coffee.
He stared at her in wonder and
then again, as if fascinated by her
"Why," He Cried, "That Is My Pic
ture." beauty. Ivy said softly, sympathet
ically: "Please wait and I will give you
something to last you for supper."
Then, strangely affected, although
she could not tell why, Ivy turned to
fill a bag with some of the dainties
she had brought from home. She
passed it to ChS young 'man with a