Evening star. [volume], January 15, 1929, Page 37, Image 37

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
W THE EVENING STORY
f «g r Her Boy and His Girl.
• OMS people when their finances
dwindle go abroad. The Araeri
can dollar is very elastic in for
• ' eign countries. With a handful
of cartwheels you can make a re
spectable showing in France or Italy.
But you must be adaptable. Myrtle
Hardy wasn’t adaptable. So she went
back to Westmore.
Twenty years before Myrtle had sail
ed away from Westmore in a dark blue
traveling suit, a hat with a willow
plume and three trunks full of trous
seau. As she shook the rice so her
wedding send-cfT from the folds of her
skirt and said to herself: “There! I'm
through with that forever," golden
promises, rosy vistas, symbols of joy
lured her to the future. Upon closer
view the promises proved to be tar
nished. the rosy vistas grubby, the
symbols cracked. For Lewis Hardy
hadn’t made good. Before three years
passed Myrtle was keeping boarders,
doing all the work herself with a baby
on her arm. But nobody in Westmore
ever knew this. The friends who had
helped her get married, the man she
had Jilted for Lewis Hardy, never
dreamed that she wasn’t as happy as
she had started out to be.
When Dick Hardy was 18 his father
died after a long sickness that took
Myrtle's last nickel in spite of the fact
that 6he nursed him herself. But
through everything she managed to pay
the preminums on Lewis’ life insurance.
So she had a few thousand to help
her through the bad times that came
afterward.
She couldn’t live where she was. So
she negotiated for a house in West
more. Certain heart tuggings made her
decide on Westmore. Besides, she knew
LITTLE BENNY
BY LEE PAPE.
Stars.
Huthlng Is more bewtiful than a sky
pack full of stars after suppir, and If
nobody had never saw anything like it
before they would all be telling every
body elts to look, ony everybody is so
use to it by this time that the ony thing
it generally makes them think of is
that its not going to rain.
Wile we are looking up at some little
star and wondering if there is anybody
alive on it and feeling sorry for them
so far away up there in case there is,
somebody up there may be looking at
the erth at the same time and wonder
ing if peeple live here and if we have
sents enough to tawk and diffrent things
the same as them.
This proves no matter how wonderful
we are its wrong to think we are so
exter grate, because for all we know
the peeple up on some star 5 million
miles up in the air may of invented the
radio before we was born, and their
children may have free public candy
stores and movies and may not even
hafl to go to skool on account of being
born with perfeck educations.
Some stars are hundreds of times
bigger than the whole erth put together,
so even if you owned the intire werld
you wouldent be so much considering.
This proves nobody would ever feel
sattisfied if they thawt too much about
it.
A shotting star is a star off the track
and is more fun to watch than to be
hit by. If the erth ever got in the way
of a star it would proberly make the
biggest bump in the history of the
werld and proberly the last.
This proves some of the luckiest
things are the ones that dont happen.
Abe Martin Says:
Next to hat store lookin’ glasses
nothin’s so effective as a wedge o’
mince pie when it comes to takin’ th’
conceit out of people who feel as young
as they ever did.
The radio is a wonderful contrap
tion fer isolated folks who’ve been
shuckin’ com an’ milkin’ all day, but
the Jokes take us back so fer.
(Copyright, 1823.)
LIFE’S DARKEST MOMENT.—BY WEBSTER |
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6he cculif live cheaply there. Besides,
also, she knew that Dick would be
s safer in a small town. One day she
- slipped in, saw the hquse, bargained
for it and slipped away again without
' anybody but the realtor himself being
1 the wiser. Two months later she re
■ turned with her son and such house
hold gear as she hadn't sent to the
5 ' auction rooms.
It was a patchy little old house,
t somewhat remote from other habita
tion. but it cost so little that when
it was paid for Myrtle still had a
couple of thousand to her credit. And
! when she had placed the clock on the
? mantel shelf, hung her curtains at the
window’s and lit the fire she felt more
at home than she had perhaps ever
: felt in the last 20 uphilly years of her
r life.
While she was settling the house.
Dick, hands in pockets, strolled round
> the town picking up acquaintances. A
’ pretty girl in a red coat brought him
' home in a putty-colored sport model.
■ Dick was wild about that girl at signt
“ Genevieve, he called her. He straight
! way declared his intention of getting
> a job. Myrtle looked at him sadly. Was
• he going to be like his father? She’d
r hoped he w’as going to be like her
' Grandfather Winn. All her life she had
l been trying to be like Grandfather;
! Winn—stirring, honest, brave. She
wanted Dick to have an education. She
1 told him so. He sneered.
He got the job. It didn’t pay much,
but it gave him pocket money. Os
■ course he didn’t pay his mother a cent s
board. With his nonchalant ways and j
; good looks he soon had plenty of friends.
Almost every day Genevieve called him
■ up to go some place. He rode with her.
1 danced with her. dreamed of her. Myrtle
saw’ him only at mealtime and not al
ways then. She was busy crocheting
1 wool goods for a children's shop in the ,
; city. By making her crochet hook fly j
, she earned fair wages. It wasn’t what
she wanted to do, however; she had
other plans just as soon as she could
afford them. . ..
One afternoon as she sat crocheting
on the sagging little porch the putty
colored car drove up and stopped. Not
Genevieve this time. It was apparently
her father. And he looked mad clear
through.
“Mrs. Hardy, I believe?" he began
curtly. , . . ,
Myrtle arose, a half-finished baby
sack of pink wool trailing from her
slender hand. She wore a black and
white voile. Her frosted black hair
was simply knotted. She used no
make-up, tor her skin was fresh and
clear. A pair of shell-rimmed “nigh- j
bys" covered her beautiful dark eyes. ;
She whipped them off for a closer j
view of her visitor. In the seme in
stant that she recognized him he recog- j
nized her. „ ~
“Myrtle!” he exclaimed, as if there
w’as just one woman of that name in
all the world. , ~
“How do vou do, Will?" She held
out her hand. “Won’t you sit down?”
He sat down, embarrassed. He had
come full of fury to comb this woman
over the coals because of her recalci
trant son. He found in her the girl
who had jilted him for another fellow.
“What's the matter?” Myrtle asked
kindly. “What have you come to me
about? I see there's something dis
turbing you.”
“That boy of yours!” he exploded.
“He’s running round with my girl.
They must be stopped. I’ve given
Genevieve every advantage, I’ve hu
mored her in everything since her
mother died. She’s a talented girl. If
she’d get boy cut of her head she'd
amount to something. But she picks
up a strange youngster who earns only
sls a week. It spells trouble. You
understand what it means.”
Yes, Myrtle understood. Her dark
eyes were fixed upon a paper cone at
tached to the porch round which some
insects were buzzing. She couldn’t de
stroy that old yellowjacket’s nest
somehow.
“What do you want me to do?" she
asked.
“I suppose you have talked to your
boy. I want you to talk to my girl.
Use your ” he looked at her closely
—“your personality. You’ve got plenty
of it. You’ll know what to say to
Genevieve. I’d only blunder. But the
thing’s got to stop. I can’t have her
getting married at her age. I ”
He went away leaving Myrtle with a
hard problem. She had promised to
talk to his girl.
She walked a mile next day to meet
Genevieve by appointment. A maid
admitted her into the luxurious Rob
inson home. Will had been poor when
she last knew him. But she didn't
stop to think of that or look around.
She was intent upon Genevieve, lovely
in her soft beige sports dress. She
thought: “Oh, if Dick could only have
her maybe it would be the saving of
him.” But she had promised. And
she owed Will Robinson something for
jilting him, not but what he’d done
better marrying old Gus Warren’s
heiress.
Into that talk Myrtle flung all the
force of her nature, all the fruits of
her experience, all the courage and de
termination that was hers. Afterward
in thinking it over she wondered if
she had been just fair to Dick in her
effort to make Genevieve see? But at
least she won. She knew she had won
when Genevieve kissed her.
A week later Genevieve went abroad
to study. Dick was crushed. “Lots of
other janes,” he said. “Very few like
Genevieve,” Myrtle said. “If you want
her play the man and win her. You
can. Don’t be a booby or an ass. Prove
that you can amount to something.
Her father wouldn’t object to you then."
Into Dick’s face came the look that
Myrtle had so longed to see there, the
look that had been minted by Grand
father Winn. Her heart leaped with
hope.
I She didn't see Will Robinson for a
THE EVENING STAR, WASHTEGTOH, I). C., TUESDAY. .TAXTJARY 15. 1929.
long time. He had gone to Paris with
his daughter. Meanwhile, she finished
the business course she was taking
with a private tutor and got a good
job. Dick, too, was working Indus
triously days and studying evenings.
On her way home from work one
wet afternoon Myrtle was hailed from
an inclosed car. She looked with a
start into Will Robinson’s fine, friendly
face. He took her home. There was
a sign for sale on the sagging porch.
“Were moving into an apartment,
which will be nearer Dick’s work and
mine,” Myrtle explained. It was un
acountable the way her heart was act
ing at sight of this man.
“Haven’t thanked you yet for what
you did for Genevieve and me,” Will
said. “You made a great hit with my
girl. She'll be a better woman for
that interview. Your boy can't help
making good with you for a mother.
Myrtle. Some day maybe .’’ He
paused, looking deep into her eyes.
“Your bov and my girl,” he said
huskily. “Why not our children, my
dear?"
THE END.
ecopyrlsht. 1929.)
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BEDTIME STORIES V. BURGESS j !
The Kindly Deed.
Through trouble only you may .find
Just wno Is thoughtful, who is kind.
—Reddy Fox.
Reddy Fox limped slowly home.
There would be no hunting that night
for Reddy. He had been careless and
he had lost a toe in a dreadful steel
trap. Os course, it had pained him a
great deal at first, but the cold had
brought a blessed numbness and, as he
limped along, his foot did not pain him
so much. But he couldn’t run on that
foot and so there could be no hunting
that night. Poor Reddy! He felt nearly
starved as it was. What should he do?
He would just have to grin and bear it,
that was all.
Now, as he approached home, he met
Mrs. Reddy just starting out. Os course,
she saw that something was the mat
ter and right away Reddy told her what
had hannened. He warned her that
there might be other traps and she
must watch out. . . . ..
“Good luck, my dear, good luck in the
hunting,” said Reddy, as he crept into
the house, hungry and miserable.
Mrs. Reddy hurried away. She had
started out to hunt for herself, but now
she intended to hunt for Reddy, too.
“Poor Reddy!” she thought. “It would
be bad enough to have such a thing
happen at any time, but to have it
happen now when we are half starved
is really dreadful. I simply must get
something for him tonight.”
It was the next day when Farmer
Brown’s Boy took it into his head to
go up in the Old Pasture. It was the
first time he had been up that Winter.
Now, the trapper had already visited
his trap and found Reddy’s toe in it.
He knew that it would be useless to re
set that trap right there, so he had
taken it up and reset it at another
point. In doing so he had left tracks
in the snow. Os course, Farmer Brown's
“REDDY WAS CAUGHT, BUT GOT
AWAY,” THOUGHT FARMER
BROWN’S BOY.
Boy discovered those tracks. “I won
der who’s been up here," thought he,
“and what for." He followed the tracks.
So he came to the place where the trap
had first been set. He saw the dis
turbance in the snow. He saw some
drops of blood on the snow. Looking
around carefully, he saw Reddy’s tracks
approaching that place and then leav
ing there. He saw right away that
Reddy had been using only three feet
when he left and he discovered little
spots of blood on the snow.
"Reddy was caught, but got away,"
thought Farmer Brown’s Boy, and
turned to follow the man’s tracks to
where he had reset the trap. He soon
found the trap, sprung it and took it
up. He was angry clear through, was
Farmer Brown’s Boy. Then he turned
and went back to follow Reddy’s tracks
to the door of his home. He saw that
Reddy had gone in.
“That Fox must be half starved,"
thought Farmer Brown’s Boy. “He
could have had nothing to eat through
the storm and now that he has a hurt
foot he has little chance to get any
thing to eat. I'd like to go straight
over to that trapper’s and tell him
what I think of him. But I guess the
first thing to do is to go back home
and get some food for Reddy.”
Back home went Farmer Brown’s Boy
and presently he returned with meat
and bones with meat still on them and
half of the dinner that had been cooked
for Bowser the Hound. All this he put
down In front of Reddy’s doorway and
then hurried away that Reddy might
not be delayed in satisfying his hunger.
It was a kindly deed —one of the deeds
that make Parmer Brown’s Boy beloved
by all the little people of the Green
Forest and the Green Meadows.
(Copyright, 1929.)
■ • —■■■■
1,000 Pheasants for Ruler.
One thousand pheasants were de
livered recently from Europe to the
sporting estate of the Maharajah of
Patiala in the Punjab of India. They
made their 7,000 mile journey by rail
and sea with only about 1 per cent
loss. The birds, which are ordinary
Mongolian pheasants, traveled in speci
ally designed crates. It required about
two months to prepare their food for
the journey. It is estimated that by
the time the birds reached Patiala
they had cost S2O each, whereas the
price in Europe is about $1.75. At the
request of the Maharajah a white
pheasant is being bred for his estate.
37