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1p iv muZova WsLu Peggy Pern * w.n.u. release THE STORY THUS FAR: “I'm fond of yon, Larry,” Meg said quietly. “That’* not enough,” he replied. “Is there some one else?" No one else, Megan assured him, but he knew she did not love him enough. They decided to call off their engagement and wait another year. Jim MacTavish did not like that arrange ment. Mrs. Stuart was first to tell Megan that her father was “running after” Alicia, and that It was “the talk of the town.” Megan could not believe It— didn't want to believe It. “Folks is talk in’ about Mist’ Jim and Miz Stevenson,” Old Annie confirmed. Annie left a shirt of her father’s and Meg picked it up. There was lipstick on It. She mentioned It to Jim that night. CHAPTER IX The next morning when she was assembling the laundry. Annie came to Megan carrying a shirt of Jim’s and held it out, saying in that color less voice, “Do I wash dis one, Miss Meggie?” Megan looked at the shirt, puzzled. And then she saw the unmistakable signs of lipstick on the collar! That of course, had been the reason An nie had brought the shirt to her— so that she might see the lipstick mark! Megan drew a breath and said quietly, “Of course, Annie—what a silly question!” Megan sat quietly, her hands clenched in her lap. But after all there was surely no reason why her father should not see Alicia Steven son, if he liked—even to the extent of getting her lipstick on his shirt collar! Alicia was a widow, Jim a widower. But that night when Annie and Amos had departed for their own two-room cabin at the back of the barn, and Megan and her father were alone in the house, Megan said quietly, “I understand, Dad, that you’ve been seeing a lot of Mrs. Stevenson?” Jim looked up at her from his newspaper, and his eyes darkened with anger. “Have you any objec tions?” he demanded curtly. “None at all,” she answered him evenly. “It’s just that I was a little surprised, that’s all—to hear a thing like that from the neighbors, instead of from you—” “A thing like what?” Jim’s anger had deepened. “You sound as though I’d been conducting an—er —affair with a very charming and pleasant woman.” “I know nothing about it, except that—it seems people are talking—” “Pleasant Grove people? Do you think I give a darn what the—scum in this place talk about?” “They are my friends,” she point ed out. “That’s your own fault,” he re minded her. “You don’t have to live in this—this hick hole! You had a chance to get out of it—” “We’re getting away from the subject, don’t you think?” “If you’re prying, trying to find out about my intentions towards Mrs. Stevenson,” Jim said distinct ly, a little malicious light in his eyes, “I have no objection to telling you the truth. I hope to marry Mrs. Stevenson—as soon as I can per suade her! She’s selling her place, and I think we can make her hap py here, don’t you?” “You would bring her—here?” Megan gasped, appalled. Jim’s eyebrows went up in pre tended surprise, though his eyes laughed at her. “And where else would a man take his wife, if not to his own home?” he asked. “You aren’t for getting that it is my own home— quite as much as it is yours?” Megan sat very still, stunned with the unexpectedness of the blow. “Of course,” Jim went on after a moment, “when Matthews was so sure he could get seven thousand for this place, Alicia and I planned to keep her place and live there, because her place won’t bring over two or three thousand. But when you decided not to seU—well, Alicia gave the listing of hers to Matthews, and we feel sure that we can all be quite cozy here together.” Megan drew a hard breath. “You know that wouldn’t work out, Dad,” she said. “I can’t see why not! There is surely ample room—four big bed rooms upstairs, five rooms down stairs—why, there’s room enough here for half a dozen people—” “If there were forty rooms, there wouldn’t be enough room under one roof for Alicia Stevenson and me both!” Megan told him rashly. “I think you’re taking a very un reasonable attitude, my dear,” said her father gently, malice twinkling in his eyes. “After all, having Alicia here will make things much easier for you. She will take over the mangement of the house, while you can give all your time to your be loved farming! I think it will be a very good arrangement, all around.” “It’s an impossible arrangement and you know it,” Megan told him hotly. He shrugged ever so slightly and said gently, “Oh, well, if you are going to take that attitude—” He pretended to lose interest, but Megan knew that he was alert, that he was waiting tensely for her answer. “I know why you are doing this, Father,” she said at last, one at the few times jn her life calling him “Father” instead of the more en dearing “Dad.” “You think you will force me to consent to selling the place here—” “But, my dear girl, I thought we’d settled all that,” he pointed out gent ly. “That’s the reason Alicia de cided that she might as well let Matthews see what he could do with the sale of her place. When you come to think of it, it would be rather silly to keep both—” “And you wouldn’t consider shar ing her place?” Megan could not stop the words in time, and knew that a frantic hope threaded them. “My dear!” her father protested, hurt. “What do you take me for? A man without pride, or the natural desire to take care of his wife? Most certainly I wouldn’t consider mov ing into Alicia’s place. This one is much larger and more comfortable and there’s plenty of room. No, I think the whole arrangement is ideal. You are always so over worked with the outdoor labor in spring and summer, that I think it will be very nice to have the worry and responsibility of the housekeep ing taken off your shoulders.” “It won’t work, Father,” she told him flatly. There was something in the stealth, the furtiveness of his tread on the stairs— “No?” His tone and smile were tantalizing. “No! I’m not selling! And that’s that!” she told him again, her jaw hard and set, her voice unshaken. She got up suddenly and caught her sweater. The night was mild for winter, yet there was a damp ness and a chill in it that made the sweater, and the scarf about her head very welcome, as she stepped from the back door into the yard. The meadow was washed with thin cold moonlight, but under the trees the darkness was so intense that she had to feel her way from moonlit patch to moonlit patch—un til she reached the flat stone be neath the tallest pine; and as she reached it, her heart turned over in her breast, and terror clutched at her, for a shadow moved in the darkness, and she knew that she was not alone. The next moment the shadow had moved swiftly into a patch of moonlight, and she saw it white on Tom Fallon’s face. “I frightened you—l’m sorry—” Megan managed an unsteady laugh. “And I imagine I frightened you, too,” she answered him. “Well, as a matter of fact, you did,” he admitted. Then as the moonlight touched her white facte he added hurriedly, concerned: “Why, what’s happened? You’re ill—” “Oh, no—just—well, upset—and ever since I was a child I have brought my troubles, big and little, to this spot and tried to find away out of them! It’s a habit that’s hard to break,” she added with an at tempted gaiety that had an almost macabre quality. “Could—a friend help?” She shook her head. “I—l’m afraid nobody can, really —that is, the only two people who can have no intention of doing it. I sound as confused and mixed up as I feel—so if you could just overlook it—” And to Megan’s own horror, and Tom’s shocked surprise, she burst into tears! After a stunned moment, Tom put his arm about her and held her close as though she were a frightened, be wildered child, and his soothing words were the words one would have used to a grieving child. “My father is going to marry Alicia Stevenson,” she told him, and so strong was the bond of friendship between them that it did not occur to her to be surprised that she should confide in him. She heard him swear under his breath, but after a moment, he tried to offer comfort. “Well, of course I suppose she’s a very attractive MIDLAND JOURNAL, RISING SUN. MD. woman—and your father is lone ly—” “And she is selling her place and coming to live with us,” she went on. “Oh, good Lord, you can’t live with her—” “Either that, or I have to agree to sell the farm, and she and father will live in her house.” “And you don’t want to sell the farm, or go away from it.” Tom understood that without any words from her. “I’ve gathered since I’ve known you how much the place means to you—” She found it very soothing to sit here with him. It was surprising to discover that they knew each oth er well enough for silence to be pleasant and companionable so that speech was unnecessary. Gradually the silence and peace of the moon-silvered pines seemed to drift into her heart; her spirits lifted a little. Someway, some how, she would find a solution to the problems that now loomed so terri bly strong and black and evil. Per haps it was only that she was emo tionally exhausted and had reached a place where she was conscious only of a lack of emotion that had replaced her grief. They talked quietly, after that in terval of peace and stillness. She asked about Martha and he told her that Martha had completely recov ered. She asked hesitantly about Mrs. Fallon, and Tom told her,' his mouth taut and tired, that there was no change there. “She’s —completely helpless, of course, and there is no change men tally,” he added wearily. “You mean—she can’t leave her bed? Can’t get around by herself?” asked Megan, remembering, with a feeling of chill, the morning when she had sat here and had watched that grotesquely posturing figure on the back lawn. “She hasn’t been out of bed in months and months,” he told her heavily. “The doctors say that there is a thin chance of her recovery. That’s why we can’t bear to—send her away. If I had the money to pay for a private sanitarium—” He shrugged and his hands clenched into hard, tight fists. “But I can’t turn her over to a state institution. Not while there is the smallest, faint est, tiniest hope that she can be made well again.” Megan asked uneasily, “But shouldn’t she be having treat ments?” “She’s had treatments for the past ! four years,” Tom answered wearily. “Everything possible has been done, and a few months ago the doctors told me that the only hope was to I get her away somewhere quiet, among new scenes, and just try to build up her physical condition. That might help to restore the lost men tal health, but they couldn’t guaran tee it. She—went to pieces when our son was born—dead.” Megan said, her voice shaken and ragged with pity, “I’m so terribly sorry—” Unconsciously, she had put out her hand to touch him, and as his hand closed over it and held it hard for a moment, she heard him mutter something—she couldn’t be sure what. They were still for a little, and Megan wondered uneasily about his saying that his wife had not been out of bed in months. She knew that she had seen her, a slim white form, the sunlight gleaming gold on her head, dancing a weird, gro tesque dance—a dance interrupted by Martha, who had taken the white figure into the house. Did Tom know, she wondered? Did he try to conceal the fact that his wife was not a helplessly bed ridden invalid, in the hope of con vincing people that, while she was a “mental case,” she was complete ly harmless? Of course he and Martha were doing everything hu manly possible to keep anybody in Pleasant Grove from knowing that his wife was a “mental case”— She stood up suddenly and said, “I have to go—l shouldn’t have come, at all, but habit is strong.” “I’m glad you did,” Tom told her quietly. “And I hope you didn’t mind finding me here.” “Of course not. There’s room on the Ridge for both of us—and who knows? Maybe we’ll both find solu tions to our problems here,” she an swered as she turned to go. “No, you mustn’t come with me—” “Only to the fence," Tom told her. “From there on, you have the moon light clear to your back door and I can watch until you go into the house and know that you’re safe.” There was a look in his face that made the protest stop on her lips. She nodded and they walked to gether to the fence. When she crossed the meadow and stood at the little foot-log that bridged the small, busy creek, she turned to look back and saw him still standing there. She threw up,her arms in a little gesture that said good night and caught the flicker of his return gesture. And then with her heart considerably lighter than it had been when she left the house, she went back in and up the stairs to her own room. The house was dark and silent. There was no thread of light be neath her father’s door, and she was surprised, when she reached her own room, to discover that she’d been gone two hours. - (TO BE CONTINUED) |MpRQVED -J UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL SUNDAY I chool Lesson By HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST. D. D. Of The Moody Bible Institute f Chicago. Released by Western Newspaper Union. Lesson for June 9 Lesson subjects and Scripture text* se lected and copyrighted by International Council of Religious Education; used by permission. TRAINING FOR SERVICE LESSON TEXT Mark :7-lS: Luke 10:1, 2: 14:25-27. MEMORY SELECTION And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, Is not worthy of me.—Matthew 10:38. Workers for God, and with God! Such is the high privilege of the men and women who respond to his call and who go out to witness for him. On the one side, we have a world desperately in need of the gospel, perhaps more so than any genera tion in hia:tory. On the other hand, we have the gospel of the saving grace of God in Christ Jesus, the only solution to the problems of man kind, the perfect answer to man’s need. How shall these two be brought together? By sending out witnesses to tell the glad tidings of redemp tion and peace* Where shall we find these witnesses? In the church, for only the believer in Christ is quali fied to tell others of his saving grace. Our lesson, in telling of the Lord’s calling and sending forth laborers into his harvest field, gives us much helpful instruction regarding serv ice for the Lord. We learn that I. God Provides for His Workers ’ (Mark 6:7-10). Jesus sent out his twelve disciples two by two, thus providing every worker with fellowship and help in hours of discouragement and trial. This also served to keep a man in balance so that he would not become self-willed and proud of his own achievements. It was a wise provision. Perhaps the church should have observed it with more care, and thus have saved some good workers from go ing astray. They were not to be cumbered with extra equipment, nor be con cerned about their daily sustenance. The Lord would provide through the hospitality and generosity of his people. Note that the expected hospitality was not to be allowed to hinder their work (cf. v. 10 with Luke 10:7). Many a preacher or evangelist has ruined a series of meetings by let ting social life hinder prayer, soul winning, or preparation for preach ing. 11. God Gives Power to His Work ers (Mark 6:7, 11-13). He gave them authority over evil I spirits, so that they could drive them out. He gave them power to heal; he gave them power to preach effectively. The man who goes forth to speak for the Lord does not have to mus ter up his own puny powers or de pend on the weak arm of some hu man helper. His resources are in finite and omnipotent. He speaks for the Almighty God. He has a message with saving power. All too often the servants of the Lord are apologetic and hesitant in their ministry. They mistake weak ness for meekness, and in their de sire not to assert themselves, they fail to speak a ringing “Thus saith the Lord.” We need a revival of authorita tive preaching, of that holy boldness which was not afraid to rebuke sin and any unwillingness to do the Lord’s will (v. 11). We need a new emphasis on repentance (v. 12). 111. God Calls Helpers for His Workers (Luke 10: 1,2). After the twelve were sent out, he called and commissioned the sev enty. That blessed process has gone on ever since. How blessed it is that even in our day of unbelief and sin, hundreds of young men and women are going out to all the mis sion fields of the world to work with older and experienced mission aries. Perhaps these words will be read by some young man or woman who has felt the promptings of the Spirit of God to go into his service. Step out by faith just now, and begin to prepare yourself for God’s service. If the writer of these notes can be of help to you, do not hesitate to write to him. God is looking for more workers. Do not overlook the important ad monition in verse 2. The Lord is waiting for his people to pray for laborers for fields which stand white and ready for harvest. IV. God Requires Self-Denial of His Workers (Luke 14:25-27). The mighty works and the power ful words of Jesus made it impos sible for people to ignore him. Mul titudes followed him, but he, know ing the fickleness of the human heart, faced them with the real de mands of discipleship. The Lord was never concerned with mere numbers. He wanted fol lowers whose hearts were right. Tho church has broken down its testi mony in the world by its frantic de sire for more members, great crowds, large church buildings, at the expense of compromise of tes timony. The requirement of the Lord is unmistakable. A man or woman who is to serve him must put him first. No worldly ambition or earth ly friendship, no, not even the ten der love of family, can come be tween the Lord and his servant. He is either Lord of all, or he is not Lord at all. Prancing Steed That's Easily Made For a Playful Little Three-Year-Old By Ruth Wyeth Spears AUTHENTIC „ EARLY *► f /it MAKE A AMERICAN BROOMSTICK HOBBY HORSE HORSE OR A HEAD TODDLE^ USE ACTUAL SIZE f Sj' < M l PATTERN TO CUT t ? AND STENCIL \ f ALSO AS A W GUIDE FOR M k VK ASSEMBLING }jp= ” AN OLD broomstick, a piece of scrap lumber, a pattern that gives you actual-size outlines, and presto, you have a dashing, pranc ing horse. If you are a little more ambitious, the tame pattern gives actual-size pattern outlines for all parts of the toddle bike shown here. If you do not have a Jig saw to cut the saddle and wheels, just outline them on the material and take It to your nearest woodworker to be cut. He can cut the head tn a few minutes too. 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