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POLit comiTY im7s; TIIYOIT, ITOIlTn CAROLINA
- -: " -"V
The j MagiiS
By BOOTH TARIONGTON
Wo Company. - ; ' ; - . S f
. n itself van be haunted.
ils haunted, then some time,
ice that was label's room
Jm.de into the small bed-
kitchenettes" already ae-
Uu . rk si si tn t flpf
lefts destiny, mm s..
Wed ami .c .
feel tnat swuic
,....in hunc about it a
the" passion that filled It
Qt the last ingiu moi vjwi6c
sp t- nf the old hiirh-
Vrpr reniiuim. -
arrogance were su
did penance for his deepest
night-ami It may be that to
some liui'icssiuuuuic, ww-
roman in a milucuchc,
-,ine out the light, will seem
young man Kneeling in mo
shaking convulsively, uuu,
outstretched: through the
latching at tne covers uo.
bed. " It niay seem to uer mat
, the faint cry. over and over :
g, forgive we ! God, - forgive
- fl A
L4 it mav De ciaimea ior
W his last night in the house
ie bad been born was not oc
tlth his own disheartening fa-
Penance for His Deepest Sin
- That Night'
p ith sorrow for what sac-
w Pride and youth had de-
others. And earlv In the
became downstairs and tried
1 Fanny make coffee on the
ras something I wanted to
"ast night, Aunt Fanny,M he
'"hy" she stammered! hnt
'what he was going to say,
why she had been more
nervous. "Hadn't nerhnna
?5S we'd better P-Pt the tho
to the little new home
ge. Let's" '
gBjpted quietly, though at
ti the littio t,uw .
unc.1 f Impulse was ,ft tto
fit i "Itwas about this new
(J.1 Waited to I speak. Tva
r8 it over and I've decided.
KV0 take aU things
V room and use them and
r-vr me, and I'm sure
lament win v... m . . .
it.'"" w Jus wnat you
r Fed ,
lo W j
JWththp 0rf. v.,, r .
.i.u ueuroom proD-
ma some woman
f r, ,1 If
v. win 11YP tht.ro an A
I Ju. But I've
-uoiner arrangement for
W1B1 tint irnln ...UL
more of the expenses thao: I would."
She stared at him with such a for
lorn blankness as he had never seen.
Td be paying she said feebly. Td
be paying " ' "
"Certainly you would. You'd be
using more of your money than"
"My money !" Fanny's chin drooped
upon her thin chest and she laughed
miserably. "I've got twenty-eight dol
lars. That's alu" ;
"You mean until the interest is due
"I mean that's all, Fanny said. "I
mean that's all jthere is. Thejjwbn't
be any more Interest because there
isn't any principaL"
"Why you told H
She shook her head. iNo. I havent
told you anything.!,.
Then it was Uncle Georsre. Hp
told me you had enough to fall back
! on. Thafs just what he said; fo fall
uacs on." . iie saia VOU'a lost more
than. you should In the -headlight com
pany, but he'd Insisted that you should
hold out enough to live on, and you'd
very wisely followed his advice."
"I know," she said weakly. "I told
him so. He didn't know, or else he'd
brgorten how much Wilbur's insur
ance amounted to, and I oh, It seemed
such a sure way to make a real for
tune out of a little and I thought !
could do sqmething'for you, George,
If you ever came to need It and it all
looked so bright I Just thought I'd put
It all in. ,1 did every cent except my
last interest payment and it's gone.
Good Lord ! George began to
pace up and down the worn planks of
the bare floor." "Why on earth did
you wait till now to tell such a thing
as thisr -
"I couldn't till I had to, she said
piteously. It wouldn't do any good
not any good on earth." She got out
her lace handkerchief and began to
cry. , "Nothing does any good, I guess?
In this old world 1 Oh, how tired of
this old world ! ami I didn't know
what to do. I just tried to go ahead
and be as practical as I could, and ar
range some way for, us to live. Oh,
I knew you didnt want me, George!
I can see that much! You don't sup
pose I want to thrust myself on you.
do you? It Isn't very pleasant to beJ
thrusting yourself on - a person you
know- doesn't 5want you but I knew
you oughtn't to be left all alone ' in
the world ; It isnt good. I knew your
raother'd want me to watch over you
and try to have something tike a home
for you I knew she'd want me to do
what I tried to do lH Fanny's tears
were bitter now, and her voice, hoarse
and wet, was tragically sincere. "Oh!
nnd now you don't want you waut
you want to leave me in the lurch I
You w i
"Oh, my LordTV He went to her
anl lifted her. "For God's sake get
up I Come, let's take the coffee into
the other room and see what s to be
done." ' ;
He got her to her feet; she leaned
upon him, already somewhat comfort
ed, and, with his arm about her, he
conducted her to the dining room and.
seated her In one of the two kitchen
chairs which had been placed at the
roueh table. "There ! he said, "get
j over it1 Fanny's spirits revived ap-i
I preclably; she looked up with a plaln
' tive eagerness. "I had bought all my
fall clothes, George," she said;;"and I
paid every bill I owed. V I dpn't owe a
cent for clothes, .George."
"That's good, he said wanlyand he
had a moment of physical dizziness
that decided him to sit down quickly.
For an instant it seemed to him that
he was not Fanny's nephewbut mar
ried to her.: He passed, his pale hand
over his paler forehead. 'Well, let's
see where we stand," he said feebly.
"Let's see if we can afford this place
you've selected." :
Fanny continued) brighten, 'tm
sure it's the most practical plan we
could possibly have worked out,
George and It is a comfort to be
amoni? nice Deonle. I think we'll both
1 lent Uncle George two hundred ; I
gave fifty apiece to old Sam and those
two other old darkies that worked for
grandfather so long,' and ten to each
of the servants here"
"And you gave me thirty-six," she
said S thoughtfully, "for the first
month's rent, in advance .-.--V .
. "Did if I'd forgotten. Well, with
about a hundred and - sixtv in - bank
and our expenses a ' hundred a month,
it doesn't seem, as If this new place
"Still," she Interrupted, "we" have
paid the first month's rent in advance,
and It does seern to be the most prac
tical 'r . - - .. . - v.-1- rv -r, : ;
George rose. "See here. Aunt Fanny,"
he said decisively. "Ycu stay here and
look after the moving. Old Frank
doesnt expect me until "afternoon.
this first day, but I1T go and see him
now." - --- ---' ;;. - -;-..- : -
. . It was early, and old Frank.
just established at his big, fiat-topped
desk, was surprised when his prospec
tive assistant and pupil walked In.-He
was pleased, as well as surprised, how
ever, and rose, offering a cordial old
hand. "The real flare!" he said. -The
real flare for the law. . That's right I
Couldn't wait till afternoon to begin!
I'm delighted that you"
"I wanted to say " George began,
but his patron, cut him off.
. "Walt just a minute, my boy. I've
prepared a little speech of welcome,
and even though -you're five hours
ahead of time, I mean to deliver it.
First of all., your grandfather was my
old war comrade and my best client;
for years I prospered through my con
nection with his ; business, and his
grandson Is welcome in my office and
to my best efforts in his behalf. But I
want to confess, Georgle, that during
your earlier youth I may have had
some slight feeling of welL prejudice,
not altogether in your favor; but what
ever, slight feeling it was. It began to
vanish on that afternoon, a good. while
ago, when you stood up to your Aunt
Amelia Amberson as you did in the
Major's library, and talked to her as a
man and a gentleman should. I saw
then what good stuff was In you and
I always wanted to mention It. I think
you'll find an honest pleasure now in
industry and frugality that wouldn't
have come to you in a more frivolous
tolaush at nU own embarrassment!
suppose Tm about as ignorant of busi
ness as anybody in the world,-he said.
"But rve heard : they pay . very high
wages to people In dangerous trades ;
I've always heard they did, and Tm
sure It must be true. ' I mean people
that , handle touchy chemicals or -high
explosives--men in dynamite factories,
or who take things of that sort abou
the country- in wagons, and shoot oil
wells.v I thought Td see if you couldn't
tell me .something: more about It, or
else " Introduce me -to some one who
could, and , then: I thought Td see if I
couldn't get something of the kind to
do as soon as possible. I wanted to
get started today' if I could.".-
Old Frank gave him a long stare. At
first this scrutiny was sharply Incred
ulous; then it' was grave; finally it de
veloped Into a threat of overwhelming
laughter; a forked; vein in his fore
head became, more .visible and his eyes
seemed about to protrude. . J,--: "-4 C
S527Sif b? 5e t,Ue te form o hei own a;
2 TphieB tte 500 Most She came seldom; this -was butthi
Prominent Citizens and FamiUes in third time that year. and. when she did
ln7ri "r He;had. .George was not mention
glanced at it absently, merely noticing ; either by her hostess or by heraelf-ii
I , rc uuuuc, ana wanaerea jxiaity - contrived J between the two
out of the room, thinkln? at ntYia , lamina rtKAn. .m . .
things and feeling no " curiosity about
the book. But he.Tiad thouehf of it
several tintes since With a faint,- vague
measinessrand now when he entered
the lobby he walked directly into the
parlor; where he had . seen the book.
The room was empty, as It always waar
on Sunday mornings, and the flamboy
ant volume was still upon the table
evidently a fixture as a sort of local
vuu6ui.uiujcui, ui icuoiiui auu uoaruers.
He turned to" the index! ' where the
names of the five hundred Most Promi
nent Citizens and Families in the His
tory of the CityTwere arranged n al
phabetical order, and ran his finger
down-the column of As: Abbett Ab-
But he controlled his Impulse; and, bott, Abrams, Adams, Adams, Adleri
jrising, -took up his hat- and overcoat. Akers, ; Albertsmeyer, Alexander, Allen,
All right," he said. ' "If you'll prom- j
Ise not to get blown . up, I'll go with
you to" see if wecan find the job."
Then, meaning what he said, but I
amazed that he did mean it, he added!
"You certainly are the most practical
young man I ever met!".. v
Ambrose, Ambuhl, Anderson, Andrews,
Appenbasch, Archer. Arszman, Ash
craft, Austin, Avey. .
George's eyes remained for some
time fixed on the thin space between
the names Allen" and "Ambrose.
Then he 'closed the book quietly, and
went up to his own. room, agreeing j yon(jer
"iu we . cictaivi uwjr. ju me - way,
that It was getting to a mighty
rasty wet and windy day outside.
: .The elevator boy , noticed nothing un
usual about him and neither did Fanny,
. j j
uow uuu it was. s -
At-other: times -Lucy's thoughts of
George were anything but continuous. '
and weeks w- nt by when he was not;,
consciously her mind at all. ,. Her
life was a busy one : she had the big
house "to keepTip;".she,had a garden
to keep up, too,, a .large and beautiful
garden ; she represented her father as
a director for hrf3 a dozen public char
charity work of her own, being a proxy
mother of several large" families ; and
rshe had "danced down," as "she said.
groups from eight jor nine classes of
new graduates returned from the uni
versities, without ' marrying any of
themvbut she still danced and still
did .not marry. . . , . -
Her . father, . observing ihls clrcum- ;
stance happily, yet with some hypo
critical concern, spoke, of it to her one
day as they stood In her garden. "I
suppose I'd wut to shoot him," he
said, with attempted lightness. But I
mustn't be an old pig. I'd build youia
beautlfur house close by just over
They found the job. It needed an
apprenticeship of only six weeks, dur
ing which period George, was to re
ceive, fifteen dollars a : week ; after when she came in from church with
that he would get twenty-eight. This
settled the . apartment question, and
Fanny was presently established in a j
greater contentment than she had
known for a long time.
On Sunday mornings Fanny went to
Lchurch and George took long walks.
He explored the new city, and found
it hideous, especially in the early
spring, before the leaves of the shade
trees were out.
One of his Sunday walks, - that
her hat nUned,. an hour later. And yet
something had happened a thing
which, years ago, had been the eager
est hopeof many, many good citizens
of the town. They had thought of it,
lonired for it. honlne- arutplv that thp-w i
o k a - ; j
miht liv tn sap thi tnv xvhpn It xirnnlrl i-1-"
come to pass.' And now it had hap
pened at last: Georgle. Minafer had
got his come-npance. '
He had got it three times filled and
running over. -The city had rolled lover
spring, he made into a sour pilgrimage, his heat, burying it under, as it rolled
It was a misty morning of belated
snow slush, and suited him to a per
fection of miserableness, as he stood
before the great dripping department
store which now occupied the big plot
of ground where once had stood both
the Amberson hotel and the Amberson
opera house. From there he drifted to
the old "Amberson block," but this was
only a shadow. The old structure had
not been replaced, but a cavernous en
tryway for trucks had been torn In Its
front, and upon the cornice, where the
old separate metal letters had spelt
"Amberson block," there, was a 40nS
bill board sign: "Dobgan Storage."
To spare himself, he -went out Na
tional avenue and saw the piles of
slush-covered wreckage, -where the
Mansion and his , mother's house
had been, arid . where the Major's ill
fated five "new" houses had stood : for
career.; xne law is a jeaious mistress fthese were down, too, to make room
ana a stern mistress, Dut a
over the Major's and buried it under.
The city had rolled over the Amber
sons and burled them under to the last
vestige; and it mattered little that
George guessed easily enough that
most of the five hundred Most Promi
nent had paid something substantial
"to defray the cost of steel engraving,
etc." the Five Hundred had heaved
the final shovelful of soot upon that
heap of obscurity wherein the Amber-
sons were lost forever from sight and
history. '"Quicksilver in a . nest of
Georgle-Mlnafer hadgot his come
upance, but the people who had so
longed for it were not there to see it,
and they never knew It. Those who
were still living had forgotten all
about it and all about him.
"No, no ! That would be like" sh ;
oegan impulsively ; then i checked her-
self. George Amberson's comparison
of the Georgian house to the Ambersoa
mansion had come Into her mind, and
she thought that another new houses
built close by for her, would be Ilka
the house the Major built for Isabel.
"Nothing." She looked serious, and
when he reverted to his idea of "some;
grudgingly surrendering her up
to a suitor, she' invented a legend.
"Did you ever hear the Indian name
-for that little grove of beech trees on
the other side of the house?" sha
"No and you never did either V ha
f laughed. "
"Don't be so sure I I read a great
deal more than I used to getting
ready for my bookish" days when m
have to do something solid in the eve
nings and won't be asked to dance any
more, even by the" very youngest boys
who think it sia sporting event to
oldest of the older
"wose vrm'ii .V . J 1 on1nff i honsA the truth Is we've
ee . uu t ----- .
- ,ou would, mind-par
foeelsp vV lul imagme you,
l , . mucn attached tQ
a'a e en, but
iring glance around
W sat flit T' then sank a
U lP. Aunt Fanny!"
tarft ? !? weak. Let me
WUv!, An1 as he rplAno
been keenlne too much to ourselves
for a long while. It isn't good ior
people." " , ' " :
"I was thinking about the money,
Aunt Fanny. The rent Is - thirty-six
dollars a month: the dinner is twenty
George had stood before him in
great and increasing embarrassment;
and he was unable to allow the ad
dress to proceed to its conclusion. . "
"I can't do" it V he burst out. "I
can't take her for my mistress."
"I've come to tell you.'Tve got to
find something that's quicker. I
Old Frank got a little red. "Let's sit
down," he said. "What'3 the trouble?"
George told him. 7
The old gentleman listened sympa
thetically, only murmuring: "Well,
welW" from time to time, and nodding
"You see she's set her mind on this
apartment," George explained. "She's
1 got some old cronies there, and I guess
she's been looking forward to- the
games of bridge ani the kind of harm
less gossip that goes on in such places.
Really, it's a life she'd like better than
anything else better than that she's
lived at home, I really believe. It
struck me she's just about got to have
It and after all she could hardly have
anything less." "
: "Thls comes pretty heavily upon me,
-you know," said old Frank. "I got her
Into that headlight companyand she
fooled me about her resources as much
as she did your Uncle George. I was
never your father's adviser, If you re-,
member, and when, the Insurance was
turned over to her some other :lawyer
arranged it probably your father's.
But it comes pretty heavily on me, and
I feel a certain responsibility.1'
"Not at all. I'm taking the responsi
bility." And George smiled with one
corner'of his mouth. "TCI tell yoir how
t is- sir" He flushed, and, looking out
of the streaked and smoky window be
side which he was sitting, spoke with
difficulty. "I feel as if as if perhaps
had one or two pretty important
things in my life to make up for. Well,
Trfln't. I. can't make them up to to
for the great tenement already shaped
In unending lines of foundation.
He turned away from the devastated
site, thinking bitterly that the only
Amberson mark still left upon the
town was the name of the boulevard
Amberson boulevard. But he had reck
oned without the city council of thfc
new order, and by an unpleasant coin
cidence, while the thought was stifl
In his mind, his eyes fell upon a metal
oblong sign upon the lamp-post at the
corner. There were two of these little
signs upon the lamp-post, at an obtuse
angle to each other, one to give pass-
ersby the name " of National avenue,
the other to acquaint them with Am
berson boulevard. But the one upon
which should, .have been stenciled
"Amberson boulevard" exhibited the
words 'Tenh street." - -t
George stared at It hard. Then he
walked quickly along the boulevard to
the next corner and looked at the little
sign there. 'Tenth street." ,
It had begun to rain, but George
stood unheeding, staring at the little
George had seen Eugene only once
since their calamitous encounter. They
had -passed on opposite sides of the
street, downtown; each had been
aware that the other was aware of
him, and yet each kept his eyes
straight forward, and neither had
shown a perceptible alteration of coun
tenance. It seemed to George that he
felt emanating from the outwardly Im
perturbable person of his mother's old
friend a hate that was like a hot wind.
At his mother's funeral and at the
Major's he: had been conscious that
Eugene was there : though-he had aft
erward no recollection of seeing him,
and, while certain of his presence, was
uncertain how he knew of It. Fanny
had not told him, for she understood
George well enough not to speak to
him of Eugene or Lucy. Nowadays
Fanny almost never saw either of
them and seldom thought of them so
sly is the way of time with life. She
gins Tne name -or tne grove was
Loma-Nashah and It means They-Couldn't-Help-It.
"Doesn't sound like It" . '
"Indian names don't There was a
bad-Indian chief lived In the grove be
fore the white settlers came. He was
the worst Indian that ever lived, and
his name was it :, was Vendonah.
That means 'Itldes-Down-Everything.
- 1 ; see," . said Eugene thoughtfully
He gave her a quick look and then
fixed his eyes upon the end of tha
garden path; "Goon."
"Vendonah fwas an unspeakabla
case," Lucy continued.- "He was so
proud that he wore iron shoes, and ha
walked over people's faces with them.
He was always killing people that '
way, and so at last the tribe decided
that it wasn't a good enough excuse
for him that he was young and Inex
perienced he'd have to go. They took
him down to the river, and put him in
a canoe, and pushed him out from ;
shore; and then they ran along the
bank and wouldn't let him land, until
at last the current carried the canoe
out into the middle, and then on down
to the ocean, and he never got back.
They didn't want him back, of course
and if he'd been able to manage It,
they'd have put him In another canoe
and shoved him out Into the river
again. But still, they didn't elect an
other' chief In his place. Other tribea
tnougnt tnat was curious, and won-
vus pusMUg uuuuie age, m w.u dered about lfc.a lot but finally t,
tensities and longings grow thin and came tQ concluslon the beech
flatten out, as Fanny herself was thin- f people were afrald a new chIel
afC hlch for
r C1 matchlDg gainst
KCJ. goln leave
SnCr h potest-
w. . lra to eet eio-f
h. Ahm.i ..."
8 thiM.. . r
th . "-Hix aollflm
t. ToKi. -
' to d'hnt
two and a half for each: of us and j wnom i would. It's struck me that,
i7llr-r U1 ine rent
out nav less
1WJ for all ih
Wl0ttWf - ltss than
ns- You see
we've got to have some provision for
other . food. We : won t ;i nee-i nuj
clothes for a year, perhaps
"Oh, longer I" she exclaimed, -so
you see f "
"I see that forty-five and twrty-aax
make eighty-one," he said. "At the
lowest, we need a' hundred dollars a
month and Tm going to make thirty
two" I'J y-l-:-tt::-r-
1 thought of that, George," she said
confidently, "and I'm sure it will be all
right Youll be earning a great deal
more than that very soon " '.: .;.
"I don't see any prospect of it not
till Tm admitted to the bar. and that
will be two years, at the earliest
"Well, there's the six hundred dol-lars-from
the sale Six hundred and
twelve dollars li -was.' :;: :'" ,,:'r:
"It Isn't six: hundred - and twelve
now." said George. "It's about one
hundred -and sixty.-.; s
Fanny showed a momentary aismujr.
t nnidn't. I mleht be a little decent
to somebody else, perhaps If I could
manage it I I never have been particu
larly decent to poor old Aunt Fanny.
"Oh 1 don't know : I shouldn't say
that. A little youiuiui iw"
doubt if she's minded so much. It
Wma to me she's had a fainy com
fortable life up to now if she was
disposed to take it that way.. v
But' up to now is , the Important
thing." George said. "Now is now
and you see I can't wait two years to
be admitted to the bar and begin to
practice. Tve got to start m at aum
thing else that pays from .the start,
and that's what Tve come ,to you
about I have an idea, you see.
"Well I'm glad of that!" said old
thing just at this minute r
from the start .0 - M
: -I only know of one thing. ; myself.
' What is ltr - 1 1 ' ":"A
-George flushed again, but manased
nlng and flattening out; and she was
settling down contentedly to her apart-ment-house
The city was so big, now, that peo
ple disappeared into it unnoticed, and
the- disappearance of Fanny and'her
nephew . was . not exceptional. People
no longer knew their neighbors as a
matter of course ; one lived for years
next door to . strangers that sharpest
of all the changes sincethe old days
r and a friend would lose sight of a
friend for a year, and not know It
One May day George thought he had
a glimpse of. Lucy. He was . not cer
tain, but he was sufficiently disturbed,
In spite of -his uncertainty. A promo
tion In his work now frequently took
him out of town for a week, or longer,
and It was upon his return from one of
these absences that he had the strange
might turn out to be a bad Indian, too
and wear iron shoes like Vendonah.
But they were wrong, because the real
reason was that the tribe had led such
an exciting life under Vendonah that
they couldn't settle down to anything
tamerLHe was awful, but he alwaya
kept things happening terrible things,
of course. They hated him. but they
weren't able to discover any other
warrior that , they wanted to make
chief in his place. They couldn't help
feeling that, way." .,-
"I see," said Eugene. "So that's why
they named the place They-Couldn't-Help-It!-"
"It must have been.
"And so you're going to stay here in
youf garden," he said musingly. "You
think it's better to keep on walking
these sunshiny ' gravel paths between
sign. "D them P ne said finally, and,
turning up his ' coat collar, plodded
back through the soggy streets toward
"home." ': 'V ' : ;
The utilitarian impudence of the city
authorities put a thought into his mind.
A week earlier he had happened to
stroll into the - large' parlor of the
apartment house, finding it empty, and
on the centertable be noticed a large,
red-bound, gilt-edged book, newly
printed, bearing the titla: : ; ''A Ciic
experience. He had walked home from ; your flower beds, and growing to look
the station, and as. he. turned the cor-! nte a pensive carden lady In a Vle-
ner which brought him in sight ,ot the
apartment house entrance, though two
blocks distant from it, he saw a charm
ing little figure "come out get into a
shiny landaulet automobile, and drive
away. Even at that distance : no one
could have any doubt that the little
figure was charming ; and the height
.the quickness and decision of motion,
even the swift gesture of a white glove
toward ' the chauffeur all were char
acteristic of Lucy. George was instant
ly subjected to a shock of indefinable
nature, yet definitely a shock : he did
not know what hefelt but he knew
that he.felt . He went on slowly, his
knees shaky. - V ; - v- -
But he found Fanny not at home ;
she had been but all afternoon; and
there- was no record ' of ; any caller
and Jie began to wonder then to doubt
if the ' small lady he had seen In the
distance was Lucy. It- might as well
have been, he; said to himself since
anyonewbo. looked like her could give
hima Jolt like that!" : '
Lucy had not left a card. She never
left one when she called on Fanny;
though she did not give her reasons a
torian engraving." "
"I suppose Tm like the tribe that
lived here, papa. I had too much un
pleasant excitement It was unpleas
ant but it was excitement , I don't
want any more; in fact I don't want
anything but you."- "
"You don't V He looked at her keen
lyand she laughed and shook bet
head ; but he seemed perplexed, rather
doubtful. "What was the name of the
grove?" he asked. -The Indian name,
I mean. : ' .
"Mola-Haha . '
"No, it wasn't ; that wasnt the name
you said. - -
"Tve forgotten."- ' ;
"I see you have," he said, hi look of
perplexity remaining. "Perhaps you
remember the chiefs name better."
She -"nook herTiead again. "I dont V
(TO BE COffTIKUED.) s
Her Shoef Hurt Her Feet ' ,
ir a general thing, a-liwr? yoo a
weman hobbling alon? the street' .-h
aa agonized expre :;:v it is a st i iitt
yi got .more fooi tlan :
ma be Paying rWhv. how