CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Greg went on quietly:
“From the first moment I set
eyes on you, I despised you—
even before that, because
everything I heard about you
and your mother convinced me
that you were a couple of self
ish, grasping females. I thought
of you as a spoiled and pam
pered brat. Until today, I
thought I was right about you.
But now, after watching you to
day, I have to admit that —
you’ve got what it tabes and
that maybe I was wrong about
you, after all.”
Gail resented that “maybe.”
“Oh, you mustn’t jump to
conclusions,” she said through
her teeth. “Maybe I’m just
playing a waiting game.”
Greg shook his head.
“If you’d dropped out after
the first hour or two this morn
ing,” he admitted, “I’d have
been sure of it. But it took
what Popeye the Sailor calls
‘inteskinal fortitude’ to put in
the kind of a day you have.
Nope, I've got to admit that I
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“Thanks,” said Gail briefly.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I
still don’t like you any better
than I did at the beginning,”
Greg told her curtly. “It’s just
that somewhere deep inside of
that layer of spoiled debbie, I
think maybe you’ve got the
makin’s of a girl fit to oe Uncle
Charles’ “daughter.”
“I hope so,” said Gail quiet
ly, sincerely, almost humbly.
“He’s—a pretty swell person.
I wish I could have known him
a long time ago.
“That's your loss that you
didn’t,” said Greg.
“I know it.”
“I hope you can stick it out
for the summer,” Greg went on
slowly. “It means a lot to him
to have you here.”
“I wish I could stay here for
ever,” she said impulsively,
and then panic swept her. Did
she really mean that? This big,
ugly old barn of a house, no
decent bath, kerosene oil
lamps, hard, grueling labor.
She shivered a little.
Greg, as though he read her
thoughts, grinned, but at least
there was no longer that bitter
lashing of contempt in his look
or in his tone. And she was
startled to realize that suddenly
she felt a little warm, pleased
glow in her heart. Not until this
moment had she realized how
much Greg’s dislike had hurt;
but now that he admitted he
had been wrong about her, now
that he was willing to be
friends, she felt suddenly like
singing. Even though her body
ached with weariness and her
mind was exhausted.
The second day had been al
most harder than the first. The
backs of Gail’s legs had ached
like a toothache, and bending
above the long rows had seem
ed to wrench her back in half.
But by the third day her mus
cles were adapting themselves
and by the end of the week
she was taking it in her stride,
pleased and self-import an*, and
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happy that she was being of
use. *
When the Saturday luncheon
was over and they were all
ready for the weekly trip to
town, she was as excited as the
others. As she and Noran came
down the stairs dressed for
town Charles smiled warmly at
Gail and said, “Saturday brings
drink and ructions, and the
farmers are off to town. Here’s
your pay, chick. Saturday's
payday, too, you know.”
He put three worn paper dol
lars into her hand. Gail looked
at them and then at her father,
amazed.
“My pay? Oh, Father—” she
protested.
Charles closed her fingers
over the money and patted her
clenched fist.
“Norah receives the same.
Greg gets $5. Call it spending
money, call it allowance, call
it anything you like—only don’t
call it wages,” he told her
cheerfully. “We’ve a sort of
community project here. Come
fall, and the harvest and the
year’s profit — if any — have
come in, we split them; mean
while, we must have a few pen
nies to spend or Saturday in
town isn’t much fun.”
There was no point in argu
ing, but Gail went out to the
car with the sting of tears in
her eyes. She had only a few
dollars left of the money with
which she had arrived. Lissa
had assured her carelesly, that
once she was with her father
he would provide her with Lissa
called “an adequate al
lowance,” and remembering
that, Gail smothered a small,
slightly hysterical giggle at the
thought of what Lissa would say
about ?3 for a week of grueling
labor.
She had written Lissa a week
after her arrival, and had told
her that Charles had lost his
money. She had shaded the pic
ture a little. She had admitted
that the big house had burned;
she had admitted that they
were all living in the old tenant
house; she had not admitted the
lack of electricity and plumb
ing.
There had not yet been time
for an answer to this letter. She
hadn’t b#en quite sure where
Lissa would be and the letter
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ha$i gone to her bank to be
forwarded to her She was a
little uneasy abo.it Lissa’s re
action Would she order Gail to
return to her immediately? Gail
was afraid she would, and she
didn’t want to leave; but she
comforted herself with the
thought that she was with her
father and he wanted her, ana
so, with his backing, she would
dare defy Lissa if such a com
mand did arrive. ^
The weekend followed - the
pattern set by the last week
end, and again that Sunday
night Gail heard Norah’s soft,
muffled sobbing. It worried her,
and on Monday, as the two of
them set out for the field, Gail
said, impulsively, "Norah,
what’s worrying you so?”
Norah, stopped still in the
dew-wet path and stared at her,
shocked, a little on the defen
sive.
“Why, you silly child, what
do you mean? Do I look like
a gal all bowed down with wor
ries?” she protested after a mo
ment.
“It’s just that—well, I’e
heard you crying in the night
several times.” Gail was sorry
that she had mentioned it.
Sorrv that' she had spoken at
all. ‘
Norah stiffened and for a mo
ment went white and cold. An
ger trembled in her eyes and
then she clenched her hands
hard and tilted her chin a little
and managed a grin.
“For Pete’s sake, can’t a
lady emit a small, ladylike
snore without being called to
task for it?” She tried hard to
make it a gay, flippant little
speech, but the gaiety was
missing.
Gail flushed and said awk
wardly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to pry.”
“Then don’t!” snapped
Norah, her anger breaking its
leash for a moment as she turn
ed and stalked away.
Gail was acutely unnappy.
She loved Norah, and was deep
ly grateful for the girl’s warm
friendliness; she had not meant
to mention the weeping that
had struck her as so pathetical
ly lonely. She had only wanted
to offer whatever comfort there
might be in her interest and
her willingness, her anxiety, to
share whatever trouble Norah
was carrying alone. But Norah
thought she was prying. Gail
sighed and picked up her hoe.
That night when she went up
stairs from her bath to put on a
fresh dress foi dinner Norah’s
door was open, and she saw
Norah and Greg pushing the
head of the bed away from the
wall and across the room.
Away from the wall against
which, in the other room, Gail’s
bed was set.
Norah looked up and met
Gail’s eyes and said casually,
“The nights are getting so
warm I thought I’d shift my
bed in the hope of more air.”
“I see,” said Gail quietly,
and met Norah’s eyes for a mo
ment before she went on to her
own room.
Neither girl mentioned the in
cident again, but there was the
tiniest possible barrier between
them now; something impalp
able as smoke, yet inescapabe.
The casual, 1 i g h t-hearted
friendliness was still there on
the surface, but beneath, ap
parent only to the girls them
selves, there was a guarded
something beyond which neith
er tried to go.
Time slid by and Gail was
scarcely conscious of its pass
ing. The days were crowded
with work, because this was the
busy planting season; the
nights were given over to ex
hausted slumber, the weekends
to the trip to the county seat.
Saturday and Sundays were
“date days,” and both Gail and
Norah had as many dates as
they had time for. Greg was
usually absent from home on
Sunday, unless he was one of a
party that included the two
girs.
His and Norah’s friends had
welcomed Gail whole heartedly
and she was happy and con
tented and beginning to feel
that she had known no other
life, when one late afternoon,
an hour before sundown, Kate
came across the field to her,
looking a little excited.
(To Be Continued)
CAROLINA MOTORS
HOLDS OPEN HOUSE
To Feature Orchestra,
Dance, Barbecue and
Refreshments
WHITEVILLE, Sept. 7 — Fri
day, Sept. 12, was set today
as the date for the opening of
the new home of Carolina
Motors.
Paul J. Williamson, who has
just completed construction of
an outstanding structure for his
business, said that he had en
gaged Don Grimes and his or
chestra to play for the grand
opening dance which will be
held in the 13,000-square feet
of floor spade in the service
department.
The Grimes orrhestra features
the vocals of Elaine Powell, for
merly with Guy Lombardo’s
Royal Canadians. Mr. William
son said Grimes would bring
his musicians here from Cavalier
Hotel at Virginia Beach where
they have just finished playing.
The Carolina Motors opening
start with refreshments at 6:30,
move into barbecue and local
entertainment and continue with
the dance from 9 p. m., to 1
o’clock.
With the general public in
vited to attend at no cost, Mr.
Williamsan said no special in
vitations would be mailed to any
body.
Whiteville Postoffice
Receipts Surpasses
Last Year's Revenue
WHITEJVILLE, Sept. 7 —
Maintaining a pace which has
of last year, Whitesville Post
kept receipts running ahead of
last year, Whiteville Post Of
fice reported $3,126.68 for the
month of August.
In July and August Assistant
Postmaster Arthur C. Meares re
ported total receipts of $6994.05
against $6,259.57.
Whiteville citizens are keeping
close tab on the receipts because a
$40,000 minimum is required to
maintain the first class status
which the office obtained nearly
two years ago. The office has
been operating as first class for
the past 14 months.
The receipts for the first eight
months of the calendar year show
$24,722.64, making it necessary
to maintain an average of ap
proximately $4,000 monthly to
hit the $40,000 mark for 1947.
As of Sept. 1, 1946, the of
fice had receipts of $23,381.72.
Thus the office reports a gain
of $1,240.92 for the eight months
af 1947 over the corresponding
period last year.
Whiteville Rotarians
Hold Roundtable At
Their Weekly Meeting
WHITTEVILE, Sept. 7—White
ville Rotarians turned their
weekly meeting into a round
table of a sort and discused pro
gram improvements, fellowship,
and possible changes in club
procedure.
The open forum was conduct
ed by Ri Love, program chair
man for September, who came
up with some singing, jokes and
other entertainment for Rotar
ians and guests.
Two new members were add
ed to the club roster in the per
sons of Marion Martin, who im
mediately became the club’s pia
nist, and J. Alden Rogers.
Birthday carnations were dis
tributed by W. G. Burkhead to
it’s useful;
Combination
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Singing led by Joe S. Mann,
a joke by Lloyd Collier and sev
eral comments from Rotarians
completed the program.
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