CHAPTER IV.
“Down to your airdrome. Or at
least to a cottage quite near-by.
Isn’t that grand? Guy’s been
transferred there.”
Tips was turning to Jane now
and introduced them to each
qfher.. “Jane,, this is Mrs. Stanton.
Iris, Miss Uunbolt.”
“How do you do?”
“How do you do?” Iris Stanton
smiled brilliantly.
“Miss Lambolt is at the station
also,” said Tips.
“Really! You must bring her
along to see us, Tips.”
"Thank you,” murmured Jane
politely. >
Mrs. Stanton turned back again
to Tips. “I mustn’t stop any long
er now. But I’ll be seeing you
soon. Sunnilands is the name of
the house we’ve taken. Come in
tomorrow evening for a cocktail.”
‘Til see, Iris. I’m not certain.
Fll give you a ring.”
She made a little face at him
and swept away with a short
good-bye to Jane and a much
warmer one to Tips. Jane rested
her elbows on the table, cupped
her chin in her hands and looked
thoughtfully at Tips. “You know
her pretty well, don’t you, Tips?”
“I know her fairly well, yes.
Her husband was stationed at the
same airdrome I was at up north.
I met them both up there. The
husband’s a very decent chap.”
“If I married you,” said Jane
slowly, “I’d fully expect you even
tually to be talking to some oth
er woman just as you’re talking
to me. But don’t let’s argue about
it I’m due back at ten and we
don’t want to spend the time
wrangling.”
But they did and were still do
ing so when Tips brought the car
to a standstill some little distance
from the airdrome shortly before
ten o’clock. “Well, here we are,”
be said lightly.
“Yes. Here we are.”
“I’ve never kissed a girl who
didn’t want to kiss me.”
“You wouldn’t be doing so
now.”
He said at last, still holding
her closely. “You let me kiss you
and yet you won’t agree to mar
ry me.”
That was just a moment of
'■madness.”
“I don’t believe you. You let me
kiss you because you’re in love
with me.”
This was true, of course, but all
the time she denied it. Before he
could argue with her further, she
said, “There’ll be a row if I don’t
get out of this car right here and
now and hurry. Fraternizing with
the officers is forbidden and if
I*m caught ...” she was out of
the car as she spoke.
There were twenty-four Waafs
at the airdrome. They had come
in batches of twelve, she and
Sparks having arrived with the
second contingent. The first,
they’d soon discovered, had been
sent to do their special training
immediately on joining the ser
vice, thus missing their fortnight
of life at the camp near London,
which had been devoted solely to
disciplinary training, and as
suredly this had been a pity.
Jane, in the first few days on the
Station, had realized quite dispas
sionately the difference between
the girls who had arrived with
her and those who had been sent
on earlier.
Sparks murmured to Jane,
“Bluebell-darling is off again.”
Bluebell-darling was eighteen.
She was the loyliest thing Jane
had ever seen. Her hair was al
most silver it was so fair and her
eyes, fringed with thick dark
curling lashes, were as blue as
her nickname.
Jane paused in the important
business of cleaning her buttons,
deciding with satisfaction that
they positively shone like gold.
The door burst open and two
more girls appeared, Hunter and
Brett, who were bosom friends.
“It's the hours that’ll kill us
off,” said Hunter wearily. ‘Tm so
dead tired I could lie down and
die.” She fished her make-up out
of her bag and began to re-do her
face. It was a very pretty face and
she knew how to make it even
prettier. Her father was an M. P.
She claimed to. know everything
that was going on and had never
been taught the meaning of the
word discretion.
now nineteen
i I’ve known her 'for ages.”
The next moment she knew
■about whom Hunter was speak
'ing. I’ll bet Iris has pulled some
wires to get Guy transferred down
here. She’s absolutely crazy about
Tips Poel-Sanders. She was up
north when he was stationed there
and most of the time Guy was
away on some job or other. And
did those two get around togeth
er!”
‘T wouldn’t mind getting
around with Tips Poel-Sanders,”
murmured Brett.
Jane looked at her watch.
“Well, I don’t care what the rest
of you do, but I’m off. We’re due
in the Ops. room in just five
minutes.”
Sparks strplled across to the
square concrete building with
her, the two of them ahead of the
others. “Don’t you know Tips
| Poel-Sanders?” she asked.
“I’ve met him. Yes.”
“I thought I saw you talking to
him the other night.”
Jane said Sparks was right.
“Only don’t tell the others.”
She’d seen Tips and Iris Stan
ton once or twice herself. In the
days that followed she saw him
often, but only rarely to speak to.
But this wasn’t his fault. He tried
to persuade her to meet him but
she wouldn’t. She was afraid to
see much of him. Despite the re
sentment in her heart against
him, she knew if they were to
meet often it would be disastrous.
So she made excuses. She was
working when he was off duty.
If she wasn’t she was too tired.
“I could get you transferred if
you married me,” he said one
morning when she met him as
she’d met him on that first morn
ing in the narrow passage leading
to the Ops. room.
“So you said before. But I don’t
want to be transferred.”
“You want some sleep. There
are dark shadows under your
eyes.”
“I know. I don’t care. I’m doing
a useful job of work.”
“Jane, darling, please . . .”
She fled. His voice did things
to her. It made her want to give
in, made her almost forget Stella
and all she’d suffered because of
him. Then that afternoon she saw
Iris Stanton drive up to the air
drome and the two of them go
off together. This hardened her,
this and all the gossip that was
rife now, according to Hunter who
knew so much.
Hunter insisted on joining
Sparks and Jane one day when
they went off for a bicycle ride
I and took them round by Stretton
and pointed out the Stantons’
house to them. “Let’s call in and
see if Iris is at home.” suggested
Hunter brightly. “I know she’d
love to meet you both.”
But Jane took one quick look
house and said she didn’t feel like
meeting anybody. "Let Mrs. Stan
ton alone I’m too tired to make
polite conversation.”
Hunter left it at that They rode
on through the village. “I never
thought I’d live to ride a bicycle
again.” said Sparks, puffing and
blowing from sheer exhaustion.
“It’s good exercise,” murmured
Jane.
Hunter skimmed in between
them. “If I tell you two some
| thing, will you keep it to your
selves?”
The two smiled.
“There’s something big pending.
It’s all terribly hush-hush, but it
might happen any night now.”
“Do you mean Adolf is going to
pay us a visit?” asked Sparks with
interest
“No. We’re paying him one.
Jimmie Stafford told me. He’s not
going. He says he wishes he were
But Tips Poel-Sanders is and Guy
Stanton and . .
Sparks, pedaling hard, broke in
on her indignantly: “You know
you ought to get a prize for care
less talk!”
Hunter looked at her reproach
fully. “I like that! I’m only tell
ing you two under the strictest
secrecy. Why shouldn’t I tell you
two? You’ve promised not to say
anything to anyone else.”
“That’s not the point The point
is . . .” Sparks looked at Hunter
and wondered if it would be sheer
waste of breath to try and make
her see what she was doing. She
said to Jane later that afternoon
when they were preparing to
snatch a few hours’ sleep prior to
going on duty at midnight: “You
know, if we did our duty we’d
report Hunter.”
“I know. But it would mean an
awful row.”
“Of course it would. And fp it
should. Remember how we were
all sworn to say nothing? That
girl’s a public danger. She knows
too much and she talks too much.
And how that silly young fool
Jimmie Stafford can have been
such a nitwit as to tell her what
he did I simply can’t imagine.
Jane couldn’t either. But she
wasn’t caring about Jimmie Staf
ford. She was worrying terribly
about Tips and wondering when
the “something big” was coming
off. She wished suddenly from the
very bottom of her heart that
she’d not been quite so strong
minded about him. After all, that
night they’d dined together at
Kettner’s — the night after she’d
seen Stella — she’d made up her
mind to quite a different course
of action. Then she’d decided to
see him just as often as she could
but to make sure that she never
took him seriously or allowed him
to hurt her. Instead he had been
the one who was going to be hurt
one day. She’d throw caution to
the winds.
But she hadn’t seen him often.
Nothing but little fleeting mo
ments with him had come her
way for the last two or three
weeks and now tonight it made
her feel no happier to realize that
they had been only by her own
for you to do,
choosing. She glanced across at
Sparks who was sleeping peace
fully.
Very quietly she swung her legs
over the' side of the bed and,
stooping, found her shoes and put
them on. She slid into her skirt,
shirt and tunic and found her
big coat and cap. Very quietly she
opened the door. She slipped out
and sped swiftly across toward
the officers’ quarters, uncertain
how she would let him know she
was there and wanting to see him.
There were cars outside the of
ficers’ mess. She could see men
moving about in the comforta
bly furnished room. She walked
up and down wondering what to
do next, scared that at any mo
ment one of the Waaf officers
might see her and ask her what
she was doing.
Then the door of the officers’
mess opened. In the light shed
from within she saw Iris Stanton
and Tips come down the steps
and walked toward her car which
was very near where Jane was
standing. Instinctively she drew
back into the shadows, sharp
tears stinging her eyes and- a
dreadful feeling of desolation fill
ing her heart. They passed quite
close to her. She heard Tips say,
“What about Guy? Shouldn’t we
wait for him?’’
Iris gave a light rejoinder to
this. “He can’t come yet He’s
working this evening. Come on.
Tips. Get in.” And a little re
proachfully, “Darling, you didn’t
used to take quite such a lot of
persuading.”
It seemed he didn’t take a
great deal now. He got into the
car and a moment later Jane
heard the purr of the engine. She
watched them drive with increas
ing speed down the long asphalt
road leading from the main build
ings. Then she turned and would
have moved swiftly away, but she
stopped short. A man was stand
ing a few paces from her. His
eyes were on the retreating car,
his brows were drawn together.
In a flash she recognized Guy
Stanton, the husband who. Hun
ter suggested, was so absorbed in
his work that he was oblivious to
what his wife was up to.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
About 1 and one-fourth billion
pounds of food and other agri
cultural commodities were de
livered to shipwide during July
for export to allied fighHng
fronts and such shipments will
probably increase from month to
month.
Cries Off liberty
O—i—■——O--o
(Editor’s Note: The following poem is written by Mr. U. $. Myers,
of Laurel Springs, who over a period of years has written a number
of poems, songs, hymns, and other literature, some of which may be
published later in this paper:
-j-O
Awake! Awake! Arise from .your slumber
Asleep ye long enough have been!
Liberty our goddess, is in the throes
Of death, and her cries are calling for men!
Men, who are not content with folded arms
To sit in luxurious ease—
But men who are willing to use their brawn
Afid if needed to cross the seas.
Men who are willing to toil ’til the last
Vestige of energy is Spent
And sacrifice their luxuries, their pleasures
Their fortunes, if needed, and be content.
Mothers are not excluded, no one who
Is able to give or toil
The call is to all who love freedom,
Or live on Columbia’s soil.
Yet she cries—her cries ascending come
From across the oceans wide. '
Many have answered—many have gone
To her rescue—our boys—some have died,
While millions have gone to her rescue—
Millions have suffered, bled and died—
Millions have given up their loved ones,
Who made the sacrifice on the other side.
Liberty, bought with a price—the price
Of suffering—the price of blood, of
Anguish in body and mind;
Purchased as our fathers marched barefoot
In frozen snow, leaving trails of blood behind—
Is now being strangled by tyrants! ,
Struggling—gasping—she sends forth
Her woeful cry.
Shall we respond? Shall we answer or
Shall we lull ourselves to sleep?
Gracious God! Shall we let her die?
Shall the Axis sound the knell?
No, ye gods! Not by the blood of our sires
Nor the blood of our sons as well!
We’ll do and die! Shall be our cry, till
We blast the demons to death and hell!
We’ll strike with all our might, we’ll cross the mighty seas—
We’ll break the despots’ iron chains
And bring the Axis to their knees.
We’ll put them begging—begging to
Miss Democracy, but she’ll not wed
Till the very last of Hitlerism is dead.
Yes, Victory—victory is ours—has been
Ours when we willed to strike a blow.
’Twas ours in 1812 when “Old Hickory” struck
The British and gave them showers of lead
Till the plains of New Orleans lay thick
With Redcoats, numbering two thousand dead!
’Twas ours, in 1898, when we lost our beautiful battleship “Maine,”
When we went to suffering Cuba and
Blasted the tyrant Spain.
It must be—shall be—ours, when these present horrors cease,
When the Axis might has been destroyed
And the world’s again at peace.
When sisters lament and weep no more
At parting with their brothers;
When the “boys” have lain their armor down
And Returned, to their wives, sweethearts; and mothers.
Pleasant Grove
News
Mr. Sylvester Blevins spent
Sunday with George Cleary.
Wake and Ada Brinegar visited
Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Petty at
McGrady over the week end.
Reba and Tom Wayne Upchurch
visited their grandmother, Nora
Richardson, Sunday evening.
Mr. Tobias Pruitt spent Sunday
with his son, Colonel Pruitt, here.
Ben Osborne spent the week
end with friends and relatives in
Wilkes.
Frank Richardson made a busi
ness .trip to North Wilkesboro,
Thursday.
George Richardson Visited Mr.
and Mrs. Fred Petty, Sunday.
Mrs. Jane Cleary spent Thurs
day night with Mrs. Ada Brinegar.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnander Os
borne, of Sparta, spent Friday
night with Mr. Osborne’s sister,
Mrs. George Richardson.
Roy Wagoner, of Whitehead,
spent a while Friday at the home
of Mrs. Cal Richardson.
Those who attended service at
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friends for their kindness and
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Mr. and Mrs. Lonnie Southers.
CARD OF THANKS
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Furches News
Mr. and Mrs. Phillip Stanton,
of Philadelphia, have returned
home, after spending a week with
Mrs. Stanton’s mother, Mrs. E. V.
Richardson.
Pvt. and Mrs. Ross Jones spent
the week end with Mrs. Jones’ pa
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of Nathan’s Creek.
Mrs. J. K. Taylor has return*
home, after spending a few da;
with her daughter in Statesville.
Mrs. Ralph Richardson, of De
troit, is visiting his mother, Mrs.
E. V. Richardson, this week.
Whitehead church Sunday from
this community were Mrs. Mary
Petty and daughter, Grace, and
Ruby Anderson.
Paul. Brinegar, of Springfield,
spent Monday with Mrs. Charlie
Brinegar.
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ADMINISTRATOR’S NOTICE
Having qualified as adminis
trator of A. M.' Rutherford, de
ceased, I hereby notify all persons
having claims against the estate
to file the same within 12 months
from this date, or this notice will
be pled in bar of payment.
This September 21, 1943.
Z. L. Rutherford, Ad
ministrator of A. M.
Rutherford, Dec’d.
9-23-4T A
Farm-mortgage indebtedness
for the U. S. as a whole continued
to decline during 1942 according
to preliminary estimates.
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