IPs GATE 7
CHAPTER I
A girl and a greyhound were run
ning in the dark. Not running away,
not going anywhere; running in a
sort of rounded square, running with
a desperate delight in running, in
motion, in smooth and lovely speed.
•
In the morning there would be
mountains above and beyond, be
littling them, but in the intimate
dusk the hills had their hour, large
and mild and kind, brooding the
earth below them. Sometimes the
girl looked up at them, but the dog
kept her eyes on the dimmed, im
mediate foreground. There was a
certain similarity between them—
both young, fleet, with thin, strong
legs and flat flanks and excellent
wind, and both of a bronze brindle
brown. There was, likewise, a kin
ship of spirit, or at least of deport
ment, for each was shy, secret, dis
dainful. Presently they stopped run
ning and stood still, breathing deep
ly and easily, happily tired.
The greyhound pressed delicately
against the girl’s knees and slid a
long muzzle into a slender hanging
hand.
“Lightning . . the girl said
absently. “Lightning, dear . . .”
She turned toward the one open
edge of the field. “Come!”
The Santa Clara valley rolled out
beneath them, twinkling and trem
bling with lights, golden and crim
son like a carnival, but just below
them the windows of Danavale
glowed gently. Danavale was not
a town.
It had over a dozen residences gen
erously spaced in a gracious land
scape, with orchards and vineyards
and gardens, stables and oak groves
and tennis courts and swimming
pools, which formed a sort of archi
tectural chronology from the Great
grandmother Dana house, with its
needless early-seventies skimping of
porch and hall, down to that
strange, modern container of Ardine
La Mont Dana.
The girl and the greyhound halted
before the pioneer house. It was
narrow-chested, narrow-hipped, out
moded as a calico wrapper or a
boot-jack, behind its low picket
fence and its cinnamon pinks and
china asters and candytuft.
She opened the gate and went up
the dim path and rang the strident
bell, and waited.
The great-grandmother opened the
door herself. “Sairy Lynn! Come
in!”
“I can’t stay, Great-granny. I’m
late for dinner now.”
“My stars, I should say you are!
after seven. Where you been,
child?” She peered up at her out
of eyes like embers.
“Walking."
“Didn’t you know your beau’s
jback?”
“I knew.”
The old woman laughed a shrill,
impish cackle. “And a dinner party
and a new dress spread out on the
bed —and here you be, traipsin’ over
the hills in the dark! You better
march yourself home, quick’s ever
you can step on it! There’ll be the
devil to pay.”
The great - grandparents had
crossed the plains in a covered wag
on and Great-grandmother Sarah
Ann Kittredge Dana was, to all in
tents and purposes, still in it, well
up in her nineties, content to potter
about her house and dooryard and
wait for the dutiful droppings-in of
her daughters and granddaughters
and great-granddaughters.
“I know,” Sarah Lynn said som
berly. “I can’t help it.”
A voice came down the narrow
sudden stairs. “Hi! Sarah Lynn!”
“Hello, Uncle Lynn! I’ll come up
for a moment. I can’t stay.” She
ran up the precipitate steps.
THE ZEBULON RECORD. ZEBULON, NORTH CA ROLINA, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 14,1938
Lynn Dana lived with the ances
tress on the upper floor of the old
house. He had been sitting in a
chair for more than half his life—
approximately since the day he had
made the winning touchdown for
Stanford and failed to scramble up
with his yelling teammates.
“I can’t stay,” Sarah Lynn said
again halting on the threshold of his
door.
“I should think not!” he looked
at the clock. “You can’t even be
here! My eyes deceive me. At this
very instant, in the habiliments of
high festivity you sit at the festive
board.” He regarded her linen
shorts, her pull-over, her brown,
bare knees. “Duncan arrived?”
“I suppose so. Lightning and I
have been up in the hills.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re due
down in the valley now, young wom
an, and you’d best be on your way.”
“Rather stay with you and Great
granny,” she said sullenly.
“And we’d rather have you! But
it isn’t on the cards this evening.
Hop it, my dear!”
Sarah Lynn leaned in the doorway
for a long moment “All right; I’ll
go. But I won’t do it! Nothing can
make me—not even Mother.” She
departed swiftly, without farewells.
A small figure was waiting in the
shadows of the big house of her
father.
“Hello, Penny!” Sarah Lynn said.
Miss Ethelinda Pennington had
been her governess in the old days
and was still a component part of
the Edwin Dana household. Sarah
Lynn Dana was the lode star of her
existence and she had not said ten
words of praise to her in the 17
years she had been with her. She
spoke now in shocked rebuke.
“Sarah Lynn! Dinner’s waiting!
Mr. Duncan’s been here since six!
Your mother is greatly disturbed.
Wherever have you been?” She was
hustling her along a garden path
toward a side door.
“Running.”
“Running away! Really, Sarah
Lynn, at your age! I wonder at
you!”
“Not running away; running
round and round in circles, the way
I always do, Penny,” her charge
said bitterly. “Never getting any
where.”
They went into the house and in
stantly there was a soft rustle and a
muted exclamation and her mother
was upon her, big and beautiful,
sunnily sweet.
“Darling!” she cried. “I know
you couldn’t have realized how late
it is! Are you quite all right? Then
it doesn’t matter! You’ll be down
just as soon as you possibly can—in
your sweet new dress!” She kissed
her. “Hurry, darling. Oh, Dun
can! This naughty child walked far
ther than she realized and she
hadn’t a watch, but she’ll be ready
in two minutes!”
A pallid youth who looked as if he
might have been born in a dinner
coat had come into the hall. “Sarah
Lynn!” he said gladly.
She gave him a limp hand. “Hel
lo, Duncan! I’ll hurry, Mother.” She
ran upstairs.
Duncan followed Sarah Lynn onto
the wide veranda, down the steps,
onto the lawn. The greyhound came
toward them in lovely leaps but
stopped in chill reserve at sight of
Duncan, her ears flattening.
“I’ve always liked dogs,” he said
a trifle defensively, “but I can’t see
this pooch very far. I’ve got a good
Boston bull at home; regular dog.”
He came closer. “No; I'm not crazy
about your hound but I am crazy
.about you, Sarah Lynn.” His hand
clasped her elbow, slid down to her
hand, cool, unresponsive. “No fool-
ing!”
“Duncan, please! Let’s not begin
that all ov°- ’ain.”
“I’m got 4 * begin it again and
finish it, th.o ume! Listen, Sarah
Lynn; I’ve never wanted anything
in all my life that I didn’t get.”
“It’s only because you can’t have
me. Ever since you were born
they’ve handed you everything you
cried so and kiddie-cars
and skates and sleds and a pony
and a car and a yacht. Now you
think they’re going to hand you—
me. My mother, your mother. But
they won’t; they can’t.”
He laughed contentedly. "They
don’t have to! You’ll do it yourself.
Oh, I’m not going to rush you! I
can play a waiting game. But just
get it through your head that you
belong to me.”
Sarah Lynn thought he was rather
pathetic with his fragility and his
pallor and his elegance, casting
himself for the character of the con
quering male.
She detached herself, not ungen
tly, walked away, stood looking up
at the stars. Suddenly a s ngle
planet separated itself from its fel
low and moved smoothly across the
sky. Shooting star? Flying star?
Plane. Sometime, she told herself,
sometime she would fly away in
the night.
(Continued Next Week)
‘‘FOR SALE—9OO ACRES OF
fine land cheap on easy terms,
six miles of Clayton, 1-2 mile
from Shotwell, eight miles from
Wendell. Will sell in small tracts
to suit purchaser. Write C. A.
Pope, P. 0. Box 35, Durham,
N. C.
QUESTIOI
JdeaAi to
MOTHER
Your affairs are rarely so
simple, whether they arc
business or social in nature,
that a brief communication is
adequate to settle them fully
when the other party is in an
other city.
One question leads to an
other—and that is why a three
minute long distance tele
phone call is not only effective,
but truly economical.
It is a two-way exchange of
ideas. It saves time. It allows
the warm tones of your voice
to express your personality. It
enables you to use a surpris
ingly large number cf word*.
Best of all, it is low* in cost.
Look in the front pages o[
your telephone directory, or
ask the “Long Distance” oper
ator, for the tales on the call
you would like to make.
Long di stance telcphon:
rates on most calls are ever
lower after 7 I*. M. every night,
and all day Sundays. But any
time, to anywhere, telephone
lo get results.
SOUTHERN BELL TELEPHONE
AND TELEGRAPH COMPANY
INCORPORATED
STATEMENT OF THE OWNER-1
SHIP, MANAGEMENT, CIRCU
j LATION, ETC., REQUIRED BY
THE ACT OF CONGRESS OF
AUGUST 24, 1912,
Os The Zebulon Record published
weekly at Zebulon for Oct. 1, 1938.
State of North Carolina, county of
Wake.
Before me, a notary public in
and for the State and county afore-1
said, personally appeared Theo. B. |
Davis, who, having been duly sworn
according to law, deposes and says
that he is the owner of the Zeb
ulon Record and that the following
is to the best of his knowledge
and belief, a true statement of the
ownership, management, etc., of
the aforesaid publication for the
date shown in the above caption,
required by the Act of August 24,
1912, embodied in section 411, Pos
tal Law's and Regulations, printed
on the reverse of this form, to
wit:
1. That the names and addresses
of the publisher, editor, and busi
ness manager is: Publisher and'l
editor, Theo. B. Davis. Zebulon, I
N. C.
3. That the known bondholders, I
mortgagees, and other security I
holders owning or holding 1 per I
cent or more of total amount of I
bonds, mortgages, or other securi- I
ties are: !
Walter L. Farmer, Abingdon, Va. I
Mergenthaler Linotype Co., I
Brooklyn, N. Y. I
4. That the two paragraphs I
next above, giving the names of I
the owners, stockholders, and se- I
curity holders, if any, contain not I
only the list of stockholders and I
security holders as they appear I
upon the books of the company I
but also, in cases where the I
stockholder or security holder ap- I
pears upon the books of the com- I
pany as trustee or in any other I
fiduciary relation, the name of I
the person or corporation for [
whom such trustee is acting, is [
given; also that the said two para- j
graphs contain statements em- I
bracing .affiant’s full knowledge I
and belief as to the circumstances |
and conditions under which stock- I
holders and security holders who
do not appear upon the books of
the company as trustees, hold
stock and securities in a capacity
other than that of a bona fide
owTier; and this affiant has no
reason to believe that any other
person, association, or corporation
has any interest direct or indirect
in the staid stock, bonds, or other
securities than as so stated by him.
THEO. B. DAVIS.
Sworn to and subscribed before
me this sth day of Oct. 1938.
BESSIE F. DAVIS.
My commission expires Jan. 21.
1940.
(SEAL)
Convictions borrowed from
others are not really convictions,
but merely light opinions.
FARMERS:
WE ARE NOW BUYING CLEAN. BRIGHT
Scrap Tobacco
AT OUR PRIZE ROOM IN
Fuquay Springs, N. C.
AND AT OUR IM.aNT IN
Wendell, N. C.
NOTICE:
You can sell your SCRAP TOBACCO
on your allotment card tax free.
If you don’t want to use your card; we will pay
the tax, if you sell with us.
BE SURE AND BRING YOUR CARD REGARDLESS.
Monk'Henderson
Tobacco Co., Inc.
WENDELL, N. C.
1 P 4.40-21 4.75-19 I 5.00-19 5.25-17
| $ 6 15 $ 7 05 s 7 6 ° S B OS
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