Newspapers / The Coastland Times (Manteo, … / Feb. 17, 1939, edition 1 / Page 7
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.^day, February 17, 1939 DARE COUNTY TIMES Page Seven H THERE COMES a MOMENT by ELINOR MAXWELL O Arcadia House Publicottons WNU Serfice THE STORY tij^APTER I—Mary Loring and her fa- fttr’- ineffectual attorney, meet Uw ^ which brings his wealthy sister-in- JiIa i*^niarried Llnnie Cotswell and her Chw V Ormsby, divorcee, for a tjji\Jf«Tias visit. Waiting at home for •«5.*h are Marv'* mnthpr. hpr voiinffpr b?u®^ster, the family. At the depot Dr. jljristopher Cragg helps the guests with ‘“o' luggage. n—Though secretly In love Doctor Cragg, Mary has paid little i^jj^htion to her beauty. In leaving, her Linnie urges Mary to visit her in York, but Mary refuses. At work in iKg®htal library, where she spends her difill® writing short stories, Mary is L^^ayed when her father tells her that been let out as railroad attorney. the D. of which were almost the sole of his family. To earn money ® aecides to begin writing in earnest. ith^APTER ni—Disregarding the fact •ini «received many rejection iiaf u ^ previous stories, Mary feels sure 'wfi newest story, “At Sea,” would the editors of National Weekly, finishing it she calls Doctor Cragg, CuS. Monies to the book store for a novel. Falling from a ladder *cin, Setting his book, she regains con- *sness to find his arms around her. her he loves her, and then tells he is to be married the coming month girl he has known all his life. De- i/fJJ^hent, Mary decides to accept her 'ShlPL Linnie’s invitation. In New York her that Lelia Ormsby is living with Wan hunt, who laughs at her for her ae hs to write, and insists that she meet hiany eligible men as possible. tv^APTER IV—^The new week brings , letters. One, from the National with a $100 check for her story, her deliriously happy. The other, CojJJ. her sister, tells her that financial ^h*‘(htions at home are getting worse. day, at a party given by her i’avv ^hry meets distinguished Jerome wealthy middle aged man-about- and effusive Count Umberto Bali- stea u count’s oily manner nause- her. However, her aunt has made iig hhgagement with both men for the CHAPTER V th: ^ary woke with a start at seven next morning, and, for an in- *‘®nt, lay in her comfortable bed, Wondering just where she was. At hoj ''he in Hawkinsville? And was the ®litn figure beneath the covers in the "'her twin bed that of Ellen? Then, ts consciousoess came fully upon she realized that she was in York, In Aunt Linnie’s apart , ?®nt, and that the sleeping girl j ®®ide her was Lelia Ormsby. . Was while she sat scanning the ®aillines of the Herald Tribune, a f®®ond steaming cup of coffee in one ^hd, a third piece of jam-covered in the other, that Addi* '®ught in the mail. “Anything for ’’'®p Addie?” she asked. 'fte Mulatto woman consulted the .®*hes on the envelopes with mad- ^®Qing precision, finally extending '6tter towards Mary. “Just hoi too, '"fiy. Looks like a man’s writing. •otii 3ry caught the letter from the 8. olive-tinted hand. “I hope it’s my father,” she said, almost . to herself. Dad had not writ- y** to her since her arrival in New and she was hungry to hear, tiis own words, how he was get- tini It 8 on. Was from her father—just one of his small, scholarly hand- Jl^tting—neat, modest, suppressed. lik, ® the man himself. She read. Mth affectionate eagerness, what he V. to say. little girl: Ij, “ar money-order for elghty-flve dol- - Came today, and It is with inex- embarrassment, and deep grat- •tom tt"®! I am accepting this loan There is no use trying to hai from you that I am terribly ofjiaiPressed, and that your generous 80(1*^*''® has arrived as something of a but Mary. I shall pay you I am doing everything I can to 6om .a contact, and hope for something to break this week, t, I beg of you, ever mention to in aunt the straitened circumstances hjyWajch I—through my inadequacy— bj,' thrown my family. I could not itioth *. chagrin of having your dear Out a sister know the true state of einha ancial affairs, let alone suffer the h(f arrassment of an offer of help from * to worry about us, dear. Have Stn ^ *’'he while you may. Something, a sure, will work out for me soon. - -ure, wm work out lor me soon, j. j fy placed her unfinished piece H. *oast on the blue Spode butter She could not eat any more. ^ ® couia not eai any muic. Jes young appetite had her. Poor Dai trying to Olaltr la a contact’’ at his age! Hop- Hj “something good to break jj *feek!’’ Begging her never to la 8® to Aunt Linnie, who could I ''cry easily spare a thousand or ^ousand dollars to relieve, at temporarily, the devastating bin!? gnawed at his heart and '*• No, she would not “let on,’’ ,^®rd or act, how desperate the ®'*kinsville situation was. She Nd - never betray Dad’s confi- ■j^®* or do anything to hurt his ,^Stily she picked up the break- she ’’''ith its powder-blue id** silver coffee pot, and car- a 't to Addie, who forthwith re- ai,|f^3ted with her for “doin’ my • ’ Then, returning to the sunlit 8 room, she placed the type- OTI 4L*. .V [ ' tile table, inserted a sheet lag “*te paper and put on the ja^*^which Ellen said made her vpically librarian. £ lud an idea for_ a plot-t^a simple idea, biit so "beTn the’ idea for “At Sea.’’ Mr. Buchanan had liked that well enough to accept it. Her story was to concern a little boy whose mother and father were on the brink of a sensational di vorce. Just as things were reach ing a crisis, he was hit, but only slightly injured, by an automobile, and this near tragedy brought the parents together again, the tale con cluding in a sane and happy man ner for all concerned. Fifteen minute later, she was still waiting for an introductory line that would inspire within Mr. Buchanan an avid interest to read the rest of the story, but the portentous words were fearfully slow in coming. At last her fingers fell upon the keys, and sharply tapped out a sentence —a sentence that did not please her in the least, but which would simply have to do for the time being. She would have to get on. She couldn’t sit there all day, waiting to begin. Paragraph after paragraph slow ly but surely stretched themselves over the pages, but the story un rolled with painful effort. “I’ve .waited too long since the last one. My thoughts simply can’t get down to business. Too many things have happened to me since I wrote ‘At Sea.’ If only I’d begun another story the very day after I finished that! I suppose your mind’s just like any other kind of machinery. You’ve got to keep it working all the time, or the wheels get rusty, and are hard to start up again.’’ Mary worked on “Their Son’’ again the next morning, rewriting whole sentences, transcribing phrases, de leting words that appeared unneces sary, but the conformation remained the same, and she could see no wav in which to improve it. She was not satisfied with what she had done. The story lacked something. At one o’clock, she put it aside, telling her self grimly, “I’m so saturated with the thing that I can no longer look at it from an unbiased standpoint. I’ll go out for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will drive the cobwebs out of my brain, and I can get to work on it again tonight with a fresh outlook.” Then, she suddenly re membered that Aunt Linnie had made an engagement for the eve ning with Umberto Balianci, and, with a sigh, she resigned herself to waiting until the following morning to work on the script again. Balianci called for them at seven, just shortly after Lelia had en sconced herself comfortably in bed with Somerset Maugham’s new book at her side, and a tray of delectable food over her knees. “Well, thank heavens. I’m not going out with you and Linnie tonight,’’ she said with a mischievous grin. “Aunt Linnie said to wear a street dress,” Mary remarked. Lelia yawned luxuriously. “Oh, of course, with Balianci footing the bili! He will, no doubt, treat you to an eighty-five cent table-d’hote in some wretched place in the Vil lage, and smugly feel that you and Linnie are in his debt for the rest of the winter. He’s so accustotned to having somebody else pay the check that, when he does come acrerss with an invitation, he -damn’ well sees to it that his output of cash is of the smallest possible denomi nation. He’s a sponger, darling, looking for a rich wife, and no body on earth can make me believe anything to the contrary.” Mary pulled on her Lapin coat, and caught her gloves up from the dressing-table. “You do look cozy, Lelia,” she said, “and heaven knows I wish I were staying at home tonight instead of going out into that horrid, raw weather. I’d have liked to work on my story.” “The afternoon paper says we’ll have a regular blizzard by morn ing,” Lelia announced, crunching a Julienne potato with tantalizing en joyment. “Thanks be to Allah for my bed and board! See you later, my dear, unless you get lost in a snowdrift. I doubt if Balianci has the price of a taxi!” Balianci had the price of a taxi, or else had decided to spread himself for the evening, for, upon descend ing to the street, he ordered the doorman to whistle for a cab. “Cor- liani’s,” he told the driver, “in the Village. A startled look sprang into Lin nie’s eyes, but was quickly, diplo matically, succeeded by a smile. “Corliani’s, Balianci?” she inquired brightly. “Is that a new place?” Balianci plumped himself down on one of the small side seats, and lighted a cigarette. “It is a place I have but recently discovered. Miss Cotswell, and the food is most excel- lent-/cooked as only the chefs of my country can cook. I thought per haps Miss Loring would like a bit of atmosphere—something different from what -she has been accus tomed to seeing and doing since she has been in New York.” Corliani’s was crowded, garish, and shabby, and the bare wooden tables were set so closely together that it was almost impossible to wedge a way through them. Sput tering candles, set in wine bottles, furnished the only illumination, and the air was heavy with the stale, accumulated smell of garlic and cig arette smoke. Mary wondered, during the long, spasmodic serving of the meal, if jthey were going some place later on, but her speculations as to that were soon brought to an end by Balianci’s saying, a tentative tone in his voice, “The weather. It is ex ecrable. Should we not be happier to remain here for the evening?” Miss Cotswell, who had scarcely touched her food, replied thEft per haps they would, lit a cigarette, and sM back resignedly Jn her chair. 'lanci divided Yus ■ eyes equally be- floor show and 'g (he evening, r f ’ TV’s as it “ (o his ' so P ' D ' !'■ 'on lb” ‘ M rv P- , -■ he r ut '■ Jay on lies be "' ful. JTi-v h an'! Uic twi'-hn 1 thou 'it, [ haven’t a: “You £ dy,” Bali:. reminding ■’t.v a large Mail . 'ould never be gildea Miss Cotswell " (h’ mci’s eye at this mor. ■ anr- ■ con veyed to him by h':- e i that his remarks were not ai ‘'er to her liking. Eventually, at eleven o’clock, she rose. “We must be getting home,” she said tersely. Balianci managed to squeeze into the same seat with the women on the homeward trip in the taxi, and to take advantage of the closeness of the quarters by pressing his shoulder rather too tenderly against Mary’s. “He can’t be doing it on purpose,” Mary told herself. “It’s simply that this seat is so narrow.” Miss Cotswell turned abruptly, just as they reached the elevator in her apartment house, and extend ed her hand to Balianci in an un deniable farewell. Later, in the pri vacy of her apartment, she said to her niece, “Umberto was loping right along with us into the lift. No doubt, he intended to come up for a nightcap, but I couldn’t stand an other moment of his company. Dreadful evening, wasn’t it?” Mary, warming her chilled fingers before the dying fire on the hearth, smiled. “Maybe it was for you. Aunt Linnie. You’re so accustomed to nightingale’s knees on toast that -I can imagine how low-life you con sider a place like Corliani’s. As for me, however, it was rather fun. Re member, hot chocolate and salted crackers at Bowen’s drug store have been the high points in my night life for years! I’d never tasted real Italian food before, and I was even intrigued with some of the rather strange-looking creatures that prac tically sat in our laps.” For some Inexplicable reason, Mary woke at six the next morning. , Lelia and Miss Cotswell were, of course, still asleep, and even Addie could not be heard stirring about. She settled herself in an arm chair and began to read. The script of “Their Son,” which she had tucked away in the bottom drawer of her bureau the day be fore, sprang to her mind, and with a sudden spurt of energy, she de cided that now, in the early hours of this cold morning, with not one sign of life to disturb the calm, was the time to read it over. She could look at it from a fresh viewpoint, and, no doubt, discern in its struc ture glaring flaws which she had been too weary to notice the day be fore. A second later, she settled her self in an armchair before the liv ing room window and began to read “Their Son.” It really went rather smoothly, she told herself. The phraseology was perfect; her choice of words, beyond criticism. “I shan’t do another thing to it,” she decided. “It’s as good as it’ll ever be, and It may be far better than I think. I’m going to submit ,It to Mr. Buchanan today, and it’s got to sink or swim.” With eager fingers, she slipped it into a large, manila envelope, and, securing Aunt jhinnie’s fountain pen from the tray of odds and ends on the desk, wrote across its front in large letters, “Mr. Phillip Buchanan, The Nation al Weekly.” "I’ll take it to him myself,” she thought, “and if he’s not there, just leave it with his secretary. I wish it were later. I don’t suppose these editors ever think of rolling into their offices until at least ten. Well, I’U just have to take a long bath, eat a long breakfast, and spend an hour getting dressed. Maybe that’ll consume the time between now— and then!” CHAPTEB VI It was half past ten, and Mary sat with flushed face and icy hands in the reception room at The Na tional Weekly. She had arrived ex- actljr at the stroke of tea, and, ttft- M giving her name to the elflcienl receptionist, had been told that Mr, Buchanan was in, that he was occu pied at the moment, and to sit down, please. Two other persons had now en tered the reception room; a good- looking young man with an intense air; a swarthy girl of twenty-five or so. “But I’ll be next,” Mary told herself excitedly, her hands like blocks of ice beneath their tan suede gloves. The other callers had disappeared through mysterious doors and liiss Hickenlooper, the secretary, was now speaking through one of the tel ephones in response to a buzz that had resounded throughout the re ception room. “All right, Miss Lor ing,” she said. “Your turn now.” Mary jumped to her feet, drop ping her purse as she did so. Miss Hickenlooper raised a supercilious eyebrow. “Your purse. Miss Lor ing,’’ she said coldly. “And you’d better take your coat with you.” “Hateful woman!” Mary thought, her face suffusing with a deep red. “She probably knows I’m excited.” “To the right, please,” Miss Hick enlooper was saying. “Office at the end of the corridor.” “Thank you,” Mary said coldly and, elevating her chin ever so slightly, stepped through the door that led into the working quarters of The National Weekly. Offices opened off to the right and left of the long narrow hall but, with eyes straight ahead, she made for the one at the end—the sanctus- sanctorum of the lot—the offl9e of Phillip Buchanan. She stood in the doorway an in stant before the man at the desk became aware of her presence. He was scanning a typed letter, and a deep frown made a furrow between his eyebrows. He looked austere, and Mary, none-too-assured at best, felt increasingly nervous. He was younger than she had expected to find him, perhaps thirty-five, and his hair looked sunburned, as if he had just returned from a fishing trip in Florida, which, indeed, he had. Suddenly, he glanced up, and see ing her standing there, rose hastily from his chair, a puzzled expression on his face. He was taller than one would have judged, seeing him sitting down, glaring at that let ter. He was as tall as Chris. “Is this—Miss Loring?” he asked, and the fear that he had inspired in her was instantly dispelled. His voice was kind, young—with the faintest trace of a Harvard accent.' She smiled at him. “Yes, I am Mary Loring.” “You took me rather by sur prise.” “Oh! But I thought Miss Hicken looper announced me!” “She did, of course. I mean that I was hardly prepared for a debu tante. ‘At Sea’ has the wisdom of years in its theme.” “I’m twenty-two,” Mary replied, as if that explained everything. Phillip Buchanan smiled, and his teeth seemed very white because of the contrast they made with the tan of his face. “All of that? Do sit down. Miss Loring. I’m so glad you dropped in. I’ve wanted to tell you how very much we liked ’’At Sea.’ It’s scheduled for publica tion April fifteenth.” Mary seated herself in a chair which faced him across the desk, the envelope containing her manu script held tightly beneath her right arm. “Oh! Not until April?” “Not until April?” Mr. Buchanan repeated. “Why, that’s giving your story an early publication! Don’t you know that our material—at least as far as fiction is concerned—is planned months in advance? In i fact, we shelved a story we had i arranged to publish on that date in order to make room for yours. By the way, have you written anything since you sent us ‘At Sea’?” Mary produced the envelope con taining her precious script, and placed it on the desk before him. “Indeed I have, Mr. Buchanan, and here it is. Another short short.” Phillip Buchanan glanced at it, put it on a pile of papers at his left, and then casually lit bis ciga rette. “That’s fine. I’ll turn it over to Mr. Johnstone today.” Mary’s eyes clouded with disap pointment. She had supposed that Mr. Buchanan, himself, would read the story—perhaps this morning while she sat there in his office “Mr. Johnstone?” she repeatec numbly. we’re concerned, a place liTtH^surn In fact, on second thought. I’ll prob ably just turn this over to Mr. Van Winkle—not put it through the mill.” He glanced abruptly at the dull gold watch strapped to his wrist. “Lord! It’s nearly one o’clock, and I have an engagement with Ford Hansen at two. How about having a spot of lunch with me. Miss Loring?” Mary’s hands clutched convulsive ly beneath the protection of the coat which lay across her lap, and, to her embarrassment, her face flushed scarlet. Phillip Buchanan, the editor-in-chief of the most popu lar magazine in the United States was asking her to have a “spot of lunch” with him! “Why, thank you,” she managed to reply. “That will be fun.” Buchanan leaped from his chair, and went towards a cupboard at the far end of the rdom. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go.” And opening the door, he dragged out a camel’s hair top-coat, and slid into it “I want to talk to you about a series of shorts, and this is a swell op portunity.” Mary felt dizzy with excitement as she and Phillip Buchanan, closet ed in one of the silent elevators of the building which housed The Na tional Weekly, descended twenty floors to the lobby. Mr. Buchanan was taking her to lunch! Mr. Bu chanan wanted to talk to her about a series of “shorts” for his maga zine. She mentally estimated how many words she could write a day; how many hours it would take to revise and polish what she had writ ten. She must not be hasty or care less. She should, she figured, al low herself two mornings for the original composition, two additional mornings for revision, and a fifth sitting, perhaps, for perfect retyp ing of the script. ’They had reached the lobby, now, and were heading for the street door. “I say,” Mr. Buchanan be gan, “you don’t mind barging all the way down to the Lafayette, do you? My appointment with Hansen’s in that neighborhood.” Mind! Mary would have gone to Chinatown, or Great Neck, or Tim buktu with him, had he suggested one of those spots as a lunching place! “I don’t mind at all,” she returned. “I’ve wanted to see the Lafayette ever since Greta Garbo appeared in ‘Romance.’ ” Mr. Buchanan looked puzzled. “‘Romance’? Oh, yes, I remember now. All about a young minister who fell in love with an actress! That’s rigHt. Some of the scenes were supposed to be laid at the La fayette. Well, I don’t know that you’ll find a great deal of the at mosphere of the sixties remaining, but it’s a good place to eat. Come on, we’ll hop a taxi.” Once in the cab, he settled him self comfortably back against the leather cushions, as if to snatch a bit of rest while the opportunity of fered, lit a cigarette, and said, “Well, tell me something about yourself. Miss Loring. You’re from some small town in the West, aren’t you?” Mary glanced shyly at the clear- cut lines of the man’s profile. He looked rather bored. No doubt his taking her out to lunch was only a necessary evil as tar as he was con cerned—the courteous gesture made by a publisher to one of his con- CLASSIFIED ADVERTISING Advertising in this column costs one cent a word; mini mum charges ItSc. It you want to rent, to buy, to sell, to get a job, to hire help, to find something lost, the classifieds will do the job. A DOLLAR FOR 89c. Buy one of our special tickets; cigarettes, drinks, candies. SABOY CON FECTIONARY, Manteo. fl7-4e CABBAGE PLANTS for sale; als» large oollards and turnips. Cheap. See A. J. Hartley, phone 65-J, Manteo. pf3-6fc CARPENTER: Let me fig;ure on your beach work. Reasonable, quick, fair. R. 0. Ballance, Phone 64-J, Manteo, N. C. cF17-tf. FRESH COUNTRY EGGS any time at Coinjock Bridge. Fine quality. See J. H. Overton; visits Manteo every Wednesday. tf USE CLASSIFIED ADS—25 words for a quarter. They do the work. Call 44 for an ad-taker. tf TEN CENT BEER—three fora, quarter; 15c beer, 3 for 40c. Kill Devil Hills Service Station. cJ27-4t HELP WANTED; Southern Beauty School, South’s Foremost Beauty School, Wainwright Bldg., 424' Duke St., Norfolk, 'Va. Accredited J6tf GASOLINE 20c a gallon; groceries also cheap. Kill DeVfl Hills Fill ing Station, Willis Baum, Prop. pJ27-4t 'AUTOMOBILE INSURANCE at a saving of from 20% to 40%—if you are eligible. Lorimer W. Midgett, Virginia Dare Arcade, Elizabeth City, N. C. I>2tf Mary felt dizzy with excitement. (Continued next week) “Yes, one of our readers.” ’Then, evidently sensing her disappoint-1 ment, he explained, “You see, all material submitted to The National Weekly goes through a regular rou tine. Mr. Johnstone reads it first, separates the wheat from the chaff; hands on the possibilities to Mr. Arbuckle, who in turn does a bit | more weeding. After which, what ever is left goes on to Mr. Van Winkle. He then okays what he considers best suited to our needs and sends it on to me. A sort of survival of the fittest, as it were!” “Heavens, what a test!” Mary re plied, that elusive dimple playing at one comer of her mouth. “I’m sur prised that anything ever reaches your desk! I had supposed . “That I read everything that comes to the office? Lord, no! I couldn’t wander through aU that trash! However, you may rest as sured that your story—what’s the title, by the way?” “Their Son,” Mary replied. “You may rest assured ffiat ‘Their Son’ wiU be given a sympathetic reading. We like your'style, and the realistic manner in which you handled the situations in ‘At Sea.’ Once an author has appeared within our pages, J'®!? S'YSBi as far _as A Parable A certain man had a furnace and his house grew cold. Said he to his furnace: “NOT ANOTHER LUMP OF COAL DO YOU GET TILL YOU GIVE MORE HEAT” . . . the poor man froze — —and so did the merchant who cut down his newspaper adver tising budget to “save expense. PHONE 44 « The Times I MARK EVERY GRAVE—For en during monuments call, write or phone D, T. Singleton, 931, Elizabeth City, N. C. Every stone delivered and set ^ YELLOW SECOND SHEETS, all kinds of paper. Call 44 Times office. tf FORD COUPE, 1930 Model at a bargain price. Apply Times Of fice. D9tf TYPEWRITER RIBBONS for all machines. Phone 44. Dare Coun- I ty Times Office, Manteo, N. C. tf Notary Public opposite Port Raleigh Hotel, E, R. Wescott. Manteo, N. O PRINTED LETTERHEADS, En velopes, Statements, etc. Done well and done promptly. Call 44. The Times office. tf TWO APARTMENTS FOR RENT. Four or five rooms with bath; furnished or unfurnished. Gall Mrs. A. H. Ward, phone 29-W, Manteo, N. C. tf MERCHANTS SALESBOOKS very- best kind furnished at right prices by the home printer. Call The Times office, phone 44. tf Come to EBER R. WESCOTT’S SHOE SHOP opposite Hotel For* Saleigh. Prices right. Mail or ders g./en prompt attention; ship ped C.OD. Nl-tf HATTERAS BUS SCHEDULE NOTICE In writing to the Dare County Times, always address your mail to ’The Xtere County Times, or Times Printing Co., Inc., Box 55, Manteo, N. C. Do not address lettera to any individual connected with the paper, otherwise delay might re sult. More prompt service can be obtained by addressing the paper direct. FERRY SCHEDULE OREGON INLET ■Winter Schedule Effective Sept. 6, 1938 Leave Leave Northside Sonthside 7:30 a.». 7:50 a. in 9:36 a.m. 9-.50 a.m. lltSO a. in. 11-50 a. m 2:30 p.m. 2:50 p. m. 4:30 p.m. 4:50 p.m. 20 minutes across Inlet Quickest way to travel to Rodan- the. Salvo, Avoo, Buxton, Frisco, Hatteras. J. B. TILLinT, Manager STUDENTS During the current academic year, the NYA is assisting 87,886 students to continue their work in colleges and universities. The average amount received by stu dents in November was $12.11. SCHEDULE THE VIRGINIA DARE TRAnsu*ORTAXiON CO.’S BUS tn Connection 'With Coastal Coach lines Buses from Union Bus Terminal, Norfolk, Va., and Virginia Dare Hotel, E3izabeth City, N. C. Morning Sehednle Lv. WtailM Ar. a. Cltf At. Rerfotk 7:00 9:30 10:05 L«. Horfolli 8K10 I.*. a. Oitf ar. MantM _ 8:35 11:00 Afternoon Sehednle L«. Mlanteo Ar. a. OKy Ar. Nerfstk S.00 5:40 6:10 L(. ItorColk 4:10 Lv. a onr 4:40 Ar. MantM TRUCK SCHBDUIf DAILY aXCaPT aUUDAV Ur. MantM DiSe a. m. Ar. Roitalk SiOe a m Effective Sept. 8, 1938 Mianteo, Whalebone Junctio'n, Ore* gon Inlet, Rodanthe, Avon, Bux ton, Hatteras. Connecting With Ocracoke Ferry Northbound South oound Read Down Re:id Up Leave Leave 9:00a.m. Hatteras Ar. 5:3!) p.m. 9:20a.m. FRISCO 5:0!) p.m. 9:40 a. m. BUXTON 4:45 p.m. 10.20 a. m. AVON 4:15 p.m. 10:50a.m. SALVO 3:45 p.m. 11:00a.m. RODANTHE 3:30 p.m 11:50 a. m. Oregon Inlet 2:30 p. m. 12:36 p.m. Whalebone 1:55 p.m 12:45 p. m. MANTEO 1:45 p.m. Effective until further notice. HAROLD MIDGE'rTE, Mgr. Rodanthe, N. C. FERRY SCHEDULE ROANOKE FERRY COMPANY Roanoke Island, Manns Harbor Port Landing, East Lake Effective October 1, 1938. Leaving Roanoke Island: 7 a. m.; 8:30 a. m.; 10 a, m.; 11:30 a. m. 1 p. m.; 2:30 p. m.; 4:00 p. m.; 5:30 p. m. Leaving Manns Harbor: 7:30 a. m.; 9:00 a. m.; 10:30 a. m.; 12 noon; 1:30 p. m.; 3:00 p. m. 4:30 p. m.; 6:60 p. m. Leaving East i;,ake; 8:30 a. m.; 2(;00 p. m., 6.15 p. m. Leaving Port Landing: 7:30 a. m.; 12 noon; 4.00 p. m. T. A. Baum, Mgr. Manteo, N. C. HATTERAS-OCRACOKE BUS SCHEDULE NOW IN EFFECT Northbound Southbound Bead Down Read Up 7 a. m. Lv. Ocracoke Ar. 12 M... 8 a. m Hat. Inlet C.6. Lv. 11 a. m. 9 a. m. Ar. Hatteras Lv. 10 a. m^ North'faonnd connects vrith Ha4- teras-Manteo Bus. Ocracoke-Manteo Trans. Co. i Van Henry O’NeaL Mgr. Ocracoke, N. C. Is |a r jn Qg le il! 03 ei |e 1o j*e I ■
The Coastland Times (Manteo, N.C.)
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Feb. 17, 1939, edition 1
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