Newspapers / The Franklin Press and … / April 30, 1931, edition 1 / Page 5
Part of The Franklin Press and the Highlands Maconian (Franklin, N.C.) / About this page
This page has errors
The date, title, or page description is wrong
This page has harmful content
This page contains sensitive or offensive material
Tim rrvAr;::Li:i racis pace five V si (.r X SYNOPSIS In 1889, Yancey Cravat and his young wifc, Sabra Venable, with their four-year-old son, Cimarron, start out as pioneers to the newly Wichita, Kansas, where Cravat practiced law and edited the Wicta ita Wigwam. A typically pictur esque figure of the West at that time, Yancey Cravat was a dash ing cowboy, born orator, brilliant lawyer, whose past was shrouded in mystery, and who, fcossip said, had Indian blood in his veins. He revolts against the decadent aris tocracy of his wife's family who bitterly oppose his taking the young and beautiful Sabra to the dangers and hardships of frontier life. Journeying in twp covfted wagons, they discover the first night, out that the Tittle negro servant, Isaiah, devoted to his mistress and the boy, determined not. to be left behind is hidden in a roll of carpet. He helps his mistress search for the child who wanders out of sight while they camp on the way, and is found in the company of four strange men who are entertaining him. One of" the men,' a slim young cowboy, receives the dis tressed mother with easy grace, carrying her and the boy back to their camp on his horse, mounted before and' behind him. When Yancey heard of the adventure, he suddenly decided to move on at once. Traveling in the cool night of the prairie, three horsemen, wearing the badges of U. S. marsh alls, heavily armed, stood in their path. The leader said "Howdy " NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY. The three looked, a little per turbed at this. They glanced at each other, then at Yancey, then away uncomfortably. "Oh, news paper, huh?" There was little en thusiasm in the marshal's voice "Well, wc did have a newspaper there for a little while in Osage, "bout a week." ' "A daily?" ' "A weekly." There was something sinister in this. "What became of it?" "Well, seems the editor name of Pcgler died. ' "Who killed him?" A little shadow of pained sur prise passed over the features of the marshal. "He was just found dead one morning on the banks of the Canadian. Bullet wounds. But bullets is all pretty much alike, out here. He might 'a' killed him self, plumb discouraged." The silence fell again. Yancey broke it. "The first' edition of the Oklahoma Wigwam will be off the press two weeks from tomor row." ' ' - ' ' 1 He gathered up the reins as though to end this chance meeting, however agreeable. Well, gentle men, good-evening. Glad to have met you.' The three did not budge. "What we stopped ' to ask x you," said the spokesman, in his gentle drawl, "was, did you happen to glimpse four men anywhere on the road? They're nesting somewhere in here the Kid and his gang. Stole four Jiorses, robbed the bank at Red Fork, shot the cashier, and lit out for the prairie. Light complected, all of 'cm. The Kid is a slim vountf fella, light hair, red hand kerchief, soft, spoken, and rides with gloves on. But then you know what he s like, Cravat, well': I do." Yancey nodded in agreement, "Everybody's heard of the Kid No. sir, I haven t seen him. Have n't seen anybody the last three davs but a Kaw on a pony and a bunch of dirty Cheyennes in wagon. Funny thing, I never yet knew a bad man who wasn't light compfected or, anyway, blue or erav eyes. - . "Oh, say now!" protested the marshal, stroking 1iis sandy mus tache. "Fact. You take the Kid, and the James boys, and Tom O'Phal 1iard. and the whole Mullins gang "How about yourself? You're pretty good with the gun, from all accounts. And black as a crow, Yancey lifted his great head and :the heavy lids that usually drooped over the gray eyes and looked at the marshal. 'That's so," said the iLdnarefbor Illuftii'aiioi bt, other, as though in agreement at the end of an argument. "1 reck on it; goes fur killers and fur killers of killers... -.Well, boys, we'll De lopin.' Oood luck to you." "Good 'luck to you!" , responded Yancey, politely. The three whirled their steeds spectacularly, raised their right hands in; salute; the horses pivoted on their hind legs prettily; Cim crowed with delight. They were off in a clouij of red rust made redder by the last rays of the Setting sun. Yancey gathered up his reins. Sabra stared at him in bewildered indignation. "But the person who shields- a criminal is just as bad as the criminal himself, isn't he?" Yancey looked back at her around the side of his wagon top. His smile was mischievous,' spark ing, irresistible. "Don't be right eous, babra. It's middle class and a terrible trait in a woman." Late -next day, just before sun set, after pushing on relentlessly through the blistering sun of mid day.Yancey pointed with his wag on whip to something that looked ike a wallow of mud dotted with crazy shanties and tents. Theatric- lly he picked Cim up in his arms so that the child, too, might see. But he spoke to Sabra. "There it is," he said. "That's our future home.'" CHAPTER III Long before the end of that first nightmarish day in Osage, Sabra had confronted her husband with blazing eyes. "I, won't bring up my boy in a town like this!" . It had been a night and a day fantastic with untoward happen ings. Their wagons had rumbled wearily' down the broad main street ,of the settlement a raw gash in the prairie. All about, on cither side, were wooden shacks, and Indians and dried mud and hitching posts and dogs and crude wagons -like their own. t looked like pictures Sabra had seen of California in '49. They had spent that first night in a rooming house above one of the score of saloons that enlivened the main street awhuska avenue, it was called. The street stopped abruptly at' eith er end and became suddenly prai rie. The greasy food set before them in the eating house sickened Sabra. She shrank from the slatternly bold-faced girl who slammed the dishes "down in front of them on the oilcloth-covered table. At this same table with them-Mhere was only one, a long board accommo dating : perhaps twenty sat red- faced men talking in great rough voices, eating with a mechanical and absent-minded thoroughness, shoveling potatoes, canned vege tables, pie into their mouths with knives. Cim was terribly wide awake and noisily unruly, excited by1 the sounds, and strangeness about him. Sabra had taken him ud to the bare and clean enough little room which, was to be their shelter for the night. From wide-eyed wake fulness Cim had become suddenly limp with sleep. ' Yancey had gone vout to see to the horses, to get what information he could about renting a house, and a shack for the . newspaper. A score of plans were 'teeming in his mind. You'll be all right," he had said. "A good night's sleep and everything'll look rosy in the morn ing. Don't look so down 1 in the mouth, honey. You're going to like it.". "'For my part, I had rather be the first man among these fel lows than the second man in Rome.' " He kissed her ; was gone with a great flirt of his coat tails She heard his light step clattering down the flimsy wooden--stairs She could distinguish his beautiful vibrant voice among the raucous speech of, the other men below. Tht boy was asleep in a rude box bed drawn up beside theirs, Black Isaiah was bedded down somewhere in a little kennel out side. Sabra sank suspiciously down on hc doubtful mattress. The walls of the room were wafer thin mere pine slats with cracks be tween. From the street below i came women's shrill laughter, the sound of a piano hammered hor ribly. Horses clattered by.' Voices came up in jocose greeting; there were- conversations and arguments excruciatingly prolonged beneath her w'indow. - ,s- Yet somehow she had fallen asleep in utter exhaustion, only to be awakened by pistol shots, a se ries of bloodcurdling yells, the crash and tinkle of broken glass. Then came screams of women, the sound j of horses .galloping. She lay there, Towering. Cim stirred in his bed, sighed leeply, slept again. She was too terrified to go to the window. Her shivering seemed to shake the bed. She wanted to waken the child for comfort, for company." She sum moned courage to go to the win dow; peered fearfully ouf into the dim street below. Nothing. No one in the street. Yancey's bleed ing body was not lying in the road; no masked men. Nothing again but the clink of glasses and plates; the .tinny piano, the slap of cards. She longed with .unutterable long ing, not for the sweet security of her bed back in Wichita that seemed unreal now but for those nights in the wagon on the prairie with no sound but the rustle 'of the scrub oaks, the ' occasional stamp of horses' hoofs on dry clay, the rippling fo a near-by stream. . . It was 'midnight when Yancey came in. She sat up in bed in her high-necked, long-sleeved night gown. JHer eyes, in her' white face, were two black holes burned in a piece of paper. "What was it? What was it?" "What was what? Why aren't you asleep, sugar?" "Those shots. And the scream ing. And the men' hollering." "Shots?" He was unstrapping his broad leather belt with its twin six-shooters whose menacing heads peered just above their hols ters. He wore it always now. It came, in. time, to represent for her a sinister symbol of all the tprrors, all the perils that lay wait ing for them in this new existence. "Why, sugar, 1 don't recollect hearing any Oh that!" He threw back his great head and laughed. "That was just a cowboy, feeling high, shooting out the lights over in Strap Turket's saloon. On his way home and having a little fun with the boys. Scare you, did it?" He came over to her, put a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged away from him, furious. She pressed her hand . frantically to her forehead. It was cold and wet. She was panting a little. "I won't bring my boy up in a town like this. I won't. I'm going back. I'm going back home, I tell you." "Wait, till morning, anyhow, won't you, honey?" he said, and took her in his . arms. Next morning was, somehow, magically, next morning, with the terrors of the night vanished quite. The sun was shining. For a mo ment Sabra had the illusion that she was again at home in her own bed at Wichita. Then she realized that this was becausq she had been awakened by a familiar sound. It was the sound of Isaiah's voice somewhere below in the dusty yard. He was polishing Yancey's boots, spitting on them industriously and singing as he rubbed. Sabra knew he was utterly happy. There was much to be done a dwelling to be got somehow a place in which to house the news paper plant. If necessary, Yancey said, they could live in the rear and set up the printing and law office in the front. Almost every one who conducted a business in the town did this. "Houses are mighty scarce," Yancey said, mak ing a great masculine snorting and snuffling at the' wash bowl as they dressed. "It's take what you can get or live in a tent. I heard last night that Doc Nisbett's' got good house. Five rooms, and he'll furnish us with water. Thcre 're a dozen families after it, and Doc's as independent as a hog on ice. f bra rather welcomed this idea of combining office and home. She would be near him all day. As soon as breakfast was over she and Yancey fared forth, leaving Cim in Isaiah's care. She had put on her black grosgrain silk with the three box pleats on each side, trimmed with . the passementerie and jet buttons somewhat wrink led from its long stay in the trunk and her modish hat with the five ostrich plumes and the pink roses that had cost twelve dollars and fifty cents in Wichita, and her best black buttoned kid shoes and her black kid gloves. In the tight ly basqued black silk she was nineteen inches round the waist and very proud of it. Yancey, seeing her thus attired in splendor, struck an attitude of dazzlcment. Blank verse, leaped to his ready lips. "But who is this, what thing of land or sea female of sex it seems that so bedeck'd. ornate, and gay, comes this .way sailing, like a stately ship of Tar sus, bounr for th' isles of Java or Gadire, with all her bravery on ... . "Oh, now, Yancey, don't talk nonsense. It's only my second- best black grosgrain. "You're right, my darling. Even Milton has no words for such beauty." "Do hurry, dear. We've so much to do." With lifs curling locks, his broad brimmed white sombrero, his high heeled boots, his fine white shirt, the ample skirls of his Prince Alberf spreading and swooping with the vigor of his movem.-nts, Yancey was an equally striking figure, though perhaps not so un usual as she, in this day and place. . The first thing Sabra noticed, as she stepped into the dust of the street in her modish dress and hat, caused her heart to sing. The few women to, be seen scuttling about wore siiubonncts and calico the kind of garments in which Sabra had seen the women back home in Wichita hanging up the Monday wash to dry on the line in the back yard. Here they came out of butcher's shop or gro eery store witli the day's provisions in their arms; a packet of meat, tins of tomatoes or peaches, un wrapped. After sharp furtive glances at Sabra, they vanished in to this little pine shack or that. Immediately afterward there was great agitation among; the prim coarse window curtains in those dwellings boasting such elegance. "But the others the other kind of women " Sabra faltered. Yancey misunderstood. "Plenty of the other kind in a town like this, but they aren't stirring this time of day. "Don't be coarse, Yancey. I mean ladies like myselfVthat 1 can talk to who'll come calling that is" , He waved a hand this way and that. "Why, you just saw ome women folks, idn't you ?" "Those!" "Well, now, honey, you can't ex pect those ladies to be wearing their best bib and tucker morn ings to do the housework in. Be sides, most of the men come with out their women folk. They'll send for them, and then you'll have plenty of company. It isn't every woman who'd have the courage you showed, roughing it out here. You're the stuff that Rachel was made of, and the mother of the Gracchi." Rachel was, she knew, out of the Bible; she was a little hazy about the Gracchi, but basked se rene in the knowledge that a com pliment was intended. There was the- absurdly wide street surely; fifty . feet wide in this little one-street town. Here and there a straggling house or so branched' off it. But the life of Osage seemed to be concentrated just here. There were tents still to be seen serving as dwellings. Houses and stores were built of unpainted wood. They looked as if they had been run up overnight, as indeed they had. Tied to the crude hitching posts driven well into the ground were all sorts of vehicles: buckboards, crazy carts, dilapidated wagons, mule drawn; here and there a top buggy cover ed with the dust of the prairie; and everywhere, lording it, those four-footed kings without which life in this remote place could not have been sustained horses of every size and type and color and degree. Direct descendants, these, of the equine patricians who, al most four hundred years before, had been brought across the ocean by Coronado ; or Moscosco to the land of the Seven Cities of Gold. Crude and ugly though the scene was that now spread itself before Sabra and Yancey, it still was not squalid. It had vitality. You sens ed that behind those bare boards people were planning and stirring mightily." There was life in the feel of it. The very names tacked up over the store fronts had bite and sting. Sam Pack, Molt Uix lcr. Strap Buckner, Ike Hawcs, Clint Hopper, Jim Click. Though they had come to town but the night before, it seemed to her that a surprising number of people knew Yancey and greeted him as they passed down the street "ITare you, Yancey ! Howdy, . . i . ma am. Loungers in ooorways stared at them curiously. It struck Sabra suddenly with a little shock of discovery that the men really were, doing nothing. She was to learn that many of them were not builders but scaven gers. The indomitable old '49crs were no kin of these. They were. frequently, soft, cruel, furtive, and avaricious. They had gathered here to pick up what they could and r - . move on. borne were cowmen, full of resentment against a gov crnment that had taken the free range away from them and given it over to the homesteaders. De prived of their only occupation, many of these became outlaws Equipped with six-shooters, a dead ly aim, and horsemanship that amounted to the miraculous, they took to the Gyp hills or the Osage swooping down from their hidden haunts to terrorize a town, shoot up a bank, hold up a train, and dash out again, leaving blood be hind them. They risked their lives for a few hundred dollars. Here was a vast domain without written laws, without precedent, without the customi of civilization ; part of a great country, yet no part of its government. Here a horse was more valuable than a human life. A horse thief, caught, was sum marily hanged to the neatest tree ; the killer of a man often went free. Down the street these two step ped in their finery, the man swag gering a little as a man should in a white sombrero and with a pretty woman on his arm; the woman looking about her interest edly, terrified at what she saw and determined not to show it. If two can be said tb make a pro cession, then Yancey and Sabra Cravat formed quite a parade as they walked down Pawhuska ave nue in the blaze of the morning sun. Certainly they seemed to be causing a stir. Lean rangers in buckboards turned to stare. Loung ers in doorways nudged each oth er, yawping. Cowboys clattering by whooped a greeting. It was un real, absurd, grotesque. "Hi Yancey! Howdy, ma'am." Tast the Red Dog saloon. A group in chairs tilted up against the wall or standing about in high heeled boots and sombreros greet ed Yancey now with a familiarity that astonished Sabra. "Howdy, Cim! Hello, Yancey!" "He called you Cim!" He ignored her surprised remark. Narrowly he was watching them as he passed. "Boys are up to something. If they try to get fun ny while you're here with me " Sabra, glancing at the group from beneath her shielding hat brim, did sec that they were be having much like a lot of snicker ing schoolboys who are preparing to let fly a bombardment of snow balls, an air of secret mischief afoot. "Why arc they what do . you think makes them " Sabra began, a trifle nervously. "I can't say for sure. But 1 suspect they're the boys that did Pcgler dirt." "Pegler? Who is-oh, isn't that the man the editor the one who was found dead shot dead on the banks 'of the Yancey! Do you mean they did it!" "I don't say they did it exactly. They know more than is comfort able, even for these parts. I was inquiring around last night, and everybody shut up like a clam. I'm going to find out who killed Peg ler and print it in the first number of the Oklahoma Wigwam." "Oh, Yancey. Yancey, I'm fright ened!" She clung tighter to his arm. the grinning mirtniess taces of the men on the saloon porch seemed to her like the fanged and snarling muzzles of wolves in a pack. n 'Nothing to be frightened of, honey. They know me. Im no Pcgler they can scare. They don t ike my white hat, that s the truth of it. Dared me last night down at the Sunny Southwest saloon to wear it this morning. Just to try me out. They won't have the guts to come out in the open The sentence never was finished. Sabra heard a curious bjizzing sound past her ear. Something sang zing ! Yancey's white som brero went spinning into, the dust of the road Sabra's mouth opened as though she were screaming, but the sounds she would have made emerged, feebly, as a croak. "Stay where you arc," Yancey ordered, his voice low and even. "The dirty dogs." She stood trans fixed. She could not have run if she had wanted to. Yancey stroll ed leisurely over to where the white hat lay in the dust. H stooped carelessly, his back to the crowd on the saloon porch, picked up the hat, surveyed it, and reach ed toward his pocket for his hand kerchief. At that movement there was a rush and a scramble on the porch. Tilted chairs leaped for ward, heels clattered, a door slam med. Of the group only three men remained. One of these leaned in solcntly against a porch post, a second stood warily behind him, and a third was edging prudently toward the closed door. There was nothing to indicate who had fired the shot that had sent Yancey s hat spinning. Yancey, now half turned toward them, had taken his fine white handkerchief from his pocket, had shaken out its ample folds with a gesture of elegant leisure and, hat in hand, was flicking the dust from his headgear. This done he surveyed the hat critically, seemed to find it little the worse for its experience unless, . perhaps, one excepts the two neat round holes that were drilled, back and front, through the peak of its crown He now placed it on his head again with a gesture almost languid, toss ed the fine handkerchief into the road, and with almost the same gesture, or with another so lightn ing quick that Sabra's eye never followed it, his hand went to . his hip. There was the crack of shot. The man who was edging toward the door clapped his hand to his car and brought his hand away and . looked at it, and it was darkly smeared. Yancey still stood in the road, his hand at his thigh one slim foot, in its fine high heeled Texas star boot, advanced carelessly. His great head was lowered menacingly. His eyes, steel gray beneath the brim of the white sombrero, looked as Sabra had nev er seen them look. They were ter rible eyes, merciless, cold, hypnotic. "A three-cornered piece, you'll find it, Lon. The Cravat sheep brand." "Can't you take a joke, Yancey?" whined one of the three, his eyes tn Yancey's gun hand. "Joke h I!" snarled the man who had been nicked. His hand was clapped over his ear. "God help you, Cravat." "He always 'has," replied Yancey, piously. "If your missus wasn't with you " began the man whom Yan cey had called Lon. Perhaps the rough joke would have ended grim ly enough. But here, suddenly, Sabra herself look a hand in the proceedings. Her fright had van ished. These were no longer men, evil, sinister, to be feared, but mean little boys to be put in their place. She now advanced on them in the majesty of her plumes and her silk, her fine eyes flashing, her gloved forefinger admonishing them as if they were indeed naughty children. She was every inch the very essence of that iron woman. Felice Venable. "Don't you 'missus' me! You're a lot of miserable, good-for-nothing loafers, that's what you are ! Shooting at people in the streets. You leave my husband alone. 1 declare, I've a notion to" For one ridiculous dreadful mo ment it looked as though she meant to slap the leathery bearded cheek of the bad man known as Lon Yountis. Certainly she raised her ittle hand in its neat black kid. The eyes of the three were pop- iing. ,Lon Yountis ducked his head exactly like an urchin who is about o be smacked by the schoolmarm. Then, with a yelp of pure terror he fled into the saloon, followed by the other two. .sabra stood a moment. It really looked as though she might make after them. But she thought bet ter of it and sailed down the steps in triumph to behold a crushed, a despairing Yancey. "Oh, my G-d, Sabra! What have you done to me!" "What's the matter?" "Whal's the matter?" "This time tomorrow it's be all over the whole Southwest, from Mexico to Arkansas, that Yancey Cravat hid behind a woman' petti coats." "But you didn't. .They can't say so. You shot him very nicely in the ear, darling." Thus had a scant eighteen hours in the Okla homa country twisted her normal viewpoint so askew that she did not even notice the grotesquerie of what she had just said. They're telling it now, in there. A woman's got no call to interfere when men are having a little dis pute." "Dispute! Why, Yancey Cravat! He shot your hat right off your .ead!" "What of ft! Little friendly shooting." The enormity of this example of masculine clannishncss left her temporarily "speechless with indig nation. "Let's be getting on, ' Yan cey continued, calmly. "If we're going to look at Doc Nisbett's house we'd better look at it. There are only two or three to be had in the whole town, and his is the pick of .them. It's central" (Cen tral! she thought, looking about her) "and according to what he said last night there s a room in the front big enough for getting out the paper. It'll have "to be newspaper and law office in one Then there arc four other rooms in the back to live in. Plenty." "Oh, plenty," echoed Sabra, thinking of the nine or ten visiting Venabcls always comfortably tuck cd away in the various high-ccil-inged bedrooms in the Wichita house. ! They resumed their walk. Sabra wondered if she had imagined the shooting outside the Red Dog sa loon. Doc Nisbett (veterinarian) shirt sleeved, shrewd, with generations of New .England ancestry behind him, was seated in a chair tipped up against the-"front of his coveted property. In the rush for lcrn torv town sites at the time of (he Opening he had managed to lay, his gnarled hands on five choice pieces. On these he erected dwellings, tilted his chair up against each in turn, and took his pick of late comers frantic for some sort of shelter they could call a home. The dwelling itself looked like one of Cim's childish drawings of a house. The roof was an invert ed V; there was a front door, a side door, and a spindling little porch. It was a box, a shelter merely, as angular and unlovely as the man who' owned it. Taking "her cue from Yancey "Lovely," murmured Sabra, agoniz ed. "Do very nicely. Perfectly comfortable. I see. I sec. I see." "There you are !" They stood on the norch. the tour completed Yancey slapped his hands together gayly, as though by so doing he had summoned a genie who had tossed up the house before their very eyes. In th discussion n- monthly rental he hajl been a child in the hands' of this lean and grasping New Englandcr. "There you are! That's all settled." He slunk an altitude. "Survey our empire, and behold our home!'" "Hell, hold on a -minute," rasped Doc Nisbett. "How about water?" "Sabra, honey, you settle these little matters between you you and the Doc will you?' I've got to run down the street and see Jesse Rickey about putting up the press and setting up the type racks and helping me haul the form tables, and then we've got the furniture to buy for the house. Meet you down the street at Hef ner's Furniture store. Ten min utes." .. He was off, with a flirt of his coat tails. She would have called, "Yancey! Don't leave me!" but for a prideful reluctance to show fear before, this dourvisaged .man with the tight lips and the gimlet eyes. "Well, now," repeated Doc Nis bett, nasally, "about water." "Water?"- "How much you going to need? Renting this house depends on how much water you think you. going' to need. How many barrels." Sabra had always taken water for granted, like air and sunshine. It was one of the elements. It , was simply there. But since leaving Wichita there was always talk of water. Yancey, on the prairie journey, made it the basis of their caorping site. "Oh, barrels," she now" repeated, trying to appear intensely practic al. "Well, let me sec, There's cooking, of course, and all the cleaning , around the house, and drinking, and bathing. I always give Cim his bath in thA evening if I can. You wouldn't believe how dirty that child gets by the end of the day. Well, I should think ten barrels a day would be enough." "Ten barrels," said Doc Nisbett, in a flat voice utterly devoid of expression, "a day " "I should think that would be ample," Sabra repeated, judiciously. Doc Nisbett now regarded Sabra with a look of active dislike. Then he did a strange thing. He walked across the little porch, shut the front door, locked it, put the key in his pocket, seated himself in the chair and tilted it up against the wall at exactly the angle at which they had come upon him. Sabra stood there. Seeing her, it would have been almost impos sible toj believe that anyone so bravely decked out in silk and hiines -and pink roses could pre sent a figure so bewildered, so dis consolate, so defeated. Literally, she did not know what to do. She had met and surmounted many strange experiences in these last ten days. But she had been born of generations of women to whom men had paid homage. Perhaps in all her life she !.ad never en countered the sliuhtest discourtesy in a man, much less this abysmal loorishuess. She looked at him, . her face white shocked. She looked up, in mbarrassment, at the glaring steel sky ; she looked down at the blind ng red dust, she looked helplessly i) the direction that Yancey had so blithely taken. She glanced again at Doc Nisbett, propped so woodenly against the wall of his hateful house. , She should, ot course, have none straight up t'f him and said. "Do you mean that ten barrels arc too much? I didn't know. I am new to all this. What ever you say." (Continued Nevt Week) Woman Reader These Days Time now to throw away the ' dusty bouquet of bittersweet ber ries or painted weeds, and substi tute pussy-willow kittens instead. Time to wear face veils to avoid freckles, to do with salves lest the raw winds cause chapping and eczema, lime to thrill with the coming of the birds, to dust more carefully when spring sunshine shows up the dirt, to gather dan delion greens, to eat spinach and cucumbers and lettuce and aspara gus and carrots and onions and oragnes. Time to take inventory of your wardrobe, to look over the linens. to wash wool blankets, to buy moth-balls, to hang the rugs on the clothesline. Time to take off the "heavies." from person and house furnishings, and get out the sheer, cool drape ries, to scour the ice-box, to buy honest shoes which will not crowd swelled feet, to make slip-covers for the porch furniture, to study seed catalogues and hunt up the rake and hoe, to look in to the windows of the furniture stores, to plan the summer vacation, to oil up the sewing machine, and to agi tate a community clean-r n. . -X ' is Spring! Mrs A tk f
The Franklin Press and the Highlands Maconian (Franklin, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
April 30, 1931, edition 1
5
Click "Submit" to request a review of this page. NCDHC staff will check .
0 / 75