Evening Star Newspaper, November 18, 1923, Page 76

5. - THE SUNDAY ST. WASHINGTON, D. C, NOVEMBER 18, 1923—PART pOSGEOLEFPEPIDROILFHOILH P! be Fortune Is Long Delayed When . a Young Couple Seck Success BY LUCIAN CARY. Among the Prospectors for Oil. FeasstpttsssotEIEIEIPEITIIE DI LIEOIIISIOIPIOO BEBEEE LTHEA wondered if she still loved her husband. It was one of those gray days that come as often In March as in No- vember. And there was, besides, the mud, red mud, the mud of the ofl coun- try. It had been raining for a week now, and the roads were almost impas- sable. Close to the house the earth was red. In the middle distance it brown. On the horizon it changed somehow to gray. The sky was gray. Life was zray. Althea was doing the breakfast dishes. Jimmy—she wished somehow she hadn’t learned to call him Jimmy— Jimmy had somehow seemed so nice and familiar a name when she had known him only a few weeks. Dut now that she had been married five years, she wished she had learned to call him Jim. The name Jim had more dignity, more character, more force. Jimmy was playing with Alice and Bobby in the next room. Alice was two and Bobby four. And Jimm might be—well, six—instead of xrown man, somebody you could de- pend on. Althea stole a look at her hushand and her two children through the open door of the kitchen Jimmy was actually sitting cross- legged on the floor between t building with their blocks. building a tower, the tallest tower that would stand. Alice and Bobby watched breathlessly while the tower trembled. It recovered itself. It stood. Jimmy selected another wooden cube and delicately set it in place on top of the others. The tower trem- bled, swayed, fell. Some of the Dblocks shot half way across the room Ana all three of them laughed aloud as If something quite splendid had happened. Althea turned back to heér dish; It was nice—his liking the children. | But he was only a child himself; that was why he did. He would never really do anything. They would al- ways live in this house, on this far at the edge of town. And what town! Lodi! Why there wasn't a per- son, not even Old Man Tolland, who had started it, whose one ambition wasn't to get away from it to go somewhere else. But she would never get anywhere else. Jimmy was too slow, too cautious. Althea had belfeved in him when she married him. He had inherited some money .om his father, and the | real estate offi.e and this farm had seemed a great start—Jimmy had been quietly boastfi about what he was going to do W™ such a start Jle was going to make money in land. 'Why” he had sald, ‘in five years Il be worth $30,000. Maybe forty thousand. We'll move to Kansas City. We might—we might even go to Chicago. “Why not?’ Althea had cried. “Anything can happen In the oil country,” Jimmy had said slowly “'Of course,” he had added cautlously, “it will take time. It will take five Althea had laughed at that. What was flve years to her—when she had Jimmy! It had been five years now And they were just where they were in the beginning, except that she was older. She was twenty-elght now. Her youth was slipping away from her—her chance. * ok k% LTHEA wiped the dishes mechan- | fcally, and a fancy began to grow in her mind, a day dream. She fancied herself rescued from this e ile in the ofl country, dashing stranger. She fensively when the phrase shing stranger” came into her mind. She would not have sald it to any one in the world. But she would think of it. She couldn't help thinking it. smiled de- And she began to picture the kind of | man he would be: a masterful man a man to whom you couldn’t say no; a man who got what he wanted and gave you what you wanted. She heard the telephone bell faint- Iy, as if it were far off, only in the next room. It rang one long and two short—their ring. But Jimmy would answer it. He was an- swering it. She heard his soft, drawling speech. The man who would rescue her would speak quickly, decisively, as if he expected to be obeyed. Althea listened to Jimmy's specch as he talked Into the telephone withdut being conscious of the words he spoke. How could any one think twice about a man who talked ke that—as if he didn't care whether;he had his own way or not? He alwiys thought he was going to put over a deal. But he never did—unless it was a little one. Lately there had been a whisper that they had struck oll over toward Clinton, on the edge of the county. Jimmy had talked about It for a week. He had even gone over to Clinton to look nroqnd. But he hadn’t done anything abouc it. | Other men would go in therg and make money. : Jimmy put up the recelver came out into the kitchen. down his coat and hat so quickly that Althea regarded him surprise, It was not move 80 quickly. “Well, Allle. have to crank up the flivver. go over to Sharon.” Sharon was the county seat.: It was ordinarily an hour's drive,!but in this mud it might take half a day. It might be impossible to get there at all. i “Why don’t you ride the mare?" Althea asked. Jimmy had bought the mare: for $300 when she was a two-vear-old. She was of Morgan blood, Jimmy aaid, in, defense of his astounding extrava- mance. The mare was his pet; he never used her except to keep her In condition. H “I hate to take her out in ithis mud,” be sald, pretending to consider her suggestion. “Besides, I'm in a husy and I'd have to stop to bandage Jimmy never let the mare out of the stable In wet weather until he had bandaged her legs as carefully as if she were going to run in some great stake. Althea laughed meanly at his an- wwer. Bhe had known he would say something like that: “I don't know what the mare's vod for,” she said, “if you can't ride ter.” : “I wouldn't sell®her for—for $60 Jimmy said. It was what he always said, omly this time he said it more gravely than usual. and like he said, ‘guess I'll Got to was | a|was He was 1! rescued by a| instead of | He took | with a faint him. to | Althea watched her husband go out to the barn. The mare thrust her, head out of the open window of her box at his approach. Her ears were pricked forward eagerly, and she whinnied softly. Jimmy put his arm around her neck while she nuzzled in his pocket for sugar, Then he leranied the filvver and drove neieily | *ut of the vard. Althea moved quickly about her kitchen setting it to rights. She was | weariug a pink gingham apron, clean | and erisp. Iicer step was crisp too. | But she remembered her day-dream | —the dream of the dashing stranger —and as she went deeper and deeper into the dream her step became more languorous, until she was quite lost | te the world ar d her, 1 * ok ok ok SHARP knock the kitchen | door aroused her. She stiffened > slightly and opened the door. There he stood. He was a tall man, veung. but older than she was, with a keen face and a quick smile. He | wearing the rough clothes and | h boots of a driller. But she saw that he wasn't a driller— | heer perhaps, or an expert for one of big oil companies. It Jwas in th ¥ he wore his clothes, | { the poise of his body, the look in his | He had the manner—the man- she hud been dreaming about. as if the dashing stranger tually come. “Hello, there,” he said—and when | he said the words they were not too | familiar, only friendly, as if they had | | known each other before. “My car is | | stuck in the mud—may T borrow a | { couple of those planks you've got out ' | there by the barn?" | |y on ne; " Althea said | She w®s not quite free of her dream, inot qulte willing to give it up in | | order deal with an actual man, ! He smiled at her, and his eyes swept | past her and surveyed her shining kitchen. “Don't tell me,” smile was boyish that there is that pot on t Althea smiled back at him. u hungry?” she asked. | “You bet 1 am,” he said. t night.” ‘Il get you something to eat” | looked at her. He was the kind of man she had been dreaming about | “Thats awfully good of you,” he | saia. have a try at the car—" { he paused ! call you he said—and his v engaging—"don’'t some coffee left in | tove.” 1 “Aro | “I haven't ¥ when breakfast is tr | the barn for the planks, and Althea put water on to | boil. She was glad she was wearing the pink gingham; she was glad she | | knew how to get a breakfast that a . | man like that would appreciate. | i { went off to Althea laid a clean cloth on the small table in the kitchen and got out | cream and new-lald eggs and straw- | berry jam and cut some thin slices | of ham. She made fresh coffee and | toast and broiled the ham. When | verything was ready except the | ouse and looked out. His car was a | powerful roadster, so heavy that she | | wondered how he had got it that far | {in the mud. While she watched, he | | got in and drove it out of the hole n the planks. Althea opened the | front door to call him. The jnan came striding up the walk and paused. He looked at his hands ruefully and then down at his muddy | boots. i Althea pointed to the iron boot- scraper that was screwed to the lowest step. She watched him while he got | | the mud off and then she led the way | | into the kitchen and gave him a clean towel, and while he washed his hands | nd face at the sink she poached the {ecgs and made the dish Jimmy was | sor fond of—a piece of toast and a lice of ham and a poached egg. | The man looked at the table and from the table to Althea. His look { was a compliment and a caress and a question, all In one. “How.” he asked, as he sat down, '‘do you happen to be here?” Althea flushed under his gaze. “How,” she asked, boldly, “do you happen to be here?’ The man helped himself to a piece of toast. “That's simple,” he said. “I go | where the oil is, whether it's to | Mexico or the Black Sea—or here.” | Althea had a picture of him, fol- |lowing the trail the world around, by hip and train and car and horse. | He was a soldler of fortune. That | was his air. | “Aren’t you going to eat with me?" | he asked. | Althea sat down at the table. “I've had my breakfast,” she sald. The man rose quickly, got a cup and saucer from the shelf, and set it Aown in front of her. He poured out | coftee. “Do at least have coffee,” he sald. “It's so very good.” | Althea smiled up at him. She was inot, she reflected, used to belng | treated like that. Jimmy was always abstracted at breakfast. t must be—sort of—glorious, said musingly. “To go about the world like th He laughed. “Sometimes it's glorious and some- times you're cold and wet and hungry and disgusted. Sometimes i you're so glad to get back to Paris | {or New York or San Francisco that | you swear you'll never go out again. But you do. “I envy you,” Althea sald, looking | into his eves. “I envy you seeing | 2il the eities, too.! He looked at her gravely, couraging her to go on. “I was in Kansas City once,” she said. “And that's all.” He smiled. “It would be fun to show a woman like you all the citles,” he said. ‘ HEN he had finished his break- fast and lit a cigarette he smiled a little grimly. “I certainly am stuck now,” he said. “T've got that car out of one hole, but it'll be in another before I've gone a mile. I need a fllvver— or a horse” He got up and walked over to the window and looked out. “Where are you golng?” asked. “Sharon,” he sald crisply. Is it importan “Yes,” he said. “I get there in time to close the deal—or I don't. So I'm going to get ihere” His body stiffened suddenly. He turned sharply on Althea. *“Whose horse is that?” Althea guessed that the mare had thrust her head out of the window of her box and the man had seen her. he's my husbans Althea satd. “Well?" the man asked. “I couldn’t let you have her” en- * ok ok * Althea kd “HE SAID THE MARE WAS HIS AND I SAID SHE WAS MINE. I HAD A GU be out in the mud.” “But I want to buy he: “He said he wouldn't take six hundred dollars for her,” Althea pro- tested. The man fumbled at his belt. “That's the kind of horse I want,” he sald. He drew out a long chamolis money belt and laid it on the table. “I'll give you seven hundred,” he said. He opened the snap that closed he went to the front of the | Althea said. “He doesn't like her lo;a pocket in the belt and took out bills. | Althea saw that they were hun- | dred-dollar bills. She took a deep | breath. She had always resented | Jtimmy's spending so much moncy on the mare. She had even resented his | caring so much for it. Jimmy would be angry. But she did want the seven hundred dollars. She wanted even more to help this man, who R L L e L L S L L et % | must get to Sharon in a hurry. But | what would Jimmy say? “Here," the man said a sheaf of bills. “Make | hundred. | Althea looked into his eyes. | had suddenly no fear of what Jimmy | would say. She took the bills and | tucked them in her blouse. “Very well she said. They walked out to the barn to- Althea pointed out the it “eight i | getner. He held out | She | ' The Dashing Stranger SO I GOT THE MARE.” | saddle and bridle. The man saddled the mare with quick, expert hands. The mare whinnied and pawed the | stable door. She was tired of her | stall. The man held the reins in the crook of his arm and smiled at Althea. | “What's your name?" he said. | “Althea,” she said. “Althea,” he repeated slowly, caress- | ing the syllables. “It's a good name | for you, star-eyes.” rospective D. C. Home Maker Hunts Way to Live on Expert Budget Plan Gets Prevailing Prices for Items Required if She Is to Become Wife of $1,340-a-Y ear Govern- ment Clerk and Give Up Her Own Job at $15 a Week—Discouraging Search for Living Quarters at Rate Suggested—Food and Furniture Investigated—Part-Time Labor and Home Work Considered as Possibil BY THE GOOSE GIRL. FIFTEEN-DOLLAR-A-WEEK girl typist and a $1,340-a-year government clerk may marry and live happily ever after. That is stated on the authority of the Housekeepers' Alliance home bud- get expert. The way to turn the trick is this, she says: The girl should give up her regular job and take what she can get for the first elghteen months. The husband should expect to help with the cooking and the care of the apartment. A division of labor is pos- sible, letting him do the work he likes best. The idea of a family is not !necessarily to be taboo, After all, a family comes only one at a time, and as a provision for the first one the ex- pert points out that the prospective mother will need practically nothing to wear for almost a year. The saving thus effected is assumed to cover the cost of clothing for the new member of soclety. As between boarding and housekeeping, the latter state is to be | | preferred. A savings account of 10 per cent must be substracted from the regular income, the expert says, leaving a working {ncome of $1,206, which Is to be divided iInto five equal parts for {food, shelter, clothing, operating ex- penses and development. That is the | home budget expert's theory. The allotment indicated provides $20 2 month for each of these needs, and while not elastic in the sum total, permits—so the expert says—borrow- ing from clothing and development to supply the expenses of food and shelter. An apartment consisting of two rooms, kitchenette and use of a bath, in the opinion of the expert, might be secured for $20 or & little more. To get that it would be necess#ry to go into the suburb case car fare at the rate of at least 16 certs a day or about $50 a y must be allowed for the husband ing to and from work. Breakfast and dinner are supposed to be eaten at cooked by the wife, If the husband cares to help, so much the better. If he likes to cook that is de- sirable. He should expect to carry a ndwich with him for his noon lunch. Incidental expenses, such as church dues, education (books and maga- sines, study to increase the husband's earning capacity and home economics for the wife), health, entertaining, 1t1es. vacation, personal expenses and household equipment are classed un- der development. All that is to be taken care of with $20 a month. Operating expenses include heat, light, gas for cooking, ice, labor, laundry and equipment repairs. The item of the | wite's labor in this connection makes an | interesting study in relation to the typ- ist's wage-earning capacity. Food, provided for on an allotment of $20 a month, figures out about 70 cents a day to feed the happy pair. * K oK X HE Goose Girl, profecting mar- riage on“the Housekeeper's Alli- ance home budget plan, took a second thought and considered going back to her job. Then she decided to make a | few investigations. Shelter 1s the first consideration. A real estate man, the first one visited, {produced a list of apartments ranging from $50 to $100 a month. There was only one exception—two rooms and a bath for $37.50. But that was $17.50 too high for the Goose Girl. Another dealer had nothing lower than $62.50, \and still another offered his lowest apartment for 3$70. The girl's plaint ithat she must have an apartment for $20 he finally met with the suggestion of a two-family house In an obscure | quarter, one foor of which might be (had for $37.50. He knew of nothing cheaper, he said: ' | Golng far out, on the expert’s advice, a Cherrydale, Va., apartmet was found !for $48.50. The nearest to the expert's |allotment was ‘a flat without heat for $25, but with coal at its present price this was out of the question. The girl had saved $500 out of several years' typewriting. Hoover's ‘“Better Home Movement” suggested a way out —to bulld a love nest of one's own— and so a bullding assoclation was visited. There it was explained that no property valued at less than §3,000 was considered for a loan, and that it would ®AT | bo necessary first to present the plans for the dwelling which, If approved by the assoclation, would be considered as pecurity for a loan of three-fourths the amount. The terms, stated In detall, provided that in eleven and one-half years the home might be pald for. “But,” with crushing effect the man on the other side of the desk added, “we not making loans just now.” to when | the corner, was accosted by a voice at her elbow saying: “Pardon me, miss; T {don’t want to butt in, but I heard you talking in there.” It was a young man, a prospective home owner like herself. “It is mighty discouraging, but keep at it. Go to another bullding as- soclation, and if they won't make a loan, ask them for the name of somg one who will. Take this. I just got it from there.” “This” was a buflding assoclation booklet, in which the girl read: “Suppose a shareholder has saved $500 and he finds a sulta- ble house, worth perhaps $2,700, that, for cash, he can secure for $2,5600. He obtains $2,000 from the association . . . and purchases a house.” tinued. * % * X \HE girl presented herself at the secretary’s window, indicated what she had read in the booklet and signified her desire to carry out the proposed arrangement for a loan. “That will not work out at pres- ent,” said the man. “As a matter of fact, it never has worked. Anyway, !we are not making any loans just ! now; we are out of funds. Perhaps | atter New Year we may have some jmoney to loan, but not now, in home- bullding projects. No, I don't know | of any one who will make a loan for { home building. My advice to you is {to buy a home outright, make a cash payment and pay monthly in- stallments.” Reflecting that such a course re- qQuired provision for taxes, fuel and light, the girl was disheartened. She | thought of all the handsome big apartment houses in Washington just built but still unoccuplied, yet not any money anywhers to build. Then once more she took up the weary search for an apartment. Finally, she found two rooms and a bath, untfurnished, for $27.50 a month. That, still $7.50 in advance of the ex- pert’s allotment, was located In a poor Inelghborhood, the facilities for house- keeping, moreover, restricted to light housekeeping—something like ready-cooked cereal for breakfast, lunch away from home, and for din- ner in the evening a dish snatched from & delicatessen. But the apartment had te be fur- nished. With kitchen requisites, the total cost of furniture for this apart- N “Don’t let them put you off,” he con- | ment amounted to $132.95. However, as all these things may be purchased on the monthly installment plan, they could be secured for an initial pay- ment of $75 and monthly payments of $4.83 for one year, the latter to be in- cluded in operating expenses. The home budget bureau expert's idea that the man might help with the cooking was not the Iidea of Miss Emma F. Jacobs, head of the domestic science department of the public schools She says that very few boys elect to take cooking lessons, so un- less a girl were looking for a first- class moron as a husband she would expect little help in the kitchen from the man she married. ‘With a grave doubt in her mind re- garding the allotment of 70 cents a day for food for two persons, the Goose Girl visited a cut-price food supply store to learn the prevalling prices, which, moreover, could be had only if one carrled home the provi- sions, & tax on time and energy ob- viously of account in the experience | of a girl wite and prospective mother |whose wage-earning must be depend- ed upon to help eke out the family in- come. * % % % HE home-budget expert, by no one knows what arrangement, figured on the girl wife engaging In the maternal role not earlier than one and one-half years after marrlage. The girl, however, found it practical to visit a hospital and get some es- timates on motherhood economically determined. There she learned that it is necessary to provide $38.50 for hospital expenses, presupposing a normal case, and no extras, such as druggists’ supplies, etc. This estl- mate 18 for a bed in & ward and the services of a corridor nurse. It in- cludes Infant’s clothing for'the four- teen days spent in the hospital, but there is still the layette needed when the mother and her baby go home. Prenatal care, now deemed essential, is an added expense. By applying to the Assoclated Charities and estab- lishing the status of a charity case one may secure & speclal rate cover- ing all hospital expenses for' about $60. That does not include prenatal care. But what American girl would voluntarily .descend to the pauper level to cover the of mothering & United States it worker's chilat 2 During the first eighteen months Althea looked into his eyes in spite of herself. For a moment she swayed littlo, dismayed by the sudden up- | rush of feeling in herself, and then | his arm was around her and his face | was bent to hers. He kissed her, and | she kissed him back. “If 1 have any luck today,” he whispered, “I'l] come back for you.” Althea shook her head. “No,” she said. “You will come back. And 1if you shouldn't see you." “We'll see about that” confidently. “No,” sald Althea. see you again—but came this once.” He moved as If to kiss her again But she shook her head, her lips set primly, and stepped back. “No, go,” she sald. He led the mare through the stable door and swung into the saddle. “Good-bye,” he sald. “Good-bye,” sald Althea. Tha mare whirled, broke into & canter. He was gone. ( | never dtd—1 he said “I shall never I'm glad you L] LTHEA went back into the house and gave the children their |lunch and put them down for their nap and set her kitchen to rights again. Once she laughed at herself for belng such a fool, and twice shook herself, as if to free herself from her memory of the thing that had happened. She was surprised at herself, shocked at herself. But she wasn't sorry. It would never happen again. And then the tears came to her eyes. She felt so sorry for her- self because it never would happen agaln, became it was already like a dream! Her mind ran on things she had never experienced, places she had never seen, delights she had never known. She thought of dinner parties and dances and the opera. She thought of clothes, of lustrous silks and soft furs and lovely colors. Do what she would, sha could mnot recall herself wholly to common- sense, to the reality she knew and must go on with. She told herself that Jimmy was very dear, and the children and this little house of hers She cared about them. She cared very deeply. It was only mow that she knew how deeply she cared about them. Only— What was it that was lacking? It was, of course, the thing the stranger had brought. But what was that? She was still asking herself that question when she put the children to bed for the night. She sat for a long time in the dark, going over and over it while they went to slcep. She lay awake for a long time after she had gone to bed, pondering it. At dawn she awoke with a sud- den start of fear. Jimmy hadn't come home. And then she remem- bered the dashing stranger. She had been dreaming of him again. But he was gone—gone forever. He must never come back. She must never jthink of him again. She had been {very silly. | She realized that she was cold. She got up and found her dressing gown and slippers and stood in the window. It was not yet light. She wondered {1t she loved Jimmy after all. She wished Jimmy would come home. She wasn't worrled about him. He had got stuck in the mud some- where and stayed overnight. He al- ways got home eventually. She never worried about him. She only wished that he would worry a little more— about everything. Perhaps he did worry. Perhaps that was why he was so slow—so lcautious. She did not want a cautlous man. She wanted a man who was so sure of himself and of the value of his errand that when he got stuck in the mud he could pull out $800 and pay it over for a horse with which to go on. A man who had the will to do the daring thing— She thought she heard something in the distance. She peered into the mists that wreathed the road. They were lifting now, and she could see a long way. But there was nothing. She sank back against the window- casing, her head resting agalnst it. She saw a man coming down the i of married life, at least, the girl wife | should expect to continue in a gain- | ful occupation, according to the home budget bureau expert; that is, in| order to have money to cover the ex- | penses of maternity. The search for | work under such conditions becomes almost entirely a process of elimina- tion. Typing was the best paid work that the girl could do. But the nat- ural conditions of ,approaching ma- ternity rendered an office job of typ- | ing of short duration. Therefore she | deemed 1t more advantageous to con- sider homework, which, if pald at & lower rate, could In the nature of her situation be expected to produce practically the full time while she awalted the coming of the child. A | woman's exchange was suggested. But the typist, who had gone from {the eighth grade to business school, {had not been taught to cook or sew. She could produce nothing that sells in the woman's exchange. Her necessitles might have forced her to consider some of the numer- ous advertised opportunities for part- time domestic service. But again she was balked because she did not know how to cook or do housework. She had heard of women typing at home. Then a survey of the adver- tisements in the dally paper revealed only one such prospect—to address envelopes for a Chicago corporation— hardly practical for a Washington housewife. Other homework proposi- tions advertised were likewise in remote places—one in Ohlo, another in New York, and so on. Canvassing was out of the qusstion, for the same reason as office work. New courage came from reading an advertisement promising that “wom- en quickly learn real estate business and receive pay while learning; need not interfere with present employ- ment; some making $100 a week.” Freo class lectures were announced and the girl went gladly to learn the real estate business. She might even in time learn how to produce cheap rents. But the first lecture was dis- fllusioning. The idea offered was to ‘buy & suburban-lot oneself and in that way learn how to sell one. Then oratory was prescribed as an inde- spensable accompaniment of the real estate business. The lecturer said ‘one must learn how to talk & lot and D onBed Sanding in front of & mir- | mire BY IV OB DD DI road, 1 And t ading a horse. It was Jimmy horze's legs were bandaged It must be the mare. She looked closer. It was Jimmy leading the mare home. What had happened? What a1 h know? What should she say? * & E * LTHEA ran downstalrs and opened the drafts of the kitche range. He would be hungry. She heard him opening the barn door There was a long silence while t water came to a bo She kne what Jimmy was doing as well a if she could see him through the wall of the barn. He was taking off the bandages, and scraping the mare down, and putting a blanket on her, and bedding her down with clean straw, and giving her Althea set the breakfast burriedly—got out eg jam whe w T woke I saw you just mow.” “Gosh, I'r me pretty r The mare w She stared looked tired: but in his eye—some Althea got the t the table, exactly the same akfast as she had given the dashing stranger less than twenty-four hours before. Jimmy sat down and ate. She sat opposite him. But she could not eat He was somehow different. Was the, change In him, or In her feeling about him? At last he leaned back and lit' a cigarette. “How did he Jimmy asked “I sold her to him,” Althea sald She held her breath with fear of what he would say next. “What?” he cried. “For eight hundred dolla said. She went to the cupboard and got' the bills, elght of i from the pitcher on the top 1f, and laid them on the table in front of him. Jimmy grinned, his grin broadened into a laugh, he laughed heartily. Althea looked at him in wonder and in fear. “Gosh,” sald J “But 1 don't said. Jimmy rese to his “I'll have to get tr to him some way.," the bills into his pocket I thought, of course, he had stolen mare. 1 was stuck in the mud up here near Sharon, and he came along and I held him up. He sald the mare was his, and I sald she was mi had a gun—so I got the mare.” paused to grin again. ‘No wonder he was mad,” Jimmy sald to himself. He took his wallet out of his coat pocket “But here's what I've got to tell you, Althea,” he sald. He looked at her gravely. * stuck for five years now in this place and you haven't said much—but I know how hard it's been to wait. And it must have seemed to you sometimes as it nothing would ever happen. He paused to look at her. could not meet his eyes. “Well,” he continued, “something has happened. I got there first to- day.” He took out four legal documents— ofl leases. “There.” he sald, tapping them. “There is $30,000—maybe more, but anway $50,000. We can go somewhere. We can go anywhere vou like."” She looked at him for 2 moment as if she did not understand the meaning of his words. She had a blinding sense that she did not know him at all, that she had never known him. But she wanted to know him. She wanted to know him more than any- thing else in the world. “Oh, Jim,” she sald, and put both arms around his neck. It was the first time she had ever called him Jim (Copsrigh n table “And coming down the road “Tool B him get the mare?” * Althea amy t's rich unders She 1923.) e ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————— ror every night and morning and talking to oneself until one looked oneself in the eve and believed all one sald. To get plenty of words he advised learning Lincoln’s Gettys- burg address by heart and saying it fast and strong at least once a day in front of a mirror. That was all very different from the Goose Girl's expectation of the real estate business. She pictured it a retiring job sultable for a pro- spective mother, driving about in a closed car and, for the rest, princi- pally collecting commissions, Ora- tory frightened her. After all, ma- ternity seemed hopelessly to conflict with a girl's wage earning, anyhow. Once more the Goose Girl concluded that she might better stick to typing and let matrimony alone, the home budget expert to the contrary not- withstanding. “Fossil Raindroops.” I siabs of Triassio rock little de- pressions are often seen that have been called “fossil raindrops” tha idea being that they were formed b, showers on muddy sea beaches, and proserved by being covered with a layer of mud at the next high tide. But lately it has been suggested, in view of observations on a flood plain {n the Dorn valley, that the sup- posed impressions of raindrops may really be due to pittings formed by bubbles in a film of mud at the bois tom of shallow water. There have been watched the formation of many pittings, and it has been found that after the mud had dried they exactls resemble “fossil raindrops.” Potash in New Jersey. HE United States geologioal sur- vey estimates that the New Jer- sey greensands, which are found In Salem, Camden and Burlington coun- +les, contaln more than 250,000,000 cons of potash that could be mined by open-pit methods. Used at the rate at which potash was formerly Imported into this country, that quantity would supply the needs of the United States for mearly 1,000 years. Four com- panies have, it appears, undertaken to produce potash from greensands, and small quantities of the product have been made and sold. but the work is nOt yet on & commercial basi: