Evening Star Newspaper, July 25, 1937, Page 71

July 25, 1937 d wearing out so fast. Why — Rachel didn’t have any others! This sudden knowledge was flooding her mind. ‘‘Rachel — 1 — I have a pair of white shoes you can wear."’ “I didn't say that was the reason.”” The quick defense of her pride and Solomon. “But — but it is, isn't it?” Gently per- sistent. “Father would get them for me if — if he could. But with Ma in the hospital — and — and — "’ Her voice trailed off. ‘‘Please take them. They’re old. I'm going to have a new pair.”” Her conscience didn't even wince at the fabrication. This was much more important than the letter of the truth right now. She could explain it all to God in her prayers tonight. Why, she could even ask God for a new pair of white shoes for herself. Her father said all prayers were answered if one prayed hard enough. GOBLINS GIBBERED AT HER. THIS WEEK She stole a look at Rachel’s face. The muscles in her thin brown cheeks had relaxed. “I’ll bring them to school tomorrow. We won’t tell anyone. It — it’s another secret we can have.” ** I shouldn’t — "’ There were some bad moments that night when Miss Wilson and Mr. Kennedy stopped to present the plans to the Reverend Harden. After the detailed explanations had been made to him the Reverend Harden had pursed his lips and drawn his shaggy black brows together. He had launched into a wordy dis- sertation on the effect of too much attention and praise on one so young. Mr. Kennedy cleared his throat and answered the questions that had been aimed at no one in particular: “In choosing these pupils, Reverend, we took into consideration the possible effect of this attention. We felt that Lucy could —_— ey, 0 Ty FINGERS POINTED AT HER assimilate it with her customary modesty and appreciation. It will give her a chance to see, figuratively speaking, a broader hori- zon than we can show her here. We feel that she will represent us as we wish to be repre- sented. We see this excursion as a reward that acts not only as an impetus to Lucy as an individual, but to the school as a whole. To forbid her to go would be penalizing all the qualities that caused us to select her.” Lucy felt her heart slip right out of her round little body and go to this champion of her cause. She was suddenly conscious of his mellow voice that dared to speak, even so gently, in defiance of her father. He became St. George, Galahad and George Washington all at once. He was battling the sources of darkness — and Lucy clapped a hand to her mouth as she realized what heresy her thoughts were leading her into. Her father turned to her at her sudden gesture. “Was there something you wished to say, Lucy?”’ Dumbly she shook her head. Had she thought out loud? Her father stared at her for a long moment from be- hind the cliffs of his brows. Vaguely she sensed that his position had become slightly awkward and he was seek- ing a means of adjustment that would again reflect his greatest glory. Then everyone stirred as the mild little voice of Mrs. Harden splintered the brit- tle silence. “I think it would be nice for Lucy to go. She’s never been away.” How gently she had righted the situation. With a gesture she had removed the decision from his hands and had relieved him of the embarrassment of being both right and righteous. With a deprecating move- ment of his hands he turned the responsibility over to Smuggling out the white shoes the next morning was a problem that had brought a tiny frown between her eyes. Had her two sisters seen what she was wrapping in the stiff brown paper the night before? Deception sat heavily on her shoulders and her sleep was alternately disturbed by the thought of one of the dogs finding the precious package that she had so stealthily hidden un- der the front porch, or by dreams wherein she was marching before the Presi- dent in her bare feet. Her lengthy prayer and her sense of doing a kindly, gen- erous act were barely able to balance the weighty puil of deception that hovered over her. At first Rachel had made a faint protest when Lucy slipped a clumsily-wrapped bundle into her desk during recess. Then suddenly she had given in. On the way home from school, as Rachel gently fondled the package, Lucy’s spirits lightened tem- porarily. Gradually through her consciousness, however, began to creep a cold little doubt as to the possibility of new shoes being found for her. The ones she had given Rachel had come in one of the missionary boxes. They were white kid with tassels at the top. Lucy had felt that her feet and legs would never grow big enough for her to wear these beautiful shoes. With great misgiving she had watched her sister Delia, who seemed to grow so fast on so little. Then suddenly one Sunday morn- ing her mother had taken the shoes down from the Magozine Section 5 shelf and let Lucy wear them to church. She had walked ever so carefully so as not to scratch them. In the buggy on the way to church she had sat with her sturdy little legs thrust straight in front of her so that she could observe every stitch and eyelet. And she had given them away! The enormity of her crime began to jab at her mind. But she had heard Rachel’s heart breaking right there in the road! Lucy found her mother in the kitchen pressing the ruffles on her white dimity dress. It was starched and blued to a startling new- ness. While Lucy fixed herself a cold biscuit and apple butter her mother finished the tucks and pleats. “Lucy, go find the sash for this so I can press it too.” Lucy had her foot on the first step when her mother’s voice came to her _ again: “And bring down your white shoes. They most likely need cleaning.” The biscuit stuck crossways in her throat. She couldn’t make her legs climb the stairs. White shoes don’t grow on bushes and there wasn’t anything but a bare spot on the shelf. “I —1 don’t think they need cleaning, maybe.” : . “Well, bring them down anyway and let me look at them.” For a long time Lucy ignored the white sash that lay folded neatly in one corner of the chest. She couldn't bear to look behind the curtain on the shelf. “Lu-u-cy! Hurry up before my iron gets cold.” Slowly she returned to the kitchen with the sash in her hand. ““Where are your shoes?’’ “Oh — I — I couldn’t find them.” Lucy was edging toward the door. *Couldn’t find them? Did you look in the right place?”’ “They — they weren’t on the shelf.” If she could just think fast enough she wouldn’t have to actually lie. ““They must be. Go look again.” The ribbon was pressed and laid beside the dress. “I looked twice.” Her voice sounded so lit- tle in the big kitchen. Mrs. Harden gathered up her ironing and started up the stairs. Lucy trailed at her heels as though drawn by a magnet. Her mother’s forehead wrinkled for a moment as she re- garded the place where the shoes should have been. ‘‘Have you been wearing those shoes when 1 didn’t know it?”’ “No, Mother.” Mrs. Harden turned away and started to look in corners, under the bed, in drawers. The puzzlement in her face became deeper. Lucy’s lower lip began to tremble and con- fession almost overwhelmed her. Her mother, hearing the little gulp as she tried to brace herself for discovery, turned and patted the round little head. “Don’t worry, hon, we'll find them some- where. Most likely Delia knows where they are.” And the moment of confession slid silently away, beyond the reach of her reluctant tongue. As soon as her mother left the room Lucy flung herself down beside the bed and poured out a frantic and incoherent prayer. *Oh, please, God, find me some new shoes. Don’t make me lie. It hurts inside. Oh, please, God.” In the midst of her communings with the Infinite, Lucy heard her mother questioning her two sisters about the vanished shoes. Hastily she climbed down off the bed and be- gan to peer under it as though she expected a sudden appearance of white kid and tassels when she heard their steps on the stairs. Would they tell about the mysterious brown paper bundle? With a great show of industry the three of them searched the room. They searched the hall. The closets. Lucy even found herself in the barn and at the corncrib. And Delia’s and Lissy’s eyes bored holes through her head. They knew — they must know! What would happen when her father came home and started questioning them? All the time that she was peering into dark corners and behind curtains, Lucy was making little pieces of prayers. Panic was riding her. That night, long after her sisters had fallen asleep, Lucy lay wide-eyed and rigid in the dark. Goblins gibbered at her. Fingers pointed at her. The little girl who stole her own shoes. You lied — you lied! You're lost. You’ll burn in hell for this. A shudder, almost of relief, swept over her as she heard her father, who (Continved on poge 10)