The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 2, 1902, Page 13

Cut cf the West, Western,Rrethe Four Prettly Pardge Girls. HEY are tbe most Californian girls in all fornia, those four 'little Pardees, The secret of Ca it is their out-of- the geranium and striding e everything 1 they look scornfully upon ail flls as things flesh is not heir to; when they scramble fc he tennis court that or their wheels or a horse the minute that brute of a schoolmarm wil! let them escape; when ; look upon hats as a bandicap—then they have earned the title of Californian They are the kind of girls that you might expect to see bronco-riding and lassoing if they had beer them teari some four-legged & of lightning. can picture their hair fiying in a ing wind. You’can hear their lusty voices ringing down it. You can feel a sympathetic tingle of the blood. They are four modern, Western girls, he as our fruits and our flowers and our trees, growing in the grace that their mother has taught them. They are although that is only one them. Brains and bodies have i been encouraged to grow side are the all-around girls 1ia knows how to make. They native daughters, and they to the name. Aight of even stairs, tic ike & r of them. The top step is 14 and west is 6 and the others fit neatly in between. hen I reached the Pardee home it was #0 early that not a daughter of the house While 1 waited they blossomed and fresh and crisp in s up. e by one, rosy the early morning of shirt waists and dimities. Florence came first. She is audaclously tali for 14, audaciously round and auda- ciously pretty. ‘I don’t want my picture taken alone,” she begen Etta, warm and wholesome, en- you do,” she said. It was evident that what Aunt Etta says goes. Mrs. Pardee, vigorous, forceful, came then. “Take picture quick, before she grows any more,” she put in. “She will stretch beyond the limits of the camera AND HER. CUE . SONU) N N (D) if you walt. Did you ever see anybody so big at 147" She looked a little awed by the tremen- dousness of it, much as you might stand before a redwood tree. Miss Florence pouted a little, smiled a little more and was photographed. She is in the April weather of her years. The braid hangs long and simply straight to the waist, but there is a fluff of light brown curls in front and a dare-devil bow catches them. Her mouth is uncer- tain as yet, dimpled at the corners, unde- cided as to whether to turn up or down. “When you get this picture taken, carn’t I go?" she pleaded. “I want to go to the tdnis court. It'll be school time pretty soon, and then I won't get another chance to play until noon.” You might as well try to cage a pretty little fawn and square the matter with your conscience. You feel like a brute if you keep her for a minute. She is fairly tremulBus to get away. Carol came hext. “That's Trilby,” sald the doctor. He had put in his appearance by this time, brisk and ready for the day, except for the costume of him. He was still be- jacketed and be-slippered. - “He calls her Trilby because she cries s0 much,” explained Aunt Etta. Nonc of her crying was done that morn- ing, however. She was like the rest of them, keen and deep of breath, ready for the tennis court or the croquet ground or a bicycle. “I'll show you my new return,” she said. “The tennis court is back of the house.” They were off before anybody could stop them. It was evident that the pic- tures must be snapped as best they might. Carol seized two racquets and made for the court. Florence, graceful in every motion, ran after her. They had the net up themselves before you could ask for it. Then smash, went one of the elder sis- ter's balls, and smash followed another, and there was a smart return and an- other and a swift volley and a dizzy run. It was tenflis, genuine tennis, for all that they were little girls in years. Car- ol's skirt, still at the period of nonde- script roundness, fluttered wildly. Flor- ence’s, bell-cut, curved according to the mode, rippled on the opposite side of the ™SS FLORENCE “Vantage in.” “Deuce again."” “Your vantage.” “No, that was your vanwage.” “It wasn't, it was yours.” “You are mistaken, Carol.” “No, don’'t you see, when I returned that ball—" A little volce behind called me away and I never found out which one succeed- ed in giving up the point. ““The lamo’s mine.” Helen had appeared. Helen is only six and her time for learning from books has not yet arrived. Therefore she has time to attend to the family zoo. “The lamb’s mine,” she repeated, make sure that I heard. “Baa-a-a-a,” assented the lamb. “I love him,” she added. “Baa-a-a-a-a,” the lamb approved. “He loves me.” “Baa-a, baa-a, baa-a-a-a-a-a,” cried the lamb in joyful assent. Thereupon the zoo was diapln;yd. Helen to ~¢—" [SELEN &ND S3 MAUVELINE., THE SUNDAY CALL. 13 ARE CROQUET BEXDERT. L Ted me on a personally conducted excure sion to the fat and woolly lamb, to the terrier that came to them a walf and has been as arrogant ever since his adoption as if he were not a mere dependent; to the kitten who lets the dog pick her up by the nape of her neck and play that she is an old shoe; to the parrot and the cows and the fioue!. Never was there 80 elas- tic & home as that of the Pardees. There is always room for one more. If a mon- grel terrier wanders to them, a stranger within their gates, he is welcomed. If a large family of kittens has the impu- dence to be born it is not tied up in a Lag along with a stone. Madeline, the fourth and last girl to appear, called Helen away. It was cro- quet that she wanted. The big stretch of front lawn is given over to croquet. It is not a vigorous enough game to satisfy the needs of the smiall Pardees as a general thing, but it does very well for a hot Oakland after- noon now and then, or for a morning . DOTDY when you ean’t muss up your gown be- fore school. So in a patronizing way they play it, and play it well. Helen is a small wonder at it. t's more of a game for the littls girls,” her elder sisters explain haughtily. I wondered if they especlally thought this when her ball whizzed into theirs and her surely aimed loose-croquet sent theirs flying out of all reach of an arch. “Don’t you want to see the billlard room?” It was Florence. The tennis game was over. All four led me upstairs to the big east wing, which is every- body’s playroom. It is ideal for a rainy day. Dazzling posters. line the walls, a billiard table fills up the center of the room, a couch stands temptingly in one corner, books DT \ W N are ners and there, a great low window looks out over a sweep of lawn. There they gathered and told me joy- fully all that they have settled upon for the time when they grow up. “We're all going to the University of California,” Helen said in simple faith. ““Of course we've got to,” Florence com- mented. “Papa’s a trustee.” She has elght years the start of Helen in worldly wisdom. “After that I'm t Art,” said Carol I can draw now. “Florence's talent is for musie,” Made- line explained. ‘“Mamma says she's to study music so that she can support her- self.” “T'm not either. leisure.” tudy at the Hopkins T'm to be an artist. I'm to be a lady of Varigd Sports n Which They Rre /Il Trained but Mcodest EXperts. - “What {8 your talent?” I asked Mad- eline. She overflowed with smiles. “I haven't any,” she said with blissful satisfaction. It is enough of a talent just to be Mad- eline. You are taken with a wonder while you watch her how Tennyson across the seas and a good many years back knew that she was coming. Her “wealthy smiles” and “sudden glances” are so en- tirely what the poet wrote of that it ia only the next step to fancy “deliclons spites and darling angers and airy forms of flitting change.” They had sat still as long as they could. Florence was making for a cue and the rest were at the table in a moment. I heard the click and the soft rumble of the balls as I went downstairs. “They tell me they are all going to Berkeley,” I reported to their mother, “Ot course they are. They are all to be trained to support themselves if they need to.” “My sister says she Is training them be old maids,” put in Aunt Etta. - “What do you say to such a reflection cast upon you, Dr. Pardee?” I asked him as he whizzed through the hall to jein a waiting secretary. r. Pardee stopped long enough to smile at his wife and be smiled at In retum, Just as the four daughters of the house, tired of billiards, swept down, mounted their wheels, rode off hatless and happy into the sunshine. When I saw that smile I knew that no reefs were in sight. b SARAH COMSTOCK. ——————— Wise Words of a Graduate. One of the young men who graduated at Stockton, Ill., the other day ended his essay in a blaze of glory as follows: The best concerted schemes man lay for fame Die fast away; only faster. The far famed sculptor and the laureled bard, These bold tame Supply our little feeble aids in vain. We don’t know just what this means, but, then, sraduates can hardly be ex= pected to write down to the level of the masses. We hope the Browning sociéties will take up the poem and give the warld the benefit of the beautiful thought that is undoubtedly lying there to be discoy= ered.—Chicago Record-Herald. themselves dia of deathless insurancers