Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1898-04-02
sprang into social prominence, still

SPA0h5 AASO SASi0A piousihShSSt SstAA
lives.
The ''angel food,' species of
sponge cake, was really the best
which had every been served in Val
ley City.
Even to the present day The ma.
irons of that town are wont to say
I'D like to entertain, too, if could
make such angel food as Mrs. Ben
son had at her lawn party
Mrs. Benson has never explained
that Lucinda made the ambrosial
CONNECTION which was served at her
tables on that memorable night.
The divinity who brought order
out of the chaos of ice cream freez-
ers and cake stands, was arrayed 10
blue organdie.
Lucinda Bowers, principally be-
cause she was not aware of the fact,
was positively pretty that night.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes
sparkling. She directed the band of
white clad girls who carried about
the ice cream laden saucers and
handed the tiny coffee cups to the
guests.
The attention of those who were
there on that evening was divided
between the "angel food" and lit
erary lion from New York. He had
not been much of lion when he
went away from Valley City many
years before.
The Widow Simpkins remember
ed him as a red-headed, bare-fooied
boy, who trudged over the hills with
his bucket Of blackbcrries to sell.
Since those days, however, Will
liam Dorrance had traded bags OF
wool and sides of bacon for a col
lege education. Subsequently he
had wandered to strange lands, and
in one of his pilgrimages had I'M
earthed long buried city.
1t was not the city which was Of
so much Importance, but pave
ment in a wonderful state of preser.
vation, which showed that civiliza.
tion was thousand years older than
any previous history revealed.
So William Dorrance, returning
from the dusty plains of the remote
East, had written book which
caused all previous chronologists TO
hang their heads. Valley City car
ed little for antiquity, but there was
a man who had not only written a
book, but was talked about in the
papers as great psychologist and
explorer.
William Dorrance seemed TO have
no very definite idea why no had
come back to the little village. He
had made himself bellows that be
had wished to photograph some of
the old places which he had known
in his boyhood.
He had gone with his camera to
the old mill, to the little house
where he was born, and to the cabin
on the outskirts of the village which
marks the spot where the first white
man made his home in Bottole coun.
ty. Yet William Dorrance was not
satisfied. 1t seemed to him that he
had unconsciously come to seek.
"Mrs. Benson" he asked, "who is
that young woman over there in the
blue gown?'
"You seem to have been explor.
ing among the slayer cakes" replied
Mrs. Benson. "That is Miss Bow
ers, a young lady who has kindly
consented to assist me this evening.
By the way, Professor, have you
met the Misses Fletcher ? They're
charming girls
"And the girl in blue 2" persisted
the explorer.
Nobody knew exactly what hap
pened, but few minutes later an
other young woman was dispensing
angel food and others directed the
ice-cream brigade.
"Well, l neverl" CALCULATED Wild
ow Simpkins.
"How little taste," remarked Mar
garet Elton, 'these men of science
have. Still, that blue organdie isn't
SO bad, considering the fact that it's
slipped over blue skirt of about
the year one."
Lucinda Bowers went home that
night escorted by Prof. Dorrance.
For the first time in her busy, work
a-day life, she had what the village
young people call q "beau.'
The man and woman who walked
along the low hedge before Mrs.
Bowers yard did not talk of angel
food, nor yet of buried cities. They
spoke of a place way over beyond
Kinney's Hill, where the blackber.
ries grew and the pawpaws flourish
ed.
They talked, too, of the days when
the hand of the frost king was laid
upon the persimmon, and crystal
sheen glistened upon corn and pump.
kin-of the days when they trudged
over the field with sacks of unhulled
walnuts, specializing, as they walked,
| upon the length of time which
would be required to lid their small
fingers of.unsightly stains.