Crittenden press. [volume] (Marion, Ky.) 1879-1907, 1906-08-16


When Joan Williams, who had taken
6rst prize in the school Of photography,
and her friend, Lucille King, stepped
from the platform of the little station
near the farm where they intended to
spend the summer. they at first saw no
one waiting for them.
Joan's quickly moving eyes covered
the whole scene in appreciation. The
colliding and jostling of incoming and
outgoing passengers, the frantic haste
of belated travellers contrasting with
the exasperating leisure of the ticket
agent, the jogging pace Of the man be-
hind the baggage truck, the vociferous
voiced driver of the bus, besieging pas
sengers to ride TO the Pullet House; the
passive miened driver of the one shah
by hack, formed a series of most real
istic pictures which made Joan touch
the button many times.
A peculiarly fashioned horse attached
to two seated democrat now drove
up. Joan was somewhat in doubt at
first as to the genuineness Of the AMI
NAL. which seemed TO her to have a
homemade aspect. The driver was gaz-
ing into space, with no manifest inter-
est in the arrival Of the train.
Again she touched the button, while
Lucille. who had spent the summers OF
two years in this vicinity, went quick
ly up TO the newcomer.
"Why. how do you do, Mr.. Batest
This is my friend, Miss Williams"
The girls occupied the back seat OF
the vehicle. Mr.. Bates uttered a mild
"Geed.apw and the horse made for
ward movement, tearing away in clum-
sy gallop across the long bridge, at the
end Of which he settled down into a
nippy little gait.
"Old Hundred didn't omit his usual
bridge sprint" observed Lucille.
"Old Hundred! He doesn't deserve
such a cognomen," observed Joan.
"You will think so. He hasn't set
tied down into his smallest pace yet"
"Geed-apr' reiterated Mr.. Bates,
reused TO effort by this insinuation
and smartly Shaping the reins across
the steed's ample back.
HE doesn't 'geed-ap' very fast"
commented Joan.
do you earn your own living, toof"
asked the old man, turning to her
quickly.
II hope to-" she replied modestly. II
take pictures. expect TO take your
whole country"
II hope it brings you more than writ
ing poetry" he said, with a glance at
Lucille. THE Hedgeton Gazette only
pays for it in subscriptions and trade"
Joan gave an ecstatic laugh.
But Lucille writes for big maya.
zines. She is paid by the word"
you don't tell me! She must be
awful rich"
But sometimes / sit for hours and
can't think of a word" confessed Lu-
Gle.
Words are plenty enough" he de-
clared scornfully. you can get them
out of n dictionary"
II never thought of that" she re-
piled naively.
At nearly every farmhouse en- route
Mr.. Bates "whoaed" to deliver pur-
chases. Now il was the farmers wife
who came out to the wagon and again
II was bashful boy or a giggling
girl. In every instance Joan's camera
was active.
The last commission was not deliv-
cred at house or in person. Mr.. Bates
stopped in front of a barn near the
roadside and there deposited a sus-
picious looking package. Farther on
they met farmer who looked at them
lnquirngly.
Put it in the barn, Fred" said Mr..
Bates significantly.
"All right" Bestowing a knowing
wink upon his purchasing agent, Fred
FASTENED forward.
How are the Locke girlsT asked
Lucille. And do you all help them as
much as you did"
Mr.. Bates then related a pathetic
story of the misfortunes Of the Locke
girls" who had lived together for
down house with its sparse garden
patch. The mortgage had been fore.
closed. Roxy's sight had failed her,
and she was unable to do the "piecing"
and quilting by which they had helped
exc out their living.
The poorhouse was looming up in
their horoscope, though the neighbors
were preparing to give harvest ball
and bestow the proceeds therefrom to
the averting of this calamity.
BY the time this narrative was I'm
ished they had reached the farmhouse
~ the Bates household. and Mrs. Bates
1WnRzGEfet the 'city folks" who
20 their bedroom of the