The Calhoun chronicle. [volume] (Grantsville, W. Va.) 1883-1984, 1907-06-11

Here's your skirt, Annabel," said
Mrs. Mallock, hanging the blue serge
garment over the chair In front of
her.
THANK you, so much" replied An
mabel, with her sweet, girlish smile.
ut looks as good as new-why,
you've put on new velveteen, Mrs.
Mallock."
Eyes; 1 didn't want to be bothered
with turning and piecing the old Bit"
said the elder woman, with a depre-
eatory gesture Now, now, put your
purse down; 1 owed you something
for running errands for me, and it's
all right"
How can ever repay you?
You've been very kind to me-"
i've tried to do what / could for a
fatherless and motherless girl, but 1t
isn't much poor woman can do.
And to think you're out of work
again, Annabel."
YES" said the girl, with little
sigh, II expected it when the rush
was over"
But it wasn't much OF a place."
commented Mrs. Mallock. with toss
OF her head. Standing behind
counter all day, waiting on a lot OF
ungrateful people VINO treat you as
IL you were a machine, and all for
four dollars a week, and you with
board and car fare to pay, wasn't
what you would call a snap, now.
Maybe something better will turn
up"
Annabel did not answer, and the
woman looked at her keenly.
You're looking peaked" she said.
You've lost your red cheeks, and
your eyes are getting pack in your
head, and you've been awful mopy
lately. oh, I've got eyes"
I'm discouraged" replied Anna
bel, dropping into chair and leaning
her face upon her hands.
You're homesick," said Mrs. NAL
lock.
Annabel gave a short, mirthless
laugh.
s"I can't be that, for I haven't any
home; but 1 do wish I'd never left
Greenfield"
why, you had to, didn't you, when
you were leIC alOneI"
But / wasn't left alone, and
didn't have to. Oh, Mrs. Mallock,
must tell you. / must talk to some
body or / shall go crazy. I've been
such a foolish girl! 1 had a home
offered me; there was "a young
man there who thought a good deal
of me, and 1 of him, but / got silly
In
come to the city and see something
OF life. Two girls I knew came here,
and such letters as they wrotel Ada
Dalton went I'm a jewelry store, and
rich man married her and gave her
q lovely home; and Cora Bent worked
Tor a milliner and sung at concerts
occasionally, for she had good
voice; she lived I'm a big boarding
house, and had sucn pleasant times.
She wrote me of the places she Wis
tied, the plays she saw and OF her
friends. / got tired OF my dull life
and fields and farm houses. ] thought
I'd come to the city, too, and when
/ told him-well, we quarrelled. But.
oh, Mrs. Mallock, it's all so differ
emit"
Mrs. Maliock looked at her
thoughtfully.
my dear" she said, "the city's a
hard place for the poor young girl.
You're smart and you're winning. and
you see how hard It is to get along.
And you haven't anyone to give you
any pleasure; it's been a duH time
for you. Your friends were very
LUCKY"
But they WEREN'T" Annabel burst
forth passlonately That's the worst
Of &C. / met Ada one day. She was
elegantly dressed, but she wasn't
happy; she told me so. She had mar
ried an old man for his money. and
she was miserable His folks were
Unkind TO her, and no was jealous.
and she had tired Of It all. 'Annabel.
she said, my happiest days were in
Greenfield. Then"
THE other girl2"
Yes"--Annabels head dropped-
81 saw her. too She was well
dressed. too, and wore a lot OF Jew
elry and her face was painted. She
sings on the stage now She didn't
recognize me, and I'm glad Of 70 since
I've heard that--that-we you un-
Gerstand, Mrs. Mallock. Her friends
could not be my friends; they are
not Ike the people We used 20 know. .