The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1911-05-27


chunk at time, when there was no
one there to do it for her. There was
one big, quite high pile, and from this
iutted toward the door two low
smaller piles and made between them
such a nice playhouse. The little
Pollards had carpeted it with autumn
leaves.
"They make the most heavenly-colored
carpet" Narcissa Pollard gave an &C.
static little gasp.
t'I know it, her sister Valora's thin little
hands clasped in passion of admiration,
all their blue veins stood out. 81 know it,
Narcissa, feel all dizzy looking at them,
same as when see the beautiful rag rugs in
the loom that Betsy Smith weaves for the
rich Spencers."
3 They had Just renewed the carpet with
crisp sprinkling of beautiful dull browns and
flaming scarlet Valera threw herself face
downward, roofing and shifting.
"Quit, or you'll dig through to China"
warned her sister, sand there's the youngest
child crying"
Valera got up quickly, her eyes, with
solicitous, almost maternal light, fixed upon
an outstanding block of wood.
Don't cry, baby dear" She swooped
down upon it, applying her pinafore to the
wooden ones imaginary tears and catching
it to her with gentle hushings.
Its colic," said Narcissa, "pat him on
the back"
Narcissa stalked away. Valera sank
down among the rustling leaves and softly
i AZ
of wood. In the course of few moments
it was apparently hushed to sleep and she
rose cautiously, placing it in a reclining
posture, with loving pats and fond glances.
Suddenly the voice of Narcissa, rancor-
ously representative of the father of the
household, was raised waveringly in ribald
song and round the corner of the wood-pile,
staggered this young person.
You've come too soon, Narcissa," OBJ
jected her sister, "you must always allow
me to see the baby"
/ "Play don't, said Narcissa. "I'm play
ing I'm like Betsy Smiths husband. I've
been drinking and I'm not responsible"
ooh, goodyp There was one thing
about her sister Narcissa, Valera liked
especially; she had such good ideas. Come
to assist the drunkard within. Don't scuff
up the beautiful new carpet"
"Play your saying that makes me
mad" babe Narcissa. "Who paid for the
carpet2" she demanded, shamelessly initial
ing the manner of poor Betsy's husband,
"I'd like to know" She raised the stick
she had been walking with, a shower of
blows fell. And as though beneath them,
bent Valera, lower and lower, crying as
poor Betsy Smith might cry for mercy and
shame upon such a husband. Sobs that
rendered her speeches. and tears that were
genuine, were interrupted by the sudden
opening of the ktchen-door.
"Narcissa PollardP'
"We're only playing, Grandmother"
Narcissa shrilled, breathless from her eff
forts.
Then what's Valera crying for?"
Grandmother Pollard stepped forward and
caught Valora's arm.
A tremor shook her little body, checked
sob and the tears that trembled upon her
lashes were dashed away fiercely.
Ell was playing Betsy Smith," she
suffered guilty, "and Narcissa was Him"
Him came home intoxicated" added
Narcissa.
"What have told you, Narcissa2"
p Narcissa could think Just then of so many,
many things her dear grandmother had told
her.
To use intoxicated instead of drunk,
when speaking of people like old Smith
Mr.. Smith" she answered politely.
Haven't | told you to use the sense
you've inherited from your papa and keep
from playing things that throw your sister
into these tantrums she inherits from your
mamma?"
Narcissa nodded. Valora's head dropped
shamedly.
"That's the way Betsy Smith must feel
when he beats her." she murmured.
"Why can't you play something nicer
Be the rich Spencers and sit quiet like you
were out driving" GRANDMOTHER said.
Narcissa sighed.
cts not so much fun"
at amt so real, - whispered Valera
"Well, if you can look poor Betsy Smith
N the face after the way you've been play
ing her" their grandmother said, "why
S it's time to go across for the milk. The
pals in the pantry"
Looking Betsy Smith in the face over the
evenings warm milk, was the twins Gus
tom, and OF too long standing to be dropped
for this slight breach of etiquette.
3 "And," Grandmother Pollard murmur