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

placed it gently in the cradle of leaves.
They made covering like Grandmother
Pollard's best pieced silk quilt and she tip
toed away.
Along hobbled Narcissa as the drunkard
Smith.
"I'm very much intoxicated" she an
nounced viciously.
"But I'm out to the store" called Valera,
"you never stay away long enough"
PLAY | get home while you're out, )"
cried Narcissa, brimful of good ideas,
"get home and-beat the baby"
She bounced instantly upon the block-of-
wood child, drew it from beneath the leaves
and landed blow. A shrek, and on the
wind, tow-hair flying, Valera curved round
the wood-pile. She tugged for her cher
ished wooden possession. Narcissa, drunk
too, with the fervor of truly impersonating
her character, held on, striking again until
over her little hands, frenzied with maternal
instinct, bent Valera, and bit-bit her sister.
Narcissa, now herself, drew back, silent,
scared, holding up the attacked hand, and
between them fell the shadow of Grand
mother Pollard.
"Heathen!' she called Valera, "you're
just a Chinese heather, worshipping
wooden idol"
She caught up the wooden idol and erect
and stern reentered the house.
Grandmother, don't, don't burn it
please don't" It was Narcissa pleading, as
she ran in pursuit "She didn't bite me
hard"
But the block-of-wood child was already
in the midst of leaping flames as Grand
mother Pollard replaced the stove lids.
In the doorway behind Narcissa huddled
Valera, her eyes darkened in horror of the
spectacle.
"I'll die now," she said. 81 don't want to
live"
"PIay is play" said her grandmother,
"but it isn't play when it's carried too far
Go to your room, Valera, and stay until
you make up your mind that you don't
want to die"
Valera dragged her frail body tremblingly
away, while Grandmother Pollard inspected
the hand she had bitten.
at didn't go deep, dear Grandma"
urged Narcissa. "Valora didn't mean it."
Narcissa was drawn close to the dear,
soft, tightly-buttoned breast that more
often received her sister. She could feel
the heart beating, beating, beneath her ear,
and vaguely sensed struggle going on
there, beneath the row of fiat pearl buttons
pressed to her cheek.
81 s'pose she can't help it." her grand
mother said shakily. "Go tell your sister,
once and for all, there'll be no more wooden
images. If she understands that, she. is to
come out to supper. There's molasses
cake. After supper we'll start sewing the
carpet rags for the new rug"
Narcissa went. It was not at once that
she came back, leading Valera, calm, but
plainly touched by a real grief
81 don't want to die or be a Chinese
heather" Her eyes with the stormy shad-
ows underneath, looked out fearfully.
Grandmother Pollard's arms opened and
received her.
Once year the Pollards had new rag
rug, woven by Betsy Smith. Joining the
many colored rags, torn into strips, was
begun in the autumn, and Just before
Christmas came the bright fluffy strings of
them were taken across the street to Betsy.
By Christmas Eve the rug would be ready.
Placing it was an event, but of almost equal
Importance was the autumn night the sew
ing of the rags began.
To their seats each side of the rag basket,
hurried the twins, thimbles and needles
ready. Grandmother Pollard adjusted the
lamp and joined them. Little hands flew,
needles flashed in and out, gathering, gath
erlng, quick chattering tongues recalled the
pristine beauty of little frocks and of grand
mothers ginghams, of which there now re-
NAMED but the rags going to make the rug.
"Valora," spoke Grandmother Pollard
in a silent moment, "what you making that
whole stripe black for-what you thinking
OPP
cts a mourning stripe for my burnt
child, returned Valera
The old lady's hands dropped, working
helplessly in her lap.
Put the rags away" she commanded
finally. "Put down your needles, children,
till Valera comes to herself"
"Oh, Valera" with a food of tears
came Narcissa's reproach, "it's mean to
spoil everything over an old block of wood.
You-you are heather"
In her lap her little fingers frantically
entangled in the string of black, Valera
looked with wilful eyes and grieved mouth
at the fire, sitting silent.
Come" Grandmother Pollard took up
their little lamp. "Come to bed" ~
The sobbing Narcissa was led away. Va
lora slid from her chair, holding up the
string of black.
90 didn't start o,,+ RI do r - she eaid