Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-05-12

thing. Well, 1t might be worse, / sup
pose. They tell me they have trolley
hearses in some towns. with the casket
up by the motorman and the mourners
as passengers. except that the con-
ductor doesn't ring up fares. The car
is black and you order it Special
Horses have lot of instinct, horse
sense. / reckon you'd call it. 1 re-
member one funeral in Southeast
Was hinSton years and years ago,
in the hearse the horses baked and
wouldn't GO They were such reliable
horses and so used to funerals that
the undertaken tried everything to
persuade them to behave. but it was
no use: those horses wouldn't bulge
So they had to send for another pair.
And. to everybody's establishment, the
second team refused to pull the
hearse. Well. they had to get a third
set of horses. and when they baked
and had to be taken out the pallbear-
ers took the casket out and carried it
forget that funeral as long as l live"
Who could expect her to?
Two tiny girls were playing in a yard
on quiet street. Herded under the tree
with them was a one-eyed doll, a rag
baby without stitch on nature fake
congress of bears, rabbits and calico cats.
and a forlorn. headless something on
wheels that probably started out as a
lamb.
A passing woman paused at the gate
and asked the little girls what they were
doing. The one in pink Bingham got
ahead with the explanation:
I'm maxim a twooso and Jessie 8
maxim preserves.
For the wedding" added the little girl
In white.
That's good news. Who's the bride?"
Pink Bingham pointed her needle. with
rlI cI,y ttn
'Wosetta, of course! She's always get
ting mahwied an wunnin' away
She didn't run away last time. Emmy"
contradicted the little girl in white, who
husbn put her eye out and haved so
'candelus that I took her home. I'm her
momma, so you needn't p'etend to know
bettern me-
The woman, feeling a delicacy in intrud-
ing in such painful family matters. d.
verified attention to the demoralized rag
baby.
WHO is the young lady under the
tree?'
Emmy smiled with the open pride Of a
we'll:
THAT'S my Mabel She's going to be
mahwied to a pwince soons her close are
washed
money" shipped in the wax dolls ma.
Poor Mabel Is so ugly she couldn't get
nobody tall If she wasn't ncher'n
cweam-
why. how can you tell the lady a
story like thatr defended MabeIs mother
She's 'nawful sweet girl when she's
The woman hoped for Mabels own sake
that dress would make the desired DIFF
ference.
"Mawy's lam was going to be Bridesmaid
to my Wosetta, but she got the hoopin
cough and sneezed her head OF, pool
thing!'
It was interesting to know how the
headless thing came by its tragedy, Sc
the woman said 1t was perfectly dreadful
Her sympathy made such hit thai
Mabefs mother burst out with full details
as to that afflicted ones romance:
mabel has got SO many 'mirers that
| 'spect one of 'em will dwown himself in
the water when she mahwies the pwince
That's him next to the cat.
The probable suicide strangely resem-
bled white flannel rabbit with pink
cambria lined ears-but no matter
man Of her joce,'' warned the wax dolls
mother IF I was in her place I'd 'lope.
She's worn down to shadow. poor
The woman's private opinion of Mabels
condition was that sawdust rather than
true love was what she most needed-but
you mustn't say everything you think in
this world 1t isn't healthy.
And as she walked along in the spring
sunshine she wondered If in all Washing
ton there could be Jumped together more
worldly ambition. mother love, money
greed tenderness and romance than over
flowed in the imaginations of two tiny
girls in the yard of quiet street. playing
under tree.