The Washington herald., 1913-08-10
at the Lindstrom house and then drove

back no wiser than before. Not z
glimpse of the three-coler beauty win
ner did they get. And on all the buggy
rides and walking home from the
young peoples services it was agreed
that she was preposterously overrated
And in all the comments-sarcastic
belittling cruel-ran the note of in
quiry; what would the bootlegger's
girl do now.
Aurefie sat in a sort Of bewilder-
ment when Knute brought the first
Sunday Chronicle home. When John
came back from church he saw it on
the floor and tore the offending pic
ture from the page. Then he ordered
her harshly to go to her room, and
the girl obeyed. In the chill Of the
tiny chamber she sat staring at the
little silver crucifix hanging over her
mirror. Old Michigan crept in after
while, when the buzz of silly neigh
Dor women grew too much for him in
the kitchen. He sat on the edge of
Aurelie's little white bed and drew
her down until her hair was tangled
in his shaggy beard.
Done come up-river," he whispered,
ito occupy the land! Reckon so! Don't
mind John. my little girl. He's hard
with his religion, but he's mearfin' well.
Law done drove him to his bitterness
and exile, and give him hate Stead OF
love. But, my girl he can't change a
hair OH your head, or the pink OF your
pretty cheek!
And then she cried as Aurelie rarely
cried; and crept to the old whisky
pedler, and all the afternoon they hud-
oiled together to keep warm, while Mrs.
Lindstrom's silly chatter to the neigh
Dor women went on, ana the boys sat
apart in awe as if some tragedy had
fallen on them. The gossip of the
Butts OF the Mercury-Journal drove
from Earlville to interview her and
met a agunt, feverih-eyed man who
ordered him away, his shotgun lying
handily across the rail fence. The cor
respondent saw two ragged tow-headed
children and lean-hipped COW or two
beyond the forlorn shanty and that
was all. Beyond was the corn patch,
and the other implanted cottages OF
the quarrymen, and then the gray bluff
with its never-ceasing roar and dust
cloud from Thad Tanners quarry.
Some curious town people tried to
call. Lindstrom gave them the same
grim welcome. And all the week the
town seethed with curiosity. Prim
misses read the newspapers more as
siduously than ever before; and the
Chronicle felicitated itself and rspread'
,,..,t - A,,rat,a'- -
incidentally setting loose a horde OF
canvassers all over the State to work
up subscriptions, giving away a half
tone OF the beauty winner with each.
What does il mean Illuminated
the Chronicle, for this little country
girl to be announced as the most beau
tiful woman in the country. In the
first place it means admiration, love.
That is first in every woman's heart of
hearts. Hundreds OF thousands OF men
have gazed on her picture and felt
their hearts moved. Thousands have
written declaring they adored her. SIM
cere, honest men, some OF them labor
ers, some millionaires, have offered
their hands TO the modest young
beauty. They send references of their
social and financial standing. church
and lodge connections and prospects.
Lawyers offer her positions as stenog-
rapher; manufacturers seek to have
her demonstrate their goods; she is
asked to sing, TO lecture, to go on the
stage. Ministers write her advice; &C
tresseS ask the secret OF her beauty ;
mothers warn her against the seduc-
tons of her fame. Strangers come
to the little Iowa farm to gaze on
the abode of beauty; the telephone bell
is constantly ringing as people call up
to congratulate her. She is showered
with gifts, honors. invitations, emolu-
ments-so great thing is it to be de-
clared by the Chronicle to be the most
beautiful woman in the land"
As Vawter, the, artist, the pimply-
faced youth who took that luckless pic
ture in his shabby studio up above the
Hub Clothing Store, remarked to Mr..
Curran: "Oh, Gawd!'
Vawter was peevish because none
mentioned that he took the photograph.
Here's you and me, Wiley stirred up
all this bunk-and just think of 'em
sayin' there's a telephone down in Old
Mich's shack in the bottoms-and we
amt gettin' a cussed thing out of it |!
We amt even gotta line in the papers
Why don't you roast 'em:"
Wiley Curran smiled distantly.
"Bunkp shifted Vawter, the artist,
and went away. Il don't believe any
thousand mililonaires want to marry
Aurelie Lindstrom. Shucks, they's
heaps of girls right in high school
prettier'n she is. It's my picture that
done it and what do git? Fitchered,
by swannyr
And when the artist came on store
clerks and travelling men discussing
her about the Square, and the strangers
asked of the beauty winner, he
growled: Bunk! Don't ask meP'
Mowry, the undertaken, who always
came into the News office to peddle
gossip and read the proofs of county
board meetings TO see If there were
not some INDECENT dead he could bury,
was rasping his shiny serged legs be-
fore Mr.. Curran's stove and summing
up the towns comment.
"Eyerybody's sore. Folks air goin'
to stop them She-cawgo papers. VIM
mems Club says it's demoralizin', and
work. Cal Rice, over to the bank,
he says of all the disgustin' things is
for the Chronicle to git roped in by
French girl this way. And Dickinson,
| guess he's sore because his girl
didn't git any prize, and everybody. is
hollerin'; and here I amt buried any
body for two. monthsp He looked
across at the Widow Stegers holly
hook walk: "Hey, how's the widder?"
Il understand that Dickinson is 60,