Sioux County pioneer. (Fort Yates, Sioux County, N.D.) 1914-1929, 1914-12-18
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Copyright b. Frederick 4. stokaa Compsny

| poooAoAattaes haven't worked. My
land! I could write book on the
decline and fall of the petticoat, be.
ginning with the billowy white mus
lin variety, and working up to the
present slinky messaline affair. When
think Of those dear days of the
glorious-er-past, when the hired girl
used to complain and threaten to
leave because every woman in the
fam1ly had at least three RULED. EN-.
broidery-founced white muslin netti-
coats on the line on Mondays"
The lines about T. A. Bucks mouth
relaxed into a grim smile.
Remember that feature you got
them to run in the Sunday Sphere?
The one headed Are Skirts Growing
Fuller, and Where?'"
DO l remember it," walled Emma
McChesney. "And can ever forget
the money we put into that fringed
model we called the Carmencita! We
made 1t up SO 1t could retail for a
dollar ninety-five, and l could have
sworn that the women would main
each other to get to it. But it didn't
go. They won't even wear fringe
around their ankles"
i. AS grim smile stretched into a
reminiscent grin. But nothing in our
whole hopeless campaign could touch
your Municipal Purity league agita.
ton for the abolition Of the form.
'hugging skirt. You talked public NOR.
ais until you had A. Comstock and
Lucy Page CASTOR looking like Pari.
sian apaches."
A little laugh rippled up to Emma
McChesneys lips only to die away to
a sigh. She shook her head in sorrow
full remembrance.
Yes. But what good did it do?
me newspapers and magazines did
take 1t up, but what happened? The
dressmakers and tailors, who are
charging more than ever for their
work, and putting in half as much ma
ter1al, got together and knocked my
plans into a cooked hat"
They were both laughing now. like
couple of children. "And, oh, say!"
gasped Emma, remember Moe Sc.
i1g OF the Fine-Form Skirt company,
trying to get the doctors to state that
hobble skirts were making women
knock-kneed! Oh, mercy"
But their laugh ended In a little
rueful silence. It was no. laughiHR
matter. this situation. q il. -Euc;i
shrugged his shoulders, end began i
restless pacing up and, down. !; "a ep,
There you are. Meanwhile:.-.-.::,' m u
Meanwhile. women. arc still wear
ing 'em tight, and going .petticoat-
less" - 80. - a.,
Suddenly T. A. stopped short in his
pacing and fastened his surprised and
interested gaze on the skirt ,of the
trim and correct little business frock
that sat SO we'll upon Emma McChes-
ney's pretty figure.
why, look at that" he exclaimed,
and pointed with one eager finger.
Mercy" screamed Emma McChes.
ney. What is it? Quick! A mouse?"
T. A. Buck shook his head, impa,
tiently. Mouse! Lord, no! Plaits!"
"Plaits!"
She looked down, bewildered.
Yes. In your skirt. Three plaits
at the front left, and three in the
back. That's new, isn't it? If outer
skirts are being made fuller, then it
follows"
1T ought to follow" interrupted EN-
ma McChesney, "but it doesn't. It
lags way behind. These plaits are
stitched down. See? That's the
fiendishness Of it. And the petticoat
underneath-if there is one-must be
Just as smooth, and unwrinkled, and
scant as ever. Don't let 'em fool you"
Buck spread his palms with a little
gesture of utter futility.
I'm through. Out with your
scheme. We're ready for it, It's our
last card, whatever it isl
There was visible on Emma McChes-
ney's face that little tightening of the
muscles, that narrowing of the eyelids
which betokens intense earnestpess.
Not now. Just because it's our
last card want to be sure that I'm
playing It well. I'll be ready for you
tomorrow morning in my office. Come
prepared for the jolt of your young
life" $50
For the first time since the begin.
ming Of the conversation glow Of new
courage and hope lighted up T. A.
Bucks good-looking features. His
fine eyes rested admiringly upon EN-.
ma McChesney standing there by the
great show case. She seemed to "a.
date energy, alertness, confidence.
when you begin to talk like that"
he said, Il always feel as though I
could take hold in way to make
those famous Jobs that Hercules
tackled look like little Willie's chores
after school"
'Fine!" beamed Emma McChesney.
Just store that up. will you? And
don't let it filter out at your finger
tips when begin to talk tomorrow"
The little scarlet leather clock on
Emma McChesney's desk pointed to
1929 q. m. when there entered her
office an Immediately garbed, mirac-