The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1917-09-03
EVENING STORY
Jincy.


been coming for years to this noun
tain resort of South Carolina for the
summer holidays. And in the course
of that time she had seen much of the
mountaineers. But never had she
seen anybody like the girl who stood
in the shade of the carrycll that had
Just come to rest in the street before
the Benton house.
The hat was ten years out of
fashion. and must have been fright
to begin with. And the rat was suf-
ficiently startling without the rest of
the girl--the rest was largely red hair,
fine, lustrous, wavy, very thick and
of the truest Titan hue. 1t was wound
in heavy rolls about the girls head,
and entwined with faded blue ribbon.
Rhinestone combs of unknown vim
tage were stuck here and there in the
glowing expanse, evidently placed
with care that the hat Sh" uld not OBJ
scure them. The girl stood there
searching in the carryall -or sundry
belongings flaming purple parasol,
a palm-leaf fan with a long red tassel,
a bright bordered handkerchief. The
small lad, her brother, on the front
seat holding the meek pair of pillow
horses, turned to help her And that
is why he did not see the Benton
wagon coming down the street at a
smart trot, driven by Benny Benton,
and laden with the belated band from
town. come to this town of Locust
Grove to do honor to the Fourth of
July. The band had started out vain
gloriously in motor bus only to find
itself stranded seven miles from its
destination. AS the town was crowd
ed with merrymakers from the sur
rounding countryside, there must be
band. So when Benny had heard, by
telephone, of their tredicament, he
farm wagon
Now the carry-all stood on The
wrong side of the road, and Benny
had right of way. Moreover, he IVES
hurrying to get the belated band to its
place before the speaker of the day
should arrive. He saw the carry-all
too late. His shouted warning did no
good, and there came a clutch and
wrenching of wheels, the carry-al
skidded quite in motor style, then
toppled rakishly aslant. The horses
moved sluggishIy little to one side,
as if bored by the whole proceeding.
And nobody was injured but the
carry-all was a wreck.
Benny, taking the blame, got down
from his wagon, resigning the reins
to some one else. After apologizing
to the girl, he went to his mother,
watching the crowd from the steps.
The neighborhood doctor had looked
over the girl and her young brother
them into his wife's keeping, who
stood with her arm protectingly
around the girls shoulder.
ITS a shame said Benny. isn't
her get-up fierce? But-you can't
blame her. Know who she is?
Granddaughter of that old miser,
Granny Rollins, back in the noun
tains. Her father let her run Wild
Granny's dead now, and those two
brother and sister-are her only
heirs They've come into the farm.
the clothes-everythin Granny left
But they've found no money. Every
body thought the old sskinflint had
piles of it; but they had to sell the
best of the cows to pay for Granny's
funeral. The carry-all was a wreck,
here in it. OF course, I'll stand for
that-tho it never would have got
home, the ten miles they must drive
thru, without falling to pieces. After
while you go speak to them. They're
alone and scared and shy, and you
could help them have a good time"
Mrs. Benton nodded-she could not
speak. She did so crave a daughter,
in spite of her five sons, it hurt to see
girl thus gone to waste. Her heart
yearned over the poor thipg-no doubt
she had been bewildered by her ava
lanche of unaccustomed possessions,
and had tried piteously to make her
self fine enough for this her first
merry-making. Where could she
have got her idea of style? In flash
Mrs Benton knew-from the fashion
sheets and supplements it had been
Granny's habit to save. Granny had
bought by them-cost1y things but
always extreme-and had treasured
them. going herself in calico or the
coarsest woolens. Stories of her had
gone countrywide-but very few had
! seen her. She had kept at home
steadfastly, save for her yearly trip
to town. hated churchgoing and dis
couraged all visitors. save such as
came in the way of business.
! The girl sat apathetic, clutching the
purple parasol which made a violent
discord against her red plaid frock.
| But when the band struck up, she
/ lips parted, deep scarlet showing
| thru the nnassed freckleS all over her
| cheeks. They were SO thick on the
nose they made it Indian color; also
the elbow. The girls shiftless father
! had been one of Granny's crop
pers until he died, just a year
ahead of her. Even then she had not
taken home Jincy, her daughter
child, choosing, she said, to die as
she had lived, alone But at the end,
when Jfncy, venturing in, found her
stricken, helpless, speechless. there
had been an agony of entreaty in the
fierce old eyes. Jincy had known
tell something-the eyes searched her
face so steadfastly, but no words came
thru the week she fought back death.
Jincy shivered still when she let her.
| self remember that time.
! She sat thru the music spelIbound,
smiling as unconsciously as a child,
wholly TRANSPORTED. The speaking
wearied her. Brief as it was, the
| words of the immortal declaration fell
on ears unheeding-ears to which il
| was in an unknown tongue. But
when the band struck up again and
the crowd rose for the march to din
ner Jincy could not be still She
swayed in time and her feet battered
lightly-so lightly Mrs. Bentons hear
yearned more than ever.
The DOCTORS wife had many friends
to see and see about. She was glad
to shift Jincy into Mrs. Benton's
charge. At first the girl was too shy
to do more than nod or shake hel
head or humble half articulately But
kindness at last won her to speech. L
with rush when after dinner