Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1917-02-16

My beds awfully narrow" she told
me. But we're neither of US very big
and it will give US a chance to talk
when these kids are out fthe way"
The "kids," Helens younger sister
and brother, promptly giggled at her
name for them and threatened to keep
us awake all night. l must say l ac-
cepted my new friends invitation
promptly. These were simple people, liv-
ing in a simple way, but my heart was
warmed and cheered by their hospitality
and kindness, The atmosphere of their
little flat was also quite new to me.
breathed of it gratefully. Here, l told
myself, was actual poverty. new pair
of shoes or hat was family drama
Ice cream or a roast for dinner would
be something to be planned for for days,
talked about, rejoiced over
A few months before had any one
told me that people lived in this way
and were happy, l would have cried
out it was impossible. My own wants
and dreams had been so much more
elaborate, luxurious. Yet now 1 was
beginning to realize the things for which
| had yearned were empty shells of
reality. These girls and boys, turn
ing over most of their weekly wage to
their mother to support. their home,
cheerfully helping with the unromantic
tasks of the household, were neverthe-
less in possession of a surer happiness
than / had ever glimpsed. 1 did not
know it then, but know it now, that 1t
was love-unselfsh love that made beau
tiful all the ugly, everyday tasks in
that household.
Presently, after we had had our din
ner on the night of which l write, had
danced a while in time to the gramo-
phone, bought on the installment plan,
and had laughed and talked, it was time
to go to bed. Helen and l retired to
her tiny room, where she produced a
coarse but immaculately clean night
gown to lend me- We found ourselves
snuggled under the blankets, giggling
and chattering as girls will. And after
a bit as is the immemorial custom of
girls also, the conversation turned on
beaux. Helen contided to me that she
liked very much young man, who called
upon her regularly boss plumber
and that she even was considering mar
riage with him. She called him her
steady"
HE comes every two or three nights"
she told me. And he's aWfully sweet
with the kids. That's what l like him
for. Sometimes we go to the movies"
But, Hell" 1 suggested, don't you
ever go out? Haven't you ever been out
anywhere"
Il don't know what you mean by
out" she said.
~"Well," I stammered, Il mean to
real theaters and parties and dinner
parties and dances. Wouldn't you like
to do that sort of thing? Do you like
the movies?"
There was silence in the little dark
ened room while 1 waited for the girls
answer.
Il tell you, Di," said Helen, 1--WE fig
ured it out more or less this way
in a sort of. way a girl of my kind
has to choose between her own kind of
man and her whole future. l mean this
way: OF course, I'm not ugly. I'm
really pretty enough and l can dress
quite well. There are plenty of richer
young men than Andy who would take
me to dinner and the theaters, as you
say, but suppose 1 go with them-then
what? 1 don't mean anything wrong.
There are plenty of men who wouldn't
harm you for the world. l mean, they
wouldn't mean to. Bur you get to going
out a whole lot and you're too tired
to work properly the next day, and you
get q taste for the kind of dinners and
parties you will never be able to af-
ford anyway, and what's che good of
it?"
WELL" 1 suggested, you might be
having a good time and when you got
tired of it, you could marry Andy just
the same, couldn't you?"
That's the rub" replied Helen. II
wouldn't want to marry Andy then. 1t
would be toolate. 1 would have given
all the best Of myself mean, my
brightness and happiness and all that
to a lot of men who really wouldn't care
anything about me. You know that's
true, Di. These rich young men will
give you all the dinners and parties you
like, just as long as you are cheerful
and amuse them. You're really kind of
a cabaret to them. If you were sick
or lost your looks or couldn't dress pref
tily enough there isn't one of them
would pay your doctors bill or buy you
a warm set of flannels instead of
bunch of orchids. Then when you're
all worn out and you've got a lot of
tastes that can't be satisfied, you can't
blame Andy, or his kind, much if he
doesn't want to marry you. A girl that's
been spoiled like that doesn't make an
awfully good wife for a boss plumber"
How do you know all this, Helen?"
| asked curiously.
The girls voice was surprised as she
answered.
"Of course. my mother told me a lot"
she said. But, anyhow isn't it just
common sense? Can't you see it's true
if you keep your eyes open? You think
II over hi, and you'll see / am right"
As / fell asleep, finally, I was pom
dering on Helen's words. What if they