Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1918-01-03
Gregory
Fuller, Model
By Osborn Jone.
By Osborn Jone.

| E<NNNNN~NNNNNN
| Copyright, 1917, by The Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate)
There were twelve high-backed rock
ing chairs on the boarding house ver-
anda, and in each of those chairs sat
woman, varying in age and figure all
the way from the six-year lassie, who
sat bolt upright, with her chubby bare
legs crossed tailor fashion under her,
as she laboriously piled the stitches Of
a wash cloth with her rosy fingers,
down, or rather up, to Mrs. Van der
Hayden, who looked as we who have
never seen a duchess at close range
imagine duchesses of three-score and
more all do look-portly and naughty
/ and serene. She was knitting an avi-
ator's helmet. All in all, there were
ktwenty-four needles clicking, and, save
when some one stopped to count stitch
es, there were half as many tongues
gently wagging.
No wonder, then, that the two UNI
attached males whom unkind fate had
condemned to abide in the one board
Ing house in town preferred to smoke
their pipes and read their papers on
the wooden settle down by the gate
Of the old house. Except for the fact
that they were doomed to share the
same bench in this ostracism, there
was little in common between Gregory
Fuller and the other young man, who
sought to entertain and impress Greg
Il Oryy <Sytth hi S01 ~
home town.
Still, when the young man went for
a weekend to that home town, pre-
sumably to score few more triumphs,
Gregory felt doubly oppressed in his
ostracism; and without knowing Just
how things stood between Gregory and
Margery Drake-the little twenty-year-
old school teacher that sat up there in
the third chair from Mrs. Van der Hay
den and knitted sleeveless sweaters
you might have wondered why he did
not seek some other place to spend his
Saturday afternoon than down there
on the hard wooden bench by the fence,
with only magazine and pipe to
console him. Down there at least he
was unobserved, or thought he was,
and he could be sure that Margery was
safe. He had little reason to feel
jealousy, for, except for his erstwhile
companion who had gone home for the
weekend, Gregory was about the only
eligible male in the community.
'Do you know, think there must
be something wrong with these direc-
TONS" 1t was the shrill treble of Mrs.
Jones-the angular blonde lady with
the bediamonded fingers who sat next
to Margery. 81 have followed them
faithfully-bound off thirty-two stitch
es for the head, knitted five ribs, and
then set on thirty-two stitches again,
and will you look at the size of the
/ neck 2"
/ Margery beside her compared her
own nearly completed sweater with
her neighbor's. "A1ine is Just the same
size. took 1t for granted that the
rules We're right"
"But 1 can't get it over my head at
ALL" exclaimed Mrs. Smith as she
seized Margery's sweater and tried to
pull it over her blonde pompadour.
"Of course you can't" reproved the
duchess, pausing as she counted stitch
twenty-three, twenty-four, TWEEN
ty-fve-with your hair done over rat
Of course your head is larger than a
man's.'
You don't suppose do such a
thing" gasped Mrs. Smith. Though 1
will admit that my hair is very thick
md that may take up more room. But
even if my hair is full. don't you think
mans ears are big and would take
the extra room in slipping 1T on? l al
ways think mems ears are very big
II have noticed that Mr.. Smiths
are" suggested the duchess, still count
Ing.
"If we could only try the sweater
on real man." sighed Mrs. Smith
ITS too bad my husband is travel
ing man. He's the only husband in the
house and he is away"
J "But there are other men," suggested
Mrs. Van der Hayden.
"Not Mr.. Fuller" gasped Margery.
"Please don't let's ask him." She had
seen at least eight pairs of eyes cast
in the direction of the little wooden
bench and it's solitary occupant. 1t
was too late and useless to protest
for the portly Mrs. Van der Hayden
had risen and reckoning with her large
angular hand, she called: young
man, Mr.. Fuller, will you step this
way" and then, feeling that her word
was law, she sank down into her chair
ngain; ''seventy-eight, seventy-nine,
eighty" she counted on.
Gregory rose and came up the steps
to the porch and, as the twenty-four
needles ceased to click and half as
many pairs of feminine eyes were lev
eled upon him. he felt the color rise in
his cheeks and under his collar.
"You are an average-sized young
man, aren't you?" queried the duchess
as Il she were asking new gardener
whether he could cut the grass