The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1918-04-11
The Kings
Castles
Gs<D
BY JAMES NEWTON

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(Copyright 1918, by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate)
In college Yates Barlow had gone in
for economics and sociology. When
he was graduated and started in law
studies, though he did not dub himself
socialist, still he persuaded himself
that in the management of the rather
comfortable estate left him by his
grandmother he would fall into none
of those errors of selfishness that too
frequently - as he was convinced -
characterize the dealings of men OF
capital with those who labor for them
And although he decided to leave the
management of the large uptown
apartment house, pretentiously dubbed
"King's Castles" that constituted one
of his most remunerative investments
in the hands of his fathers office force
until he had finished his law course,
he made it perfectly clear that he
sought no profits from that undertake
ing that might be made at the ex-
pense of fair play to the folk who
worked under the spacious roof of the
apartment house.
Maybe there isn't any eight-hour
law for women In this state" he said
to his father. "Maybe there isn't
we haven't come to it In law lecture
yet. But eight hours is all any woman
ought to be asked to work. and tell
you right here that I'm not going to
have any woman work longer than
the one who works for me-"
The genial elder man looked up
with smile, the serenity Of which
rather annoyed Yates. "She is nice
little girl" he said, with an emphasis
on the verb that seemed to betoken
that Yates knew to whom the pronoun
referred.
81 guess at your age I'd have had
the same ideas about working hours
for women, especially If the only wom-
an employed happened to be eighteen
and as fresh as a snow apple. She Is
a nice girl, isn't She"
eff you mean Miss Sarter-yes. She
seems to be lot better than you
usually get to tend an apartment house
telephone switchboard. That's got
nothing to do with the fairness of
making her work nine hours day or
keeping her at the switchboard on hol-
idays."
"But, man alive, she wants to do it."
explained the father.
mo girl of spirit likes to show her
unwillingness to do what she's got to
do" pronounced the son with the air
of one who felt that he possessed keen
insight into feminine psychology.
'Well you've got lot more sense
than some boys your age" was the
fathers only retort. eff you take a
fancy to pure-hearted country girl
like Abby Starter instead of some
empty-pated, over dressed society girl,
you're all right"
Yates had taken fancy to Abby,
but for some reason he did not like to
have the fact taken for granted He
could not explain to himself just why
his fathers remarks that morning
proved SO irritating.
AS time went on Yates developed a
keen interest in the management of
his apartment house. He loved to
think Of the time when--hiS law course
ended-he would take over the entire
management of the place himself and
not actually needing to net the largest
possible income from it, strive TO run
the house along ideal lines. He even
thought of putting the girl at the
switchboard on a six-hour schedule,
but somehow he never thought of
Abby Sarter's continuing to sit at the
switchboard when he put his plans in
working order.
Meantime Abby Sarter sat at the
switchboard in the corner of the spac-
ious, many-mirrored, much-begilt en-
trance of Yates uptown apartment
house, for nine hours day, and never
thought of having holiday other than
Sunday. Sometimes she came in for
a few hours even on that day Of rest.
To Yates that entrance hall was not
entirely satisfactory. He could see the
cheap plaster behind the thin veneer
of marble on the walls. The cOlorS of
the heavy plush rugs that lay on the
tile floors looked cruder to him every
time he saw them. The lights that
blazed forth from the chandeliers and
were reflected again and again in the
long mirrors were glarish and smote
his eyes extensively. Yet he knew that
it was that spacious, garish hall that
attracted tenants and made them
willing to pay good rents for small
apartments and he realized that he
would be benefting no one but him
self if he toned down the garishness to
suit his own taste. He had no way of
knowing at first how resplendent it
looked to Abby-Abby, who basked in
the efulgence of dozen bright lights
now, and in the days on the farm had
known only the glow of a single oil
lamp as she sat in the farmhouse sit