Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1919-10-19

with ingerin' hand squeeze. Ch-hun.
It's Dixie Patten and young Ames. AZ
she pushes past me and makes fo}
auntie with her ears all pinked up Bed<
ford grabs me by the arms and whispers
something husky. M
you're what?" says ]. not quite
catchin' him.
"Im in and out Of luck at the same
time" says he. And need your help
Shorty" 3
Want somebody to hold the other
- hand" / asks.
He laughs easy. Hardly" says he.
"You must have had glimpse of some-
thing" i,
Just flicker over my shoulders
says l. But judged you'd been findin'
the party a pleasant one" 49,
"Glorous." says he. "And I've also
found out who is the finest little girl III
the world
YES" says I, I'VE put up that porch
swing special for making discoveries
like that It's been quite a success,
understand, for the past four seasons"
But this is the real thing, Shorty
says he. Dixie and well, she's some
girl
mo debate" says T. Comes from q
fine old southern family, too, as Aunt
Alicia will tell you if she gets chance.''
That's the difficult part Of this busi-
ness-Aunt Alicia" says Bedford, sol.
emn.
What grand little guesser you
are!" says 1.
"Oh, she's made it plain enough" says
he. GIVE been in range of those black
eyes Of hers more than once. But
haven't been worrying about her until
I found out how 1 stood with Dixie.
And now that I know-well, there's
something that auntie must be asked to
tell Dixie about-about me-"
"How simple" says 1. II should say
that would be the easiest thing auntie
did. Persuadin her will be moro or
less OF a cinch. All you got to do Is to
ramble over to Aunt Alicia, spin It to
her confidential. and"
But that's the point. Shorty" he
breaks in. Tits something couldn't
possibly tell to any ones aunt"
'Eh?" says l. bad as that? All,
come! You don't strike me as young
chap with a past that needs formalde-
hyde on it,"
Thanks. Shorty" says he. ut isn't
exactly my past; that is, my own par
ticular and personal past. Still"
BY that time we'd edged out toward
the veranda rail and I'd hoisted myself
up on 1t with my back comfortable
against a post.
GO on. Bedford" says l. shoot"
ITO take flying start" says he, my
respected grandfather was rather q
queer old scout"
MANY Of 'em was" says I. What
was his line? Collectin' horses from the
neighbors or sportin' too many wives at
once?"
Nothing like that" says Bedford.
He was Deacon Ames. and he carried
his religion around with him seven. days
a week. During the civil war he got
to be a colonel or something Of the sort.
Afterwards he started the chair fac
tory
"Oh. WELL" says /, somebody had to
make chairs. l expect He might have
done worse
Bedford waves this aside. His full
name" he goes on. was Ammi Ruha-
nah Ames."
"That was something to stagger along
under" says l. Ibid they call him after
it trottin' horse?"
Here is where we really did dip into
the past" says Bedford. MY grandfath-
err Ames wasn't the only Ammi Ruhamah
in the family. He was the third, I be-
liove. and there have been two moro
since"
Kind of run to that monicker, do
you?" says I.
Worse than that" says Bedford. ut
was merely a habit at first. a tradition.
] hope | shant bore you, Shorty, II I
tell you how it started. 1t seems that
the early Ameses settled in Topsfield,
Mass. after they quit the Plymouth
bunch. That's not far from Salem. You
know; and Salem is where they had
that pleasant little custom of burning
witches. You've read all about that, OF
course
We'll I'm little vague on the sub
ject." | admits. but expect I've heard
i: skctched out. Boom along"
"Rummy old dodgers, those Puritans,
CHI" says Bedford. The witch burn
ing fad spread to other places. Tops
field got it. Didn't mean to be out of
style, suppose. And. as near as I can
figure, the way ii worked out was some-
thing like this: If you got sore on q
BOD