The Topeka state journal., 1919-09-13
EVENING STORY
The Dear SomebOdY.
~ A. MARIA CRAWFORD

BY A. MARIA CRAWFORD.
Isabella Guilford looked up and
down the long rows of tables stretch
ing for one block on Market street.
Twenty-Five hundred returning SOL
diers, her-townsmen, were to eat there
that day. A profusion of early sum-
mer flowers. like a gorgeous rainbow
in the tropics, spanned the snowy
tables.
over a thousand fried chickens,
hundreds of delicately frosted cakes,
the pride of many a housewifeS sand
wiches, pies, everything dear to the
doughboy's heart, had been prepared
for the feast.
With an ardor born of loneliness,
Isabella wished that the eyes of one
khaki-clad man would brighten at
the sight of her, that dear somebody
would hasten to find her. unhappy If
she were not there. But she realized,
all too well. that the only soldiers she
knew would smile, grasp her hand in
differently and pass on to some girl
for whom they really cared.
Isabella was thirty, and for some
inexplicable reason she had never had
a lover. She had numbers of friends.
so many that not even the people with
whom she was intimate suspected the
embarrassing truth that none of the
men who called on her and took her
about wanted to marry her. Many
of her associates joked her on the
subject. inquiring in feigned sarcastic
fashion what she was waiting for,
prince or a millionaire. Isabella had
always laughed at such questions, but
the laughter was forced.
Ever since the news that twenty
five hundred local members of the
great 30th division, which had done
some of the hardest fighting, were to
parade in their home city on their way
to the rehabilitation camp, she had
asked to serve them. But the COM
mittee in charge had decided that the
very youngest and prettiest girls
should serve the men, while the older
ones. like Isabella, could stay in the
supply rooms to cut cakes and pies
and to prepare the plates as they were
needed.
She thought of the story of Mary
and Martha in the Bible, and reflect
ed, somewhat bitterly, that the role of
Martha would always fall to her.
From somewhere far off frenzied
shouts sounded. Torpedoes placed on
the tracks of the incoming trains ex-
plodsd like the firing of a salute.
There was the sound of martial music.
and then every whistle blew and every
bell in the city rang, adding to the
human din. II was like another ar
mlstice day. The boys. their own home
boys, had come back to their loved
ones at last.
Isabella's eyes grew a bit misty and
she dabbed at them uncertainty as she
hastened to help the dozens of other
workers prepare the feast. Many Of
the girls and young women. unable to
restrain Themselves, yelled something
excitedly and rushed off toward Gay
street, the line Of march. So Isabella
and the older women. most of them
married. generously piled the fried
chicken, the pickles and pies on the
paper mache plates.
I'm glad that you're not man crazy,
Isabella" said one old lady, gruffly in
dignant because Of her own share of
the work had been disorganizad by the
unexpected flight of her young helpers.
You are dependable, the kind OF
woman who makes a good wife. Now,
you can keep your head!" she ejacu-
lated crisply. She could keep her
heart as we'll as her head, thought Isa-
bella sadly, thinking Of her lack of
lovers.
Finally. the vanguard swung into
view at the far end of Market street.
The girls were marching with them,
waving flags, shrieking their own Joy.
At sight Of the tables, loaded with good
things, a lusty cheer broke from the
boys.
Isabella left the street and went into
the hot, smoky rooms which had been
fitted up as temporary kitchens. She
handed out plates, she cut cakes and
pies until her thumb was sore but
plies.
run outside, Isabella, and see If
anybody could have been overlooked" +"
said one matron.
Many of the soldiers called to her as