The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1920-06-11

days when long-haired geeks can write
odes to the cow-path-the kind of a
day person should be at leisure to
sit and listen to the birds sing, and let
the mind wander to a higher plane
than that of persuading an aged rag
carpet to do duty another year and
still hide its discrepancies under the
bed and behind the door.
At least this is what Mrs. McJimsey
thought as, with hammer in hand,
her mouth bristling with carpet lacks,
she drove home the last tack Stand
ing erect, she viewed the much worn
floor covering, with it's faded confetti
pattern, with a dubious shake of the
head. 1t certainly looked fierces But
it had to do. She turned and de
posted tacks and hammer on the
window sill. And then it was that
the wonderful spring sun streamed in
at the open sash and waved her faded
locks, while a breeze full of promise
famed her hot face and filled hef
nostrils..
Mrs McJimsey heaved huge sigh.
Despite her two-score years and
beef trust proportions, there still lay
dormant in her generous bulk a spark
of romance which the spring frag-
rance famed into life and caused her
spirit to soar to heights as sentimeu-
tai as an ingenue in a ten-twent' thirt'
melodrama
Her favorite literature was partly
to blame for this. For years she had
gathered up the discarded literature
of all the chorus girls who frequented
her theatrical boarding house, yellow
backed and ardent, and these she
pored through and enjoyed as much
as in the days when she weighed but
a hundred and ten, and was third
from the end of the front row.
But the sigh which racked her
bosom now was not altogether a liter.
airy production.
Mrs McJimsey had past. A past
which made the yellowest dime eff
fusion in her assemblage of highly
colored fiction read like the sequel
to the Book of Job-a past that
Dame Natures green scenery and or.
chestra, with it's million tiny pipes
and fiddles, were now dragging forth
and acting over again in Mrs. McJim
sey's mental theatre.
But the performance was rudely in
terrupted. The door opening squeak
lily, deposited Mrs. McJimsey solidly
back on terra firma. Turning on the
intruder, she beheld the unromantic
figure of the paperhanger.
81 wanta fit little pice of CLOTH"
said the necessary spring evil;
there's hole in the plaster. in
t'other ROOM"
"Uh-huh-I know" replied Mrs.
McJimsey. 81 knocked that in there
when l was takin' the bed down. But
hain't this a swell day, thought"
The decorator scratched his head.
ooh, I don't know" he objected.
Its too warm for this time of the
year. Fine day to ketch a nice cold
though, and then suffer with it durin'
the nasty weather that's bound to
come"
But this pessimism was lost on Mrs.
McJimsey.
at was just such a day. Funny
how spring weather II always make
you think of your first husband"
81 Dunno" said the taciturn paste
dauber. 81 never had one!"
But Mrs. McJimsey's gaze was d.
rected out of the window, and her re-
ceiving coils were tuned to receive
more musical wave lengths than those
of the voice ola mere mortal.
Freddy his name was" she con-
tinued FREDDY Bell Hawkins. l
don't know what the bell was for, but
l guess his mother could see from the
first that he was goin' to need one.
He was one of those handsome, tenn
permental little fellers-one of the
kind that fond mammas raise up and
infiict on the world, and then inno-
Gently forget to pray the Lord to send
along a doting slmp of woman to
wait on their offspring the balance of
their days"
The paperhanger was working by
the day, so he sat down fiat on the
floor, his back pillowed comfortably
against the doorjamb. He had come
in search of a piece of cloth, but he
had no objections to waiting until
it was masticated.
81 was just fool girl them re-
sumed Mrs. McJimsey, sinking down
on rolled-up mattress. Didn't
weigh more'n a hundred pounds. You
wouldn't think to look at me that i
was ever the top-mounter with a
circus act-now would you? But |
was. l was the youngest member
of the La Reur' family-a family
troupe composed of a dago and his
wife, Teller named Cohn and me.
81 had broke into the show bust
ness when I'd ought to have been at
home learnin' to concoct an Irish