Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1920-03-13

abouts2"
"There aren't any eligible young
fellows hereabouts, Mr.. Bryce. And
I've lived In these woods all my life"
Are you lonely, MoiraT'
She nodded.
Poor Moral" he murmured alb
sently.
The thought that he so readily
understood touched her: a CLINT OF
tears was In her sad eyes. He saw
them and placed his arms fraternally
around her shoulders. Tut-tut,
Moira! Don't cry" he soothed her.
II understand perfectly, and Of
course we'll have TO do something
about IT. You're too fine for this"
With n sweep OF his hand he indicat-
ed the camp. "Sit down on the
steps, Mora. and we'll talk It over.
really called TO see your father, but
guess I don't want to see him
after all-if he's sick.
She looked at him bravely. II
didn't know you at first Mr.. Bryce.
fibbed, Father isn't sick He's
drunk
81 thought so when saw the
loading-crew taking il easy at the
log landing. I'm terribly sorry"
II loathe it--and can not leave
it," she burst out vehemently, I'm
chained to my degradation. l dream
dreams, and they'll never come true.
I--t-oh. Mr.. Bryce. Mr.. Bryce. I'm
so unhappy"
so am l." he retorted. I'VE all
get our dose of it. you know, and
Just at present I'm having an extra
helping. II seems. You're cursed with
too much Imagination. MORA. I'm
sorry about your father. For all his
sixty years. MORA, your COMPOUNDED
parent can still rnanhandle any man
on the payroll. and as fast as Dad
put in a new woods-boss old Mac
drove him off the job. He simply
declines to be fired, and Dads worn
out and too tired to bother about
his old woods-boss any more. He's
been waiting until I should get
back"
Il know" said MORA YEARLY. NO
body wants TO be Cardigan's woods
boss and have 10 fight my father to
hold his Job. realize what a NUS
ance he has become"
Er%Ce rhuukfri or course the
matter SINNERS down 10 this: Dad
is so fond OF your father that he
just hasn't got the moral cour-
age &c york him overland now that
job is up to me. Mora. I'm not GO
ing to beat about the bush with YOU
They tell me YOUR father is a hope
less inebriate."
Tn afraid he Is, Mr.. Bryce"
How long has he been drinking TO
excess"
About ten years, l think. OF
course, he would always take a few
drinks with the men around payday.
but after mother died. he began TAX
ing his drinks between pay-days.
Then he took TO going down TO Sc
quota on Saturday nights and COM
ing back on the mad train. the mad
dest OF the lot. I suppose he was
lonely. too. He didn't get real bad,
however, till about two years ago.
We'll. we have to get logs to the
mill, and we CAM get them with ole
John Barleyc0rn for q woods-ooss'
MORA. So were going TO change
woods bosses. and the new woods
boss will not be driven Off the Jon,
because I'm going 10 stay up here a
couple Of weeks and break him in
myself. But how do you manage TO
get money to clothe yourself? Sin
clair tells me Mac needs every cent
Of his two hundred and fifty dollars
month to enjoy himself"
81 used to steal from him. the girl
admitted. Then I grew ashamed OF
that, and for the past six months I've
been earning my own living MT.
Sinclair was very kind. He gave me
a lob waiting on table in the camp
dining room. You see I had to nave
something here I couldn't leave my
father. He had to have somebody to
rake care Of him. Don't you see. Mr..
Bryce"
sinclair is a fuzzy old fool
Bryce declared with emphasis. Ihe
idea of our woods -boss's daughter
singing hash to lumberJacks. Poor
Moira!"
He took one OF her hands in his'
noting the callous spots on the plump
palm. and thick fnzer-joints that
limited so of toll, the nails that hae
never been manicured save by NORA
herself. DO YOU remember when
was a boy. MORA, how I used to come
I'D to the loggins-camps to hunt and
fish, I always lived with the McTa-
wishes then. And in September, when
the huckleberries we're ripe. we used
20 go out and pick them together
Poor MORA, Why, we're old pals
and I'll be shot If Tn going to see
YOU suffer Listen. MORA. I'm going
TO fire your father. as I've said. be-
cause he's working for old ]. B. now
rot the Cardigan Redwood Lumber
company. I really ought to pension
him after his long years in the Car
digan service. but I'll be hanged II
we can afford pensions any more
particularly to keep a man in booze:
so the best our old woods-boss gets
from me Is this shanty, or another
like it when we move to new cult
ings, and a perpetual meal-ticket for
our camp dining room while the
Cardigans remain in business. I'd
| finance him for a trip to some state
institution where they sometimes re-
claim such wreckagS, If I didn't
think he's too old a dog to be taught
new tricks"
Perhaps" she suggested sadly
you had better talk the matter over
with him"
mo, I'd rather not. I'm fond of
your father, Mora. He was a man
when I saw him last-such @ man
as these woods will never see again
and I don't want to see him again
until he's cold sober. I'll write him a
letter AS for yo,I MORA yoll're fred