The Rice belt journal. (Welsh, Calcasieu Parish, La.) 1900-19??, 1920-01-31
APPLES WERE
RIPE
By DOROTHY DOUGLAS

Evelyn roamed aimlessly, but with
exceeding enjoyment, through the
lovely Long Island road. She hoped
her destination would be the Nassau
station and thence by train back to
the city, but Eyelyn's country jaunts
did not always lead her in the direc-
ton she fancied she was going.
On this particular Saturday after
noon In late September she was any
where but near the Nassau station.
Evelyn was not, however, aware Of
this fact nor Of anything save the
extreme freshness OF the air and the
JOY of being away from the small Of
flee on Broadway, where she read
numerous stories by authors and au-
thors in the making. Each Saturday,
as 1t rolled along in the summer time,
found her far from Broadway and
sometimes too far in the heart of the
country for her own safety. On more
than one occasion she had been forced
by the shades Of night to beg a nights
lodging in the nearest farmhouse.
Evelyn always reserved the time be-
tween Saturday afternoon and Mon
day morning for herself. During the
week she was, as an editor, at the
beck and call of anyone who CHANGED
into the office, and so every weekend
she gave to her own company and
took her tramps alone. 1t was thus
that she managed to slip into her Of
flee chair Monday mornings with a
clear vision and eyes unwearied and
cheeks fresh with color of new life.
You great big beautiful sum-" she
whimsically remarked to the crimson
ball that was slowly climbing down
behind the trees; you seem to have
Just dashed across the sky today, and
yet l suppose you have really taken
your leisure" Evelyn heaved a sigh,
for this was Sunday evening and the
next morning would have to see her
at her desk heaped high with manu-
scripts.
She was swinging past an orchard
in which the apples were red and ripe
and casting their fruity fragrance in
70 her hungry senses. Evelyn couldn't
remember having wanted anything
In the way Of food as much as she
wanted some Of those rosy apples.
Desire hanessed to physical ability
tempted her to leap over the fence
and pilfer her choice from the orchard
Just as any small, hungry boy would
do, but conscience babe her proceed
farther and perhaps secure her apples
honestly from a farm hand.
Evelyn was rewarded for her hon,
orable intentions by seeing a sign a
DIT farther on which stated that ap-
pies were for sale, and she pranced
joyfully through a dilapidated path
way overhung with grape vines to a
ShOckingly unkempt but curiousIy
charming cottage.
She knocked In vain on the paint
less door and finally with an unlady-
like vehemence However, there was
no response, and Evelyn's desire for
apples only increased with the diff
Guilty of procuring some.
Discouraged, she started away, but
as she passed the odorous orchard,
she decided to help herself and leave
payment for what she took.
She selected six beauties, pondered
moment as to their selling price and
took 50-cent piece from her purse,
rummaged among notes, powder puffs
and numerous feminine appurtenances
until she discovered an Grant hand
kerchief. Into this she put her money
and with short bit of string secured
1t to the branch or an apple tree
one that would catch the eye of the
farmer when he should return to his
ramshackle cottage.
MuncAing c0ntentedly at an apple,
Evelyn continued her way along the
road, and in the course of time ar
rived back in the city and at her small
apartment, the rent of which had been
raised to schOcking height only the
day before.
1t was during the month of Novem-
ber-Evelyn remembered we'll the day
that she received a splendid story
from one of the newer writer's.
HE may have been struggling for
years and years." thought Evelyn,
"but his name Is only creeping about
magazine circles now"
She had not forgotten the incident
of the apples, because her brain sell
dom erased any Of her wonderful
etchings of country rambles. They
we're all very precious to her and this
story coming from the pen of vivid
writer gave Evelyn fierce hunger
for the days Of a summer past
She knew, of course, that the in
cident of the story was just one Of the
dainty accessories to good story
that finding Of fifty cents in hand
kerchief tied to the branch Of a tree,
So unusual was the coincidence Of
that idle moment Of her own having
drifted into this strangers story and
that very story having come into her
own editorial hands that Evelyn was
pIanoc Without Pilnfc