Judsonia weekly advance., 1921-08-04

The arrow pointed to a tall apar.- ment house.
 Sending. her love to me-" sobbed Emeline Taylor angrily us she tore the postal in two and tossed it into the coal bod by the drum stove.
 "Mittie, is tea readyY
 Mittie Weed came scuffiing her feet while her dark eyes, scanning the room, discovered the agitated face of her mistress, the unread letter clutched in her hand and the torn post card in the coal bod. In a trice Nit tie had moved a small mahogany stand beside the big chair placed the little tray, with its steaming pot of tea, it's plate of hot toast and dish of quince jelly, deftly spread a damask napkin over Mrs. Taylor's folded hands, un- covered the sugar bowl and cream jug, and, picking up the coal hod, van ished into the kitchen.
 Here, alone, she drew out the torn postal and studied it with pitying eyes. 'eThat girl ought to be here looking out for his ma If 1 had mother in-lore-" AIittie wagged her untidy head and pulled some letter paper from corner cupboard.
 Ten days later Mittie startled Mrs. Taylor by giving notice and leaving at once. You can easily get some one else, Miss Taylor said the girl, stub bornly, when her employer protested that she could not stay alone. 'l know girl who would come and live with you"
 "Who is she?' snapped the old lady.
 Mittie didn't hear. I'll send her around tonight, Miss Taylor" and the door closed behind her.
 "Ingratitude," muttered Emeline Taylor as she sat there alone, heip- lessly bound to her chair.
 At o'clock came d knock at the door,
 Come in," she quayered.
 A girl came in. She was not very tall nor so very pretty, but she had fresh, colorful face, with bright brown eyes and ruddy brown hair {; her pretty hands were capable look ing and her dress was neat and dainty.
 "Mttie Weed said you wanted some one to help you" she began. q am not afraid of hard work"
 Emeline Taylor smiled in a wintry way. You look as though you would be pleasant to have around-but, what is your name"
 q am John Dixon's daughter" said the girl slowly. My father calls me Johnny"
 ''John Dixon's daughterY Mrs. Taylor regarded her curiously, dream ily With the name came echoes of a girlhood romance, the smell of day lilies drenched with dew, the sound of a whip-poor-will, a mans deep sigh that was all. "John DiXon's daughter she had always heard of Dixon as a very prosperous farmer-why did his daughter go out to work?
 ''Would you care to have me stay?' asked the girl
 "Yes-I am all alone" admitted the older woman bitterly.
 A week later Mrs. Taylor was feel ing beuter-So much better she could forgive hODlH < llurfldSe-SO Sne lOOh out all his unread letters and perused them. When she finished the last one, she looked closely at the tiny photo graph it contained. Then her eyes lifted to the serene face of John Dixons daughter, who was sewing in the sunny window.
 "Doreen!" '" she said softly
 The girl looked Up guiltily. "Oh- you know!" she breathed. 'I had to come after Mittie wrote to me and said you were i'll and alone-we did not know-and I have taken your only son away from you, and I hoped you would learn to love me"
 Mrs. Taylor's arms were around the slender young form. q need you, my daughter" she whispered, "and I need Robin-and poor MEtie in the kitchen. I need you all !"
 In some unaccountable manner Miss Mamie Smith took the entire credit for the reconciliation.