The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1921-11-24
4 Real
thanksgiving
byhreda1lck Hart
y A2EAA
sa0MSsaz

SAID MIS-. daluen pelllSnly. VI
course I'm glad he's coming home for
Thanksgiving, and all that, but he
might have given me longer notice.
But that's just like BOb-always drop
ping in like tornado, with no more
than a telegram the day before he
cOmes-and how I'm to get his room
ready, simply don't see! have the
dinner to attend to, and goodness
knows it's hard to get things these days
without making preparations for an
other guest. If he'd only written
All he had to do was to sit down
week ago and write"
Snow, mother, don't get all wor-
ried,' pretty Barbara Halden slipped
an arm around her mothers ample
waist. 81 know you've thousand
things to do, and Bob's coming makes
1t harder-but you just go ahead and
manage the dinner. I'll fix his room
and everything"
"Bless your heart, dear, run along
and get it ready. I'm always gald to
see Bob" Her speech was cut short
by the abrupt exit of her daughter,
who danced off up the stairs, followed
by her mothers call. BE sure and
put out the smoking table! You
know how Bob likes his pipeI"
"All right, mother dear-I will !"
And Barbara sped to the little room
under the caves that had been sacred
to Bob Holiday since the time, two
years ago, when he had first come
to their town to practice law and had
taken up his residence under Mrs.
Halden's hospitable roof which he
declared almost offered comforts
enough to make him forget that he
ever had had any other home.
Since that summer, when he had
her home from the clutches of grasp
ing syndicate of real estate sharks,
he had been like son to the good
woman. She had let him do very
much as he pleased around the house,
and had even limited at his paying no
board, but Bob had insisted on giving
her what he termed a ridiculously in
adequate sum each month.
When success brought him fame and
fortune he had refused to take up 9TH
er lodgings, claiming that he enjoyed
the home cooking and the home asso-
Citations Of the little brown house near
the edge of the town more than he
could ever like the garish splendOrs
of q hotel or the loneliness of bach
elor apartments.
For the past two months he had
been travelling in the West on a big
railroad case. His sudden wire, re-
ceived the day before Thanksgiving,
had been the first apprisal of his re-
turn that Mrs. Halden had had.
Now as she busily arranged her
kitchen in preparation for the manu-
featuring of dinner that should sur
pass all her former efforts in that
line, she blessed the chance that
brought "her boy" as she called Bob.
home at the holiday season, while she
outwardly feigned great irritation at
his unceremonious announcement Of
his return.
Meanwhile, up in BOb's room, Bar
bara was busily putting things
straight, spreading clean linen on the
bed, arranging the cover on the dress
er, seeing that the smoking table was
supplied with matches and trays for
Bob's ever-present pipe, and generally
making things fresh and sweet for the
reception of her hero. For Barbara,
Bob was good deaf of hero. though
she would hardly have confessed il,
even to herself
She attacked the dresser last of all,
intending to take out of the drawers
any odds and ends that might be in
them and leave space for shirts, col
lars and other articles of masculine
apparel.
The big lower drawers were empty,
and beyond quick glance in search
Of truant dust she did nothing to
them: but one of the small top draw
.rs stuck obstinately in the manner
If some drawers. She gave a hard
.ug; the wood remained obdurate; she
set her teeth and pulled violently.
The next moment she was sitting on
he floor with the recalcitrant drawer
upside down in her lap and lot OF
papers scattered about.
With little laugh and shrug at
her awkwardness she rose and stopped
20 gather up the papers. As she
picked up one scrap, larger than the
others. she happened to glance at it,
and something that was written Oh the
.op gripped her attention. With the
blood dyeing her cheeks, she read:
ITO Barbara"
Below were some lines of poetry.
She read them through. They were
not so good, as poems go; in fact
there were spots where the meter halt
ed and staggered, and the rhymes
were not above criticism; but. to the
heart Of the girl who read them, they
were more beautiful than any words
Of the greatest singers of all time.
For there In written words was ex-
pressed the love Of a man for maid
the love Of Bob, her hero, for her
FOR herself, Barbara HaldenI