The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1921-03-17

| showed it's nose, It was her nature to
tackle blindly for its waist and 90
to the mat for the immediate present.
Consequently, let not her modesty
| be misjudged when it Is related that,
| in the short time 1t took to I'LL the
| bath, she accomplished the following:
Rooted out Mr.. Randolph's best silk
pajamas, found his softest bathrobe,
filed a hot-water bottle and slipped 1t
| far down between the too cold linen
| sheets of his big bed. Continuing at
| this rate Of achievement, it may be
imagined that in ten minutes more the
young lady, having bathed, was curled
ND and sound asleep. Not on your
| life!
Item: 1t took her twenty-one min
! utes BIZ che clock to scrub out the
memory of the scabby zinc bathtubs
of many years. Item: Twenty more
minutes to wash her hair. Item:
| Half an hour more to scrub her under
wear and stockings. Assorted items:
Various pauses during which she
shamelessly looked at herself in full
length mirror Of such pure rejecting
qualities as had not crossed her path
since England was a pup. After that,
a long, enhancing item, called dry
ing her hair
Did you blame her, three lines back,
in your heart for her frequent inspec-
tions of self in the mirror? If you
did, look at her now! Mr.. Randolph's
bathrobe is billowed at her waist and
tied tight to keep it from trailing on
the floor; for almost like reason,
it's sleeves are rolled up above her
elbows. It is open in V at the neck,
showing the adolescent curve Of
virginia. but much excited bosom.
With a woolly towel in both hands,
she plants herself before the staid Old
looking-glass and gives it such treat
as it has never before savored In It's
sixty-two years of service to the Ran
dolph family. Rub, rub, rub with the
towel. Her cheeks grow pink and
pinker, her eyes round and rounder.
They twinkle and smile, and once,
when she made a little face at her
self, they laughed out loud. Her hair
slowly wakes from its stringy damp
ness until it, too, bursts into sort OF
light and curly merriment. Pamela
puffs out her cheeks and blows at its
reflection.
When all the rubbing is, done, even
to the last rite where they divide the
fragrant food into two waves falling
over the bosom and mercilessly knead
the damp ends between folds Of the
dryest bit of the towel, she drops that
implement and runs into the big room
where the dying open fire blinks It's
red eve as though it had been waiting
up for her.
The writer-who is privileged, for
the benefit Of large and growing
public, to see her in his minds eye
as her pink bare feet pad up and down
the room, racing every time they come
to the home-stretch between the un-
peopled grandstand Of the couch and
the fire, and then doubling suddenly,
so that her wide eyes may catch her
hair still on the wing, for all the world
like a kitten chasing it's tail-does
herein affirm, by the collective man
hood of the earth, that she was alto
gether lovable and beyond the reach
Of sullying thought. Now let her
curl up in the bed and sleep.
Slumber meant nothing in Pamela's
life. That statement should be; taken
not in the sense Of the common slang
of the vulgar, but at its literal face
value. What is meant is that when
this young lady slept, it was like TAX
ing a chunk bodily out of life and
putting it in warm storage. AS con-
sequence when the old-fashioned clock
on the mantel buried warning that
it was thinking of striking the hour
of nine in about two minutes, she
opened her eyes and wondered through
what magic night had been suddenly
replaced by broad and smiling day.
Not for long did that lifelong and
accustomed miracle hold her attention,
for scarcely had it occurred, through
force of habit, to her awakening
thought than her startled eyes fell up
on the tall, stopped, gray-headed figure
of man, clad in livery, and standing
unstably poised in the doorway of the
room. His eyes, naturally deep-set,
actually protruded from his face as
though they were determined to come
halfway to meet Pamela's wondering