The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-01-14
Continued from Yesterday

1 Continued from Yesterday 1 When her chrysanthemums were 1 trim and secure once more, perhaps if this were one of the club evenings -she put on her long coat, and the hat with the velvet rose, and went up on little shopping expedition, a brown twine bag dangling from one of her ungloved arms. The bakery was always bright and odorous, and at this hour filled with customers. The perspiring Swedish proprietress and a blond-haired daughter or two would be handling the warm loaves, the flat, f1oury pies, and the brown cookies as fast as hands could move; the cash register behind the counter rang and
 rang, the air was hot, the windows obscured with steam. Men were among the customers, but the Weber girls had no time to ftrt now. They rustled the thin large sheets of paper, snapped the himsy pink string, lifted a designated pie out of the window, or weighed pound cake with serious swiftness.
 From the bakery Julia crossed an indeterminate street upon which shabby scattered houses backed or and entered a dark and disorderly grocery store, which smelled of beer and broon1s and soap and stale cakes. Tired women, wrapped in shawls, their money held tight in bony, bare hands, sat about on cracker boxes and cheese crates, awaiting their turn to be served. A lamp, with a reflector, gave the only light. The two clerks, red-faced young men in their shirt sleeves, leaned on the dark counter as they took orders, listening with inn patient good natured to whispered appeals for more credit, grinding cof- fee in an immense wheel, and thump- ing each loaf of bread as they brought it up from under the counter.
 Julia, out in the street again and enjoying, as she always did enjoy, the being h0nSahnf6Qr facing the tide of home-goers, would perhaps have an errand in the damp depth of the big milk depot, would get chops or sausages at some small shop, or stop a fruit cart, driving by in the dimness, for apples or oranges
 Then home to the brightly lighted
 little kitchen, the tireless little gas stove. Julia. cheerfully attempting to do ten things at once, would look up to see Miss Poland, comfortably wrappered and corsetIess, in the door
 Don't forget your window shades, Julie."
 T know, but wanted to get this oven started-if these sweets are to bake."
 Give me something to dol" And the older woman, seated. was pleased to cut bread and fill salt shakers at the request of her busy assistant. 'To- would yawn. 'Ts Miss Pierce com ing? Good, We'll, tell me if you need me, and I'll dress and come out'
 "Oh, we're not doing much to- night" Julia invariably assured her. Miss Toland never questioned the verdict that freed her for an evening of restful reading. Julia it was who lighted the hall and opened the street door, and welcomed the arriving club girls Sometimes these young women brought their sewing-invariabl fan cywork. Sometimes there was a con cert to rehearse, or they danced with each other, or stood singing about Julia at the piano while she banged away at the crude accompaniments of songs. Miss Pierce or Miss Watts older women, usually came in for a little while to see what was going on but again it was Julia alone who must bid the girls goodnight and lock and darken the hall.
 Once month there was a dance for the older girls, to which their
 friends" a word which meant to each girl her foremost male adnirer were asked, and at which cake and ice-cream were served. Julia always wore her uniform to these dances but she also danced, when asked. and never attempted to deny that she en- joyed herself But that there was an immense gulf already widening be- tween her and these other girls, one of whom she might have been, she soon began to perceive. They were noisy. ignorant. coarse young crea- ures. like children unable to see be-