Evening star., 1922-03-26

lot of strangers is bound to seem a
little odd, but SO many Of these peo-
| pie had queer faces. There were
pop-eyed old boys with long lip
| whiskers like walrus tusks:~, wide
! built old girls who bulged through
the porch rockers: a skinny one wear
! ing a plaid skirt that was a crime
! and hat that was misdemeanor,
! and kittenish acting dame who had
! a cluster of yellow curls over her
left car and who looked as though
she might have been village belle
back in the Mckinley period. Hardly
/ any of 'em seemed normal.
! What is this. Uncle Nels?' asked;
! "a convention of freaks?''
Il don't see any," says he. Just
people"
And sure enough. as I looked at
him. I could see that this was right
| where he belonged. For in those
baggy-kneed trousers and that heavy
coat with the sleeves reaching to his
knuckles and his weather-beaten
| face shining under the faded old cap
he fitted right in. i.
FOR the love of soup" says I. "are
you going to wear that rig in this
| weather? Barry. can't you steer him
out to store and get him into some
thing that's better suited to 80 in
the shade? And you don't look SO
summary yourself"
"Oh, very WELL" says Barry. But
you don't have to be so rough about
it. Triiby May
Sorry" says I. but this place is
getting on my nerves. Come on.
! Inez; let's take walk, too. Looking
at these funny-faced rubes is giving
me the wilIies."
| So you can see our first impression
Of the land of sunshine and flowers
| wasn't happy one. 1 wished we'd
gone somewhere else. Inez did, too.
AS usual. she was eloquent about it.
"Florida-huh!" says she
'I second the notion" says T. But
now we're here I suppose we might
as-weu make the best of it. I Won
i der If some one would tell us where
this park place is? Here's rather
motherly-looking old girl on this
bench. I'm going to ask her.
| Say, it was easy. Land sakes."
says she. "Ain't you found the park
| yet? Well. you poor things, you
just come with me. Course I know.
I been here three weeks and I've
been all over the place. I'm from
I-o-wy. Where you from? You don't
say, New York, eh? Well, no won
der you're kind of green! Amt all
| In
That's nice. I got my husband with
me. Buckitt''s my name. And Jim
that is, Mr.. Buckitt-he's enjoyin'
poor health this winter. Got a cold
last fall that settled on his chest, and
he couldn't seem to get rid Of it
rot until he got here. But, my land!
you ought to see how he's perked up
since. He's over to tn park now,
pitchin' horseshoes. It's only three
blocks off, two up and one over, and
it's the purtiest place you ever seen.
They got the best band there that
plays just the loveliest music every
day. Where you stoppin'? Oh! Well,
lots better hotels than that. Jim and
me. We got a dandy furnished room
right on the main street, over a gro
I CORY A>o, VIC uOu cdL tASi
that is, except breakfast and some
times supper, that cook over a little
oil stove we rented. Mostly we. take
our meals at the cafeterias. I'll show
'em to you as we go along"
| She did. And a dairy where you
could buy milk, and hot coffee and
| doughnut shop, and the movie thea
| ter. and the open-air post Office that
was built without doors or sides. We
hadn't been under Mrs. Buckitt's wing
half an hour before we felt as though
we'd lived next door to her all our
lives. So decided could leave Inez
with her while 1 went scouting for a.
better boarding place.
XI7ELL, that was two days ago. And
| YOU ought to see US now. On one
Of the side streets I found a small
family hotel that's the neatest, homi-
! est place you could wish for-palms
and flower beds out front; cool. shady
verandas; big, airy bedrooms, with
dainty cretonne hangings, and
cheerful dining room where they
serve real home-cooked food. There
are only about forty guests in the
house, and most of 'em look real hu-
man. Among the lot I've picked up
= girl from Madison. Wis. who IS
e.