The Bolivar County Democrat. (Rosedale, Miss.) 1887-1969, 1923-02-17

LITTLE THINGS
BY MYRTA ALICE LITTLE

tS' isz5' oy Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate)
Before the big upheaval Betty
Brown was contented as pink-eyed
rabbit in pink clover patch. She
helped her mother with the house
work and wrote stories and sold them
to the newspaper, which was printed
In the city, ten miles away. they
Betty's sweetheart, Tom Saunders,
was farmer. He lived in the big,
two and one-half-story brick house on
Big Hill. Wednesday and Saturday
evenings he always called on Betty,
and they usually went driving with
the red-wheeled buggy and the black
mare. and talked plans.
Toms plans were perhaps about the
new Holsteins, or the hay crop, the
yield of corn or the new potato bins.
Betty loved the smell of a farm, so
she always listened with brown eyes
wide open, lips parted and, maybe,
sturdy hand tucked into Toms and
one of her mOlasses cakes tucked into
his mouth. That is, she always lis
tened until the time of the big up
heaval.
1t was one evening the last week In
August. The heat Of the first part of
the month had cooled down into fall
like breezy time, with the chirp Of
crickets and the elderberries turning
blue-black along the meadows. Tom
had washed the wagon with especial
care that night after supper and had
put on a brand new shirt with blue
stripe in it that matched his eyes, and
a new pair of khaki trousers. Tom
had special plans for that night. But
80 had Betty.
Tom started leading up to his plans
first. The second crop was going to
turn out fine. Doubt if they could get
men enough to harvest 1t. Milk checks
a third more, now that they were dis
tributing for themselves, and-TOm
had been thinking-the brick house
was big enough for two families-why
couldn't he and Betty-not wait for
spring, but be married along in sep
tember some time, take the little trip
they'd planned.
Betty's mind being packed full Of
her own new, strange plans, she prob
ably heard just two words of Toms
eager, shy planning-"married" and
together" They gave her her cue.
She shook her curly head and plunged
swiftly into her own tale. She poked
closely-written letter into Toms
hands.
"It's an offer to write regular things
for the newspaper. I got it yester-
day." she said, before Tom had read
a dozen words. "I went to see them
this afternoon. Ny cousin, Nat, works
| there, you know, and he recommended
me. They're going to let me write
about big cities and touring cars and
There'll be errand work around the
office, I suppose, but-Tm almost on
the staff. Tom, and If l keep on I
may e-editor-some day-and-"
"And-our drives and plans?" STAN
mered Tom.
"But this is-big!" said Betty.
''The most wonderful chance"
"Our plans look pretty big to me.
girl" said Tom.
But, Tom, you ought to have some
ambition for me. They told me over
at the office I'm too smart a girl to
be buried alive In little country
town, and just cook and sweep"
Bought woodland joins our farm
today" said Tom, quietly. "Deeu
ready tomorrow. Made enough off
surplus to swing it. We can have a
house Of our own, you know, Betty,
any time you say. Have girl to help
you, If the work is too hard"
"It isn't the hardness of it. It's the
-smallness," said Betty Brown,
quickly. I'm not going to be buried
alive tell you. I'm glad I woke up
before 1t was too late"
SO Betty went to live in the city in
a tiny fourth floor room, tramped the
narrow city sidewalks, breathed the
sitting city smells, jostled crowds,
and wrote three-inch city tales. "Cov-
er police court-1O a. m" "Cover
girls club" they told her at the news
paper office.
Betty got busy, buster than she'd
ever been before-the hurried, city
kind of busy, and she got hotter
through the Indian summer, tircder,
crosser, so useless feeling that 1t hurt
clear down to the toes Of her fast
wearing-out shoes. She wanted
taste of homemade molasses cakes
and honest-to-g goodness vegetables so
much she could not even touch the
roast lamb that tasted like roast beef,
pork and veal. She wanted one drive
In the red-wheeled buggy, one sniff of
something besides dirt and smoke and
grease one feel Of air on the hilltops
that used to get into her stories. and
never did any more.
Toms weekly letter finished her,
and all 1t said was: working night
and day. Hand short on the second
crop"
Betty explained as well as she could
to the editor, packed her trunk, fairly
leaped on board the three o'clock
train, walked clear to Toms house
from the depot, and marched into the
barn. Tom was milking the new
Jersey.
Betty Brown shifted the blessed,
honest smells and swooped into Toms
arms II want to cook great; fat
cakes and great kettles of vegetables
/ want to clean great big houses" she
.l..xorod ssT xvopt lots Of fresh air |