Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1923-04-06

But no one as yet has been able TO get
Any veal for his prodigal daughter.
From 1.-THE Rhymed Reflections OF Ell
der Twiggs."
FEW years ago the Beasly girl
~ worked in the overall factory,
She vas a pretty girl then, and
naturally the neighbOrs talked 0
her, for the people who live along
Jersey Creek are really no better than
they who live on Independence ave
nue., in spite of the theories that pow
erty and charity go together. SO when
she left the factory the women of the
Jersey Greek neighborhoOd hinted
that the foreman had been too polite
to her. But if she had remained at
the factory they would have given the
same reason for her staying. After
that, she went to the theater with
young men who turned up their coat
collars and wore their hands in Their
pockets in the fall and spring, in lieu
of ~overcoats. During the summer fol
lowing her discharge from the over
all factory she became a park fend.
When she gave up her counter in
the cheap dry-goods store, she re
manned at home. apparently keeping
house for her father. He worked in
"the shops" somewhere over in ''the
bottoms" and came home tired and
grimy at night, and went to bed early.
He slept in the room off the kitchen,
and his daughter slept in the front
5 room. He did not know when she
came in at night, and he did not think
of caring to know. Her father paid
no attention to the little brother and
sister who leased the daughter at
table about the young men who fire
quented the house. If the other mem
bers of the family had been plaguing
the ten-year-old girl who led in the
raillery. the father would have been
equally needless of their chatter. The
eldest daughter made him very happy
by simple tenderness, though, of
course, he did not understand that
his warmth for her and the longing
which he felt al! day to get home for
supper, was happiness.
But, unconsciously, his daughter
grew very necessary to him. He was
not of the world that analyses its emo
tons, yet he could not fail to see her
beauty, nor to be proud of her for it
and when she was dressed to go out
and she went out early and often
his pride blinded him to the %gaudiness
of her clothes, her frowzy hair, and
the shocking makeup on her pretty
face. Probably his discernment was
not keen enough to see these faults,
even had he not been so fond of her.
But other fathers who had daughters
saw these things, and mothers of the
neighborhOod who had o did not
mention the Beasly girl in the family
circle. 1t was only after Miss Beasly
had Joined a comedy company. or
ganized to play the "White Slave" and
"Only a Farmers Daughter" through
the West, that her name was men
toned at all freely by Jersey Creeks
aristocracy, and then it was as if
she were dead. And Mrs. Hinkley,
who took care of the children and
looked after the lonely old man, often
said to inquiring women of the
n%eighborhood, SIT would break your
heart to see Mr.. Beasly a-grievin' an
a%-grievin' for that hussy; an whiniver
he gets a letter from her he reads it
at the supper table before them chill
dren wild that flourish you'd think
tch, tch, tch, I do wonder if he
knows And after some discussion
she would sigh, "Well, it's not for me
to tell him."
What a wonderful thing is absence.
1t is like the dark in it's power to
transform people and situations and
the relations of things. Though she
had grown up under his eyes, the old
man and his daughter had scarcely
spoken a serious word to each other.
The father had never inquired what
his daughter was or was not. She
was only her in his thought. They
were strangers, but when he began
to forget her presence, he found him
self continually thinking of things he
would like to say to her. Her" dis
appeared, and dreams altogether DIFF
ferent from his former conception of
her, took her place. He longed for
her, and yearned to tell her the great
love in his heart. Among the noisy
wheels, he mumbled to himself,
speeches that he wanted to make to
her, and in the scrawled letter he
sent her occasionally. he wrote some
of these tender things.
One day she wrote that she was
coming home for a vacation, and his
heart was very glad. He read and re-
read the letter, and droned it off at
the supper table to Mrs. Hinkley and
the children. AS he read it, neither
the hearers nor the reader realized
how much feeling the writer had put
into the matter-of-fact words, 81 want
TO be home with you all again"
These words were meant to tell a
story of heartache and loneliness and
despair, but they were commonplace
and fell short. For poor people are
as blunt in sensihiIity as the com