The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1924-03-14
Joseph Greer and His Daughter

she made 1t clear enough who this
was. George Burns was an aviator
in the war-practically."
When Jennie, with laugh. inquired
how he could be practically" an avia-
tor and not really one, she explained,
with certain degree of feeling. ''They
never gave the enlisted men dogs
chance to get pilots licenses. George
was a mechanic, but he was going up
all the time, of course, and some of
his officers were decent enough to let
him drive. Ashamed not to, / guess,
because he was better at it than most
OF them. He could do all the stunts.
Isn't 1t rotten that he never could
have chance? When you think of
some of the chumps that go strutting
around with pair of wings"
Jennie didn't believe, she said, that
many of the men with wings on their
sleeves were chumps, but she agreed,
without reservation, that It was rotten
about George.
'Oh, he should worry Trix ex-
claimed. Hes flying now, all right.
Got good job in the air mail service"
Jennie remembered her treaty, and
suppressed the question that was on
her tongue, but this restraint cost her
some painful uncertainties. She was
rewarded by measure of reinsurance
that night before she went to bed.
Shed retired to her room, got into
dressing-gow and slippers, and was
belatedly reading the financial news
in the evening paper, when the girl
came in. in her nightgown, her hair
loose about her shoulders, thrust aside
the paper, and sat down on the arm
Of Jennie's chair.
You're peach, Jennie" she said.
And I'm pig. 1t was in the paper
about George being one of the mail
pilots. thought I'd show 1t to you
when l read it, and then thought 1
wouldn't" She gave little laugh.
and asked, You didn't think I'd been
going out with him on the sly, didyou?''
II supposed he'd written to you,"
Jennie admitted. 81 never thought of
its being in the paper"
The girl sat thoughtfully awhile,
stroking Jennie's forearm, an absent
minded, impersonal caress, much like
having kitten rub itself against your
legs. Presently, though, the quality
OF 1t changed. She took the older
woman by the shoulders in a grip and
looked intently into her eyes.
You're the only person in the world
who's like that" she declared ANY
body else, the minute said that about
him, would have thought of something
horrid. And believed it, too, as quick
as they thought of it. Dad, quicker
than anybody. And, oh, the hi he'd
have raised about iti''
There's reason for that, you don't
want to forget" Jennie reminded her.
"He-adores you. You're the only
thing in the world he really cares
about"
Again there came a change In the
look of the girls face in the quality
of her smile, in the feel of her hands.
She slipped from the chair-arm down
into Jennie's lap, curled herself there,
and went soft and heavy. Don't you
love me a little bit yourself?" she
asked.
"Oh-say half of that" Jennie re-
piled contentedly. But at the end of
five minutes silence she reused her
self bruskly and pushed the girl
away. Its pretty near one o'clock,
and by half past eight tomorrow morn
ing I've got to be somewhere where
they expect me to be worth my salt.
Run along and let me get some sleep r.
"I'll drive you down." Trix said
through yawn as she made her re-
luctant way toward the door.
"Not tomorrow" Jennie answered
decisiveiy. 'I've got to do lot of
running around during the day, and
I'll want my own car"
Trix shot back a quick look at her,
family suspicious and openly resent
full, look which Jennie rewarded with
laugh. "Oh. just as you like" the
girl said, with a shrug; good night"
But this was clearly the end of the
sentimental phase of the relation. Trix
didn't offer to resume her duties as
chauffeur nor as ministrant at the
breakfast-table. After a day or two
she did begin appearing at breakfast
before Jennie left, but very brisk and
businesslike and visibly occupied with
her own affairs. 1t didn't seem to Jen-
ME, either, that the girl was trying to
tease her into asking what she was
up to-.
What seemed a little more like a de
liberate stimulus to her curiosity was
letter Trix wrote, the evening of the
first of these days, on Jennie's ma.
chine, during the writing of which she
asked Jennie how you spelled Pasa-
dena. you'd think I'd know how
to spell 1t after all these years." she
remarked with laugh. "Tve had to
write 1t before, of course, but not
when 1t mattered whether spelled 1t
right or not"
The knowledge that she was writing
letter to Pasadena Of some special
sort which had to be correctly spelled
would certainly have startled Joe, and
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