Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-09-30


stewed apples. Horace liked
IL sweet sauce and she was afraid
his would not suit him. But
there was no more sugar in the house.
Worse than that, there was no money
with which to buy sugar Eliza
looked out of the kitchen window
with stern eyes at Horace standing
on the back stoop with his pipe in
his mouth. The pipe was empty. He
reached into his pocket for tobacco,
but found none.
,, when things get just as bad as
they can be they can't get worse,
that's one comfort" Eliza said, lift
ing her chin brayely. She took the
glass dish of sauce to the table and
placed it beside the blue plate which
held the hot cornbread. The meal
was now ready, SO he called.
Horace"
Her husband entered. He was a
slight man who used a crutch. Eliza
had reason to believe that Horace's
hip could be mended if there was
money for proper treatment. But he
could not work much with an inn
pacted fracture.
Eliza" sighed Horace, we're old
folks. We haven't got long to stay
Eat your dinner and you'll feel
better" said his wife.
Across the scantily furnished table
they looked at each other, this frail
man and his small, rk-eyed spouse
Of forty-odd years.
You're determined to make the
best of it?" he said.
"Of course, | am. When things get
just as bad as they can be they
she could get no further. Pretending
that a crumb had gone the wrong
way she coughed. Sometimes 1t was
terribly hard to face Horace with any
sort of helpful philosophy. When all
was said and done the fact remained
that they were old and destitute, that
the house was falling down over their
heads, that they hadn't a stick of
furniture that wasn't decrepit with
age. that there wasn't a chick nor
child they could call their own, that
they had put all the money they had
saved for their declining years in a
bad investment and lost it.
Horace" Eliza began again, 'if
you're going to sit there quarreling
with your victuals. you can just take
piece Of this cornpone over to Mrs.
Whitcomb. She'll appreciate it,
She quickly placed a golden-brown
square on q blue plate and handed ii
to Horace. With something like a
grin he reached for his crutch.
Now, then" Eliza whispered to
herself as he hobbled away, II can do
something" She covered her face
| with her hands.
1t seemed scarcely a moment be
| fore Horace was back, the unemptied
plate in his hand.
| Mrs. Whitcomb isn't there" he
said. "She must have taken the bus
somewhere this morning. There was
a girl there that wanted to see her
I found her sitting on the steps. She
looked all beat out"
why didn't you ask her over
| here?" demanded Eliza.
| She went to the door and looked
across at the other house. The woman
who sat upon Mrs. Whitcombs steps
had her head in her hands. ELIAS
own attitude of moment before. She
seemed too young TO he dressed ir
black. There was large bag beside
her.
Eliza went straight over there She
| was close before the girl glanced W
and saw her. The dark eyes held the
look Of mother, the blue ones under
| stood.
Until midafternoon the pale girl la,
on ELIAS cord bedStead while Eliza
made her drink camomile tea out of &
blue cup. Rachel Mayhews young
husband had died a few weeks before
and she was selling egg-beaters from
door to door to get him a monument
She had walked all the way from thu
next town. Her sales-well, they
hadn't amounted to much. In fact
she had not sold a single egg heater
but. smiling braVely she had OF
course, just started out and must d.
better soon. AS soon as her head
stopped aching and it was feeling lot.
better she must hasten on.
At parting she gave Eliza an egg
heater. Though it's no pay at al
for so much kindness as you've showr
me-" she said. Eliza snatched ar
odd shaped blue vase from the man
tel shelf. Take that to remember
me by" she returned.
Alone she looked at the egg beatel