The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1928-03-19

/
twelve years of her life in the State
Orphans Asylum she had never
before left the orphanage unac-
companied by droves of other
sheep-ike, timid girls, and I'M
chaperoned by sharp-voiced, eagle
eyed matrons.
She felt queer, detached, incom-
plete, like an arm or a leg dis
severed from a giant body; she
even had the panicky feeling that,
like such a diSmembered limb, she
would wither and die away from
that big body of which she had
been a part for so long. But it was
pleasant to bump swiftly along the
hot, dusty white road, fringed with
ordorous, Towering weeds. Houses
became less and less frequent;
fewer children ran barefoot along
the road, Scurrying out of the path
of the automobile. Occasionally a
woman, with a baby sprawling on
her hip, appeared in the doorway
of a roadside shack and shaded her
eyes with her hand as she squinted
at the car.
AS the miles sped away Carson
seemed to feel the need of impress
ing upon her the fact that her sum-
mer was not to be one of unalloyed
pleasure. He sketched the life OF
the farm, her own work upon it, as
if to prepare her for the worst. my
Wife's got the reputation of being
hard woman" he told her con-
f1dentially. But she's a good
woman, good clean through. She
works her own fingers to the bone,
and she can't abide lazy, trifling
girl around the place. You work
hard, Sally, and speak nice and re-
spectful-like, and you twoll get on,
I warrant
"Yes, sir" Sally stammered.
"Well, Sally" he told her at last,
heres your new home. This lane
leads past the orchards got 10
acres in fruit trees, all of 'em bear
ing-and the gardens, then right
up to the house. Pretty fine place,
if 1 do say so myself. got 280
acres in all, quite a sizeable farm
for the Middle West. Don't them
orchards look pretty?"
Sally came out of her frightened
reverie, forced her eyes to focus On
the beautiful picture spread out on
a giant canvas before her. Then
she gave an involuntary exclama-
ton of pleasure. Row after row Of
fruit trees, evenly spaced and
trimmed to perfection, stretched be-
fore her on the right. The child in
her wanted to spring from the seat
of the car, run ecstatically from tree
to tree, to snatch Sun-ripened fruit.
"You have a good fruit crop" she
said primly.
There's the house" The farmer
pointed to the left. "Six rooms and
a garnet. My daughter, Pearl,
logged the life out of me until I
had electric lights put in, and a
fancy bathtub. She even made me
get a radio, but it comes in right
handy in the evenings, specially in
winter. My daughter, Pearl, can
think of more ways for me to spend
money than I can to earn it," he
added with a chuckle, so that Sally
knew he was proud of Pearl, proud
of her urban tastes.
The car swept up to the front of
the house; Glen Carson's hand on
the horn summoned his women
folks.
The house, which seemed small to
Sally, accustomed to the big build
ings Of the orphanage, was further
dwarfed by the huge red barns that
lowered at the rear. The house it
self was white, not so recently
painted as the lordly barns, but it
was pleasant and homelike, the
sort of house which Sally's chums
at the orphanage had pictured as
an ideal home, when they had let
their imaginations run away with
them.
Sally herself, born with differ
ent picture Of home in her mind,
had romanced about house which
would have made this one look like
servants quarters, but now that it