The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1929-10-25
CHAPTER III-Continued

s.
This one small section Of the house
from the very beginning of their resi-
dence, was Ginger's own. It was diff
cult of approach. for there were no
stairs leading to 1t, and sole admis.
sion was by means of wabbly old
ladder of six rounds, which, carefully
balanced against the wall at the end
of the upper hall. led to the trapdoor
which opened upward into the attic.
Ginger loved the attic most of all for
it's inaccessibility. The trapdoOr,
which swung on hinged lock and had
to be pushed upward with one hand,
was no obstacle. but an added charm
In her eyes. On the attic side of the
door, she had. with her own hands,
driven big staple, added another hook,
and when she went thither on matters
Of any special moment, she locked 1t
furtively behind her.
The studio was her sacred retreat.
and on this particular Sunday after
noon she had a definite motive in re-
tirement, for she sought the guidance
of the Muses.. Ginger had made
find. Eddy Jackson had brought to
the parsonage, as Saturday gift
from his mother, jar of preserved
peaches wrapped in an old page Of the
New York World. Helen had crum-
pied 1t lightly into the waste basket,
where the sharp eye Of Ginger Ella
had espied 1t, whence her greedy fin
gers had rescued it. And from 1t she
learned, to her delight, that the New
York World would pay FIVE dollars
each for the Bright Sayings Of Chill
dren.
One of Ginger's great grievances in
life was the tendency of her sisters
to recall. and repeat, smart sayings
of her own none-tOo-rem0te childhood
'-fssseh- rnsaatiti.sns rsstrusas hen 10 l;Rat
and helpless fury But she noted
that the auditors always laughed, am
pie proof Of the presence OF humor.
She cast about In her memory for the
most amusing Of these pseudo laugh.
producers, and unable to discover
merit by her own Judgment. she hir
upon the one that had produced the
greatest gales of merriment. Merely
changing names and relationships
from her own and Helen's to that of
mother and daughter, she wrote:
"Mrs. Ingraham spent an entire
afternoon assisting neighbor to cut
out and fif a gown, and when the gar.
ment was entirely finished, she wished
to make payment for the time con.
sumed. oh, no. said Mrs. Ingraham
pleasantly, I shall not take a cent
Jr it. did 1t entirely out OF friend
Ship The neighbor was insistent, but
Mrs. lngraham remained firm, and
would not take the money. At last
she turned to Alice, Mrs. Ingraham's
small daughter standing near, and
said, Alice, tell me. TOW can make
your mother take this i've dollars
which she has fully earnedT Alice
considered a moment, and then an.
nounced gravely. You might give 1t
to me, and she will borrow it."
Ginger wrote, corrected, and copied.
Then she read it, disasteful,y sits a
dumb thing" she thought frowningly.
But the memory of unfailing laughter
encouraged her, and she folded It
neatly, tucked it into an envelope, and
addressed 1t in firm large hand.
at six O'Clock, the girls came to.
gether in the kitchen where they hur-
riedly set out light supper, in order
to be at church again at seven for the
meeting of the Epworth league. Mr..
Tolliver did not attend this, as It was
a service especially calculated to en-
courage and train the younger mem
bers OF the congregation in active par.
ticipatiOn, and he inclined to the belief
that they took part with more free
dom in his absence.
On Monday afternoon, at one
O'Clock. the anxious little family gath.
cred in the living room to say gOod.by
to Mr.. Tolliver and Miriam, starting
for Chicago. Such tremendous issues
were involved in this small Journey.
Perhaps he would return without the
hated glasses, perhaps the dear tired
eyes would see once more the love
that shone In theirs. Perhaps the
dreaded operation would be declared
inevitable. Perhaps things would Just
drag on and on. month after month, as
they had dragged in the past.
They went out to the veranda,
Miriam leading the way with the light
bag. Her father reached for it, strug
gled with her playfully for possession
of 1t. She tucked her hand into his
arm. looking back. The girls smiled |
at her, she smiled In return. Their
smiles were sad. their father could !
not see the smiles. Their young eyes
yearned with pain. Their father
could not see the yearning. He waved |
q hand at them In biithe farewell.
"Be good girls. Ellen don't let any.