Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-05-26
BY JANE DIXON.
Special Dispatch to The star.

Special Dispatch to The Star.
PEEKSKILL, N. Y, May 26 (N.A.
A.).-"If you iss gonna play It daS
tiamon', den play him. But II you iss
gonna play it das sphade, play it das
sphade."
THE little old woman in the green
wooden sweater and the blue cotton
dress looked sternly across the table
at the big old woman with the gold
breastpin beneath her Saggirfg chin.
The little old woman was slightly nush-
ed with excitement and she pushed
back wispS of gray hair that escaped
the nub at the back Of her neck.
The big old woman studied the fan
Of cards she held in her knotted brown
hand.
1T play It neidsr," she said, tri.
umphantly depositing o card atop the
three already in the center Of the ia
bic. II play 1t clup."
Then she drew In the trick and
leaned back In her chair, clucking like
a mother hen who has come upon o
handful Of corn kernels.
Mists had settled down Ike gray
woolly caps over the tops Of the hills
UP at Adams Corner, just outside this
city. On the crest Of one hill, low
lying in the valley, August Heckscher,
man who makes his millions work for
the health and happiness of humanity,
has established q 300-acre Summer
camp for lonely. neglected and unfor-
tunate women well past their prime.
Scrub Women Are Guests.
Scrub women, with calloused knees
and bent backs, are his guests. Women
who made good wages working with
their hands until man invented q ma
chine to displace them, rock on the wide
verandas that look out over green fields
spangled with buttercups and with
daisies. A CHEEKY log burns in the
stone fireplace Of the great living room,
and before 1t women dream Of peasant
hutS in far lands, where, as girls, they
cooked savory things in iron pots over
glowing Goals. Some of these lonely old
women have not seen q great field or
an open fire since they left the old
country-40, go. 10 years ago.
Many Of the guests In 1.-The house on
the hill" have never known rest
period, and would not be knowing one
now had Mr.. HeckScher not returned
from his vacation a few years ago to
find scrub woman on her hands and
knees In his Office. He inquired when
she would be taking her vacation. She
stopped swishing soap and water long
enough to say: "I've never had one,
an I'll not be havin' it now"
The answer to the scrub woman's
hopeless confession is the house on the
hill. And two solid weeks-free-of
green fields, the best OF food, con-
genial company and plenty Of enter
tainment for hundreds OF work-bitten
old women, In whom the candle OF life
begins to burn low.
Nurses Clump Of COwslips.
The twinkly old woman who will
celebrate her eighty-fifth birthday an
niversary in camp is much concerned
about the clunp Of cowslips she had
planted In q tin can and Is tending
against the day she will 60 back to the
musty, dusty corner OF a dank cor
ridor that leads to the fetid back yards
Of the East Side.
II dug them up by the water down
there" she says, her dim eyes resting
on the valley. "Once on the farm in
Illinois where I was born tromped
on I'm. They were thick, like q car
pet. It is bad to tromp on pretty
things. For a long time / have not
seen them again, many many years, I'M
til / come here"
A shriveled little Scotch grandmother
in q corner of the glass-inclosed sun
porch Of the camp is crocheting wash
clothes. Maybe I sell them some DAY,
she confides. I smile.
You think they are no good?" she
inquired with asperity, jerking at the
half-finished square to prove its resist
ance.
"They look very good" I apologize
hastily. II was only thinking that you
are enjoying q true holiday"
The crochet needle raced.
II rest all the same" she snapped.
ut is better than gossiping with old
ladies'"
The Scotch grandmother Is a young
woman of-but / promised I would
not tell her age. Like the other guests
at the camp, she Is more than little
bit sensitive on the subject of birthdays,
even If she Is only 60-odd and COM
paratively q youngster.
For two weeks the visitors at the
house on the hill are company" Their
hostess Is Mis- Ida Brady Wilson who