The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1931-08-21

CHM. Theresa Jump. Peyote. Usage.
II his own father allows such things
what will people say-no use trying
to make something Of yourself.
Yancey, usually so glib with quota
lions from this or that sonorous pas
sage Of poetry, said little. He did not
even try to cajole her into better
humor with his flattery, his charm, his
tenderness. His eyes were bloodshot,
his hand more unsteady than usual
He had been drinking even more than
was his wont, she knew that at once.
By no means drunk (she had never
seen him really drunk-no one had
he was seemingly incapable of reach
ing a visible state of drunkenness). he
was in one of his fits of moody de-
preston. That great shoulders sagged.
The splendid head lolled on his breast.
He seemed sunk in gloomy thought.
She felt that he hardly heard what
she was saying. She herself could eat
nothing. She set place for him at
the dining room table and pumped
down before him dish of the absurd
salad, cup of coffee, some cake.
plate Of the leftover sandwiches,
their edges curled dismally.
whats this?" he said.
pineapple and marshmallow salad.
With Ruby gone and all, / didn't get
anything for your supper was so
upset-all those women -
He sat looking down at the slippery
mass on his plate. His great arms
were spread out on the table before
him. The beautiful hands were open
ing and closing convulsively. So a
mastodon might have looked at a
worm. pineapple and marshmallow
salad" he repeated. thoughtfully, al
most wonderingly. Suddenly he threw
back the magnificent head and began
to laugh. Peal after peal of Hercu-
lean laughter. Pineapple and marsh"
choking, the tears running down his
cheeks. Sabra was angry, then fright
ened: For as suddenly as he had be-
gun to laugh he became serious. He
stood up, one hand on the table. Then
he seemed to pull his whole body to-
gether like tiger who Is about to
spring. He stood thus moment.
swaying little. "'Actum est de re-
publica.' al
"Whata" said Sabra, sharply.
Latin, Latin. my love. Pineapple
and marshmallow salad! 1T is all
over with the Republic She
shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
Yancey turned, stiffly. like soldier.
walked out Of the room. flicked his
white sombrero off the hall rack and
put it on at the usual jaunty angle,
went down the porch stair with his
light, graceful step. to the sidewalk
and up the street, the great head low
cred, the arms swinging despondently
at his sides.
Sabra went on with her work Of
tidying up the house. Her eyes burned,
her throat was CONSTRUCTED. Men!
Men! Gin off with that squaw. Yam
cey angry because she had given him
this very feminine dish of left-overs.
What was the use Of working, what
was the use of pride, what was the
use Of ambition for your children, your
home, your town if this was all it
amounted to? Her work. done, she al
lowed herself the luxury of a DELHI
crate and cleansing storm of tears.
Eight o'clock. She heated some Of
the afternoon coffee and drank it sit
ting at the kitchen table. She went
out on the front porch. Darkness had
come on. A hot September evening.
The crickets sQueaked and ground
away in the weeds. She was con-
scious of an aching WEAKNESS in all
her body, but she could not sleep. Her
eyes felt as though they were being
pulled apart by invisible fingers. She
put her palms over them, to shut them,
to cool them. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
Twelve. She undressed, unpinned the
braids of her thick hair, brushed it,
plated 1t for the night. All the time
she was listening. Listening. One.
Suddenly she began to dress again
with icy fumbling fingers. She did up
her hair, put on her hat and jacket.