The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1931-11-19
Casting Bread Upon
the Waters
By HELEN ST. BERNARD
&c by Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate.l
(WNU SerVice.l

night HeuiD0r VI TIE DlOdu"oy
Follettes, playing at the Rialto, Allan
tic City, walked slowly down the
board walk, munching saltwater taft
fy, peppermint favored.
The sun was bright and warm, or
setting the sharp breeze that swept
in from the ocean, breaking the waves
into white foam on the sand. Few
people were out at this hour-shortly
before eight. Rows Of deserted wheel
chairs awaited the promenade hour.
The big hotels doomed up against q
morning sky of clear azure and Maisie
wondered If behind one Of those I'M
pressive portals there was not a job
that would pay her enough money to
buy a ticket back to New York. There
was just one quarter, bright and shin
ing, in the little scarlet pocketboOk
that dangled from her arm.
She smiled grimly as she caught her
own name on the tattered bulletin that
waved in the breeze in front of the
closed Rialto. Last night she had led
the chorus in singing the so-called
latest song-hit:
"Giving. -. Giving. -. Giving all
the time. :"
The song was foolish but the girls
got 1t across. In fact, it was the only
feature in the entire show that won
any applause from the stolid audience
of first-nighters. When the final cur.
tain had descended on an already
thinned-out audience, the manager had
mysteriously disappeared with the
evenings proceeds.
Maisie had had enough to pay for
her nights lodging at the boarding
house on a side street. She had hest
tated before buying the package Of
saltwater taffy, but it would have
to do for breakfast. The quarter must
stay in the little scarlet pocketbook
until something turned up.
She passed a restaurant. A white
clad girl was dexterOusly Tapping
pancakes in the window. Pancakes,
maple strip and coffee for 20 cents.
Maisie closed her eyes and reached for
another piece of taffy. She was des-
perately hungry. Then sudden hap
BY thought. Perhaps she could get
job there frying pancakes or waiting
on the table, or even washing dishes.
Anything to appease that awful empti-
ness and to get gack to New York.
She debated for moment. Farther
down the walk small group Of peo-
pie had congregated at railing, SEEM
ingly intent on something below them
in the sand. She would stroll down
and see what 1t was all about and In
the meantime she would raise the
courage to apply for a job; and a
breakfast. She Joined the group. A
sand artist was at work, brown, bare
headed, smiling. Slowly, but surely,
figure was taking shape in the white
sand before him; a child, unkempt,
ragged, pathetic, with outstretched
hand-and in the background the
shadowy suggestion of guardian an
gel lowering over her.
Maisie liked the idea, especially Of
the guardian angel. She felt more
cheerful. With final touch here and
there, the artist brushed the sand from
his hands and, with a stick, he wrote
in fantastic lettering:
"CAST YOUR BREAD UPON THE
WATERS.
Several coins were thrown down up
on the strip of canvas at his feet. He
smiled up at his audience with an ap-
peal that fascinated Maisie. Cast
your bread upon the waters" 4.
Long ago when Maisie was a child,
back in the little hometown in Indi-
ana, she had learned that lesson in
Sunday school.
She opened her pocketbook and felt
blindly for the Quarter-the last cent
she had in the world. Her fingers
closed over it and the shining piece
went spinning through the air and she
started to hum; to sing:
"Giving :. giving giving all
the time. :"
A man, stout and red-faced, turned
to her quickly with questioning eyes,
Then he brought his cane down with
a resounding thud.
swell, here you are! I've been look
ing in at every hotel in Atlantic City
for you this morning, young lady,"
"Reallyw chirped Maisie. "Odd
you didn't find me at the Traymore. :"
Maisie was accustomed to these ad-
vances from middle-aged admirers.
"Traymore!" he snorted. "And
there wasn't enough money to pay you
off last night after that crook lit out !!
Do you want a job?"
"Job?" she queried. "What kind of
job? I'm particular, am"
For a moment he looked disappoint-
ed, heartsick. aren't you the blond
that sang that song in the show last
night? Tell me, aren't you? That
giving song. :"
Maisie nodded.
"Well. if you can put a song like
with some real stuff. We're opening
up here tomorrow night, and need a
girl to sing. Come to rehearsal at
eleven" He motioned at the closed
theater. "Tll depend on you"
Casting bread upon the waters
unused Maisie, late of the Broadway
Follettes. II wonder if that artist
would lend me back that bread l cast
doxrp thara until