The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1931-07-10
CHAPTER vcontinued

Here, then, was the monstrous so
ciety in which Sabra Cravat now
found herself. For her, and the other
respectable women Of the town, there
was nothing but their homework, their
children, their memories of the homes
they had left.
And so the woman who was, after
all, the most intelligent among them,
set about creating some sort of social
order for the good wives Of the COM
munity. Grimly Sabra (and, in time,
the other virtuOus women of the COM
munity) set about making this new
frontier town like the old as speedily
as possible. Yancey, almost single
handed, tried to make the new as
unlike the old as possible. He fought
a losing fight from the first. He, with
his Uniformed dreams-much less the
roistering play boys of saloon and
plain and gambling house-never had
a chance against the indomitable ma
terialism of the women.
Sabra's house became a sort of
social center following the discovery
that she received copies of Harper's
Bazaar with fair regularity. Her social
triumph was complete when she dis
played her new draped jars, done by
her after minute instructions found in
the latest copy of Harper's. She then
graciously printed these instructions
in the Oklahoma Wigwam, causing a
o4 In.
homes and mystifying the local store
keepers by the sudden demand for
Jars.
Slowly, in Sabra's eyes, the other
women of the town began to emerge
from a mist of drabness into distinct
personalities. There was one who had
been school teacher in Cairo, Ill.
Her husband, Tracy Wyatt, ran the
Spasmodic bus and dray line between
Wahoo and Usage. They had no chill
dren. She was sparse and simpering
woman Of thirty-nine, who talked a
good deal of former trips to Chicago
during which she had reveled in the
culture Of that effete city. Yancey
was heard 1earnedly discoursing to
her on the subject of Etruscan pottery,
of which he knew nothing. The ex-
school teacher rolled her eyes and
tossed her head good deal.
''You don't know what a privilege
1t is, Mr.. Cravat, to find myself talk
ing to some one whose mind can soar
above the sordid life of this horrible
town."
1t was Sabra who started the Philo-
mathean club. The other women
clutched at the idea. 1t was part of
their defense against these wilds.
After all, town that boosted cul-
ture club could not be altogether lost.
Sabra timidly approached Mrs. Wyatt
with her plan to form woman's
club, and Mrs. Wyatt snatched at it
with such ferocity as almost to make
1t appear her own idea. Each was to
invite four women of the towns
elite. Ten, they decided, would be
enough as charter members.
81" began Mrs. Wyatt promptly,
sam going to ask Mrs. Louie Hefner,
Mrs. Doc Nisbett-"
@Her husbands horrid! hate him.
I don't want her in my club" The
ten barrels Of water still ranked.
"We're not asking husbands, my
dear Mrs. Cravat. This is a ladies'
club. Mrs. Nisbett," retorted Mrs.
Wyatt, introducing snobbery into that
weller Of mud, Indians, pine shacks,
drought, and semi-barbarism known as
Usage, Indian territory, twas q
Krumpf, Of Ouachita, Ark"
Sabra, descendant of the Marcys
and the Venables, lifted her handsome
black eyebrows. Privately, she de-
eided to select her four from among
the less vertebrate and more ebullient
Of Osages' matrons. She made up her
mind that next day, after the house
work was done, she would call on her
candidates, beginning with that pretty
and stylish Mrs. Evergreen Waltz. AT
supper that evening she told Yancey OF
her four prospective members.
"Waltz' wife!" Surprise and
amusement, TOO, were in his voice, but
she was too lRn Of her plans to no