The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1932-02-03

Harmstead estate had been settled
upon him at once. The condition
was that he leave England.
His father and mother had re-
fused to meet his bride. And
Charles Rossiter, stiff -necked with
pride, had been glad enough then
to leave England. He had come to
America and never had gone back.
He often had longed for England,
but no one of his brothers or sisters
ever had learned that.
No one of them had shown the
slightest interest in what he might
have been thinking during those
long years Of exile. No one of them
except his youngest sister, Myra, for
whom his eldest daughter was
named, had shown in the years fol-
lowing his death any recognition of
the fact that he had left family.
His sister Myra, perhaps held back
by the pressure Of her brothers and
sisters, never had seen any member
OF his small family, but she did from
time to time send boxes of clothing.
discarded by her own daughters.
|nN that August morning Charles
~ Rossiter had been dead twelve
years. His death took place three
days before his only son was born.
He never could have foreseen that
his two beautiful daughters would
be forced to work, the one at an
underpaid job in a public library,
the other as an underpaid sales
girl in a great department store.
He had left a sufficient sum to
bring up his children in comfort,
to educate them, and to provide for
the lifetime of his young wife.
But Molly Rossiter, dazed with
grief, had seen that money slip
from her irresponsible hands within
two years.
Ellen could remember only as of
something dreamed those days
when money was not a daily prob
lem, daily topic of conversation.
She had gone to work at Barclays
department store when she was ID.
She was still there.
AS she walked to the kitchen,
she wondered a little hopeIesSly if
she always would be there.
When she entered the small,
heated room where the blue
checked linoleum had long since re-
treated into the corners, her mother
turned from the stove. Molly's
pretty, fading face was flushed and
set in lines of determination.
Ellen sighed again. She was
afraid that her mother had hit
upon another disastrous scheme
which would make them all rich.
Myra was seated at a Clipped
porcelain table, her chin resting up
on her elbows, the morning news
paper spread out before her. Her
head, with its smooth braids of hair
lighter and less warmly colored
b1ldAl GllC1l d woo bCAlO ONCl O4lC o.
ciety columns. But her mouth was
set and mutinous and it was plain
she did not really see the printed
words. Her eyes were full of angry
tears.
"Myra and I have decided
Molly Rossiter began firmly.
Myra looked up quickly at that.
1--WE haven't decided anything
mother" she interrupted in her
long-suffering voice. "You only sug-
gested-"
Both of them looked toward Ellen
Ellen crossed to the stove, relieved
her mother of the eggs and began
to beat with furious energy SO that
the yellow foam leaped up the blue
sides of the bowl. Molly had been
ready to pour them into the skillet
Ellen was the one natural cook OF
the household. Molly's cooking al
ways was overdone or UNDERGONE
and invariably too highly seasoned
Myra, perhaps in compensation
for her mothers lavish hand, never
seasoned enough. Whatever she seIE
to the table came with the slightly
indefinite taste common to second
| rate hotels.