Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1932-01-28
IN TWO PARTS-PART ONE


IN TWO PARTS-PART ONE
THERE WAS A tempest IN the spac.
ious morning Dor of the apart.
ment of Henry Judd on exclusive
Kingsley drive.
It was raised and kept in motion By
old Grandmother Judd, Henry's mother
The family was standing by.
Henry. a solid. conservative, cold man
sat in the largest arm chair. looking
stubborn.
Margaret his wife, sat az her desk
She had ben planning the days menu
when Mother Judd began to make q
scene. Now. she still scrubbed at them
disconnectedly. in between moments
of listening impatiently to the old lady
She tried to keep the irritation lines
out of her face. She had been worried
lately By the increasing number OF
little lines around her eyes. Henry's
mother. she reflected. was a disquiet-
ing person TO live with. For months
things would go smoothly. Old Mrs
Judd would be reasonably tractable,
though certainly she was too flighty
ever TO be, as old ladies should be, re-
signed, dignified, sweet. But alternat-
ing with her periods of tractability
would come some disruption such as
this In spite of herself Margaret
frowTed.
The two boys. Henry's sons, sat-on
the window seat with their books. They
were waiting for the car to be brought
around to take them to school. While
they waited. they read the comic Sec
ion In the morning paper. Now and
then they glanced up. incuriously. at
grandma. They were never more than
mildly interested in grandma. She
never had any money to give them.
They considered that nothing was of
any Importance except money. They
were exactly like Henry.
Grandmother Judd sat perelled on
the edge of the telephone chair, which
fitted her tiny build. Her legs were
crossed. 1t mattered not at all to her
that Henry had scoWled at her knees.
They were ~presentable knees, she knew.
No knobs. They were better than those
OF Margaret. who had Doric columns
for legs.
Mrs. Judd's crystal embroidered
neglgee. made over from an old evening
dress OF Margaret's hung a trifle loosely
around her thin, wiry little frame. She
had not been able to cut 1t down suf-
feiently without spelling the pattern.
But it glittered bravely, nevertheless,
as she made her little nervous move
nents, crushing out her cubeb cigarette.
and fluttering her hands al she talked.
One thing is certain, Henry she de-
for the seventh time, in a high,
childish voice that had never taken on
The tremOIo OF age. but remained startl-
lngly brisk and penetrative. Unless you
give me my money-my own money,
Henry-to invest or to spend as I
I'll know, positively, at last, that
you've turned out to be piggish. You
to- keep all the authority to your
self You like to have lis under yatli
thumb. That's piggish, Henry
I do what seems best for all If you
answered Henry, ponderously. He was
red and provoked, like an OK ANNOYED
by a gnat. IF you'll tell me what you
with the money, I'll consider
whether it seems best to turn it over
10 you"
Grandma sneezed. She had a touch OF
hay fever this morning, aggravated by
her excited condition. Also, there were
roses ON the table at her elbow. She
Ooked at them with d~isfavor, stretched
1ut her little stick of an arm, and set
hem on the mantle Then she lii an
,ther cubeb cigarette, and turned, glar-
ng. to Henry. The crystals over her
hin little bosom shook and tWinkled
Is she inhaled.
Listen here, Henry" she cried with
Isper1ty, when you we're ten years old
I used to give you a dollar and
end you To the store for d sack OF
ugar and a little bit of meal, you did
1t ask me what / was going to do with
he money I had left. You wouldn't
lave dared. Well, I'd like to point out
hat | was nineteen years older than
'ou were at that time, and I still am
Henry, had he been quick enough,
night have replied that her discretion
lad not grown with her years. But
ienry was not quick. He merely look
d sllllen, and said. 1You don't know
anything about business. If I turn
our two thousand dollars over to you.
QUIZ lose 1t. Then where will your
be. that you think SO
auch OFF,
It'll be Just where 1t had always
retorted Grandma Judd, and
y that | mean that I've never had any
. speak of. Your father was like you.
wanted to run things himself. And
fter he died, / had too much respon-
IbiIty with you and Flora and Thad
, enjoy deciding whether we could af-
ord watermelons in the summer and
ill buy your new suits Of winter un-
when autumn came around.
hen when you were all grown up and
.ucated, and you. Henry, had been
lccesSful enough to make you impress
! with yourself what should o do
take 1t into your head to manage
e and my two thousand dollars that
had left If / could ever lay hands
a enough of the income at one time
do me any good, it might not be 50
ylng. But what you dole out to me
lecemeal only makes me feel poor. I'd
,oner take the whole two thousand ]
,llars and lose it if / must, and have
ask you for charity the rest OF my
lys- / have to ask you, anyhow, as 1t
And at least, If I had the money,
i have a good time for awhile. This
the spending age. and I've never liv- I
IN 1t to my satisfaction yet"