The times-news. [volume] (Hendersonville, N.C.) 1927-current, 1933-06-30

Elinor Stafford had looked
ipitiably white at the burial
ground. He had thought for a
moment that she was going to
faint and had forgotten his anger
to think only Of her need for a
steadier arm than her father
could offer her. She had been
decent-more than decent-.tC
speak to him as she did.
He lit a cigaret with hands
that shook. What was there
ahead for her, ElinOr Stafford5s
He knew her fathers business
was ill-managed and neglected.
Now the creditors would close in
on them. Accounts would not be
extended; credit would be gone.
Barrett wished he could stop
seeing Elinor as she stood, look
ing at the yawning grave. She
had stared at it as frightened
child would. Watching her, he
had longed to pick her up, hold
her close and comfort her.
"Lord, ! can't do itr he said,
half-groaning. He was thinking
of taking the future that had
been left him, fortune he could
never feel to be his.
He must give it back to them
in some way. But how? How?
Elinor had given him one
glance filled with reproach. Why
had she looked at him thus, he
wondered. Why couldn't he stop
thinking about ! her. ?
In Park avenue apartment
Ida was screaming. "You-you
You did it," She was pointing at
Elinor. Bentwell was drinking
from a glass that trembled in
his hand. Elinor looked from
one to the other. She began to
laugh Il little and then she began
to cry.
Bessie Thorpe sobbed convuI-
sively. going back to Brooklyn.
Jim Thorpe, small, under-weight
prematcurcly gray, kept her arm
pressed against his side. "Nevcr
mind" he said as thy waited IN
the subway for their tram.
even manage"
He had tried to speak heartily
but his voice sounded hollow and
as he spoke he saw himself in a
long, narrow mirror above a slot
machine. He was shabby, hol-
low-cheeked, the sort of man
who when little older sat huG-
died on park benches reading
papers others had discarded or
looking wistfully after the we'll
fed and warm. Bessie's fat, sag
ged face had been swollen by
the terms she had shed and it
was convulseS by tears that were
yet to be shed. -.
IL never counted on much,
she confided, and again she
sobbed, "but l never thought it
would be this way, jim"
"Neither did l." he answered
drearily.
The train shot into the station.
Humans poured from it. There
was the usual tangled push made
bv those who wished to get on.
Many Of them cast curious
chances at Bessie and each time
she realized this she sobbed deep
" after d futile effort TO keep
back the sob.
She slipped her hand into Jnm's.
She managed to whisper. amy
way, we have the boys-and each
other"
He nodded, eyes misted'
She had never seen the shabbi-
ness of the Brooklyn home more
clearly than she did 4 little later
when they arrived there. The
linoleum on the floor of the
small, dark entry had been worn
through. The edge by the sill
was warped, broken, curling.
Bessie took off her rusty, black
hat and the black coat that she
had borrowed from a sympathetic
neighbor.
jim Junior came pounding down
the stars, an 1S-year-old boy
whose feet were still ahead OF
the rest of him. He was follow
ed by Bert, 16, and Sexton, al
most IS.
"Do / go to college?'' Jim
Junior asked from the landing.
Bessie shook her head. For a
moment the boy was silent. Then
he drew a deep breath and his
shoulders squared. ooh, well, |
can go to night school, he said