Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise., 1935-02-01
CHAPTER 1

that perfumed the whole countryside
peeped shiny new green leaves that
seemed this year like tickets of trag-
edy to Lila Hendryx.
There wasn't any tragedy about the
cherry blossoms to Lila, because when
the petals were scattered by the winds
and the trees lost their crown of glory,
big, beautiful, luscious cherries fol-
lowed. But those tiny green leaves
were like the summers. They start
ed out with such beautiful promise
and so quickly grew old and died.
Cherry blossom time is the end of
May in an early season and the first
of June when the winter has held on.
It was an anxious, busy time, always.
First there was the worry about late
frosts and the relief when the frosts
didn't nip the buds.
Then came the busy scramble of
getting the summer houses opened
and ready for the resorters, for that
part of Michigan has two profitable
sources of income. It's cherries and
the summer resorters.
During June, July, August and Sep
tember, the outside world comes to
Leland. Comes to play and laugh and
swim and bask in the pine scented
sunshine. And Ford Ramson came to
bring new heartbreak each year to
little Lila Hendryx.
Every year she said to herself,
"Surely this year there will be some
way to make Ford Ramson notice me-"
But last year, when she had taken
her courage in her two hands and gone
down to the bathing beach in her
orange bathing suit and he had ask
ed someone who she was, that some
one had answered carelessly, "Oh,
just one Of the native girls" and he
hadn't paid any attention to her af-
ter that.
Because some of the natives put
their pride in their pockets for four
months in the year and did all the
things for the resorters that they
couldn't or wouldn't do for themselves
at city wages, thank you-all the ma
tives were given the status of serv-
ants by the resorters.
Nor did the natives favor any mix
ing of the two worlds, except on terms
of paid service and rather surly SER
vice at that, any more than the re-
sOrters. One shotgun wedding and
one native girls suicide were too re-
cent history for that.
1t didn't make any difference that
Lila's father owned the largest or
chards in Northern Michigan and a
dozen of the summer houses that the
resorters paid good stiff rent to oc-
cupy, or that Lila had been down to
Ann Arbor to school, or that she ac-
tually was prettier than most of the
resorter girls. She was still native.
1t didn't make any difference to
Lila, either, that round dozen of
sturdy young woodsmen, fishermen
and college trained farmers were al
ways lowering around, vieing with
each other for her favors. One man
spelled perfection for her. And he
was Ford Ramson, resorter, who didn't
know she was on earth.
Instead of facing the summer sea-
son with chat wistful, prayerful hope
that this year it would be different,
she made herself see that there never
had been any hope, never would be
any. This year, she wouldn't go to
the post office every night at seven,
when the mail was distributed, just to
see Ford in his white flannels, pull
on sweater, shirt open at the neck, red
hair ruffled from driving hatless with
the top down, stride through the gath
ering of natives as if they weren't
there.
Always she had taken comfort from
the fact that there was never any girl
waiting for him in the roadster park
ed outside. Only his big police dog.
But today, to make her despairing
resignation the more final, The Gay
Divorce rode beside him and the dog
sat in the rumble seat. What chance
would any girl have against The Gay
Divorce?
Delicia Stratwell, The Gay Divorce.
Three different husbands had summer
ed with her there at Leland, but the
village never remembered their names.
She changed them so fast.
She was gay. She was the most i'm
portant summer resorter. Always in
hurry. Always going places in
beautiful clothes that were as gaily
different from other peoples as she
was diffarant fronn other oirls An