The Washington times., 1936-09-26


The mate, though admitting a
proper interest in grog, was an
noyed. Soon it was his tuHn at the
log book. He submitted his record
to his superior officer who read:
Captain sober today. Captain
sober today"
With a dash of seagoing pro-
family the captain protested the
false insinuation.
"But you were sober, weren't
you? YeS?"
every good SIR" replied the
mate. Touched his cap. And
went below.
I had never met Mr.. Springer
before. Mrs. Springer had always
answered when 1 picked my way
among the rocks and crates of the
back yard to the sagging porch
and called:
"Have you any flowers, to-
day?"
I'm coming strong cheer
full voice edged with laughter
would answer. Slowly through the
kitchen door and down the rickety
steps, past a purring cat stretched
out to her breakfasting kittens,
past upturned milk crooks, would
come Mrs. Springer.
Clun1p, clump in her heavy
mans shoes. Stepping Sidewise
with the ache of rheumatism. A
thick gray sweater buttoned over
her calico dress, if the air was
frosty. Her gray hair pulled into
a tight knot behind her SpectacleS.
Her mouth smiling wide in vel
ccme. That was Mrs. Springer.
"WeKI, what'l you have TO-
day?"
"Most anything pretty" I'd
answer as she would lead the way
farther down the hillside toward
an old shed.
Baby chicks would chirp behind
the wire netting. Mother hens
would cluck.
But Mrs. Springer and I we're
intent on garden bouquets. We
would find them in tin buckets
and kettles, lighting their gor-
geous red, orange, pink and gold.
Same price," Mrs. Springer
would say as I handed her
quarter for a dollars worth Of
beauty.
But this morning Mrs. Springer
didn't answer as I halloed. Then
walking carefully between rows of
dahIias and cosmos in the field
beside the house, I saw two fig
ureS on hands and knees in a
great bed of chrysanthemums.
One was Mrs. Springer. The
other, a man, motioned me to-
ward the back yard.
He called in a deep German
voice as he approached:
"KOmm this way"
With snow white whiskers on
each side of a firm mouth, bright
blue eyes and red cheeks, he was
like a figure on a Heidelberg
stein.
While he wrapped an old news
paper around clusters of mari
Colds, I looked across the lane
to the estate of Mr.. w. Corcoran
Thorn and far down Chesapeake
Street over valleys and slopes to
Connecticut Avenue.
Fine place you have here!"
Mr.. Springer said:
$50 they tell me. It's II good
acres. But Ach, the taxes!
When 1 came l paid $500 year.
Now they cost me more than
$1,000. Somehow we get them
paid. No, we won't sell. Too
much we like the land, my wife
and 1. While we live, we stay"
GOOD day." he said as though
he were seeing off a guest, not a
purchaser of a quarters worth of
flowers.
The composure of Miss Sallie
Lurton and Miss Fox, who teach
English at Holton-Arms, has
lately been strained a trifle as
even the II and 12-year-old stu
dents turn in the records of
Books I Have Read This Sum-
mer," with Little Colonel Series, I"
"The Five Little Peppers" and
that new. old faithful, Gone With
the Wind"
Hates which cherish-the men
who invent and make poison and
tear gas.
1 enjoy politics, but nowadays
the radio often depresses me.
Time was when one could tune IN
on some good music somewhere.
But now the ether brings mostly
the roar of vote getters and the
feeble squeak of amateurs.
"ONFV FOR