Coulee City dispatch. [volume] (Coulee City, Wash.) 19??-19??, 1936-11-12
FRIDAY-Continued

The day of the Stow masquerade
is always frightfully exciting. Ev-
erybody is at home frantically put:
ting the last touches or more fran
tically putting the first touches to
his costume. And yet, invariably
my telephone buzzes all day. This
year it was, "Oh, Mary, do you hap
pen to have any black velvet rib
bon about an inch wide 2"
"Oh thank goodness!" "Mary, do
you happen to have a white dress
of any description want to use
it for a foundation-lace, chiffon,
crepe de chine 2" you're
quite right! I'll never throw any
dress away again!" "I'l send
right over for it..
Of course remember every de-
tail of the day of this masquerade.
In the first place, I keep diary of
sorts, and I always scribble few
lines in it before I go to bed. In
the second place, less than twenty
four hours after the party we were
all scraping our memories to dig
out of them every detail of that
fateful Friday. And then it hap
pens shat, year after year, on the
day of this most important social
event of the season, my household
arrangements fall into the same
pattern. All day long my two
maids are at the Stow house, help
ing Mattie's two maids to get the
big house ready for dancing and to
prepare the delicious food which
Matte always serves. Bessie Will
iams, my cook, comes back at
noon to bring me my luncheon on
a tray and Sarah Darbe, my sec
ond maid, returns at night to pre-
pare my simple dinner and to fuss
about me while I dress. My maids
are the only people in Satuit who
ever see my costume before I ap-
pear in it.
These two women have been in
my EMPLOY prefer to say have
been members of my household
for many years; Sarah for a little
more than twenty; Bessie for a lit
tie less.
Bessie is simple, loyal being,
much darker than Sarah, short
and very stout-a warm, dark bal
loon of woman-plentifully dim
pied, still wearing her hair in the
braided kinky masses which
marked it when l first engaged her.
Sarah is coffee-colored, slender and
shapely. Sarah takes as much care
of her complexion, her teeth and
her figure as I do. Her taste in
clothes in impeccable quiet, be-
coming. When go to Europe al
ways bring back to Sarah some
thing to wear from Paris. More
over, as fast as l finish a book or
a magazine 1 hand over to Sarah.
We discuss articles and stories.
This summer, as I have said, my
niece Sylvia Sard was staying with
me.
Sylvia is eight years old. She is
the youngest daughter of my
youngest sister. The Sards had
gone to Europe on two-months'
business trip. have several nieces
and nephews but Sylvia is my ia
vorite. 1t is not because she is the
youngest although she is the
youngest-or the prettiest-for she
isn't the prettiest-but because she
is the most enchanting. She is a
friendly little being and chattery;
but that is only part of her charm.
She possesses to an extraordinary
degree the astute observation Of
children, that primitive, plastic,
naked quality of mind which graves
pictures so deeply on the memory
But friendliness and that special
intelligence are by no means all
of Sylvia's charm. I find it hard
to describe certain precocious
quality. There are moments when
because of casual originality of
expression, an accidental wisdom
in thought, an unexpected pic
turesqueness of phrase-every child
seems genius. In her very baby
hood, Sylvia said many things of
the type which adoring relatives
always treasure. But when I say
she has something that have new
er seen in other children, I do not
refer to that sort of thing. 1t is an
unknown quality-an x. Perhaps
that X is merely common sense,
astonishing in one so young. What
ever it is, find myself talking
with Sylvia exactly as though she
were of my own age.
It was a remark that Sarah
Darbe had made several days be-
fore which put it into my head to
take Sylvia to the masquerade. Of
course Sylvia had begged me to
take her, as she had begged the