The guardian., 1939-03-04

HSl yOuIH IleTe
GANnF alone was left, she
SstONs thought, bit of the
cr@nN life serene that was
SHON of the days of her
parents, and her
own childhood. The world was 90
ing mad, panic-stricken, she felt.
True, the lilacs by her door strove
to keep their heads erect, and to
urge the new yearly shoots to dig
nifty. But the simpering bridal
wreath bush bowed to every passer-
by, as the wind promiscuously
showered her white petals, as con-
fetti. The soft dirt road had broad
ened, and become black and hard,
with frequent baths of repulsive,
sticky oil.
How soon would the city and mod
ernity invade her sanctuary? she
questioned.
She looked with Mortified eyes at
the roadside stands. Hot dogs! Be-
fore her eyes danced a jumble of
signs, big and little, proclaiming-
why, actually, they had cuts of dogs,
In natural color, holding flaming red
trankfurts in their teeth. Terrible!
She. pushed her expense book
across the table. "Marcella Pratt"
she argued, you've got to do some
thlng-and soon. You can't eat this
house. And you have taxes to pay.
Marcella, at your age, you've got to
wake up!''
Next morning a pathetic little sign
appeared on her lawn. FUDGE!
She was sure of it's quality. They
could walk right into the dining
room and buy from her fathers
desk. Very simple.
But the first thing she knew she
found young men sprawled in her
chairs-mother's wedding present.
Mud on the floor. Actual petting
couples-but she took their money.
Couples full of jokes, modern things
that made her eyes wrinkle at the
corners, and her mouth want to
smile.
She repeated some to the cat,
leaving out the slang.
The invasion of her home was
becoming less sacrilegious. The
fudge business was paying well.
She tried raspberry jam sand
wiches. Just a plate. Thin white
bread, heavy with homemade Jam.
These we're still within her puritan
ical bounds. These brought the
same folks again and again, and the
men (big boys) called her "Auntie."
Then, afternoons, she left off the
percale dress and put on demure
black silk, with fresh white collar.
Above her silver hair was like a
halo. Her eyes and pink tinted
cheeks were made to love.
Miss Marcela was glad, was sad.
These bright, happy souls might
have been her own. The nephew
she loved most for the reason that
he was Stephens boy. Fortunate
Stephen to be loved by two girls.
Miss Marcella had stepped into the
shadows that he might marry her
sister. Children mean a lot.
After a while her fudge expert
ment was like bubbling yeast; bub-
bling over, clamoring for more
room, paying well for her work.
She had money saved and no bills
to pay. She could have the best of
food, if she cared to revel in such.
But these she didn't crave, and yet
she was restless.
Then it was that she read of an
orphan girl. She wrote immediate
ly, giving plenty of references as to
her honesty, character and church
connections. The society willingly
exchanged the girl for these. In
this lottery she drew a prize.
Every night Miss Marcella went
to bed thankful, tired and happy.
Money piled in and she applied for
a boy. He came, another orphan,
made so by some terrible accident.
A poor little mechanical body living
in stupor, caused by the sudden
calamity.
How she did love them. It was as
if they were her own children, who,
being lost, had been found and re-
turned.
But Miss Marcella forgot to reck-
on that two hungry children would
cost a lot of money. The tin box
was getting low, and although the
fudge and sandwich business was
brisk, still her expenses were large
mostly food She meditated long
on the problem.
Then one night, after the children
slept, she donned her outer gar
ments, took the family lantern and
trudged stoically across the field to
the home of John Mason.
John she said abruptly, fear
ing she might soften, "I'd like you
to come over in the morning and
bring along your carpenter tools.
I've got to have a road-stand built,
and l want good-sized one, too.
And you might arrange to have
your boy, Charles, bring me one of
those latest frankfurt roasters. And,
John, make the sign good and big.
You see, I've got the children to
consider"
"Will - will it be - dainty" he
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