Henderson daily dispatch., 1939-02-15
CHAPTER TWO

STANDING there on the street,
Iona looked at the three dimes
that were her only capital, and
then put them back into her purse.
Picking up her suitcase again, she
trudged on, averting her eyes from
the restaurant that doomed invit-
ingly across the way. No supper
for her tonight. The dimes would
have to be saved for breakfast.
1t would be easier to sleep on an
empty stomach, than to go forth,
breakfastless, on the weary hunt
for work. i.
The thought of sleep brought a
wry grin to her lips as she set her
feet down monotonously one after
the other, and considered just what
she ought to do What did girls like
her do, she wondered? Girls who
had been put out of their boarding
houses. There must be some
place to go, her tired brain began
to repeat rhythmically. There
must be some place.
The Y. w. G. A. was, after all,
the last resource left her, she de-
cided, weary fifteen minutes
later. She detested the thought of
asking for charity, confessing her
plight even to sympathetic ears,
but there seemed no other out.
Purposely she turned her lag
ging steps toward the big stone
"Y" building she had ofen passed
on her way downtown to the office.
! But when she stood at the desk |
facing the businesslike secretary,
her feeble courage failed. The wom-
an was so cheerfully neat, her gray
hair so carefully waved, there hung
about her and the whole place
such an indefnable air of well be-
ing, that it was impossible to stam-
mer out her story of failure. While |
the woman waited, pencil poised |
expertly, she swallowed back her
half-formed plea for help, and |
brought out some excuse about |
having come to the wrong place.
To cover her confusion she asked |
to be directed to the nearest res
taurant. Restaurant! With thirty
cents in her purse. Back out
on the street she shifted her suit
case to the other arm, and resumed
her tramping in the gathering
dusk.
Ten-thirty that night found her
shivering on bench in one Of the
city parks. About her sounded all
the queer noises Of the summer
night. The humming Of insects and
the lonesome croaking Of frogs in
the park pond contrasted with the |
gay strains of music floating in |
from the nearby street. She had
dragged her bench back into the
shelter of some shrubbery, but now
and then passersby made her
shrink farther back into the gloom. |
Strolling lovers, these passersby |
were, mostly. Once a pair Of them
stopped nearby and she caught the
sound of kisses and murmured en-
dearments. It was hard to realize
that there were people still loving
each other in this world. Some
where out there, they were dane
ing, too. kissing in out-of- the-way
corners, and laughing, while she
crouched here, alone.
For the first time the full realiza-
ton of her position seemed to grip
her. AS the slow minutes dragged
by and one by one the lights of the
park were extinguished, she tried
desperately to fog her tired mind
into some semblance of a plan.
There must be something she
could do, Something besides just
sit here and SILVER while the night
grew blacker and blacker. There
must be something she could do.
f. !. The refrain started again.
There must be something to
do. There must be some place
to go. Things like this didn't
happen to girls like her. There
must be something to do.
1t was getting cold. Even the
summer nights were chilly at this