Coulee City dispatch. [volume] (Coulee City, Wash.) 19??-19??, 1940-05-02

sion Of her, they had watched the
yacht races together, they had been
together-alone in the mob-at the
barbecue and clam-bake supper,
they had danced at the Casino
strolled out into the moonshine to
talk, danced again.
The others had been singing; Shei-
la and Peter had sung, too, and it
had seemed to them that their very
souls had risen to Heaven on the
strains of "There's a Long, Long
Trail" and "The End of q Perfect
Day"
Afterward there had been silence;
peace about the dying fire, and
moonshine gaining over freight,
and the soft rustic and rush of the
sea. Sheila had been carrying her
pocketbook, through this marvellous
week of beach holiday, and she had
opened it to find pencil and a piece
of paper, and had scrubbed her
name and address, there in the fire.
light, for Peter to carry away.
"I''ve got to get back" he had
said. "I'm driving three fellers to
Good Ground"
I'm going up to town in the
morning." she had said.
"We're going Monday. Well, I'll
see you in town." he had said.
And that had been the end. No
word from him, no sign from him,
no knowledge of him until tonight.
And he was to marry Gertrude
Keane on Tuesday.
1t was long after midnight when
Sheila fell asleep. And after all
it was neither Gertrude nor Peter
nor Frank, nor even the intractable
"Ma," on whom her last thought lin
gered. 1t was Judge Paul Nc Cam,
blue-eyed, honest, generous, good
the only conception Sheila had ever
had of kindly human fatherhood. He
would discover that he had been de-
ceived in her, that she was a liar.
Her cheeks burned with fear and
shame, and her dreams; when final
ly she slept, we're only a hundred
troubled versions of exposure.
"Paul," said Mrs. Nc Cam to
her husband the following evening,
when they were in their own mag
nificent room just before dinner,
''the goodness of the poor breaks
your heart"
eye got to see the Carscaddens to-
day." he asked eagerly.
II made it matter of duty, Pa
pa" Mrs. Nc Cam said.
'Well, We found thim?"
"In a little place-Mrs. Nc Cam
sighed, and repeated her former
phrase. ''It would break your
heart"
'It would, eh?" he asked uneasi-
ly, reluctantly, as he sat up on the
edge of the bed
"Three rooms, Papa. And you
could put all three into this one.'
"Ah-h-h!" he muttered, as if in
pain. He shut his lips, brought his
feet to the floor, and began to walk
up and down the room.
IF you could see the dignity of
the mother, Paul. No whining, no
hard-luck story. Just one long tale
OF how good God has been to them,
and of what wonderful son she
has, and that Sheila-the girl who
came here is Sheila-ought to be an
actress, the way she carries on.
She made joke of 1.-THE child's
honesty, and her returning the mon
cyl"
II knew the minute saw the
child it'd be something like that"
he said. Good be good to us ALL"
Paul, l was thinking was Won
dering, since this girl has lost her
job, whether she'd come to us, for
next week? We're going to be sim
ply rushed out of our senses. She
could keep an eye on Veronica
she'd be the greatest help to Katie.
Then I could get some idea of what
she can do, and what they need
what is it, Gertrude?"
The last phrase was an abrupt in
terruption. Gertrude, clad in a
dressing-gown, and with tragic
face and loosened hair, had entered
the room without announcement.
aunt Ellie, do you know where
Peter is?"
do Peter? Where would he
be?'
well, he's not home; he's not
here!'
"He's on his way home then, dar-
ling"
"Aunt Ellie, he's not! He was to
go to the tailor, and meet Frank
and pick out the ushers' pins and
everything, and then he was going
to meet me at the Paulists' sand he
hasn't done any of it! He said he
had to 60 to the library at half past
four and he would meet us at five.
We telephoned the tailor, even, and
Frank is just about fit to be tied;
he says he's afraid Peters been
hurt!"
"Oh, for heavens sake" Judge
Nc Cam said, annoyed and impa-
tient. Don't lose your wits!"
well, Uncle Paul, all I know is
that tonight is the night of the din
ner dance at the Cahills our last
before we are married, and it's to
start sharp at seven, because we're
all going up to the Country Club,
and look-it's twenty after six now!
All, don't laugh at me-do some