The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1942-06-18

to know that forgiveness is easiest
won long after offense has been
given. And he had just had a
mother lesson to the same effect
from Rose.
Should he then continue his
quest of the Ironburg Twomb-
ley's? Looking back, he decided
that while Roses denial of any
such names existence among the
villages graves was inspired by
her annoyance, it would be better
to inquire among the elderly liv-
ing than the oldest dead.
An aproned person appeared on
the porch of the sun-baked hotel
and rang a huge handbell at him.
Jerry determined to do nothing
before eating-always a wise re-
solve.
He was the only diner in the ill
lighted room where, indeed, there
were but four tables, and only
one set.
Roast beef - potatoes - corn
- spinach - peach pie!"
He regarded the waitress. Yes,
she was the bell-ringer. She was
also, he recalled, the chamber
maid.
Call right" said he. II don't
mind"
''Mean you'll have 'em still?"
"One time my boss gave me a
book that said Never appear un-
appreciative.' I will have 'em
STILL"
She left him and returned with
the entire meal on a single tray.
Plate by plate, she threw it at
the table.
Jerry reflected that, had she
been a better shot, either of his
two morning escapes would have
been scarcely worth rejoicing o.
yer.
The plates were thick, the beef
was hard. "A single direct hit"
he thought, would prove fatal"
Also, the maize was cattle corn;
there had been a good deal of
sand left in the spinach; and, to
make things worse, the waitress
stood behind him throughout the
! meal. She rustled over his head
stick to which big bunch of
parti-colored paper ribbons had
been fastened for the discourage
ment of the flies.
When he could bear no more,
he turned to his grim servitor.
where's MIR. Hassler?" he
asked.
"Out."
The diner glanced through an
open door that gave upon the ho-
tel office. 'When'n he be back?"
How'd I know"
"I don't know how you would.
But don't get scared; I'm not 60
ing to make any kick to him."
The Ratchet face softened to
what must have been intended for
smile. The kitchen evidently
ate the same fare as the guest.
cit wouldn't hurt eff you did
but it wouldn't help none"
NO." said Jerry, Il can see you
weren't born yesterday. ] won
der if you were born long enough
ago to remember any of the peo-
pie was going to ask Mr.. Hass-
! Ter about: the Twombleys."
The waitress added an extra
wrinkle to her brows-almost Wis
IDLY she skinned the pages OF
her memory's index. 'There used
| to be folks named that somev-
eres aroun' when was girl yet.
What you want to know fer?"
"Oh, just because I happened
to see the name on an old tomb
stone a while ago, and used to
have friend named Twombley
in Troy, New York;. B. Twom-
bley, he was"
"Twasn't none O. these heren,"
said the waitress, with conviction;
Though it might "a been a son
or somesin' already. These heren
died out, er left, too long ahead
O. you was born"
Jerry would have asked more
but there came an interruption
from the direction of the office.
Hassler had returned just soon
enough to receive another guest,
whose hired automobile was al
ready making a noisy start back
toward Americas, and whose face
was bent above the register from
one side of the counter while the
proprietor's bent over it from the
opposite side. Hasslers voice, as
he repeated what was written
came clearly into the dining
room:
"B. B. Twombley? Portland,
Maine? There used to was
v1.,-o~>oL1o-,. 1;x,od IN %hoSn narfS !"