The Key West citizen. [volume] (Key West, Fla.) 1879-current, 1942-11-30
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tenders. Out the driveway ana
down the road she sped. Jeb had
just pulled up in front of the
Jarvis place. Rita bit her lip. She
was abreast the old car now, Jeb
was smiling and waving, a letter
in his hand. Rita smiled back and
waved a friendly hand it was
over and Jeb would never know
what a struggle it really was.
Quickly she wiped two hot tears
from her eyes.
The village street was almost
deserted as she drove between
the rows of towering pepper trees
that shaded the dozen small build
ings that comprised the business
section" She turned sharply at
a sign that read, "Mi1ler's Garage"
and the car rolled to a stop in
side the little structure. A greasy,
smiling face appeared from I'M
der a car.
Hello, Miss Ralston, what can
I do for your"
I'm going up to Frisco for
while. Don. Would you look after
old Betsy for me? Maybe you can
sell the old bus. The tires are al
most new, I hate to use them with
the army needing rubber. Some
one told me they're buying sta
ton wagons at Fort Dade and
tickled to death to get them"
'PIl look into it for you and
let you know" Don Miller said.
Rita walked briskly along the
familiar, sleepy village street the
short two blocks to the railway
station. The train was already in
as she bought her ticket and got
aboard.
Alone LIN San Francisco
old JEB scratched his head in
~ quiet wonderment as Rita's
car raced by. He was looking hard
at the letter he held in his hand.
With a series of sharp jerks his
old car started and travelled the
short distance from the Jarvis
place to the Ralston's mail box.
Dropping the letter slowly in
the box he muttered half aloud,
more advertisin' from that
burned New York bank"
It was late afternoon when
Rita's train pulled into the busy
terminal at Frisco. Like a great
river suddenly overlooking its
banks, streams of hurrying ira
velers were flowing in all direc-
tons. Rita mounted the wide
stairway that led to the cab stand
and was soon riding through
familiar streets that led to the
Chatham Club. It was a quiet,
honey place, that had been es-
tablished for single working girls.
She had stayed there before and
loved her room that overlooked
the bay. It sat high on a hill with
the city bustling far below. Rita
remembered now how good it
used to seem to get home from
her work at the Taylor Publish
ing Company, out of the constant
droning din of typewriters and
huge printing presses to the quiet
of her little room.
Things were just as she had
hoped. The girl who had been
renting Rita's old room had left
two days before to go back to
Washington to take a government
job and she could have it. Mrs.
Chatham was a round, motherly
soul and welcomed Rita warmly.
"You coming back to your old
job, Honey?"
"I-don't know" Rita replied.
Rita closed her door and tossed
her suitcase on the bed. It was
almost dark, only a trace of soft,
faded light flooded in the win
dows. The familiarity of it all
warmed her heart as she stood
looking down upan the great city
with its countless lights now flick
ing o. She drew Clark's wire
from her purse and in the almost
faded last glow of light read again
the short, terse words that stab
bed SO painfully at her weary
heart.