The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1944-08-31
The Heritage
. q q
By VIRGINIA COUCHLN
Mcclure Syndicate-WNU Features.

7 TITLE Nan brought the question
Ahome from school with her.
Mummy" she said over her
steaming lunch, "our teacher was
talking about Pen-Penelope to-
day. Who's she?"
"Oh, just a story-book lady,
dear" Dorothy Nevins told her
daughter. Eat your potatoes now.
And, Thomas Nevins Junior, please
scrub those awful fngernails Of
yours thoroughly before you 60 back
to school"
20. K" Slouched in his chair.
Tommy was obviously not thinking
of his meal, or Of his hands, either.
Like his younger sister, Tommy
lived in an enchanted world Of
bright, delicious fantasy. His eyes
were wide and expectant. How
about this Penelope? What story is
she in?"
II don't know" Dorothy an
swered.
what did she do?" Mans inter-
est in the strange but somehow
promising lady was keen.
Dorothy dropped kisses on the two
dark heads. Its been a long time
since Mummy went to school. She
has forgotten all about Penelope"
Seeing disappointment cloud the
children's small faces, she was i'm
mediately penitent. Tell you what"
she suggested, "Ill get out Daddy's
mythology this afternoon and meet
Penelope again. I'll tell you the
story at bedtime. Will that do?"
This was greeted with shouts Of de-
lighted approval.
Dorothy waved them to their
afternoon sessions. For a relaxing
moment she sank into a chair. The
angelic whirlwinds, she thought low
ingly, it would take ten mothers to
keep up with them. Such beautiful
children, she unused further, I'm
abashed at her pride in them.
The clock measured off the min
utes, tick, tick, tick Just one
glance at its bland face and Dorothy
was on her feet again. She set about
washing the dishes. It wasn't until
she'd dropped the first tumbler into
the froth of white suds that she felt
her mornings depression close in
upon her again. It came, as it had
come every day, almost sitting her
in its dark, notwithstanding spell.
Her hands faltered. But pretty Mrs.
Nevins lectured herself. Don't stop.
You've a job to do"
Tucked in their respective beds
that night, the little ones were OBJ.
viously not the least bit sleepy. TEL
us the story, Mummy" Nan re.
minded.
YES" urged Tommy. you prom.
ised-"
And I shall keep my promise-i1
you'll both 60 right to sleep after
ward. No thousand drinks Of water
She smiled at each Of them in turn
then began the story.
It was the tale familiar to almos'
everyone. the fable of Penelope. tha'
valiant lady who refused to give W
hope Of her husbands return from
the Trojan war. In terms suited tc
her youngsters understanding,
Dorothy explained how time raced
on and Ulysses was ne longer be-
lieved alive. how Penelope went
about weaving a robe, promising tc
marry one of her countless suitors
only when it should be completed,
The lady's handiwork was never
quite finished, however, as she fash
toned it during the day, then ripped
the new stitches at night. Her art.
fulness saved her.
Penelope was very wise" Doro'
thy ended, and the children nodded
in agreement, their round eyes
thoughtful.
After the evening prayers, kisses
and nose tweaking, Mrs. Nevins
tucked them in, then went down
stairs to the quiet living room. She
switched on the radio and sat lis
tening to the soft music but not hear,
ing it, lingering the small socks she
was darning without seeing them.
"Tom," she whispered, turning t.
look at the photograph that stood or
the table. The smiling dark-hairec
man was young and handsome ii
his Army captains uniform. There
was capability in his lean face
strength in the line Of his broac
shoulders. "Oh, Tom." Dorothy
asked, why have I been such &
baby? Other wives have waited fol
wars to end, haven't they? Always
throughout the ages, women have
been buoyed by hope - even ii
Penelope's time. Penelope was yer,
wise-wise to keep working and new
er, never to give up. I shall try Il
be more like her, Tom. 49,"
The radio music stopped. Their
vas utter silence until a young voic.
called from upstairs, Mummy
Did the lady's husband come back?'
YES" Dorothy answered, "aftel
a long time Ulysses came home
Now 60 to sleep, darlings."