HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times-Advocate, 1934-05-31, Page 2TKVRSBAY, MAY 31st, 1031 THE EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATE
- SHINING PALACE -
by Christine Whiting Parmenter
SYNOPSIS
Nora, adopted daughter of James
Lambert, Indulgent old gentlemen
has decided to marry Don Mason,
who lacked stability. Nora's
mother ran away with a singer
who later deserted her and on a
deathbed wrote a leter to her
husband James Lambert. He came
and took her daughter Nora to
his home. Now he is anxious to
protect Nora from such a mar
riage when Nora insists, he agrees
to give Don a year’s trial in busi
ness under his son, Ned Lambert,
who like his father has a poor
opinion of Don. Goaded by Ned,
Don is trying desperately to be
come a business man. Ned ana
Don had a final disagreement com
ing to blows and Don left. He and
Leonora were married immediate
ly and left for a shack1 th. Maine
belonging to an artist friend of
Don’s.
THE STORY
“This,” she told him. “Let's buy
that barn, Don, and by degrees (as
we nave the money), make it into
a home. To quote old Tom Little
field, the carpenter at the Port, it
was built at a time when ‘'folks built
honest.’ It was built to stand. I’ll
admit that it’s not beautiful. The
cupola with its ridiculous colored
windows is an eyesore, of course;
it can be taken down—”
“You mean that darling little
house on top of the old barn, Mum-(
my?” Young Donald spoke quickly,
in alarm. “I love that cunning
little house, Mummy. Daddy and me
climbed up there, once didn’t we,
Daddy? We saw the lighthouse way,
way out to sea; and a big steamer!
Everything looked so kind and
cheerful. Daddy ’splained it was be
cause the windows are such pretty
colors. Daddy liked it too, Mummy.
Don’t you let anybody take it down!’
Said Don, who had the wisdom
never to laugh when his small son
was serious-: “The cupola remains
It can be our watch tower. What,
my darling,” he asked of Leonora,
“is a man’s castle without its watch
tower?”
■For the first time in fifteen min
utes Nora drew a breath of sheer
relief. Don was won! His imagina
tion had started working and once
that got going there was no stopping
him. For six years she had been an
uncomplaining nbmad. Life, despite
its ups and downs, its sometimes
terrifying hardships, had been rich,
and colorful, and adventurous; but
there were times when, woman-like
she had dreamed of possessing a real
home, even though she knew (being
Don Mason’s- wife) they would oc
cupy it only periodically.
And her dream was to come true!
Nora laughed, a laugh so joyous and
unguarded that Don realized for the
first time, perhaps, how courageous
ly his wife had relinguished her own
dreams that his might be fulfilled.
The knowledge brought him a sense
of his own unworthiness1. He saiid,
voice husky:
“I’m a moron, Nora—a dumbbell
—a complete washout, I hadn’t an
idea that you were missing—every
thing. With me, you kn'ow, home is
‘simply where the heart is’. I ought
to have understood that a woman
feels different—needs some place to
call her own. Why 'didn’t you tell
me? I’m only a blundering man,
darling, but I love you and I haven’t
meant to be self-centred. Of course,
we’ll buy that barn if it’s what you
want and there’s sufficient cash on
hand to pay for it. Clome on kiddies,
Let’s take a look at our future home
Your mamma is more than a wonder
Jimsy. .She’s something that’s ut
terly impossible to describe, and we
don’t deserve her. Watch out, Nora!
Here’s the big wave you prophesied
a while ago!”
Don’s warning came, too late.
There was a rush—-a scramble—a
wail of anguish from James Lambert
Mason. Safe on the dunes the ba’by
pointed seaward to where his small,
red shoe; a tiny, fearless craft amid
the breakers, was setting sail across
the broad Atlantic.
It was early summer when they
bought the stable with its. surround
ing savin-covered pastures, it’s
stretch of dunes and beach. Don, a
smile of understanding in his eyes,
presented the deed to Nora with such
a flourish that the white-haired no
tary who witnessed the signatures
inquired if she were planning to
“make a palace of that old barn?”
“I’ve seen her do things! even
incredible,” laughed Don; while
Nora, her face lighting at the old
man’s words, responded:
“It will a palace to me, anyway—
my shining palace. That’s what
we’ll call it, thanks t’o your inspira
tion, Mr. Moore. If ever you’re
tempted to head the modern poets,
look up Millay and perhaps you’ll
understand.
To her surprise the notary quoted
without hesitation: “Come and see
my shining palace built upon the
sand’? Well, this future home of
yours is surely built upon the sand
and I have n'o doubt you’ll make it
shine surpassingly. Yes, I love the
poets, Mrs. Mason, though as, a rule
my taste in poetry is as old-tfashion-
ed as I am myself. But I’ve heard
Miss Millay read her own verses',
and that makes a difference. Let
me know when the latch string is
out and I’ll pay my respects to the
Royal Family!”
“We’ll bid you to dine some ev
ening in ‘the banquet hlall!” smiled
Nora as they turned away.
“And who,” said Don, when they
stood in the sunlight outside the
hideous frame building which hous
ed the notary’s, small office, “who
would suspect that aged patriarch of
reading the moderns?”
“I would.” retorted Leonora
is no mossba'ck, Don.
feet example of what
call a scholar and a gentleman. But
he’ll never know how superbly that
quotation fits our case.
me once that in the days when he
was fighting the thought o,f our mar
riage that to survive, a house must
be built upon a rock.”
“ ‘.Safe upon the solid rock' the ugly
houses stand;
Come and see my shining palace built
upon the sand!’
“Don’t you see what I mean?”
“I see that you don’t regard me as
possessing the comfortable stability
of a rock, my dear!”
“You possess, it dn the essentials.”
replied Nora soberly, “which is all
that matters; and you’ve got the
lovely changing quality of the sand,
as well. When I was. a sma]l girl
Dad, took me to the sea, one summer
I used to sit for hours on the beach,
Don, and with a wee tin shovel lift
off layer after layer of damp sand;
and every layer was different from
the one before—like beautiful fab
rics woven in varying patterns. It
used to fascinate me because I never
knew what the next layer would be;
and 'it’s the same with you, my dear.
Just as I’m sure I know you inside
out, up springs some quality I hadn’t
dreamed of. Who wants an ugly
house to live in year after year', Don,
if one can have a palace for*—for en
chanted intervals?”
“I wish you wouldn’t say such
things on a public street, Nora,”
complained her husband. “It might
shock these repressed undemonstra
tive natives of the state o’ Maine to
see a man embrase his wife under a
telephone pole, 'Come on now, let’s
beard the village carpenter in bis
den. There’s no time to spare if
we’re to see the beginnings of this
home you’ve set your1 heart on be
fore we sail for Naples on Nov. 10.”
“Oh, let’s not think about Nov.
10!” Don felt a pang at the protest!
in Nora’s voice. “I want to forget,
such things as boats and railroads and suitcases for a little whije. We|
have got four months before we
have to leave Don. We can do a lot.
And it won’t be so hard to go away
if our home’s in order for even dis
order!) waiting to welcome us again
next spring."
Don said, as they turned down a
side street: “Would you rathei' not
go to Italy this year, Nora?”
“We must," she answered. “I prom
ised Constance. Their villa seems so
big and lonely without Ven. And it’s
such a wonderful chance foi* you,
Don. You can fare forth gathering
material to write about and know
that the boys and I are safe and com
fortable. Of course we’l] go; but it
will be so wonderful to know we are
coming back! And when Father finds
we’re really living somewhere—some
where civilized, I mean (you know
his feelings about Europe!) he may
come to see us. I—I am sure he
will.
Tom Littlefiejd, a weather-beaten
but vigorous man of sixty-odd, was
'in his shop: a neat white building at
the rear of his comfortable dwelling.
“He makes me think of a tree at the
timber-line,” Don said later. “The
sort I’ve seen in the Colorado Rock-
des, gnarled by the wind you know,
but strong and sturdy.”
The man’s face brightener at the
sight of Leonora. It brightened still
more when she disclosed their plans..
Don, content to stand aside and
watch them, saw at ia glance that
they understood each other, this
■strangely assorted pair. “I see,” the
i carpenter kept saying, “I see,” And
■ when she had finished: “What I ad- | vise, Mis’ Mason, is to measure up
. the place and make a. sketch of where
'you want partitions. I’jl run you
down in the Ford right now and we
will look it over. And I’ll, be on
hand at 7 sharp to-morrow morn
ing ready to begin. I’m not a Union
man, though I’ve nothin’ at all
against those that is. But I’ve been
my own master too long now to be
willin’ to take orders. If I want to
quit at noon and go. fishin’ off the
-polint, I quit. If I feel like working
till seven at night to finish some
thin’ I set out to do, I work. And I
work honest. No one ever complain
ed of a house built by Torn Little
field., Let’s go.’
Then, and then only did Don speak
He said, with discretion learned of
marriage: “But we’ll have to know
something about the cost, Mr. Little
field. This wife of mine has a pre
judice against running bills.”
The carpenter raised a rugged,“He' protesting hand.
He’s a per-1 “That’ll be all right. You’re hon-
they used to est folks, and I’m not worryin’ about
my pay. This little lady has got to
, he made comfortable. When the job’s
, done, pay what you can, and the bal-
Father Itold | ance whenever it comes handy. I
been doin’ business that w'ay for for-
Eczema Broke Out
On Her Face and Arms
For the past 55 years
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Toronto* Ont.
Miss Mary Ens, Hague, Sask.,
writes:—“My blood was in a terrible
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I started using blood cleansers of
various kinds, but it was of no avail.
One day I read about Burdock
Blood Bitters, but being so dis
couraged, because all other methods
had failed, I was rather skeptical
about trying it, but after having
taken six bottles I was perfectly
satisfied as my skin was left clean and
healthy looking.”
i ty years (so long .s I knew the. folks
11 dealt wfith), and I never lost a
copper. Now let’s iiot waste any
more time.”
Nor did they! It was astonishing
how fast the work progressed. For
as. whole-heartedly as he had ever
embarked on an adventure, Don
threw himself into the making of
Nora’s home. Day by day, early and
late, he worked beside the carpenter
Nora worked too, at any task she
could lay hands on. Even small Don
ald carried out rubbish with solemn
pride in the thought that he was
“helping to build our house.”
Sometimes the old carpenter
would disagree with Nora. The size
of the living room disturbed him.
“It’s too big,” he protested. “It
won’t be snug and cosy like a sittin’
room should be. It’s big as a ball
(room!”
“It is a bap room,” retorted Nora
“and as for its being- cosy—you wait
and see! A baby-gralid piano takes
up space you know; and1—Oh. don’t
fuss any more,” she pleaded. “I want
it big. I’ve lived in banonoxes for six
years.”
“Well,” sighed the old builder
with a dubious, shake of his. grey
head, “it’s your house; but remem
ber I warned you.”
Don would pause in his hammer
ing when these discussion raged.
Sometimes he’d say over his shoul
der: “Oh, let her alone, Mr. Little
field. She’s, .on the war path!” and
the grizzled product of the “wild
New England shore” would wink
solemnly and pick up his tools, and
continue to do exactly as'Nora said.
They concentrated on the living
room at first; and when the parti
tions were in place and the wide
casement windows finished, it was
Leonora who tackled builder’s paper
to the walls of one end, while a
mason from the Port constructed a
ch'imney at the other; and Don and
Tom Littlefield moved their work
bench into one of the box stalls that
was destined to-become a kitchen
ette.
“And what I don’t understand
grumbled the old man good-natured
ly, “is why any one in their senses
should want a sitting room big
enough to accommodate a trolly
line and a kitchen so small you can’t
eat breakfast there cold mornin’s.
“Tain’t sensible, if you ask me,”
“But I didn’t ask you.” retorted
Nora while lie grinned at her (impu
dence. “It’s not suitable for <a Royal
Family to eat in the kitchen, Mr.
Littlefield; and besides, those next
two stalls are to be the banquet
hall.
“What do you think this old barn
is?’ ho questioned sternly. “Wind
sor Castle? The; Royar- Family!
Whoever heard o’ such a thing?”
But he kept right on obeying orders
and one/day astonished Nora by in
quiring where “the royal bed-cham
ber” was to bo—upstairs, or down?”!
■Overhearing the question Don col
lapsed with mirth, A royal bed-
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SUBSCRIPTION—$2.00 per year In
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RATES—Farm or ReaR Estate fo>
sale 50c. each insertion for firit
four insertions. 25c. each subse
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(IX-5)
chamber seemed so foreign to this
sturdy old builder with the New
England twang of his voice and the
New England sense of humour (so
often mistaken for something quite
the opposite) lurking in the depths
of his blue eyes.
The weeks passed rapidly. Mid
August W there before they knew
it; but Tom Littlefield continued to
arrive at seven o’clock, and not once
had he been tempted to quit at noon
Don rose early in those days, tip
toed about the. shack getting a light
breakfast and sometimes left before
Nora was awake. Later she followed
with the children and a picnic lunch
the baby toolld a nap in an old
packing box, oblivious to the sound
of hammer an.d saw; while small
Donald sat on a nail' keg and hand
ed things to his father as requested
forgetting in this absorbing interest
that he’d intended tunneling to Italy
■that season.
It was Leonora who suggested
moving in. “It’ll save the long walk
night and morning, Don. It’ll save
time; and it can’t be much more in
convenient than the shacfci is now.
The living-room—” (“Ball room”)
corrected the builder diryly) “is en
tirely finished,. The fireplace ‘burns
like a breeze; and there’s a sink in
the kitchen even if there’s, no w'ater
running into it.”
“And speaking of water,” observ
ed Don, “the report on this well
water is O.K. Nora. It came this
morning. Why shouldn’t we move?”
Thus there came a day when with
the air of two Portland movers
(hailed by Jim Perkins as they pass
ed through town), Nora’s beautiful
piano stood on? the spot planned for
it; and Don said: “Christen the
ballroom, Nora. Play something ap-
propiate. ‘On with the dance, let joy
be unconfined.’ ”
So, seated upon an upturned box,
Nora played; and looking up as the
haunting strains of “The Beautiful
Blue Danube” died away, behold the
entire working force, apparently
hypnotized.
Old Tom Littlefield stood in the
dooray staring straight ahead thro’
a indow that facer the sea. One of
the Portland movers (perched on a
barrel) appeared to have gone into
a sort of trance; while the other was
wiping suspicious moisture from his
eyes, and Jim Perkins stood before
the fireplace, arms folded, head
sunk forward, lost to the world.
Don, as. the music ceased, didn’t
Hook up at all. His wife suspected
that he was in the same plight as
the second Portland man. Even the
children remained quiet; and at last
the mover seated on the barrel said:
“I remember that tune. Seems as1 if
my wife must ha’ played it when we
was goin’ together.”
‘“That’s queer,” the other man ob
served, shamefacedly thrusting his
handkerchief into a pocket, “but
darned if I wasn’t thinkin’ that very
thing! Kind o’—kind o’ brings things
back, don’t it?”
The carpenter’s blue eyes twinkl
ed at this confession.
“It sure does,” he admitted, “I
donno as I ever heard that piece be
fore, but it did .somethin’ to me. If
you want to know the truth, Mis’
Mason, I wa’n’t here at all. I was
‘seein’ Nelly home’ after a church
supper forty years back. You bettei*
lock up that piano and keep it lock
ed if you want this downstairs to be
finished by November first.”
Nora laughed, and Jim Perkins,
finding his voice at last, exploded;
“Well, I’ll tell the world you can
play, Mis’ Mason! I never heard
nothing like. it, except over the radio
and if you ask me, you’ve got that
feller named Hoffmann beat to a
frazzle.!”
Leonora arbs-e from the packing
box to acknowledge this honest tri
bute with o curtesy; while Don sug
gested: “Give them some more, Nora
before they leave,” and for twenty
minutes Nora played to as apprecia
tive an audience as any artist cou'.a
desire. Indeed, the Portland movers
would accept only the minutest pay
ment for their services.
“It wa’n’t nothin',” declared the
older man as they arose to go.
“Nothin’ at all; and the music was
pay enough anyhow. Wasn’t it, Joe?”
“Joe,” still dazed, assented with a
mute nod. They departed munching
Nora’s, molasses cookies, and, Don
told her (when Tom Littlefield liao
returned to the box stajl which he
was. converting into the north end
of a “banquet hall”) with “their
souls refreshed.”
(Continued next week)
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Office: Carling Block, Main Street,
EXETER, ONT.
At Lucan Monday and Thursday
We wash, polish, paint and repair
all makes of cars at the Ford Garage.
—SANDY ELLIOT
Dr. G. S. Atkinson, L.D.S.,D.D.S
DENTAL SURGEON
Office opposite the New Post Office
Main St., Exeter
Telephones
Office 34w House *4j
Closed Wednesday Afternoons
Dr. G. F. Roulston, L.D.S.,D.D.S,
DENTIST
Office: Carling Block
EXETER, ONT.
Closed Wednesday Afternoons
K. C. BANTING, B. A., M. D.
Physician and Surgeon, Lucan, Ont
Office in Centralia
Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday
from 2 to 5 p.m. or by appointment
Telephone the hotel in Centralia at
any time. Phone Crediton 30r25
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THE LARGEST RESERVE BAL
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Amount of Insurance at Risk on
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Total Casli in Baltic and Bonds
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CHIROPRACTIC, OSTEOPATHY,
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MAIN ST., EXETER
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AGENTS
JOHN ESSERY, Centralia, Agent
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ALVIN L. HARRIS, Munro, Agent
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THOMAS SCOTT, Cromarty, Agent
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B. W. F. BEAVERS
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GLADMAN & STANBURY
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WINNER OF HONORS AT
UNIVERSITY IN WEST.
Mrs. D. B. MicLean of Hensall, re
ceived the word that her grandson*
F?J. McLean, has won the Governor-
General’s gold medal at the Univer
sity of Satkatehowan at Saskatoon,
awarded to the m'ost distinguished
graduate. He also wins the Univer
sity silver meal in medicine. A trip
to Europe is- part of his reward. The
student, who. is a son of James Md-
Lean is but 19 years of age.