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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1920-2-12, Page 2get Trt o* dei he �° `` but firms'i The Tea That Ne ,r oint 5r2 Eja.ck Green or Mixed 1,. ,.3, rtr °I Cie ,,,e Cameo 1 "Ws a goad 1 ante," sold the ol simply. "1 al eve!. you Polly," On a Monday mt ruintt shortly afte this, Uncle S a.,lnh1, venue over earl It was washday and Gertrude Iva busy with the leashing. Acle Sammy, come out here," sh called."You've never seen ns ' v' ing machine doing a real washing have you?" "No, Polly" "Well, I want you to see how ' works," and she explained every de ail. "Cracky Bob!" what would we d with all this machinery? Moth oesn't have much to do," he ex aimed. "She's had more to do than you ealize." "But she's been doing it all these years in the old way and never com plained." "She hasn't complained because she is Aunt Sarah, but your children did complain the boys and Gertrude— and they left your farm to escape the hard work. "I don't want to say anything to hurt your feelings, but I want you to realize how much it will mean to Aunt Sarah to have all the little helps that are part of the modern home and at she is surely entitled to have. "It's ridiculous, Polly," Uncle S. was manifestly uneasy. "It ould mean spending a good many mitred dollars." Gertrude looked at hint fora mo- ent then beckoned him to the door or something 'hut she got n tvlth t• wrong kind of friends. "There were lettere- in lien rapt that she'd wrote to her mo; ghee it never sent; letters .shout t,i :"ly tiJ gi nen Then after a nhdt ;he say ;ashamed to come home deal; she d what girls s do often underthe &an eirethril.?t tneel. She ,ne 1 :;Cloth no a to h tial'. r .aim ---they i'ourl her body h e atinrq n the lake. can't seem to eat' yen :h bs 'her name Gertrude prem :.y' seeks, so'f'tl 'When I eiakt a little girl, niy~ father name for ale was 'Polly. It was h mother'. naive. Wouldn't t'a't eel./ lute t call me that?" ently Gertrude led him away. "Uncle Szixlxmy, I dont lcisow how lin tin thousand dollars you ire saortn at hut if Aunt Strath were going to die :zs "Polly, I'd spend then all in a min" ;rter' ie "Of course you would. Then why' er hesitate about spending, a few hu7n- tl dred dollars that aright easily add ten "I years to her life ?" :: "Polly, I guess you're right!" and y, Uncle Sammy tiptoed out tc the barn s thinking new, new thoughts. is Spring was coming on and soon o the time arrived when Aunt Sarah could go home, Id They bundled her up and John car-' ried her out to his ear. Uncle �Satnmy' ✓ had gone ahead. y, Gertrude, watchiug from her own' • home, saw the car` stop to discharge its precious burden and then went e smiting into her own pretty living- _ room to wait. g, In a few moments came their ring on the telephone and she hurried to take down the receiver, 6 rt: "Hello!" t "Oh, Dearie! What do you think? I've got--!" It was Aunt Sarah's' a voice. Motile "Got what?" questioned Gertrude. • and the bathrroom the—electric-evrything—". The dear *Id voice was trembling and Gertrude's throat swelled with sym-i pathetic joy. "Come over right away! _ I can't—talk!" "Pel ,come," cried Gertrude and away she went over the old path. ! It was a merry evening. Aunt Sarah was as happy as a new bride for Uncle Sammy had omitted noth-, ing. They called John over and they all had supper together. Aunt Sarah, sitting at her own table, star -eyed and touched with youth, had to try out all her new possessions exclaim - ung over and over at their beauty. Finally the Hadleys bade the two old people goodnight and walked home over the path the other Ger-' trude once had trod. John had just opened the gate into e their own yard; when Gertrude touch ry Valle 't d BY FRED J. ST. JOHN cI lee, eien,s;;: WeiVia elaie laak yak Yst ink in Yu m, lakkk MA t CHAPTER IV. trude a wonderful insight into the Summer and autumn passed rapidly,' lives of these, her neighbors. The Cherry Valley neighbors came Sometimes Aunt Sarah talked of to Cherry Hill to meet Johns wife, her own experience and spoke of her and found Gertrude pleasant and like- boys who had grown up and left them able, as John had prophesied. But long ago. But, strange though it they were busy farmer folks and had seemed, she never mentioned the little tiane for visiting. As the sum- daughter and Gertrude remembering mer progressed Gertrude saw little of what John had told her, guessed that them, except the Andersons, Uncle this was one sorrow that she and tSaanmy and Aunt Sarah and, true to Uncle Sammy chose to keep locked John's prophesy again, she found no up in their on hearts fri dh heoodattachment h d A so satisfactory. In- the things that her old friend told en s hi so true, no other neighbor.: As she revolved in her own mind th became the best of friends and hardly a day pass- ed that they did not meet and Uncle Sammy Iaughingly remarked that the old path between the homes had never been so broad and well -beaten as now. Gertrude could run the car quite as well as John and her modern labor- saving equipment so shortened the thne necessary for her routine house- hold duties that she was able to drive to the city frequently, thus keeping in touch with her friends and their! doings there. I She liked, also, to take Aunt Sarah and Old Martha for drives about tll.e country hut Aunt Sarah never felt quite at ease in the automobile eo her, Gertrude came to have a still S keener appreciation of the lot of the w farm women of Cherry Valley and of hu the vast amount of hard work they; had performed. Out of bed at four' m e morning doing the h 'clock in th•• eav washings, milking and caring for the 'milk, mashing butter, canning and preserving vast quantities of fruit, looking after chickens and young • stock, sewing and mending, often far into the night, sweeping and cieaning —an endless round, that brought the' workers tired and dispirited at the end of the day, with no ambition ex- cept to get to beat to rest aching backs; and weary limbs. Gertrude got the habit of runni over to the Ande'son home as could spare the time and helping I old frierd out w: th the wank. Th the little old l a `y- would bring h mending er darning ning and sit wi Gertrude n the leg verandah of afzcrp: L and a the months roll a h ipily er, Lr `ci ,a. ;.•a re and Gertrude :c d...ed '; Mellor site would see mare 1 their rel ors now the busie eten a oven ::at it seemed tin l t 11 herr selves e up in their o a t ,p' a'n r, ,ways, when she s them that, they knew they magi to get t et more bu they were so bus - Tl refore there •as very little ma v kiting between Cherry Valley an the. rest of the neighborhood than b fore. of Aunt Sarah's room. She peeped in cautiously, then motioned to hi quietly to look. Little Aunt Sarah lay with her face turiied from them gazing through to where the morning sun was beginning to give the world a look of spring. Her gray hair was brushed back away from her face and lay in soft waves over the pil- ow. She looked very frail and tiny there in the big bed and Geesrude saw Uncle Sammy's eyes fill. n the shore with her hair .properly tucked up under a bathing cap, and needles, thread and mending tissue in a bag on her 'farm! Talk of pre- paredness and thrifty C,arrie Marvin is thrift itself. If you could take her to pieces, you'd find she was made up of remnants bought at a bargain for their Wearing qualities, beauti- fully pieced together and cleaned and pressed every night." The grills enjoyed it as they always enjoyed Pen. But it puzzled Mayda Kline, who was a new comer. "But you, look exactly as neat as Carrie," she declared. "Oh, I!" Pen tossed it off lightly. "Itis none of my fault, I could have a beautiful time even if I had a rip in each glove and a hole in my heel. With mo it's environment, not con- genital traits." "Well, there's one thing you'll have to admit," Del Conner remarked. "Carrie has kept her mother young. She looks as young as Carrie her- self." "She is probably a hundred or two years younger," Pen retorted, picking up her racket. 'Bye, girls! See you to -morrow." It was a warm afternoon. Pen had not thought of it on the tennis court, but the kitchen where the found her mother was really hot. Mother was pressing Pen's blue skirt.. She looked warm and tired and even a little old, but she smiled bravely at Pen. Some- how the sight fretted Pen. "0 another! Is wish' you wouldn't fuss over my things on a day like this!" she cried .impatiently. "But there was a grease spot—you couldn't go like that. What is it dear ? " For Pen was staring at her with startled eyes. "Nothing," Pen answered. But in her heart certain words were choing over and over: "There's one thing you'll have to admit: Carrie as kept her mother young—she has ept her mother young!" My Prayer. pray for time to do 'my work and do it well, chance to show to others how the subtle spell f tasks well done before the set of sun Has power to comfort past the gift to tell; For cold despair it rings a parting knell. I pray for strength to master self be- fore my race is run. I pray for opportunity to lift and cheer Those whom I meet whose lonely Iives are barren, drear. And void of all that palpitates with joy; o banish from their minds all thought of fear; o wipe from wistful eyes old sorrow's tear. pray for wisdom to cast far away what might annoy. ed his shoulder. "Just Just a year ago to -day since yew h picked me up from under the auto- k , mobile down there by the road." "A whole year! Have you had any regret that you decided then to come to Cherry Hill and be a farmer's I wife?" "Not a regret!" A { (The End.) • >'Jtlnard's T.+afiment for stale everywhere Aunt Sar h," i (� l " a. •aIt zer-tiu ie one • ng day when these things had been going; she through her mind, "it doesn't seem ver right for farmer folk to have to work • en so hard with so little isarce to play er and no place to play if they want to." th ""Well, no," Aunt Sarah considered; all the remark thoughtfully, "maybe it ed doesn't, Dearie. I know it would seem ; hard to as scn n- easy here, you. with electricity and water; of handy and everything. But we've. st done these things so long that we've t got used to it."� n -n "Got used to it!" Gertrude ex- claimed. "You c'an't say you've got' it used to it' while women wear them- i y selves out with such ldng hours of re hard work, lose their health and may_ n , be die before their time." e- One stormy afternoon Uncle! Sammy sat with her before the bis'! 1' 1 Sarah eame just the same f and the , ;nate friendship continued. . The one clay a terrible thing hap- s F n..l Aunt Sarah had just left Ger- t de, who watched her from the door- fo w ay. he had watched the gate and turned to wave her hand, when she li - tripped on a stone or a patch of ice, t staggered and fell fluttering to the 0 greurti ?n a faint. Speedily John and Gertrude got her to the house and d ireplace. "� "Why don't you call me 'Gertrude?'" - he asked, half idly. Uncle Sammy stared into the fire r several minutes. Did anyone ever tell you about my the girl?" he asked at last in a low one, glancing toward the open door f Aunt Sarah's room. "John told me that you had a aughter who went to Toronto and summoned Lncle Sammy and a doe- 1 tor. "A fracture of the hip bone," the destor told them brie'ly. "Of course t it's serious at her age and the shock in is an added element to consider. She G must be perfectly quiet. It may be b for a long time-" he paused ques- le tictningly. "To move her—" course she shall stay right here a jest as long as may be necessary," gr -Ito died there, but nothing more." "He doesn't know anything more," returned Uncle Sammy. "We've never old anybody about it, and we never ention her name. Her name—was ertrude. She was the prettiest, Tightest little girlein all Cherry Val - "You know how my two boys up nd left me, as soon as they were own. Said the Iife on the farm was said Gertrude and John nodded an to emphatic acquiescence. Uncle Sam- th my sat in dumb agony by the bed- s.de, awkwardly caressing the worn w old hand stretched limp on the coun- A terpene. ge But they all brightened up in a day an er ewe. when Aunt Sarah began to feel a little more comfortable. Uncle l Sammy was with her as much as pos- sible but there were long hours when n she and Gertrude were alone together. inThe little o>d lady had spent all her th life in Cherry Valley neighborhood. ou She knew about all the joys and sor- th rests of each household and gas,e Ger- ha o hard and chances were bet.__ _. e city, a "But we still had our little girl and; e felt we could manage somehow.; nd then—after awhile she began to t restless—said things were too ret in Cherry Valley. "Then," the old man's voice sank ower, "one morning she was gone.", "We never got a letter from her; or heard from her until one daye tenths afterward, word cisme from. e authorities away in tne city that r little girl: lvae dead.- - I went right ere right {;;a.,. I found that -she d got p er l,a. first in a restaurant The Farmer and Good,Loatils Won in the world is neere interest- ed in good roads than the farmer? He is the one who uses the roads in his business year in and year out. Roads are to the farmer what street cars are to the: worker in the city --it makes his business possible. Good roads im- prove his chances of success, while poor roads hold him back. Paved' streets are no more valuable to the city than paved roads to the country, but the city has recognized their value while the farmers have just begun to comprehend it. I know that there is not a single community that cannot quickly discover some considerable expense that bad roads have caused. I know many roads that compel all the farmers wile travel over them with loads to use fully double the motive power that would be needed if they ` .should he hard surfaced and brought to a,correct grade. I` know when ane farmer hired ;red inert to haul u wheat from a thresher to a town over such a road and he paid enough more for that hauling alone to pay heavy taxes on his share of the road building neces- eery to give the best kind of a road- l nil. The gond roads when rightly beilf ,v°II not need rebuilding for ssee _.alto every year of 1Tnrr Toads ...t ., ere: ',hem a big expar.-:. If the fanners would just keep an accurate account of. all the actual cost to them from bad roads, counting the extra horse and man power, extra time consumed, and loss from reduced prices, delayed work, depreciation of products because of delays, and every other cost that the roads cause directly they would soon realize that bad roads are most awfully expensive. Surely they are not pleasant! The time was when farmers declar- ed the road campaigns were all lir fa- vor of the automobilists, but since the most of the farmers own automobiles they are not talking so much, and they are talking roads more. We can readily see that country roads will be travelled mostly be- country automo- biles, and sinceothe farm truck has be- come such aer c w P as a labor -saver good roads have become aIi the more Important. With the advent of the heavy truck that will haul two to five tons to town at one Iona farmers inwt not skimp the material in their marts, for only the best will stand `.iia; leant of traffic, and these trucks have come to stay and Increase in numbers. They are much too profitable on the ' farm to be checked now, so the roads' muot be matte to suit thein, 1 I 1 The hand pictured above shows the foods which a child needs for prop A Child Needs Five Foods. er growth. The hand calls for "bread, butter and more milk," and the thumb, "milk—at least a pint a day." The other fingers call for vegetables, such as potatoes, spinach, peas, string beans, celery, beets, carrots, cabbage and turnips; such fruit as oranges, apples, raisins and prune;