The New Ulm Enterprise (New Ulm, Tex.), Vol. 37, No. 8, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 28, 1946 Page: 7 of 8
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Novel P
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force me to consent to telling the
FEAR SINISTER PURPOSE
good Lord, you can’t live
'running s/tor"
Bimr
CHAPTER IX
At Carlisle, the
7258
out ticket or money, grabbed him
can stand it.
Jim
weight for lasting wear.
tall new paint
Stmoroune
You
the
And
CREOMULSION
| BLEACHES BEAUTIFIES]
“THE
him
and
a
He
So-
under his
' . 'V W
PRESTO
‘MAKES SKIN LIKE VELVET
IpPerekPAiN has you all tied up with
CHEST COLD
man
own
she is selling her place and
to litre wfth us," she went
a
it
pre-
eycs
friendship
not occur
that she
No more big places for
am home again to stay.
If you keep your dustpan waxed,
it will always look clean and the
dust will slip from it more easily.
cellent and durable for youngster’s
rooms. Many makes have double
life since they are reversible with
pattern on both sides. When you
buy one of these rugs see that it
•nongh Tkcy SeeMW to eaU of their
ent a cement and wait another year. Jim
MaeTavlah did not like that nrrango-
put a few
in with the
a rattling
was lipstick oa tU She mentioned II to
Jim that alibi.
of shirts scrub lightly with a small
brush. This quickly removes the
soil and saves time.
not rumple if they are washed in
hot water and again in cold water.
Use a heavy starch. Iron when
dry.
and
own
IF THE AMERICAN ECONOMIC
system of free enterprise is saved
it will be the people of rural Amer-
ica, the readers of the small city
and town newspapers, who will do
the job. They constitute the same
element in our population.
The corners and crevices of your
furniture sometimes need extra
attention. Use a
brush. Dip it in
then give the corners and crevices
a real going-over. Makes a real-
ly thorough dusting job.
If you need a kitchen stool to
get at those high shelves, use an
old baby highchair. Remove arms
and tray and paint the stool to
match your kitchen set.
TCB STOUT THUS PAR: toad
M you. Larry,” Meg raid goleUy “Thar*
There something in the
stealth, the furtiveness of his tread
on the stairs—
&Sen*G
The next morning when she was
assembling the laundry. Annie came
to Megan carrying a shirt of Jim's
and held it out, saying in that color-
less voice, “Do I wash dis one. Miss
Meggie?”
Megan looked at the shirt, puzzled.
And then she saw the unmistakable
signs of lipstick on the collar! That
of course, had been the reason An-
nie had brought the shirt to her—
so that she might see the lipstick
mark I
Megan drew a breath and said
quietly, “Of course, Annie—what a
silly question!"
When making a new dress for
your little daughter, make a
matching hanky. She’ll remember
to take one then, for she’ll always
be looking for one to match.
BACK TO THE BIG CITY, the
old home town, for but four
weeks that seemed like four
long years. 1 mixed with the
milling throng of strange faces.
Each day of those four weeks
I longed for the smiles of
friends, for the friendly greet-
ing on the streets of the small
community in which I live.
Aside from a few acquaintances
of former years there was noth-
ing to attract me in the big city.
I am more satisfied with my
small home-town than-ever be-
fore,
me. I
And to Megan’s own horror, and
Tom's shocked surprise, she burst
into tears!
After a stunned moment, Tom put
his arm about her and held her close
as though she were a frightened, be-
wildered child, and his soothing
words were the words one would
have used to a grieving child
“My father is going to marry
Alicia Stevenson,” she told him, and
so strong was the bond of
between them that it did
to her to be surprised
should confide in him.
She heard him swear
breath, but after a moment, he tried
to offer comfort. “Well, of course
1 suppose she's a very attractive
RUSSIA DOES NOT WANT to
fight—now. America does not
want to fight—now. There will
be no war—now. Each day and
year a conflict is postponed
means a day and year nearer to
permanent peace.
“But, my dear girl, I thought we'd
settled all that,” he pointed out gent-
ly. “That’s the reason Alicia de-
cided that she might as well let
Matthews see what he could do with
the sale of her place. When you come
to think of It, it would be rather
silly to keep both—’’
“And you wouldn't consider shar-
ing her place?" Megan could not
stop the words in time, and krttw
that a frantic hope threaded them.
“My dear!" her father protested,
hurt. •What do you take me for?
A man without pride, or the natural
desire to take care of his wife? Most
certainly I wouldn’t consider mov-
ing into Alicia's place. This one is
much larger and more comfortable
and there's plenty of room. No, I
think the whole arrangement is
ideal. You are always so over-
worked with the outdoor labor in
spring and summer, that I think it
will be very nice to have the worry
and responsibility of the housekeep-
ing taken off your shoulders."
“It won’t work. Father.” she told
him flatly.
to
tni-
our
our
pro-
vides opportunity and incentive, for
the conditions that exist in Russia.
The workers who strike, who walk
picket lines at the behest of radical
Russian-interested leaders, have no
real conception of the movement in
which they play a part.
While it happens, congress makes
no real effort to curb such activi-
ties; no effort to protect and pre-
serve our economic system.
Your Christmas shopping prob-
lem is eased considerably if you
have smokers on your list! Select
a carton of mild cigarettes or a
package of choice smoking tobacco
for these friends—practical gifts
they are sure to use and enjoy. If
you want to be assured your gifts
meet ready acceptance, choose
Camel Cigarettes or Prince Albert
Smoking Tobacco. Each of these
long-famous brands are highly re-
spected by discriminating smokers
everywhere. Both Camels and
Prince Albert are offered in at-
tractive, gay holiday gift wrap-
pings. Right now, dealers are fea-
turing Camels in a popular Christ-
mas carton containing 200 mild,
mellow Camels. And Prince Albert
—the National Joy Smoke — is
available in handy one-pound tins.
See them at your dealers.—Adv.
THERE IS, I believe, something
more than a desire for more wages
or shorter hours back of the wave
of strikes that has swept across the
nation, with more threatening. It is
a something created by the radical
socialist leaders who direct the ac-
tivities of organized labor. It is, I
believe, an effort on the part of such
leaders to so cripple American busi-
ness, so retard American produc-
tion, that the government will find
cause to take over the business of
production and merchandising. It
is, I believe, an effort directed from
Moscow to Russianize America by
destroying our American economic
system and substituting for it the
government-planned economy of to-
talitarian Russia. It is an effort to
surreptitiously sabotage our Amer-
ican way of life.
How extensive this wave of strikes
has been is demonstrated by fig-
ures Lawrence-Sullivan of Nation’s
Business News dug out of the records
of the department of labor at Wash-
ington.
Baek in 1928 we bad a total
of 604 strikes, involving 314.210
workers and representing a loss
of 1,631,863 man days of pro-
duction. After those advocating
a government-planned economy
bad moved into Washington,
with an expressed determination
to make America over, we had,
in 1933, 1,675 strikes involving
1,168,272 workers, with a pro-
duction loss of 16,872,128 man
days. In 1941, our last peace-
time year, there were 4,288
strikes involving 2,362,620 work-
ers, with a loss of 23,047,556 man
days of production. In 1945,
with less than six months of
peace, we had 4,750 strikes in-
volving 3,467,000 workers and a
loss of production of 38,025,000
man days. For the first eight
months of 1946, when we were
striving to meet the terrific
peacetime demand for commod-
ities, we had 3.125 strikes in-
volving 3,425,000 workers, with
a production loss of 93,225,000
man days.
The important figure in each case
is the loss of man days of produc-
tion. It is that figure that deter-
mines the extent to which American
business is being sabotaged; the ex-
tent to which our production is be-
ing curtailed. It is that curtailment
that is the greater factor in creat-
ing inflation. To stop that inflation-
ary trend could be the government'a
excuse for taking over and operat-
ing the production and merchandis-
ing of the nation.
I am convinced, and the figures
provide evidence for the conviction,
that Russian-directed Red labor
leaders are deliberately providing
the government an excuse for the
socialization of American production
and merchandising business
achieve the ends of that small
nority who would make over
America; who would exchange
free enterprise economy, that
AMERICAN PEOPLE get
their opinions from the radio,” said
the lady. “It is the radio com-
mentators that influence the peo-
ple.” I agreed with the statement;
I listened to Fulton Lewis each day
he was on the air. “I would never
listen to him,” said the lady vehe-
mently. “He says very little that
is good about the Democrats. Now
I listen to Wilder." So it goes. We
want only that with which we agree.
We want the radio to confirm our
opinions, not to change them.
Megan sat quietly, her hands
clenched in her lap. But after all
there was surely no reason why her
father should not see Alicia Steven-
son, if he liked—ever, to the extent
of getting her lipstick on his shirt
collar! Alicia was a widow,
a widower.
But that night when Annie
Amos had departed for their
two-room cabin at the back of the
barn, and Megan and her father
were alone in the house, Megan said
quietly, “I understand, Dad, that
you’ve been seeing a lot of Mrs.
Stevenson?”
Jim looked up at her from his
newspaper, and his eyes darkened
with anger. "Have you any objec-
tions?" he demanded curtly.
"None at all,” she answered him
evenly. “It's just that I was a little
surprised, that’s all—to hear a thing
like that from the neighbors, instead
of from you—”
"A thing like what?” Jim's anger
had deepened. “You sound as
though I'd been conducting an—er
—affair with a very charming and
pleasant woman.”
”1 know nothing about it, except
that—it seems people are talking—”
“Pleasant Grove people? Do you
think I give a darn what the—scum
in this place talk about?"
“They are my friends.” she point-
ed out.
"That's your own fault,” he re-
minded her. “You don't have to
live in thia—this hick hole!
had a chance to get out of it—”
“We're getting away from
subject, don't you think?"
“If you're prying, trying to
out about my intentions towards
Mrs. Stevenson," Jim said distinct-
ly, a little malicious light in his eyes,
"I have no objection to telling you
the truth. I hope to marry Mrs.
Stevenson--ax soon as I can per-
suade her! She's selling her place,
and I think we can make her hap-
py here, don’t you?”
“You would ' bring her—here?”
Megan gasped, appalled.
Jim's eyebrows went up in
tended surprise, though his
laughed at her.
“And where else would a
take his wife, if not to his
home?” he asked. "You aren’t for-
getting that it is my own home—
quite as much as it is yours?"
Megan sat very still, stunned with
the unexpectedness of the blow.
"Of course," Jim went on after
a moment, “when Matthews was
so sure he could get seven thousand
for this place, Alicia and I planned
to keep her place and live there,
because her place won't bring over
two or three thousand. But when
you decided not to sell—well, Alicia
gave the listing of hers to Matthews,
and we feel sure that we can all
be quite cozy here together."
Megan drew a hard breath. “You
know that wouldn’t work out, Dad,"
she said. *
"I can’t see why not! There is
surely ample room—four big bed-
rooms upstairs, five rooms down-
stairs—why, there's room enough
here for half a dozen people—”
“If there were forty rooms, there
wouldn't be enough room under one
roof for Alicia Stevenson and me
both!” Megan told him rashly.
“I think you're taking a very un-
reasonable attitude, my dear," said
her father gently, malice twinkling
in his eyes. "After all, having Alicia
here will make things much easier
for you. She will take over the
mangement of the house, while you
can give all your time to your be-
loved farming! I think it will be a
very good arrangement, all around.”
“It's an impossible arrangement
and you know it,” Megan told
hotly.
He shrugged ever so slightly
said gently, "Oh. well, if you are
going to take that attitude—" He
pretended to lose interest, but Megan
knew that he was alert, that he was
waiting tensely for her answer.
"I know why you are doing this.
Father," she said at last, one of the
few times in her life calling him
"Father” instead of the more en-
dearing "Dad." "You think you will
If yon are making a stuffed toy
for your youngster,
pebbles in a pill box
stuffing, to produce
noise.
There was a look in his face that
made the protest stop on her lips.
She nodded and they walked to-
gether to the fence. When she
crossed the meadow and stood at
the little foot-log that bridged the
small, busy creek, she turned to look
back and saw him still standing
there. She threw up her arms in a
little gesture that said good night
and caught the flicker of his return
gesture. And then with her heart
considerably lighter than it had been
when she left the house, she went
back in and up the stairs to her own
room.
The house was 'dark and a lent.
There was no thread of ligh‘ be-
neath her father's door, and sht was
surprised when she reached her
own room, to discover thet tlied
been gone two hours
I ro BE CONTINUED* .
She got up suddenly and caught
her sweater. The night was mild
for winter, yet there was a damp-
ness and a chill in it that made the
sweater, and the scarf about her
head very welcome, as she stepped
from the back door into the yard.
The meadow was washed with
thin cold moonlight, but under the
trees the darkness was so intense
that she had to feel her way from
moonlit patch to moonlit patch—un-
til she reached the flat stone be-
neath the tallest pine; and as she
reached it, her heart turned over
in her breast, and terror clutched
at her. for a shadow moved in the
darkness, and she knew that she
was not alone. The next moment
the shadow had moved swiftly into
patch of moonlight, and she saw
white on Tom Fallon's face.
“I frightened you—I'm sorry—”
Megan managed an unsteady
laugh. “And I imagine I frightened
you. too." she answered him.
"Well, as a matter of fact, you
did," lie admitted. Then as the
moonlight touched her white face he
added hurriedly, concerned: “Why,
what’s happened? You’re ill—”
“Oh. no—just—well, upset—and
ever since 1 was a child I have
brought my troubles, big and little,
to this spot and tried to find a way
out of them! It's a habit that's hard
to break," she added with an at-
tempted gaiety that had an almost
macabre quality.
“Could—a friend help?”
She shook her head.
"I—I'm afraid nobody can, really
-that is, the only two people who
can have no intention of doing it. 1
sound ax confused and mixed up as I
feel—so if you could just overlook
it—"
VES, that gay sunflower and
1 pretty carnation are really pot
holders. A wonderful way to learn
crocheting quickly and easily.
How To Relieve
Bronchitis
didn't east tn beUovo It -Folbi la talk-
Is* about Mist* Jim and Mil Suvenaos,"
OU Annin coaSrmed. Annie left a shirt el
train with the help of a well-placed
kick.
At the next station he found the
same Yellow and again threw him
off, accentuating the force and ges-
ture.
At the third station the guard
was astonished to again find the
chap, who attempted to jump off
quickly enough to escape the vio-
lence of the attack.
"How far do you think you are
going to get like this?” demanded
the conductor.
"As far as Chicago," replied the
woman—and your father is lone-
ly—"
"And
coming
on.
"Oh,
with her—”
“Either that, or I have to agree
to sell the farm, and she and father
will live in her house.”
“And you don’t want to tell the
farm, or go away frots It * Tom
understood that without any words
from her. "I've gathere I since I’ve
known you how much the place
means to you—”
She found It very soo hing to sit
here with him. It was surprising
to discover that they knew each oth-
er well enough for silence to be
pleasant and companionable so that
speech was unnecessary.
Gradually the silence and peace
of the moon-silvered pines seemed
to drift into her heart; her spirits
lifted a little. Someway, some-
how, she would find a solution to the
problems that now loomed so terri-
bly strong and black and evil. Per-
haps it was only that she was emo-
tionally exhausted and had reached
a place where she was conscious
only of a lack of emotion that had
replaced her grief.
They talked quietly, after that in-
terval of peace and stillness. She
asked about Martha and he told her
that Martha had completely recov-
ered. She asked hesitantly about
Mrs. Fallon, and Tom told her, his
mouth taut and tired, that there was
no change there.
“She’s —completely helpless, of
course, and there is no Change men-
tally,” he added wearily.
“You mean—she can’t leave her
bed? Can’t get around by herself?”
asked Megan, remembering, with a
feeling of chill, the morning when
she had sat here and had watched
that grotesquely posturing figure on
the back lawn.
"She hasn’t been out of bed in
months and months,” he told her
heavily. “The doctors say that there
is a thin chance of her recovery.
That’s why we can’t bear to—send
her away. If I had the money to pay
for a private sanitarium—” He
shrugged and his hands clenched
into hard, tight fists. “But T ccr.’t
turn her over to a state inst! ution.
Not while there is the smallest, faint-
est, tiniest hope that she can be
made well again.”
Megan asked uneasily, “But
shouldn’t she be having treat-
ments?”
"She’s had treatments for the past
four years,” Tom answered wearily.
“Everything possible has been done,
and a few months ago the doctors
told me that the only hope was to
get her away somewhere quiet,
among new scenes, and just try to
build up her physical condition. That
might help to restore the lost men-
tal health, but they couldn't guaran-
tee it. She—went to pieces when our
son was born—dead.”
Megan said, her voice shaken and
ragged with pity, “I’m so terribly
sorry—’’
Unconsciously, she had put out her
hand to touch him, and as his hand
closed over it and held it hard for a
moment, she heard him mutter
something—she couldn't be sure
what.
They were still for a little, and
Megan wondered uneasily about his
saying that his wife had not been
out of bed in months. She knew
that she had seen her, a slim white
form, the sunlight gleaming gold on
her head, dancing a weird, gro-
tesque dance—a dance interrupted
by Maltha, who had taken the white
figure into the house.
Did Tom know, she wondered?
Did he try to conceal the fact that
his wife was not a helplessly bed-
ridden invalid, in the hope of con-
vincing people that, while she was
a "mental case,” she was complete-
ly harmless? Of course he and
Martha were doing everything hu-
manly possible to keep anybody in
Pleasant Grove from knowing that
his wife was a "mental case"—
She stood up suddenly and said,
"1 have to go—I shouldn't have
come, at all, but habit is strong."
“I'm glad you did,” Tom told her
quietly. “And I hope you didn't
mind finding me here."
"Of course not There's room on
the Ridge for both of us—and who
knows? Maybe we'U both find solu-
tions to our problems here,” she an-
swered as she turned to go “No,
you mustn't come with me—”
"Only to the fence.” Tom told her.
“From there on, you have the moon-
light clear to your back door and
I can watch until you go into the
house and know that you're safe.”
"No?” His tone and smile were
tantalizing.
“No! I'm not selling! And that’s
that!” she told him again, her jaw
hard and set, her voice unshaken.
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The New Ulm Enterprise (New Ulm, Tex.), Vol. 37, No. 8, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 28, 1946, newspaper, November 28, 1946; New Ulm, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1215535/m1/7/: accessed June 30, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Nesbitt Memorial Library.