The Lampasas Daily Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 30, No. 94, Ed. 1 Saturday, June 24, 1933 Page: 3 of 4
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THE LAMPASAS LEADER
Oh Cynthia!
f By lORM/t KIIGBT
Copyright by 'the Bobbs-Merrlll Co.
WNTJ Service
SYNOPSIS
(.'Business taking him to Denver, Geoffrey
isloe, young chemical engineer, takes up his
psidence with his ir A er’s girlhood friends,
fiey seem a happy, carefree family, Captain
Jary; “Miss Nona” Aylesbury, the captain’s
lughter; Cary, thoughtless though likable
youngster; little Tenny Montague, motherless,
vho lives with, the Carys—and Cynthia. Geoff
l finds himself very much “at home,” though
Cynthia puzzles him. She is, apparently
against the wishes of her family, running a
. “gift shop,” and astonishes Geoff by the sug-
gestion that he pay board money, to her, un-
known to her mother. He agrees, though much
mystified. Cary’s specialty seems to be se-
curing and losing jobs, coupled with financial
extravagance, which Cynthia openly resents.
Geoff becomes prejudiced against the girl for
her seeming penuriousness.
CHAPTER IV—Continued
But in the rear of the shop was some-
thing that interested him: two comfort-
able chairs were pulled up to a long
table on which lay various magazines.
A low bookcase overflowed with vol-
umes whose titles brought a look of sur-
prise to Geoff. There was late fiction
—that was to be expected; but there
was also a modest collection of tech-
nical books, several of which Geoff had
tlought for in vain in the book shop.
Towmrd one of these he stretched out
Ills hand eagerly.
Fifteen minutes later some one
iipoke to him. From the fact that she
-wore no hat and seemed to be en-
9
w
Geoff Judged That This Was the
“Dish-Faced” Elsie Dunsmore.
tirely at home, Geoff judged that this
was the “dish-faced” Elsie Dunsmore.
“How do you do?” she said pleasant-
ly. “I think you’re a stranger to the
Odds and Ends. I hope you’ve found
something that interests you!”
“I have indeed!” He held up the
book. “May I ask how you happen
to have a book like this in your stock?”
“Miss Aylesbury chose it. You see,
that’s why we have these chairs, this
case of books: so that shoppers like
yourself may drop in for a few min-
utes to read and rest. Miss Aylesbury
tries to cater to all tastes. You’ll see
there are books on architecture, on
gardening, on mining, on child wel-
fare.”
Geoff nodded. His thoughts were
busy with a certain morning w’hen he
had told at the breakfast table of his
unavailing search for this particular
book. Why had Cynthia not mentioned
she had it in the.shop? Was it be-
cause she resented his disapproval of
her business? Or had she—Geoff
would have liked to believe this but
.somehow he couldn’t—had she known
where to buy it and done so because
he had spoken of it?
Ruefully he admitted that Cynthia
was rapidly divesting him of that com-
placency which wras the result of his
popularity at home. The little stabs
she administered to his self-esteem
were all the more effective because
they were not premeditated. Either
Gynthia had owned the book and dis-
dained to mention it, or she had
bought it because she thought it might
interest other men—and disdained to
mention it! Both explanations afford-
ed little satisfaction, to the tall young
man who stood gripping the volume
and staring vacantly at Cynthia’s
clerk.
He came out of his trance presently,
restored the book to its place and went
forward resignedly to justify his pres-
ence by a purchase. Elsie was busy,
he was glad to see; too busy to wait
on him. That spoke well for the busi-
ness of the shop.
“Are ydu always as busy as this?”
he asked when she was free to attend
to him. She shook her head. “It’s the
final spurt of the tourist season. Peo-
ple on their way home stop In to buy
souvenirs. Yes, madam,” she inter-
rupted herself to say, “we have colored
photographs of the Big Thompson
Canyon but we also have water colors
that you may like better.” When the
customer had departed she returned
to Geoff. “I’m just a clerk here. C. C.
owns the shop.”
“C. C.?”
“Cynthia Cary Aylesbury. We used
to call her C. C. in high school.”
“You’ra a schoolmate of hers,
ihenr*
“Oh, yes. I even planned to go East
to college with her but things hap-
pened and I couldn’t; and poor Cyn-
thia had to come home herself in her
junior year.”
“Had to? I thought she came be-
cause she was tired of it!”
Elsie looked belligerent. “Cynthia
never gives things up because she’s
tired! If she did, she’d give this store
up in a hurry. The way that girl
works—” She caught herself up
abruptly, realizing how freely she had
been discussing her employer with a
stranger.
“That’s all right,” Geoff reassured
her. “I’m a friend of her mother. Tell
me more about the shop, if you don’t
mind. I’m deeply interested.”
“Why, you see, Cynthia wanted, to
do something when she came back
from college. So she started the Odds
and Ends. -She had a little money
left her by her father—she put it all
into this shop. At first she did every-
thing herself: had her lunch brought
in, went without dinner until after
she’d closed up. Then business picked
up and pretty soon she asked me if I
wouldn’t like to help her. You bet I
did, too,” said Elsie with convincing
simplicity. “There isn’t much I
wouldn’t do for Cynthia, if it comes to
that.”
“So the shop really pays for itself?”
She gave him an odd look. “It has
to,” she said briefly. “If you know
Cynthia you know it’s a live-or-die
proposition with her. She doesn’t go
into anything lightly.”
“I should say not!” Geoff declared.
“We’ve got to make enough,”, she
chattered on, “to see us through the
dull season that comes between the
tourist trade and the Christmas sales.
November is a total loss as far as gift
shops are concerned.” Her eyes trav-
eled to a banjo clock that ticked on the
wall. “Cynthia’ll be back any minute
now, and she’ll tell you anything you
want to know about the shop.”
Geoff said guiltily that he couldn’t
wait; 'selected a particularly hideous
and expensive “desk set” and escaped
with it before Cynthia’s return. His
purchase gave him some little trouble
before he finally prevailed on a wait-
ress at the cafe where he ate his lunch
to accept it.
His visit to the shop had cleared
up one thing that was beginning to
trouble him. A dim idea that the fam-
ily might be in some manner dependent
upon the profits from the Odds and
Ends had haunted him for .several
days. But several things contradicted
that theory. Every month, for exam-
ple, Captain Cary slit a certain gray
envelope and extracted a check.
“Royalties from a little patent of
- mine,” he always said with open pride.
Sometimes he handed it to his daugh-
ter and bade her buy herself “some-
thing pretty” with it; sometimes he
tucked It away in his wallet.
Then, too, Miss Nona sometimes care-
lessly referred to her- husband’s “es-
tate.” That word meant to Geoff the
large holdings which had come to his
mother and himself from his father.
There was no evidence of want in the
house where he lived. Miss Nona wore
the prettiest of clothes, the food was
abundant if somewhat plain, Cary’s
light-hearted indifference to his jobs
did not indicate financial stress.
.But still, Geoff told himself, that
might be the explanation of Cynthia’s
penuriousness. He almost hoped it
was. He hated to think of a girl
so young being so grasping. But after
his talk with Elsie he was more than
ever convinced that ambition combined
with a stubborn determination to have
her own way was the motive back of
Cynthia’s appropriation of Tenny’s
board money and his own.
“You’re a throwback,” his mother
had told him more than once. ■ “Down
in your heart you disapprove of the
modern woman, especially the woman
in business. You’d like to have all of
my sex dependent on yours for spend-
ing money. Your Idea of a woman’s
whole duty is making herself attrac-
tive to her man.”
Geoff had laughed but he knew that
there was some truth in what she said.
Miss Nona came very near to being
his ideal of womanhood. She was
so gentle so sweet, so sympatlietc. She
was feminine to her fingertips, with all
the little arts and graces of a bygone
generation.
Miss Nona listened with flattering
attention to what he said of his labora-
tory work, though he knew the chem-
ical terms were so much Greek to her.
She was everything he had longed for
and missed in his mother, in short;
and the contrast between her and
Cynthia increased his antagonism
toward the girl.
“Darn It! Why can’t she be like
Miss Nona?” he fretted. “She gives
me a pain with her checking up every-
thing poor little Tenny does, her
cross-questioning of Cary, even her
implied rebukes of her mother! Fall
in love with her—I’d as soon—sooner!
—grow sentimental over the marble
lady in the garden! She may be hard-
but at least she’s mighty ornamental.”
******
Almost every Sunday Geoff spent the
day in the mountains. Miss Nona and
the Captain often went with him if the
destination was not too high or the
ride too long. Tenny would come if
Cynthia would; but Cynthia wouldn’t.
She pleaded fatigue from her long
week, or accounts to be gone over. So
it was with a sense of real triumph
that Geoff prevailed upon her one Oc-
tober morning to drive with them all
to Red Rock lake.
“We’ll pack a basket,” Cynthia said,
entering into the plan with an en-
thusiasm which astounded its pro-
moter. “There’s chicken—Marguerite
can fry it and we’ll pack it in the
thermos basket so it will stay hot.
We’ll build a fire and make coffee just
for the outdoorsiness of it.” .
Tenny capered about the room with
joy and Miss Nona beamed at her
daughter.
“Like to drive?” Geoff asked Cyn-
thia as they went down the steps to-
gether.
To his surprise she took the seat
behind the wheel and presently they
were bowling smoothly along.
Cynthia drove steadily, surely. Every
foot of the way seemed to be familiar
to her and she looked younger and
happier than Geoff had ever seen her.
She had discarded her hat, and the
tendrils of hair curled about her fore-
head endearingly. Geoff marveled at
the change in her. She was gay, youth-
ful, charming. She had dropped her
weariness, her hint of hostility toward
him, her air of worry, like a cloak.
Geoff was suddenly in wild spirits.
Tt seemed to him that never was there
so congenial a party as his.
What a dinner that was! Mar-
guerite’s fried chicken was crisp and
hot; her buttered rolls melted in their
mouths.
“Why do we have to go down?”
Tenny asked wistfully. “Why don’t
we just send Cary and Geoff back for
some blankets and things and stay
up here all the time?”
“By this time tomorrow night there
may be three feet of snow right where
you’re sitting,” Cynthia told her. “I
don’t remember another October as
warm as this up here.”
“Something else has thawed out for
Geoff’s benefit,” (’ary said significant-
ly. “Your manner toward him, my
dear sister!”
“Don’t. you like Geoff, Cynthia?”
Tenny wanted to know.
She laughed, flushed a little. “I like
everybody today! Oh, you can’t think
what it’s like to exchange the stale
air in the shop for the piny breezes
up herq! I’m like Tenny^-I want to
stay for ever!”
After dinner Geoff and Cynthia, with
Tenny darting ahead of them, complet-
ed the circuit of the lake. Geoff re-
membered that walk for a long time.
1
Geoff Remembered That Walk for a
Long Time.
Cynthia walked shoulder to shoulder
with him, sometimes stopping to point
out a snowy peak that rose above the
rest of the chain, sometimes stirring
the pine-needles in the path to reveal a
mat of kinnikinic.
Somehow they strayed on to the
subject of Tenny, and Cynthia talked
to him freely about the child.
“She was a delicate little thing when
she first came to us. Even now we
have to watch her carefully.”
“She seems sound as a dollar now,”
he answered.
“Oh, she is! Except that she mustn’t
have any more colds. That’s why”—
he realized that for the first time she
was offering an explanation of one of
the things. he had disliked in her—
“why I’m so strict with her about her
cod liver oil and wearing her sweater
and all. Tenny respects authority.”
“Is that why she adores you?” he
asked with a touch of irony.
She hesitated. “Do I seem to you
specially authoritative? I suppose I
do.” Suddenly she turned to him.
“Geoff, perhaps I’m not quite as hard
as you think I am! At any rate,
Tenny has to be handled very care-
fully. She’s lived in so many places,
she’s had so many ups and downs that
she had acquired a rather terrible dis-
trust of people when she came to us.”
“She needed your mother’s petting,”
he said.
Cynthia smiled. “Miss Nona’s strong
point Is petting. You come in for a
good share of it.”
“And, like Tenny, I thrive on it," he
replied somewhat aggressively. “As
I’ve told you, my parents were abroad
during most of my childhood and I
know what Tenny went through at
boarding school.”
“It must have been hard for your
mother,” Cynthia commented, “being
pulled between her duty to you and
to her husband. I—I know this will
add to your belief in my hardness!—
I’m glad she was the sort of woman
Who put her husband first! There’s
something so magnificent about that
sort of love,” she said wistfully. “Some-
thing so royal in a marriage which al-
lows nothing—not even children—to
disturb it!”
Geoff was silent through sheer as-
tonishment. Cynthia’s words gave him
too a new vision of his mother. For
the first time he was able to think of
her as a wife as well as a somewhat
casual mother.
It was nearly sunset before they
turned the car downward and began
the long descent from mountain heights
to the city below. Geoff had a feeling
of extraordinary satisfaction over the
day. Cynthia’s mind to him hereto-
fore had been like a long corridor in
which door after door stood, all closed.
Today she had opened several of them
and given him fascinating peeps at
the rooms within.
CHAPTER V
Tenny.
All the doors were slammed shut
again in the days which followed.
Sometimes Geoff wondered if that day
at Red Rock lake with a companion-
able Cynthia, a slightly wistful Cyn-
thia, had ever existed save in his
imagination.
The girl not only resumed her old
reserve but became so irritable and
impatient that the little buds of friend-
ship which had sprouted between them
withered and died. Definitely he did
not like this girl, he told himself. He
wondered sometimes if it was his
presence in her home which so an-
noyed her; for that she was annoyed
beyond her usual manner was evident
to him from her family’s comments.
“What does ail Cynthia!” Miss Nona
sighed. “She’s so unlike herself these
days.”
“Sis, for the love of Mike!” It was
Cary’s exasperated voice. “You
haven’t spoken a pleasant word for
days—do you realize it? Come on now,
Cynthia ! You say the shop is doing
well—”
“Cary!” Cynthia’s voice cut in so
sharply fhat-Geoff started. “Who is
that fair-haired girl you’re driving
about these days?”
Her brother laughed. “That’s where
the shoe pinches, isn’t it, Cynthia—to
change the metaphor?”
“Of course it pinches. It ought to
pinch you, too. Do you think that it’s
fair—as things are?”
For once there was resentment in
Cary’s pleasant young voice. “My dear
Miss Atlas, didn’t you ever hear that
no one is actually indispensable in this
world? If you were to go to Europe
tomorrow—”
“Or die,” she amended. “Never mind
me, Cary. I’m cross as two sticks
these days.”
“Sis; are you sure you’re well?
Seems to me you never used to be so
snappy, so—er—bitter. Don’t you love
your big brother—one—bit?” The
pauses were filled by his hand on her
hair, rumpling it out of its usual
smoothness. She was laughing when
she escaped. <?
But the irritability persisted.
“Cynthia, my dear,” the Captain said
gravely one evening, “I really must
protest against your overworking as
you are doing. Is it necessary for you
to remain so long at the shop every
night?”
Cynthia made no reply beyond a
weary smile at him. It was Tenny as
usual who struck straight from the
shoulder. “She’s let Elsie go. She
has to stay till closing time every
night.”
“You’ve let Elsie go?” Miss Nona’s
voice, rose protestingly. “Darling,
why did you?”
“Just giving her a vacation,” was
the evasive answer. “She’s coming
back when business picks up again.
Elsie was tired. She needed a rest.”
To Geoff’s amazement no one sug-
gested that Cynthia herself was badly
in need of a rest, no one said, as Geoff
thought they ought to say, that it
would be a good idea for Cynthia to
sell the shop. He began to watch her,
to notice how little she ate, what an
effort It seemed to he for her to go
upstairs; and one evening he tackled
her again on the subject of the shop.
She was alone in the big library
across the hall. It was the sight of
the dark circles beneath the blue eyes
which spurred him on to speech.
“Look here, Cynthia! Why don’t
you sell that infernal shop of yours
and take a vacation yourself? You
look like the wrath of God these
days. I don’t understand what your
family is thinking of, not to realize
you’re half sick ! If I—” He stopned
abruptly for she had risen and
crossed the room to him, put one hand
on his arm.
“Geoff, you’re not to say one word
to them! You’ve got to promise me
you won’t, do you hear? I’m all
right.” She slipped her hand down
his arm till she touched his hand,
pressed it urgently. “Promise! Prom-
ise you’ll not speak to Miss Nona—”
“But good heavens, child! She’s
your mother—she has a right to know.
Anyhow, what’s the use’ of being so
foolish—ruining your health by stick-
ing to that dinky shop? Suppose you
do a little promising,” he went on.
“Promise me you’ll take a vacation
yourself.”
She sighed. “Out of the question
just now—both of them.”
“Then I think,” he averred, “I’d bet-
ter just see Miss Nona—”
Her blue eyes blazed. “What’s my
health to you, Geoff Ensloe? After
all, ' you have no right to interfere
with my private affairs.”
“Rot,” he said inelegantly. “I have
the right of a friend—”
“Friend? You’re no friend of mine!”
“I’ll say I’m not,” he answered with
grimness. “Anything less friendly
than your attitude toward me I’ve
never encountered. But I’m a friend
of your family—you're my mother’s
goddaughter—”
Swiftly her face underwent an en-
tire transformation. Her smile—-
Geoff admitted Cynthia had a lovely
smile “when she us-t* ■*. which is darn’
seldom !”—flashed, her eyes softened.
“Then promise for their sakes! You
must have seen that Miss Nona is not
strong. I don’t want her worried—”
“I suppose she won’t worry if you
fall ill!”
She walked to the window and stood
looking out into the garden.
“Geoff, listen to me,” she said after
a while. She spoke seriously, as
though sure of his understanding. “I’m
not very well—I admit that. I’m go-
ing to get Elsie back just as soon as
it’s possible. I can’t sell the shop.
For one thing, there’s no one who
would buy it just now. If I promise
to spare myself as much as possible—
if I come home and rest—will you . . .
not . . . say anything to Miss Nona?”
He moved uncomfortably. There
had been a hint of tears in her voice
just at ttie end. Why was she so de-
termined to keep her mother in ignor-
ance of her fatigue? Why did" she
hang on like grim death to that d—d
shop?
“Please, Geoff?”
“It’s not my business, as you just
pointed out,” he said sharply.
She shrugged, left the darkened
window, walked out of the room.
For the next few days she made a
special effort to appear cheerful and
rested. She spent her evenings down
in the old parlor with the rest of them
instead of shutting herself upstairs
with her accounts. Geoff alone knew
that she paid for these hours of leisure
by other hours stolen from sleep. He
waked several times and saw a crack
of light beneath her door across the
hall.
“Why I don’t put her out of my
mind and let her take the consequences
of her own foolishness, or break my
promise to her and call Miss Nona’s
attention to the .condition she’s in, I
don’t know,” he wrote his mother.
“The girl haunts me, somehow. She is
so plainly worried about something,
Sometimes I think she’s got herself
into some kind of trouble in the shop
—borrowed money she can’t pay, or
something like that. When she’s off
guard there’s a look of misery that
oughtn’t to be on any young girl’s
face. What about writing her to come
and pay you a visit? Perhaps you
could advise her—Lord knows I can’t !’1’
To which Mrs. Ensloe replied:
“I’m writing Cynthia as you suggest
and inviting her to come on to New
York for the winter. Yes, for the
whole winter! I know that surprises
you but all you tell me of the girl im-
presses me rather favorably. Being 8
woman, and the sort of woman I am,
I can easily understand why Cynthia
might not enjoy homelife in the Cary
household.
“Don’t as you value your own safety,
mention to her that “it was you who
inspired my invitation. She would re-
sent that beyond everything. Let my
letter speak for itself.”
He watched Cynthia with interest
the morning she opened his mother’s
letter. Would she read it aloudl
Would she express a natural girlish
delight? Would she make immediate
plans to leave for New York?
She did" none of these things. She
merely put the folded sheet back In its
envelope and went on with her break-
fast. Neither then nor at a later time
did she mention his mother’s invita-
tion to Geoff.
*******
Snow was falling; Geoff, home foi*
Saturday afternoon, looked up from
the book he was studying to see
Tenny, coated and hatted, standing
before him.
“Can I go out and coast?” she de-
manded. “I’ve got my new sled that
Daddy sent me and it’s a lovely
snow!”
“Ask Miss Nona, honey !”
•*TO BE BONTIN'OE-' '
Bells and Bells
By ELSIE YOUNGHANS
©, by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service
npHE Princess Alexandria Sophia
'A stirred ever so slightly. The day
was breaking and a ray of light shone
dimly on her small \Vhite face. Her
eyelids fluttered, but were still too
weary to lift their heavy fringe of
lashes. She pulled the cover closer
around her shoulders. Cold! Cold!
Really she must ask Katja to unpack
Aunt Anna Karlova’s coverlet. That
funny cover of lace and fur and silk
that Aunt Karlova had spent an en-
tire year in embroidering.
Winter! It must be winter! For
suddenly sleighbells were ringing in
the streets. Strangely, muffled and
far away they sounded. Perhaps a
heavy snow had fallen during the
night. Bells! Bells! Bells! An in-
cessant ringing of them ... an
unending procession of them. Would
they never stop! Where were they all
going? Ah! But of course! Strange
that she shouldn’t have remembered.
Suddenly it was clear as crystal. How
could she have forgotten! Her wed-
ding day ! This was her wedding day!
The jingling droshkas were bringing
the wedding guests. From distant
provinces, from the suburbs, from
Moscow itself, were coming uncles and
aunts and cousins—Victor’s as well a3
her own; schoolmates, friends, officers
from Victor’s regiment, officials from
the court and their families. Why,
there must be hundreds of them, thou-
sands of them, there were so many
bells! And all coming to celebrate
her wedding, her’s and Victor’s. Yet
a strange -weight lay on Alexandria
Sophia! She felt she was not mov-
ing—that she was powerless to move.
And now, as suddenly as they had
started, the bells stopped. The guests,
then, were all assembled—all waiting.
And Victor, her adorable Victor, he
too, would be waiting! How splendid
he would look in his uniform of the
Imperial guard, all white and gold,
with the flashing order of St. Stan-
islaus upon his breast. Ah, but he
was wonderful! Swiftly, swiftly, her
thoughts flew back to the day she had
met him. It was at the ball at the
Dolgoruk palace; she was making
her first formal appearance in society.
Victor had asked her to lead the pro-
cession with him. They had passed
through an arch of flags, and instead
of returning to the ballroom, he had
carried her off to the gardens. Un
der the willow by the fountain, he had
kissed her, and told her she was the
most divinely lovely thing God had
created. And now here at last, she and
Victor were to be married—never, so
Victor had sworn, would he allow her
to part from him.
But suddenly, more guests seemed
to be arriving—there were llie sleigh-
bells again. The wedding banquet
must be already spread in the great
hall. But she, Alexandria Sophia, the
bride, she was not there. Where was
she? Oh, where was Katja? Why
didn’t Katja bring the wedding dress,
that shimmering thing that had been
sent from Paris? Where was the veil
with headdress of pearls that had
been worn by her mother, and her
grandmother, and by countless Orlof-
ski brides before them? Why this
strange sense of impending doom in
Alexandria Sophia’s heart! Why this
pain, this anguished foreboding—this
heavy, heavy weight!
Sleighbells! Sleighbells! Would they
never stop? Was all of Moscow com-
ing to her wedding? And she, the
bride, not ready—not ready! Ah!
They were calling her—it seemed she
was hiding somewhere. They were
coming for her, some one was pound-
ing at the door, shaking it. Dear
God! Some one was breaking in.
Why, she had been asleep, fast asleep!
Her eyes were still dazed, her mind
vague.
Some one stood on the threshold.
Katja? good old Katja with the wed-
ding dress? But, no, of course it
wasn’t Katja ... it couldn’t be
Katja. The little princess was wide-
awake at last . . . rushing with a
shudder into the complete awareness.
A slovenly woman in a faded wrapper
stood before her. She was holding out
a thick white cup and talking: “See,
dearie, it’s coffee I’m after bringing
up to ye. I feared as ye’d oversleep
this morning, it was so late you got
in last night, poor lamb, poor little
lamb.”
Ah! Awake! How terrible to be
awake! To realize the truth! To
know that she was only Sophie Orloff,
apprentice at a dressmaking establish-
ment, that she lived in a hall room
in Mrs.. Murphy’s boarding house on
Lenox avenue, that she had overslept
and would be late to her job. And bit-
terest of all, to remember that she is
no longer young, no longer beautiful,
that no one in all the world really
cares what happens to her.
Victor? Katja? Aunt Anna Kar-
lova? Where were they? The Dolgo-
rukl palace, court balls, wedding veils
of lace, silken coverlets? Gone, gone!
Borze Moi! Long and long ago had
they all' vanished. War, revolution.
Red fury had annihilated these dear
people—these once familiar things.
They had vanished utterly, but she
was left, to live on, adrift, alone.
But suddenly the muffled bells
again. Now at last she knew their
real meaning. With a despairing ges-
ture, she pulled an alarm clock from
under the pillow and threw it against
the wall. “It didn’t wake me,” she
sobbed, “it didn’t wake me at. all. It
made me dream. . . . Ah, Mrs.
Murphy ... it is not good to
dream of sleighbells in my Russia
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The Lampasas Daily Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 30, No. 94, Ed. 1 Saturday, June 24, 1933, newspaper, June 24, 1933; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth894792/m1/3/: accessed June 19, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Lampasas Public Library.