THERE'S 75
ALWAYS i
ANOTHER.
YEAR.
MARTHA
OSTENSO
[w.N.u.scKvtce:
COPYRIGHT MARTHA OSTCHSO |
SYNOPSIS
Anna ("Silver") Grenoble, daugh
ter of "Gentleman Jim," formerly of
the community, but known as a
gembler, news of whose recent mur
der In Chicago has reached the town,
comes to Heron River to live with
Sophronia Willard, Jim Grenoble’s
sister. Sophronia's household consists
of her husband, and stepsons, Roder
ick and Jason. The Willards own
only half of the farm, the other half
being Anna’s. On Silver's arrival
Duke Melbank, shiftless youth,
makes himself obnoxious. Roderick
Is on the eve of marriage to Corinne
Meader, Silver says she wants to
live on the farm, and has no inten
tion of selling her half, which the
Willards had feared. Silver tells
Sophronia ("Phronie," by request)
something—but by no means all—of
her relations with Gerald Lucas,
gambler friend of her father. Roddy
marries Corinne. Silver again meets
Lucas, who has established a gam
bling resort near town. She Intro
duces him to Corinne, though against
her will. Friendship between the
two develops, to Silver’s dismay. At
a dance Duke Melbank Insults Sil
ver. Determined to break up the
growing intimacy between Lucas and
Corinne, Silver tells Roddy she has
decided to sell her portion of the
farm. Not understanding, he re
proaches her for her “treachery."
Roddy finds he is falling in love
with Silver, and is dismayed. Silver
warns Corinne against Lucas. De
spite herself, her love for Roddy
grows, but she determines to save
Corinne from disaster. Corinne re
turns, with purchases little suitable
for farm life, and having spent all
the money Roddy has given her. He
tells Silver he Is sure Lucas and
Corinne met in the city. While Sil
ver is alone Duke Melbank comes, In
a drunken condition. Roddy's arriv
al frightens him away, and in her
perturbation Silver unwittingly re
veals her love for Roddy. He re
sponds, ending all doubt as to their
mutual feelings.
CHAPTER XII—Continued
—12—
Silver’s brow puckered Into a lit
tle frown of laughing denial. “Cer
tainly not! And you stop looking
for trouble. You’re ever so much
better this morning. Tills sun is do
ing wonders for you.’’
“Yes," I’hronle sighed, “wonders
for me—but what is it doin’ to the
crops? It hasn’t really rained since
I got sick, has It?”
“Now, there you go," Silver re
buked her. “If It isn’t one thing,
it’s another. Itoddy says there’s no
real danger yet, so get your mind—”
“I’ve seen It go like this before,
my girl. I know what I’m talking
about.”
Sophronia shifted herself to a
more comfortable position in her
chair. “I wish one of you would take
a run up and see how Paula is," she
said uneasily. “We haven’t had a
word from them in a week.”
Silver looked at her and put her
hands on her hips. “Will you stop
talking and worrying about things!
I have to go and fix up the house.
I’ll look out on you in fifteen min
utes—and If you’re not asleep, I’ll
call Doctor Woodward."
"Oh, dear!” Sophronia sighed, set
tling herself finally.
***••*•
Silver stood with a hamper con
taining a coffee pot and a dish of
buttered rolls, and listened at the
screen door of Roddy’s house. She
was hoping that Corinne might go
along with her down to the field
where the men were at work, os
she had done before. But there was
no sound from within. Corinne was
probably not yet awake. It was
only a little after seven, and she
had been at a dance last night at
the Richter cottuge on the lake.
Roddy was working alone at the
upper end of the plot. Silver came
quietly up to the old wooden fence
that surrounded It, stepping care
fully over the ripe strawberries So
phronia craved, and stood watching
him, scarcely drawing a breath.
Carefully, Intently, Roddy ex
posed the silk of the vivid green
sheath beneath the transparent
sack in which it had been enclosed,
and poured upon it the pollen from
the tassel which had been painstak
ingly collected In a similar sack to
prevent Its scattering elsewhere on
the wind.
The corn plot, in the motionless
blue and gold atmosphere of early
morning,was fixed In the clean dark
of earth and the glistening, vertical
green stain of the stalks, viable and
proud. It was almost as though
some great emerald stood between
the small field and the sun, shed
ding a lovely, calm, and vertiginous
dew upon the fresh curve of the
young leaves, upon the purplish
gloom of the furrow. But it was
actually a dew of earth, before hot
winds rose. Silver, standing in the
rough meadow outside the field, felt
the dew about her ankles und saw
it sparkling on the ribboned leaves
beneath Roddy’s hands.
In the pure, Jeweled light, the
fragile, white-gold silks of the slim
young ears received the yellow pol
leo as Hodily dusted It out of the
tassel-bag. Suddenly, from the pas
ture near-by, a meadow-lark flung
up into the silence a fountain of
liquid notes. Roddy glanced around
and saw Silver leaning over the
fence watching him.
lie reddened dully and pushed his
wide straw hat hack from his brow.
Then, with a quizzical, perplexed
smile he came and stood looking
down at her.
“I've been watching you," she
said, nodding toward the corn. "I
wish I could help.”
“Why don’t you?" he replied.
“You'd get a real kick out of it.”
She raised the hamper toward
him. “I brought some fresh buttered
rolls," she said.
"I suppose Corrie isn’t up yet,”
lie remarked, taking the ham|>er
from her.
“I listened at the door,” Silver
told him, “but I didn’t hear any
stir, so I came on alone."
He set the hamper on the grass
at his feet, then spoke in a low,
vehement voice that became thrill
ing agony in her heart. “These
weeks have been h—1, Silver. I don’t
know how I’ve stood it. I don’t
know how I’m going to go on stand
ing it—”
“Oh—Roddy," she pleaded breath
lessly.
He stepped closer to her and the
yearning and despair in his bronzed
face drew from her an involuntary,
broken cry. She thrust her hands
across the fence toward him. Itoddy
took them and pressed them to his
lips and eyes.
"I’m no good, Silver,” he muttered.
“I can’t go through with this farce.
I’ve got to tell her—”
Swiftly Silver leaned forward and
brushed his blue shirt-sleeve with
her cheek. "Roddy—Roddy,” she
whispered in a stifled voice. "You
can't tell her—you can’t ever tell
her! It would be too terrible!”
"It wouldn’t," he protested. "She
doesn’t love me—I don’t think she
ever did.”
"You mustn't say that,” Silver ar
gued. “You mustn’t do anything—
you can’t! And It won’t be for long,
Roddy. As soon as Phronie is well
again—”
He swept his hat from his head
and ran his fingers through his thick
hair in a gesture of mortified an
guish. “G—d, what a spectacle I
am—standing here, talking like this!
I have no right—” He broke off
suddenly. "Of course—you must go
away.”
“As soon as Phronie gets a little
stronger, I’ll tell her. And we—you
and I must not talk like this again,
Roddy. It’s too hard on us. I—I
can’t stand It.”
"I know," he said flatly. “It’s ter
rible! But I want you to know that
I never had any idea what love was
like—until this happened."
“Nobody will ever mean anything
to me again, Roddy—after you,”
she told him. “You—"
She could not go on. Tears
seemed to be running backward,
down into her throat, choking her
words. With a smothered oath, Rod
dy flung his arm across the fence,
strained her desperately to him for
a moment, then released her and
turned abruptly away, swept up the
hamper and strode down the edge of
the fields as though he were half
blind.
Silver moved back into the grass
pasture, knelt down and began pick
ing berries for Sophronla, gathering
leaves and flowers indiscriminately
with bands that shook.
CHAPTER XIII
D\ V followed day, and the sky over
the parched and livid land became
like a dome of colorless metal, all
the blue beaten out of It by the in
tense heat. Fears that had smol
dered separately throughout the
district, stole out, linked, and be
came flaming panic. Hut the drouth
was only a fore-runner of u graver
holocaust.
In Fjelstad’s feed and Implement
store, Itoddy Willard talked with
Sven Erickson and John Michener.
lie struggled to conceal the alarm
he felt as he spoke.
“The county agent can't be ex
pected to do it all by himself,” he
said sharply. “It takes just one
day for a good army of grasshop
pers to eat the chimney off your
house!
“I was talking with the agent
yesterday,” Itoddy continued. “Poi
son bran has been distributed to all
the farmers west of here, right to
the state line. Hut some of them
don’t give a d—n. the shiftless
hohunks! Their farms are going to
be seized for taxes anyhow, so they
can’t be bothered about saving their
crops.”
•‘Joe Fisher came through from
Brookings yesterday," Michener ob
served, "and he had to put chains
on his tires. That sounds like a
tall one, but Joe swears it’s the
God’s truth f He stopped at a place
where a fellow said the hoppers ate
the harness off a horse's back—for
the salt in the leather. You can take
that or leave It."
Itoddy thoughtfully rolled a ciga
rette. "Well, I wouldn’t believe Joe
even if I knew he was telling the
truth. But it’s bad enough, any
how. I disked and harrowed last
fall, and made a thorough inspec
tion of my land this spring for lo
cust eggs. My land Is clean. But
even poison bait won't keep them
from doing a lot of damage before
they die—if they begin coming In
clouds."
John Michener and Roddy fell
to talking then of the comparative
danger of the differential and the
lesser migratory grasshoppers, and
Sven, to whom a locust was merely
a locust and a pest, listened ea
gerly.
“Darn if, anyhow," Michener said
at last, his expletive rather humor
ous in Ids deep voice, "If it would
only rain! It gathered up line yes
terday, and then sailed off again
to the north. A couple more days
like Hits and there won't he enough
left for a grasshopper’s lunch."
“Veil—I sposede.v starve to death,
den,” Sven observed.
The searing heat continued and in
a few days the earth, from the top
of the Willard hill, looked like one
great mottled leaf curled up at the
edges, the dry atmosphere giving
tlie horizon a scalloped effect. Sli
ver, who had gone in the afternoon
to the brushwood above the farm
stead in quest of a breath of air,
gazed down into the shallow valley
below with a sinking heart.
The door of the stone house
opened and Sophronia came out,
walking slowly, unsteadily still, up
the slope toward the barns. Yester
day she had ventured ns far as the
chicken house for the first time.
Silver had made an effort to tell
her, only last night, that she had
written to Benjamin Hubbard In
Chicago and that he had secured a
position for her. But just at the mo
ment when she might have spoken,
Sophronia’s head had dropped for
ward over her crocheting and the
gray exhaustion of her face had
tilled Silver with an alarm that pre
vented her uttering a word of her
plans.
The leaves of the poplars above
her rustled sharply, but the breeze
that moved them was like a gust
The Leaves of the Poplars Above
Her Rustled Sharply.
from an oven. Silver got to her feet
and saw in the cornfield to the east
the gray-white wrave of air moving
over the pale, brittle tassels. The
heat licked over the field like hor
rid little tongues of dull fire.
Silver paused in the dry grass
half way down to the yard. Sudden
ly every fiber of her being was
alert to a sound in the air that was
more than the burning flow of the
wind. She knew at once that the
sound had been present from the
moment when she had gone up the
hill, that her preoccupation with
her ow n thoughts had shut it out. It
was a brisk drone, muffled and yet
somehow7 sharp, as a keen sound
might strike on the ear of a person
partly deaf. Silver glanced appre
hensively about her, then upward
at the sun It seemed now that
the hot chatter in the nir wns in
creasing in volume with every sec
ond.
She saw Roddy and S’eve drive
In from the highway In the truck
and stop in the shadow of the barns.
She hurried back down the hill and
into the yard. On the hard. level
ground in front of the hnrn, where
a tarpaulin had been spread, Roddy
and Steve had dumped a quantity
of bran. In a large tin container,
old Roderick was mixing the water,
arsenic and molasses. Sophronla
was standing to one side watching
the men.
’Thronle!" Silver cried. “What
are you doing out here?”
“Rein’ out here won’t do me as
much harm ns slttin' In the house
and worryin',” Sophronla retorted.
•“Steve, you old gnlloot, you're lettin*
that bran run off on the ground,
there.”
Silver stepped forward and lift
ed the edge of the tarpaulin and
shook the bran hack Into place.
Then old Roderick poured the ar
senlc mixture over the pile of bran
while Roddy and Steve turned the
mass over and over with scoop
shovels.
Each then took a corner of the
tarpaulin and lifted it Into the
truck. Roddy climbed up and seat
ed himself at the wheel.
"You get Into the house and lie
down, I'hronle." Silver command
ed severely. "I’m going out and
help spread it."
They bumped nlong for some dis
tance in silence.
"Is there something I have to
learn—about scattering the bran?"
Silver ventured finally.
"There’s a right way and a
wrong way," Roddy told her. “Scat
ter It In flakes—not in lumps. We
don’t want the cattle to get a dose
of It. They might uncover It in
the fall and cattle don't thrive on
poison, as a usual thing. Just watch
the way Steve does it.”
The air had become Infested as
though by a swift, green-brown
hail which swept horizontally
along the earth. The hysterical
sound of the advancing hordes of
insects individualized Itself hide
ously on the senses, and In the
scorching heat seemed, to Silver,
to be burrowing Into her brain. The
grasshoppers, In their Insane, head
long flight, battered themselves
against the sides of the truck,
dashed with the sting of pebbles
Into the very faces of the riders.
And constantly, up and down the
succulent stalks of corn, the ap
palling myriads moved with small,
ferocious alacrity. Incredible greed.
From time to time, Hoddy swore
softly under his breath or burst out
anew In futile wrath at the lacka
daisical farmers to the westward
who had not done their share In
helping to stop the advance of the
plague.
Hoddy glanced up at Silver and
saw that her face was white and
drawn under the superficial flush
caused by the heat.
“Here, kid! You look nbout ready
to drop!” he cried with dismay.
He turned the truck about and
started more rapidly iu the direc
tion of the pasture below the hill.
‘"You get out here, now," he said,
"and run home. I don't know what
I’ve been thinking about! Heat it!"
Sliver got down unsteadily and
started off.
"Look in on Corinne," Hoddy
called after her. “She wasn’t feel
ing so well when I left the house."
Silver found Corinne in her room
upstairs, In a pitiful huddle on her
bed, the counterpane drawn over
her bead and shoulders.
“Corrle!” Silver said gently as
she seated herself on the side of
the bed. “You’ll die here, hi this
heat."
There was no response save for the
muffled sound of the girl’s sobbing.
Silver’s patience suddenly left her.
“Here—pull ytmrself together!’
she said severely. “It's no worse
for you than It is for the rest of
us.”
The counterpane was flung vio
lently aside and Corinne sat up. Her
tear-stained face worked spasmodi
cally.
“Listen to me, Corinne," Silver
said firmly. “You get out of bed
and take a cold shower and come
down to the other house. You caa’t
go on like this. Everybody feels
crazy enough without your carry
ing on like a two-year-old.”
But Corinne recoiled In sullen
obstinacy. “I'll not stir out of this
house today. Go away and leave
me alone.”
After a moment, Silver got up
from the bed and started toward
the door.
Corinne sprang suddenly to her
feet. “What do you mean by going
to Gerald Lucas and talking to him
about me?” she demanded. “I
know you did."
Silver paused and turned to look
at her. “Did Gerald tell you that?”
she asked.
“Why shouldn’t he tell me?”
•q thought he’d have more sense,
that's all,” Silver replied.
Corinne laughed contemptuously.
“I should think you'd have more
sense than to interfere In my af
fairs. It's really funny—you and
Roddy— the salt of the earth—try
ing to reform ine." Her mood
changed abruptly. “I'll not have It.
I’ll live my own life—ns I want to
Hve it—and I don’t want any mis
sionary work on my behalf—by you
or anyone else. From now on,
please remember—’’
"Corlnne!" Silver Interrupted agi
tatedly, and stepped toward her.
“I’m not trying to reform you. I
was simply trying to appeal to Ger
ald’s decency.”
“Decency! What does anyone in
this place know about decency?
Roddy had his chance to be decent,
lie could have taken me out of this
hole last January—-If he could have
thought of anyone but himself."
Silver stared at her Incredulous
ly. “Corlnne," she stammered, "does
Roddy’s love for this land mean
nothing to you?"
Corlnne, her eyes glinting, looked
shrewdly at Silver. “How much
does It mean to you?" she asked.
Silver’s cheeks burned suddenly.
"So much—that I have changed my
mind about selling my land this
summer," she said quietly. "Roddy
can stay on as long as he likes, so
fur as I am concerned. I’m going
back to Chicago ns soon ns I'hronle
Is strong enough to let me go.”
A lightning change came over Co
rlnne’s face. "Well!" she breathed.
"So that’s the next thing. That
means—we’ll be here next winter
and—for the rest of our lives, then.
What made you change your mind?"
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Why and for What
Are We Living?
Historian Advises We Stop
and Ponder on What
It’s All About.
“Perhaps It would be a good Idea,
fantastic as It sounds, to muffle every
telephone, stop every motor and halt
all activity for an hour some day, to
give people a chance to ponder for a
few minutes on what It Is all about,
why they are living, and what they
really want.”
The historian, James Truslow
Adams, Is the author of those words.
I believe they are great words, which
should be passed on to every one
who can read them. So snys a wom
an writer of note.
To ponder on what It's all about,
why we are living, nnd what we
really want I
If every one of us periodically had
an opportunity, or were led by cir
cumstances, such as a complete stop
ping for a certain time of all activity,
to stop nnd give thought of that kind,
what might not be the result?
It might solve all our problems—
It might bring us happiness.
Are not all our problems questions
>»f human relationships of one kind
nr another—of our standing with
nther people on the road we are so
lectleully traveling? If we were to
stop and think then on what It Is all
Break up that
p/H/r
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about, wouldn’t that larger view In
evitably take In the other person’a
side as well as ours—and so help to
solve those problems In personal re
lationship? If we were to stop and
think on why or for what we are
living—wouldn't that Inevitably make
many big things seem too small to
bother us, many neglected but easily
salvaged things Important enough to
cherish and be grateful for? If we
were to stop and think on what we
really want, where we are going,
wouldn’t we Inevitably stop short In
the hectic chase and try skipping for
as much as possible of the way?
G Bell Syndicate—WNU Servloa.
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Ringworm on Head.
Child Cried All
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Cuticura Relieved
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Soap 25c, Ointment 25c and 50c,
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