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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 25, 1945)
ZTomoVicw cP ^ «wen FPryif u-e/t BRISTOW C/l/U l t/1 THE 8TORT THUS FAR: Spratt Her long, motion picture producer, met and married Elizabeth, whose first husband, Arthur Kittredge, was reported killed In World War I, but who later appeared In Hollywood and secured a Job with Spratt. Under the name ot Kessler, and with his disfigurements, he was not rec ognized and became a good friend to all of the Herlongs. Arthur promised to talk with Dick and explain to him what the war really meant to him personally. On Christmas Margaret was to give a party so Dick, Cherry and Elizabeth went to help decorate the tree. Margaret almost fell and became scared, she explained she was cut when she fell and a man kicked her—the man who killed her mother, CHAPTER XVIII Dick swallowed and wet his lips. He had heard stories like this be fore, but hitherto they had been something that happened to people who had the far-off quality of anonymity. Hearing it reported as a matter of course by a little girl in his own home town was some fe \ thing else again. He looked at Kess ler, and back at Margaret. Cherry, who had sat down on top of the lad der, was looking at Kessler too, as though they both wanted him to say it hadn’t really happened like this. "Come here, Margaret,” said Kessler gently. She went to him, and he put his arms around her. “It was dreadful In Germany, said Kessler. "But we aren’t afraid any more.” She looked up at him artlessly. “Oh no, of course not. Not here.” “Nobody does things like that here,” said Kessler. “There aren’t any Nazis in America.” “Oh no,” Margaret said again. She laughed at a recollection. "When we first came here,” she said to the others, “I was scared of the men in uniform. But they were just policemen and soldiers. They didn’t bother anybody.” “No, everybody is safe here,” Kessler went on. “Nobody comes into a house without being asked. If they want to come in they ring the bell, and if you tell them not to come in they stay outside. Nobody is scared in the United States. Mar garet used to be scared, but she isn't any more.” “It's different here,” said Mar garet. “And your supper is getting cold,” Kessler suggested. "You’d better go eat it.” r “All right.” “And aren’t you going to thank <Mrs. Herlong and Dick and Cherry for helping you with the tree?” Oh yes! It’s just wonderful. Thank you so much.” “We're glad we could help,” said Elizabeth. She took Margaret’s hand and went with her into the dining room where her supper was ready. Margaret started to eat with a healthy appetite, evidently not ap palled by the story she had told. When Elizabeth returned to the front room Dick was still standing by the tree and Cherry still sat on the lad der, apparently too horrified to move. Kessler was speaking to them. “If it seems cruel to let her go on talking, it’s less cruel than making her shut it up inside herself. I thought it was easier on you to lis ten than it would have been on her if I had told her to stop.” “But what sort of cattle are they?" Dick exclaimed. “We hear a lot of things about them, cruel and vicious and all that, but not just go ing around kicking little girls!” “I told your mother once,” said Kessler, “that your only fault was that you didn't realize how superior you were to your neighbors." 'To my neighbors? But I don’t know anybody like that!” “No, you don’t know anybody like that.” “Gee whiz,” said Dick. He went over to another side of the room and sat down. , “Why did they kill her parents?” Cherry asked breathlessly. “They didn’t. Her parents killed ) themselves.” “Ah!” Cherry let go her breath P" audibly. “Margaret thinks the Nazis killed them. They killed so many others. I haven’t tried to tell her any dif ferently. She doesn’t understand suicide.” “But why?” exclaimed Cherry. Then she added apologetically, “I’m sorry. I guess it’s none of my busi ness.” “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t know,” Kessler answered. He glanced at Elizabeth. “Shall I go on, Mrs. Herlong?” “Yes, if you can bear it. After all, Mr. Kessler, we’ve heard it before. It’s been in the papers and on the radio.” Cherry said what they had all been thinking. "But it’s different when it happens to somebody you know! You mean it happened to Margaret’s family like what we read about?” “W^iy yes, the same old story,” Kessler answered. “She and her mother were shoved off the side walk, she didn't have enough to eat and even when her parents went without there wasn’t enough for her, they saw other children beaten and starved and knew there was nothing else in store for Margaret. Their | old friends crossed the street when 1 they saw Margaret’s parents com ing because they were afraid to be seen speaking to Jews. They tried and tried to get away and every door was shut against them. They stood it as long as they could. They were a brave and gallant pair. But that day Margaret told you about, her mother’s spirit broke. She tried to ' kill Margaret, and she succeeded with herself. She was a doctor and there were still a few drugs in the house. The only reason she didn’t succeed with Margaret was that she wanted the child’s death to be quick and easy, and she gave her too much.” Cherry was staring at him, uncon scious that there w-ere tears in her wide-stretched eyes. “And her father?’’ Dick blurted. "He and I came in together. We had been out to buy food. We had to stand in line to buy it, and I tried to help him, because as I am not Jewish things were easier for me. But I can’t stand in line very long, or carry any parcels except what I can put into my pockets. We used to do the buying, it was too frightful for Margaret and her mother on the street. When we came in we thought “But what sort of cattle are they?” Dick exclaimed. they were both dead. We knew the house had been searched because it was in such disorder. Jacoby—Mar garet’s father—knew they would come back for him. With Margaret and her mother gone he had no more reason to keep trying. He was like an insane man. He had no gun— they had taken that long before—so he stepped out of the window.” “But Margaret?” Elizabeth ex claimed as he paused. "I don’t know how I ever realized, just then, that the child wasn’t dead. I knew something about first aid, and I did the best I could for her, and got help from a doctor at the hospital where her father had worked before the Nazis took over. We worked with her, asking our selves every ten minutes why we were doing it. We almost agreed with her mother that it would be better to let her die. But 1 managed to get a letter to the French studio that had bought two of my books, and they gave us help. That was just before the war began. A few more weeks and it would have been too late.” There was a moment of stricken silence. Then Elizabeth demanded, “How can you talk about it so quietly! Your friends driven to death, a mother trying to kill her own child—and you might be talk ing about the weather!” "You have to learn to talk about it like that,” Kessler said. “If you don’t—” He shrugged. “Was he a very good friend of yours?” Dick asked. “My best friend. He saved my life after the last war, and made it pos sible for me to walk instead of spending these years in a wheel chair. He was a very great man.” "He was one of the most famous surgeons in Germany. And more than that, he was, as I said, a very great man. Through the worst dis asters—and there were plenty of them in Germany after the last war —he had clung to his belief that no matter what happens there is always something worth saving, in one’s self and in humanity. Then when he had lost everything else he lost that too. I’m not blaming him for it, but I’m sorry for it.” “I don’t get it!” Dick exclaimed abruptly. “I hear about such things and hear about them, but I don't get it. Why were Margaret's par ents treated so?” "Because they were Jews, for one thing.” Dick shook his head, as though the room had got dark and he was try ing to see. “But I still don’t get it, Mr. Kessler. It doesn’t make any sense at all. Even if you were bru tal and anti-Semitic and all that, why should you want to kill a doc tor who might save your life? You might get sick and need just what he could do for you—don’t they ever think about that? It doesn’t make sense,” he said again. Kessler did not try to tell Dick that he was asking a question that half the human race had already asked. He only replied, "It doesn’t make sense, and I don’t get it ei ther, Dick. The Nazis and their bab ble, and then a child like Margaret.” "A nice sweet helpless little girl!” Cherry exclaimed. Kessler turned toward her, and spoke earnestly. "It’s not only that, Cherry. There are people in the world who haven't your sense of hu manity toward helpless little girls. But it’s what Dick said—even if you had no sense of humanity, why should you do that to yourself?” "To yourself?” said Cherry, puz zled. "Why yes. Why should you want to destroy your own hope in the future? Margaret’s heredity in cludes two of the finest minds in Germany. If parents give their chil dren anything of themselves, and we know they do, the chances are a hundred to one that Margaret is a genius. Nobody knows what she’s capable of becoming, but they tried to destroy her.” "Gosh!” said Dick. Mr. Kessler —you mean that kid’s liable to do something like discover radium, and she nearly got killed?” "That’s exactly what I mean. I don’t know that Margaret’s a genius, it’s too soon to tell. But I know that in this mad killing of theirs the fascists from Berlin to Tokyo have destroyed genius, and they’re still doing it. They're de stroying their future, and yours. That’s the real tragedy of our time. It’s so terrible we don’t often think about it because we can’t bear it. Margaret’s parents had at least had a chance to contribute some thing to the world. But she’s never had any, and those other children who didn't escape had never had any. And what it amounts to,” he said clearly to Dick and Cherry, “is that your children may die of loath some diseases because the scientists who could have saved them were killed when they were four years old.” "Oh, my gosh!" cried Cherry from the top of the ladder. Her hand caught at her throat. “That’s what they’re doing. I never thought of that till this minute. That's what it’s about.” Dick stood up. “Holy smoke,” he said slowly. “It's ghastly. You’re right—it’s too awful to think about. You just think of kids as kids, but golly—when you do think about them as growing up, or not growing up, I mean the important ones—sup pose the Germans had blitzed Eng land fifty years ago and had got Churchill, I mean, and now we’d never know.” Elizabeth put her hands over her eyes. It seemed to her that she could suddenly see them, little boys like Brian, little girls with fat pig tails like Margaret, the Einsteins, Chiangs, Curies of the future, going in a horrible procession to annihi lation. Suppose the bombs had dropped fifty years ago. She thought of sulfanilamide and the Four Free doms, television and cargo planes, vitamins and the Panama Canal. Her generation had these because the men and women who brought them into being had been allowed to grow up. She could hear Kessler’s voice, passionate with a great grief. “That’s the real horror of fascism. We are sick at what they are doing today, but this is such a little part of it. Their awful crime is what they are doing tomorrow. We don’t know what they’ve already de stroyed—a cure for cancer, a new philosophical system, a rocket to the moon. Margaret got out, but the others who didn’t get out—think of the books that will never be written, the work that will never be done. They’re destroying tomorrow, and tomorrow is forever.” Several days after the turn of the New Year, Kessler received a let ter from Dick: Dear Mr. Kessler, I guess there is no use trying to tell you how shocked I was at what you said the other day. My sister felt the same way I did. I do not write very well and it is hard to say what I mean. But this is what I am getting at. I know you are a very busy man but if there is a day, maybe a Sunday, when you have some time to spare would you let me come over and see you? I did not want to bother you until after Christ mas, but there are some things I have been thinking about and I would like to talk to you anyway. You seem to understand our family very well and I know they like you and would not mind anything I said to you. Let me know if this would be convenient. Sincerely yours, Richard Spratt Herlong, Jr. After he had read Dick’s letter, Kessler sat for some time thinking, his forehead resting on his big thick hand. These months in Beverly Hills had been more difficult than he had thought they were going to be. Most things were, when you came down to them. (TO BE CONTINUED! MERCY, NOT JUSTICE In a small southern community, a Negro revival meeting was hold ing forth. Also in session was the Grand Jury. Sinners were being gathered in swiftly and efficiently by the exhorting preacher. That is, all except one hardened individual who, despite all the efforts of the earnest shepherd and his co-work ers, would not break down and con fess his sins. The poor fellow writhed in the tor ments of an awakened and cruelly prodding conscience, but could not be induced to speak. “Come on down, brother,” shout ed the pleading, perspiring preach er, "confess your sins. The Lord will forgive you.” “Ah knows He will," moaned the reluctant candidate, “but de Lord ain't settin’ on dat Grand Jury!” POOR HUBBY! Mrs.—Never kick about the poor quality of biscuits that I make. Mr.—Why not? Mrs.—Because I never kick about the quality of dough you make. Just a Warm-Up Lem—My feet are cold. Clem—Just put a brick at your feet when you go to bed. Lem—I tried that. Clem—Did you get the brick hot? Lem—Naw, it took me all night just to get it warm. Social Outcast Postmaster—I’m sorry, but I can’t cash this money order for you un less you have some identification. Have you some friends in camp? Soldier—Not me, I’m the bugler. Yowl! Jones—I understand Madame Ya kowiski is a famous Finnish singer. Smith—All I know is that I heard her concert last night and I couldn’t stay till the finish. One-Man Army Veteran—Yeah, I once put almost three hundred men out of action. Youngster—Gee, didn’t you get a medal? Veteran—No, I was camp cook. Run for Your Life He—If you don’t marry me, I'll go hang myself in your front yard. She—Now, you know Pop wouldn’t want you hanging around here. IN REVERSE Mrs.—I wasn't going 60 miles an hour, or 50, or even 40! Cop—Be careful now, or you'll be backing into somebody! Mechanical Failure Professor — Why did you spell pneumatic “neumatic” in this es say? College Boy—The K on my type writer isn’t working. What’s in a Name? Sunday School Teacher — You never heard of the Ten Command ments? Goodness gracious, what’s your name? Small Boy—Moses, ma’am. Only Skin Deep Cora—What makes you think that girl’s father is a druggist? Dora—She said she got all her good looks from him. Medical Advice Patient—What's the best thing for gas, doctor? Doctor (absent-mindedly) — “C” coupons. Take Your Choice Mother—I want your explanation and the truth. Teen-age Daughter—But, mother, you can’t have both! That’s the Question Teacher—Every dollar bill has at least ten thousand germs on it. Smarty—How many are on a five dollar bill? Overage Jane—How old are you? Joan—I’ve seen 21 summers. Jane—How long have you been blind? Right Answer Mother—And what three books should you take to church with you? Son—Your Bible, your hymn book and your pocket book. Popular Joe—How do you know his book is going to be a success? Bill—People who haven’t read it are beginning to say they have. Dream Rival -o By RAF, RESNICK McClure Newspaper Syndicate, WNU Features. INISGUSTED with his own cook ing. George angrily pushed his chair back with his foot. If only Anna weren’t such a strange little foreigner, he thought impatiently, his meals wouldn't be so tasteless, and the burden of keeping house, in addition to many of the farm chores, would fall on her instead ol him. With the odor of the barn still clinging to his clothes, he walked the short distance to the next farm to see Anna and speak to her cousin. Without knocking, he went into the living room. The woman looked up from her mending indifferently, as if his vis its were too frequent for him to be considered a guest. "Hello, George. You'll find Anna in the kitchen.” "Have you spoken to her yet, Mrs. Laud?” he asked. "Well,” Mrs. Laud said slowly, "I tried to, only she didn’t seem to know what I was getting at." She paused thoughtfully. "Seemed more that she pretended not to.” "I see,” he said wearily. "I did tell her what a fine, honest man you are. But her only ambi tion right now is to visit a fortune teller." She laughed indulgently. “A fortune teller?” "Yes. Can you imagine? She be lieves in them. You see, in Europe a gypsy once read her palm. And Anna said that everything came true. Of course, I imagine little Anna helped out a lot by twisting everything that happened to her into the shape of that faker's prediction." They talked a while longer about Anna, who was only twelve when the Germans invaded her country, and “I want see fortune teller.” how Mrs. Laud managed to get her to Canada. George had often heard tjie story before. Soon he went into the kitchen. He leaned against the wall, faded blue overalls sagging on his awkward thin frame; his long neck tipped forward, his blond, sun dried hair hanging over dull blue eyes. As Anna washed the dishes George could almost see the dreams in her large eyes—dreams of a mod ern knight riding in the wind with her, the long thick braids of her hair flying behind her. Her eyes sparkled. "I want see fortune teller." ‘‘What for?” "I want And out who my hus band be." Suddenly he had an idea, and he was overwhelmed by his own clev erness. What had Mrs. Laud said a little while ago? “She believes in them . . . little Anna helped out a lot . . . she sure does swear by them now.” His red face brightened with enthusiasm. After all, he thought they would probably be married some day, anyway. No harm ir hurrying things up a bit. "There's an amusement park fifteen miles from here," he told her. On the bus Anna sat quietly ir anticipation. George saw her lowei her wide eyes modestly when shi noticed the men staring at her shj ; loveliness. Failing to escape theii glances, she took a white handker i chief out of her pocket and wipec away the lipstick with which hei cousin had touched her mouth "Maybe they don’t look now,” sh« whispered to George. Naive. Than! heaven she was, he thought. Foi his plans were all the likelier to sue ceed. At the park she walked close t( him, asking every few minutei where the fortune teller was located They came to a row of booths un der a huge awning and he bought i ticket. "Wait here a minute,” h< said. "I’ll be back soon.” He told the fortune teller to de scribe him to Anna when she aske( about her future husband. He hand ed her some money. "Don’t forget Tall man, blond hair, blue eyes.’ Then he went out. "You can go ii now,” he told Anna. While waiting for her, he laughed Anna wouldn’t doubt the oracle fo a minute, he thought, amused. Whei she came out, she looked as if sh were in a trance. Her large shinini eyes were focused straight ahead He fell into step beside her. "Well what did she say?” “Oh, she say wonderful things She say I marry tall man. He hav blue eyes with blond hair. And h be very good to me. I know he b the handsomest man in the world And I wait for him,” she said softly "I wait for him forever.” Plug Shakers When refilling salt and pepper shakers that have corks in bottom, or which have fallen inside, remove the cork and discard. Then paste mubilage paper over the hole. Or use adhesive tape. Fires Costly Every day in the U. S. there are 1.800 fires. 28 deaths caused by fire In 1.000 homes. 130 stores. 100 factories. 7 churches. 7 schools and 3 hospitals Bike Passenger You invite disaster when you carry another person on your bike Clever Washcloth Here's a clever way to use up those left-over slivers and scrape ©f toilet soap. Put them into a small turkish toweling bag when taking • bath: this bag full of soap can be put into the tub and you'll have wash cloth and soap in one. Cleaning Diamonds To clean diamond rings, cover them with wood alcohol and let stand for five minutes Remove and polish with white tissue paper. 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