Aered,
* started for the day.
[= EDNA
FERBER
ILLUSTRATIONS
BY CLARK AGNEW. f
Copyright by
Doubleday, Page & Co.
WNU Service,
(Continued from last week.)
SYNOPSIS
J FEE
; of mouth.
CHAPTER lL—Introducing “So Big” |
(Dirk DeJong) in his infancy. And his
mother, Selina DeJong, daughter of
Simeon Peake, gambler and gentleman
of fortune. Her life, to young woman-
hood in Chicago in 1888, has been un-
conventional, somewhat seamy, but
generally enjoyable. At school her
chum is Julie Hempel, daughter of
August Hempel, butcher. Simeon is
killed in a quarrel that is not his own,
and Selina, nineteen years old and
practically destitute, becomes a school-
teacher.
CHAPTER II—Selina secures a posi-
tion as teacher at the High Prairie
school, in the outskirts of Chicago,
living at the home of a truck farmer,
Klaas Pool. In Roelf, twelve years
old, son of Klaas, Selina perceives a
kindred spirit, a lover of beauty, like
herself.
Shivering and tempted though she
was, Selina had set her will against
it. “I won't go down,” she said to
herself, shaking with the cold. “I
won't come down to dressing behind
the kitchen stove like a—like a peas-
ant in one of those dreadful Russian
novels. . . . That sounds stuck up
and horrid. . . . The Pools are
good and kind and decent.. . . But
I won’t come down to huddling behind
the stove with a bundle of underwear
in my arms. Oh, dear, this corset’s
like a casing of ice.
“But I won't dress behind the kitch-
en stove!” declared Selina, glaring
meanwhile at that hollow pretense,
the drum. She even stuck her tongue
out at it (only nineteen, remember!).
When she thought back, yeas later,
on that period of her High Frairie
experience, stoves seemed to figure
with absurd prominence in her mem-
ory. That might well he. A stove
changed the whale course of her life.
From the first, the schoolhouse
stove was her bete noir. Out of the
welter of that first year it stood, huge
and menacing, a black tyrant. The
High Prairie schoolhouse in which Se-
lina taught was a little more than a
mile up the road beyond the Pool
farm. She came to know that road
in all its moods—ice-locked, drifted
with snow, wallowing in mud. School
began at half-past eight. After her
first week Selina had the mathematics
of her early morning reduced to the
least common denominator. Up at
six. A plunge into the frigid gar-
ments; breakfast of bread, cheese,
sometimes bacon, always rye coffee
without cream or sugar. On with the
cloak, muffler, hood, mittens, galoshes.
The lunch box in bad weather. Up
the road to the schoolhouse, battling
the prairie wind that whipped the
tears into the eyes, plowing the drifts,
slipping on the hard ruts and icy
ridges in dry weather. Excellent at
nineteen. As she flew down the road
~<dn gun or rain, in wind or snow, her
mind's eye was fixed on the stove.
The schoolhouse reached, her numbed
fingers wrestled with the rusty lock.
The door opened, there smote her the
gchoolroom smell—a mingling of dead
ashes, kerosene, unwashed bodies,
gust, mice, chalk, stove-wood, lunch
crumbs, mold, slate that has been
~~vashed with saliva. Into this Selina
rushed, untying her muffler as she en-
In the little vestibule there
was a box piled with chunks of stove-
wood and another heaped with dried
corn-cobs. Alongside this a can of
keroserie. The cobs served as Kin-
&ling. A dozen or more of these you
goaked with kerosene and stuffed
into the maw of the rusty iron pot-
bellied stove. A match, Up flared
the corn-cobs. Now was the moment
for a stall stick of wood; another to
‘keep it ¢ompany. Shut the door.
Draughts. Dampers. Smoke. Sus-
pense. A blaze, then a crackle. The
wood has caught. In with a chunk
now. A wait. Another chunk. Slam
the door. The schoolhouse fire is
As the room
thawed gradually Selina removed lay-
ers of outer garments. By the time
the children arrived the room was
livable.
Selina had seen herself, dignified,
yet gentle, instructing a roomful of
Dutch cherubs in the simpler ele-
ments of learning. But it is difficuit
to be dignified and gracious when you
are suffering from chilblains. Selina
fell victim to this sordid discomfort,
as did every chiid in the room. She
sat at the battered pine desk or
moved about, a little ice-wool shawl
around her shoulders when the wind
was wrong and the stove balky. Her
white little face seemed whiter in
contrast with the black folds of this
somber garment. Her slim hands
were rough and chapped. The oldest
child in the room was thirteen, the
youngest four and a half.
- Barly in the winter Selina had had
the unfortunate idea of opening the
jce-locked windows at intervals end
giving the children five minutes of
exercise while the fresh cold air
cleared brains and room at once.
Arms waved wildly, heads wobbled,
At the
short legs worked vigorously.
end of the week twenty High Prairie
, parents sent protests by note or word
Jan and Cornelius, Katrina
and Aggfe went to school to learn
reading and writing and numbers, not
to stand with open windows in the
winter. :
On the Pool farm the winter wor
had set in. Klaas drove into Chicago
. with winter vegetables only once a
week now. He and Jakob and Roelf
were storing potatoes and cabbages
underground ; repairing fences; pre-
paring frames for the early spring
planting; sorting seedlings. It had
been Roelf who had taught Selina to
build the schoolhouse fire. He had
gone with her on that first morning,
had started the fire, filled the water
pail, initiated her in the rites of corn-
cobs, kerosene, and dampers. A shy,
dark, silent boy. She set out delib-
erately to woo him to friendship.
“Roelf, 1 have a book called ‘Ivan--
hoe.’ Would you like to read it?”
“Well, I don’t get much time.”
“you wouldn't have to hurry. Right
there in the house. And there’s another
called ‘The Three Musketeers.’ ”
He was trying not to appear pleased;
to appear stolid and Dutch, like the
people from whom he had sprung.
Some Dutch sailor ancestor, Selina
thought, or fisherman, must have
touched at an Italian port or Spanish
and brought back a wife whose eyes
and skin and feeling for beauty had
skipped layer on layer of placid Neth- |
erlands to crop out now in this wistful
sensitive boy. ; :
Selina had spoken to Pool about a
shelf for her books and her photo-
graphs. He had put up a rough bit of
board, very crude and ugly, but it had
served. She had come home one snowy
afternoon to find this shelf gone and in
its place .a smooth and polished one.
with brackets intrieately carved. Roelf
had cut, planed, polished, and carved
it in many hours of work in the cold
little shed off the kitchen. He had
there a workshop of sorts, fitted with
such tools and implements as he could
devise. He did man’s work on the
farm, yet often at might Selina could
faintly hear- the rasp of his handsaw
after she had gone to bed. This sort
of thing was looked upon by Klaas
Pool as foolishness. Roelf’s real work
in the shed was the making and mend-
ing of coldframes and hotbeds for the
early spring plants. Whenever possible
Roelf negiected this dull work for some
fancy of his own. To this Klaas Pool
objected as being “dumb.”
“Roelf, stop that foolishness, get
your ma once some wood. Carving on
that box again instead of finishing
them coldframes. Some day, by golly,
1 show you. 1 break every stick , «
dumb as a Groningen . . .”
Roelf did not sulk. He seerhed not
to mind, particularly, but he came back
to the carved box as scon as chance
presented itself. He was reading her
books with such hunger as to cause
her to wonder if her stock would last
him the winter. Sometimes, after sup-
er, when he was hammering and saw-
ng away ln the litfle shed Selina
would snatch Maartje’s old shawl off
the hook, and swathed In this against
draughty chinks, she would read aloud
to him while he carved, or talk to him
above the noise of his tools. Selina
was a gay and volatile person. She
loved to make this boy laugh. His
dark face would flash into. almost
dazzling animation. Sometimes Maart-
Je, hearing their young laughter, would
She Would [Read ‘Aloud to "Him While
. He Carved.
come to'the shied door and stand there
a moment, ‘hugging 'hér drs In her
rolled apron dnd mulling dt them, un-
comprehending but companionable.
‘You make fun, i'm?”
“Come in, Mrs. Pool. Sit down on
my box and make fun, too. Here, you
may have half the shawl”
“Og Heden! I got no time to sit
down.” She was off.
Roelf slid his plane slowly, more
slowly, over the surface of satin-smooth
oak board. He stopped, twined a curl
of shaving about his finger. “When I
am a man, and earning, I am going to
buy my mother a silk dress like I saw
in a store in Chicago and she should
put it on every day, not only for Sun-
day; and sit in a chair and make little
fine stitches like Widow Paarlenberg.”
“What else are you going to do when
you grow up?’ She waited, certain
that he would say something delight-
ful.
“Drive the team to town alone to
| market.”
“Oh, Roelf!”
“Sure. Already I have gone five times
—twice with Jakob and three times
with Pop. Pretty soon, when I am
seventeen or eighteen, I can go alone.
At five in the afternoon you start and
at nine you are in the Haymarket.
There all night you sleep on the wagon.
There are gas lights. The men play
dice and cards. At four in the morn-
ing you are ready when they come, the
commission men and the peddlers and
the grocery men. Oh, it's fine, I tell
you!” =
Roelf !”
pointed.
“Here. Look.” He rummaged around
in a dusty box in a corner and, sud-
denly shy again, laid before her a torn
sheet of coarse brown paper on which
he had sketched crudely, effectively,
a melee of great-haunched horses; wa-
gons piled high with garden truck;
men in overalls and corduroys; flaring
gas torches. He had drawn it with a
stub of pencil exactly as it looked to
him. The result was as startling as
that achieved by the present-day disci-
ple of the impressionistic school.
Selina was enchanted.
Once, early in December,
She was bitterly disap-
Selina
went into tewn. The trip was born of ,
sudden revolt against her surround-
ings and a great wave of nostalgia for
the dirt and clamor and crowds of
Chicago. Early Saturday morning
Klaas drove her to the railway station
five miles distant. She was to stay
until Sunday. A letter had been writ-
ten Julie Hempel ten days before, but
there had been no answer. Once in
town she went straight to the Hempel
house. Mrs. Hempel, thin-lipped, met
her in the hall and said that Julie was
out of town. She was visiting her
-friend' Miss Arnald, in Kansas City.
Selina was not asked to stay to dinner.
She was mot asked to sit down. When
she left the house her great fine eyes
seemed larger and more deep-set than
ever, and her jaw-line was set hard
against the invasion of tears. Sudden-
ly she hated this Chicago that wanted
none of her; that brushed past her,
bumping her elbow and offering no
apology; that clanged, and shrieked.
and whistled, and roared in her ears
‘now grown accustomed to the prairie
silence.
She spent the time between one and
three buying portable presents for the
entire Pool household—including ba-
nanas for Geertje and Jozina, for
whom that farinaceous fruit had the
fascination always held for the farm
child. She caught a train at four thir-
ty-five and actually trudged the five
‘miles from the station to the farm,
arriving Lalf frozen, weary, with ach-
ing arms and nipped toes, to & great
welcome of the squeals, grunts, barks,
and gutturals that formed the expres-
sion of the Pool household. She was
astonished to find how happy she was
to return to the kitchen stove, to the
smell of frying pork, t6 her own room
with the walnut bed and the book
shelf. Even the grim drum had taken
on the dear and cumforting aspect of
the accustomed.
Chapter wv
High Prairie swains failed to find
Selina alluring. She was too small,
too pale and fragile for their robust
taste. Naturally, her coming had
been an event in this isolated commu-
nity. ‘With no visible means of com-
munication news of her leaped from
farm to farm as flame leaps the gaps
in a forest fire. She would have been
aghast to learn that High Prairie,
inexplicably enough, knew all about
her from the color of the ribbon that
threaded her neat little white corset
covers to the number of books on her
shelf. She thought cabbage fields
beautiful; she read books to that
dumb-acting Roelf Pool; she was
making over a dress for Maartje after
the pattern of the stylish brown
lady’s-cloth she wore (foolishly) to
school.
On her fifth Sunday in the district
she accompanied the Pools to the
morning service at the Dutch Re-
formed church. Maartje seldom had
the time for such frivolity. But on
this morning Klaas hitched up the big
farm wagon with the double seat and
took the family compléte—Maartje,
Selina, Roelf, and the pig-tails. Roelf
had rebelled against going, had been
cuffed for it, and had sat very still
all through the service, gazing at the
red and yellow glass church window.
Selina’s appearance had made quite
a stir, of which she was entirely un-
aware. As the congregation entered
by twos and threes she thought they
resembled startlingly a woodcut in an
old illustrated book she once had
seen. The men’s Sunday trousers and
coats had a square stiff angularity,
as though chopped out of a block.
The women, in shawls and bonnets of
rusty black, were incredibly cut in
the same pattern. ~The unmarried
girls, though, were plump, red-
cheeked, and not uncomely, with high
round cheek-bones on which sat a
spot of brick-red which imparted no
glow to the face. Their foreheads
were prominent and meaningless.
In the midst of this drab assem-
blage there entered late and rustling-
ly a tall, slow-moving woman in a city-
bought cloak and a bonnet quite un-
like the vintage millinery of High
Prairie. An ample woman, with a
fine fair skin and a ripe red mouth;
"a high firm bosom and great thighs
! that moved rhythmically, slowly. She
| had thick, insolent eyelids. Her
; hands, as she turned the leaves of her
hymn book, were smooth and white.
' Ag she entered there was a little
" rustle throughout the congregation; a
craning of necks.
“Who's that?” whispered Selina to
Maartje.
“Widow Paarlenberg.
like anything.”
| “Yes?” Selina was fascinated.
| “Look once how she makes eyes at
him.”
“At him? Who? Who?”
“Pervus DeJong. By Gerrit Pon he
is sitting with the blue shirt and sad
looking so.”
Selina craned, peered. “The—oh—
he’s very good looking, isn’t he?”
“Sure. Widow Paarlenberg is stuck
on him. See how she—Sh-sh-sh!—
Reverend Dekker looks at us. 1 tell
you after.” -
Selina decided she'd come to church
oftener. The service went on, dull,
heavy. [It was in English and Dutch.
She heard scarcely a word of it. The
Widow Paarlenberg and this Pervus
DeJong occupied her thoughts. She
decided, without malice, that the
widow resembled one of the sleckest
of the pink porkers rooting in Klaas
Pool's barnyard, waiting to be cut
into Christmas meat.
The service ended, there was much
talk of the weather, seedlings, stock,
the approaching holiday season.
Maartje, her Sunday dinner heavy on
her mind, was elbowing her way up
the aisle. Here and there she intro-
duced Selina briefly
friend. “Mrs.
: school teacher.”
“Aggie’s mother?” Selina would be-
gin, primly, only to be swept along
by Maartje on her way to the door.
“Mrs. Von Mijncn, meet school teach-
er. Is Mrs. Von Mijnen.” They re-
garded her with a grim gaze. Se-
lina would smile and nod rather nerv-
ously, feeling young, frivolous, and
somehow guilty.
When, with Maartje, she reached
the church porch Pervus DeJong was
unhitching the dejected horse. that
was harnessed to his battered and lop-
sided cart. The animal stood with
four feet bunched together in a droop-
ing and pathetic attitude and seemed
inevitably meant for mating with this
decrepit vehicle. DeJong untied the
She is rich
Vander Sijde, meet
Widow Paarlenberg sailed down the
church steps with admirable speed for
one so amply proportioned. She made
straight for him, skirts billowing.
flounces flying, plumes waving.
Maartje clutched Selina’s arm. ‘Look
how she makes! She asks him to eat
Sunday dinner I bet you! See once
how he makes with his head no.”
Selina—and the whole congregation
unashamedly watching—could indeed
see how he made with his head no. His
whole body seemed set in negation—
the fine head, the broad patient shoul-
ders, the muscular powerful legs in
their ill-fitting Sunday blacks. He
shook his head, gathered up the reins,
and drove away, leaving the Widow
Paarlenberg to carry off with such
bravado as she could muster this pub-
lic flouting in full sight of the Dutch
Reformed congregation of High Pral-
rie. I* must be said that she actually
achieved this feat with a rather mag-
pificent composure. Her round, pink
face, as she turned away, was placid:
her great cowlike eyes mild. She
stepped agilely Into her own nea:
phaeton with its sleek horse and was
off down the hard snowless road, her
head high,
“Well!” exclaimed Selina, feeling as
though she had witnessed the first act
of an exciting play. And breathed
deeply. So, too, did the watching con-
gregation, so that the widow could be
sald to have driven off in quite a gust.
As they jogged home in the Pool
farm wagon Maartje told her tale with
a good deal of savor,
Pervus DeJong had been left a wid-
ower two years before. \ithin a
month of that time Leendert Paarlen-
berg had died, leaving to his widow the
richest and most profitable farm in
the whole community. Pervus De-
Jong, on the contrary, through inheri-
tance from his father, old Johannes,
possessed a scant twenty-five acres of
the worst lowland=—practically the
only lowland—in all High Prairie. The
acreage Was notoriously barren. [I'er-
vus DeJong patiently planted, sowed,
gathered crops, hauled them to mar-
ket; seemed still never to get on in
this thrifty Dutch commuuity where
getting on was so common a trait as
to be no longer thought a virtue. Luck
and nature seemed to work against
him. His seedlings proved unfertile;
his stock was always ailing; his cab-
bages were worm-infested; snout-bee-
tle bored his rhubarb. When he
planted largely of spinach, hoping for
a wet spring, the season was dry. Did
he turn the following year to sweet
potatoes, all auguries pointing to a
dry spring and summer, the summer
his bad luck ‘would have called forth
contemptuous ‘pity. But there was
about him the 'lovableness and splen-
dor of the stricken giant.
It was on this Pervus DeJong, then,
that the Widow Paarlenberg of the
rich meres, the comfortable farmhouse,
the gold neck chain, the silk gowns, the
goft white hands and ‘the cooking tal-
ents, had set her affections. She
proved the wettest in a decade. Had |
he been small, puny and insignificant |
i ciability—was
‘ gathering. There was a small admis- |
, sion charge.
| boxes or baskets, these to be raffled
! off to the highest bidder whose priv-
_ilege it then was to sup with the fair
! whose basket lhe had bought.
voted
to a woman |
reins quickly, and was about to step .
Into the sagging conveyance when the !
wooed him openly, notoriously, and
with a Dutch vehemence that would
have swept another man off his feet.
It was known that she sent him a
weekly baking of cakes, pies and
bread. She tricked, cajoled, or nagged
him into eating her ample meals. She
even asked his advice—that subtlest
form of flattery. She esked him about
sub-soiling, humus, rotation—she
whose rich land yielded, under her
shrewd management, more profitably
‘to the single acre than to any ten of
Pervus’,
Feeling that the entire community
was urging him toward this profitable
match with the plump, rich, red-lipped
widow, Pervus set his will like a stub-
born steer and would have none of
her. He was uncomfortable in his un-
tidy house; he was lonely, he was un-
happy. But he would have none of
her. Vanity. pride, resentment were
all mixed up in it.
The very first time that Pervus De-
Jong met Selina he had a chance to
protect her. With such a start, the
end was inevitable. Then, too, Selina
had on the wine-colored cashmere
and was trying hard to keep the tears |
back in full view of the whole of igh
Prairie. Urged by Maartje (and rath-
er fancying the idea) Selina had at-
tended the great meeting and dance |
at Adm Ooms’ hali above the general |
stor: + the High Prairie station.
Far families for miles around
were there. The new church organ
—that time-hallowed pretext for so-
the excuse for this
Adam Ooms had given !
them the hall. The three musicians
were playing without fee. The wom-
en were to bring supper packed in
Hot
coffee could be had at so much the
cup. All the proceeds were to be de-
to the organ. Maartje had
packed her own basket at noon and
had driven off at four with Klaas and
the children, She was to serve on one
of those bustling committees whose
duties ranged from coffee making to
dish washing. Klaas and Roelf were |
to be pressed into service. Jakob
Hoogendunk would convey Selina to
the festivities when his chores were
done. Selina’s lunch basket was to
be a separate and distinct affair, of-
fered at auction with those of the
Katrinas and Linas and Sophias of
High Prairie. Not a little apprehen-
sive, she was to pack this basket her-
gelf. Maartje, departing, had left co-
pious but disjointed instructions.
Maartje's own basket was of gigantic :
proportions and staggering content.
Her sandwiches were cubic blocks;
her pickles clubs of cucumber; her
pies vast plateaus.
The basket provided for Selina, |
| while not quite so large, still was of |
appalling size as Selina contempiated
it. She decided, suddenly, that she |
would have none of it. In her trunk
she had a cardboard box such as shoes
come in, Certainly this should hold
enough lunch for two, she thought. |
She was a little nervous about the
whole thing; rather dreaded the pros-
pect of eating her supper with a High
Prairie swain unknown to her. Sup-
pose ne one should bid for her box!
She resolved to fill it after her own
pattern, disregarding Maartje's heavy
provender.
She had the kitchen to herself.
Jakob was In the fields or out-houses.
The house was deliciously quier.
Selina rummaged for the shoe box,
lined it with a sheet of tissue paper
rolled up her sleeves, got out mixing
bowl, flour, pans. Cup cakes were
ner ambition, She haked six of them.
They came out a beautiful brown de
somewhat leaden. Still, anything wai:
better than a wedge of soggy pie, she
told herself. She boiled eggs ver)
hard, halved them, devilled their yolks
filled the whites neatly with this mix
ture and clapped the halves togethe:
again, skewering them with a tooth
pick. Then she rolled each egg sep
arately in tissue paper twisted at the
ends. Daintiness, she had decided
should be the keynote of her suppe:
box. The food neatly packed she
wrapped the box in paper and tied It
with a gay red ribbon yielded by he:
trunk. At the last moment she whipped
into the yard, twisted a brush of ever
green from the tree at the side of the
house, and tucked this into the knot
of ribbon atop the box. She steppec
back and thought the effect enchanting
She was waiting in her red cashmere
and her cioak and hood when Hoogen:
dunk called for her. They were late
arrivals.
Selina, balancing her box carefully.
opened the door that led to the wooden
stairway. The hall was on the second
floor. The clamor that struck her
ears had the effect of a physical blow.
She hesitated a moment, and if there
had been any means of returning to the
Pool farm, short of walking five miles
in the snow, she would have taken it.
Up the stairs and into the din. Evi
dently the auctioning of supper baskets
was even now in progress. The auc
tioneer was Adam Ooms who himsell
had once been the High Prairie school
teacher. A fox-faced little man, bald,
falsetto, the village clown with a solid
foundation of shrewdness under his
clowning and a tart layer of malice
over it.
High and shrill came his voice
“What am I bid! What am T hid!
Thirty cents! Thirty-five!
you, gentlemen. What am
Who'll make it forty!”
Selina felt a little thrill of excite-
fitent. She looked about for a place on
which to lay her wraps, espied a box
that appeared empty, rolled her cloak,
muffler and hood into a neat bundle
and, about to cast it into the box, saw,
upturned to her from its depths, the
Shame on |
I bid!
' out of the crowd to be in it.
ACNEVY,
“What Am | Bid! Thirty Cents”
Shame on You, Gentlemen!”
round pink faces of the sleeping Kuy--
per twins, aged six months. Oh, dear!:
, In desperation Selina placed her bun--
dle on the floor in a corner, smoothed’
down the red cashmere, snatched up
her lunch box and made for the door-
way with the childish eagerness of one
She won-
dered where Maartje and Klaas Pool
were in this close-packed roomful ; and
Roelf. In the doorway she found that
broad black-coated backs shut off sight
and ingress. She had written her:
name neatly on her lunch box. Now
she was at a loss to find a way to reach:
Adam Ooms. She eyed the great-shoul--
dered expanse just ahead of her. In:
desperation she decided to dig into it
with a corner of her box. She dug,
viciously. The back winced. Its owner
turned. “Here! What—"
Selina looked up into the wrathful:
face of Pervus DeJong. - Pervus De-
Jong looked down into the startled:
eyes of Selina Peake. Large enough
eyes at any time; enormous now in:
her fright at what she had done.
“I'm sorry! I'm—sorry. I thought
if 1 could—there’s no way of getting:
my lunch box up there—such a:
crowd—"
A slim, appealing, lovely little figure-
in the wine-red cashmere, amidst all
| those buxom bosoms, and over-heated!
bodies, and flushed faces. His gaze-
left her reluctantly, settled on the-
lunch box, became, if possible, more be-
wildered. “That? Lunch box?”
“Yes. For the rafle, I'm the school
teacher. Selina Peake.”
He nodded. “I saw you in ehurch:
Sunday.”
“You did! I didn’t think you. . . ..
Did you?” .
“Wait here. I'll come back. Walt
here.” :
He took the shoe box. She waited.
He plowed his way through the crowd:
like a Juggernaut, reached Adam:
Ooms’ platform and placed the box
Inconspicuously next a colossal hamper-
that was one of a dozen grouped await-
ing Adam’s attention. When he had!
made his way back to Selina he again:
said, “Walt,” and plunged down the
wooden stairway. Selina waited. She:
had ceased to feel distressed at her:
inability to find the Pools in the crowd,.
a-tiptoe though she was. When pres-
ently he came back he had in his hand
an empty wooden soap box. This he
up-ended in the doorway just behind:
the crowd stationed there. Selina:
' mounted it; found her head a little
: above the level of his. She could sur-
vey the room from end to end. There
were the Pools. She waved to-
Maartje; smiled at Roelf. He made as-
; though to come toward her; did come
part way, and was restrained by
Maartje catching at his coat tail.
Adam Ooms’ gavel (a wooden potato-
masher) crashed for silence. “Ladies!”
(Crash) “And gents!” (Crash)l
“Gents! Look what basket we've got
here!”
Look indeed. A great hamper,
grown so plethoric that it could no:
longer wear its cover. Its contents:
bellied into a mound smoothly cov-
ered with a fine white cloth whose
glistening surface proclaimed it dam-
ask. A Himalaya among hampers.
You knew that under that snowy crust
lay gold that was fowl done crisply,
succulently; emeralds in: the form of”
gherkins; rubies that melted into:
strawberry preserves; cakes frosted
like diamonds; to say nothing of such
semi-precious jewels as potato salad ;.
cheeses; sour cream to be spread on
rye bread and butter; coffee cakes;
crullers.
Crash! “The Widow Paarlenberg’s.
basket, ladies—and gents; The Widow
Paarlenberg! I don’t know what's in
it. You don’t know what's in it. We
don’t have to know what's in it. Who
has eaten Widow Paarlenberg’s chicken
once don’t have to know. Who has
eaten Widow Pauarienberg's cake once
don’t have to know. What am I bid va
Widow Paarlenberg’s basket! What
am I bid! WhatmIbidwhatmIbidwhat~
mlibid!” (Crash)!
The widow herself, very handsome
in black silk, her gold neck chain rising
and falling richly with the little flurry
. that now agitated her broad bosom,
was seated in a chair against the wall
not five feet from the auctioneer’s:
stand. She bridled now, blushed, cast
down her eyes, cast ap her eyes, suc-
ceeded in looking as unconscious as &
complaisant Turkish siave girl on the
block.
(Continued mext week.)
e———— er ———
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