Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 88, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 April 1912 — Page 2

MISS MINERVA and WILLIAM GREEN HILL

By FRANCES BOYD CALHOUN

CHAPTER XVll.—Continued. .. "Maurice loves you, too”—she hoped to conciliate him; “he says you are the brightest kid in town.” “Kid,” was the scornful echo, “’cause he's so big and tall, he’s got to call me a kid. Well, he’d jes’ •-wastin' hi’self lovin’ me; I don’t like him an* I ain’t a-goin’ to never like him, an’ soon’s I put on long pants he's got to get ’bout the worses’ lickin’ he ever did see. “Say, does you kiss him like you does me?” he asked presently, looking up at her with serious, unsmiling thee. She hid her embarrassment in a laugh. • ‘‘Don’t be foolish, Billy,” she replied. ‘TH bet he’s kissed you more’n fifty hundred times.” "There’s Jimmy whistling for you," said Miss Cecilia. “How do you two hoys make that peculiar thistle? I would recognise It anywhere.” "Is he ever kiss you yet?" asked the child. "I heard that you and Jimmy whipped Ed Brown because he imitated your own particular whistle. Did you?" "How many times is he kiss you?” asked Billy. The young girl put her arm around him and tried to nestle his little body against her own. “I’m too big, anyway, for your real sweetheart,” she said. “Why, by the time you are large enough to marry I should be an old maid. You must have Frances or Lina for your sweetheart.” “An’ let you have Maurice!” he sneered. She stopped to lay her flushed cheek against his own. “Honey,” she softly said, “Maurice and I are going to be married soon; I love him very much and I want you to love him too.” He pushed her roughly fpom him. "An’ you jes’ 'ceived me all the time,” he cried, “an’ me a-lovin’ you betterin anybody I ever see sence I’s born? An’ you a Sunday-school teacher? I ain’t never a-goin’ to trus’ nobody no mo’. Good-by, Miss Cecilia.” She caught his hand and held it fast "I want you and Jimmy to be my little pages at the wedding, and wear dear little white satin spits all trimmed with gold brajd” —she tried to be enthusiastic and arouse his interest; “and Lina and Frances can be little flower-girls and we’ll have such a beautiful wedding.” “Jimmy an’ Lina an’ Frances can be all the pages an’ flower-girls an’ brides an’ grooms they wants to, but you can’t rope me in,” he scornfully replied. “I’s done with you an’ I ain’t never goin’ to have me mo’ sweetheart long ’s I live.”

CHAPTER XVIIi. Closer Than a Brother. It was a bach rainy day- Jimmy and Billy were playing in Sarah Jane’s cabin, she, however, being in happy Ignorance of the fact. Her large stays, worn to the preaching the night before, were hanging on the back of a chair. "Ain’t I glad I don’t have to wear no corset when I puts on long pants?” remarked Billy, pointing to the article. "Ain’t that a big one? It’s twice ’s big *s Aunt Minerva’s.” “My mamma wears a big co’set, too,” said Jimmy; "I like fat womans ’nother sight better ’n lean ones. Miss Minerva’s <bout the skinniest woman they is; when I get married I’m going to pick me out the fattest wife I can find, so when you set in her lap at night for her to rock you to sleep you'll have a soft place to put your head, while she sings to you.” “The major—he’s mos’ plump enough for two,” said Billy, taking down the stays and trying to hook them around him. “It sho’ is big," he said; “I berlieve it’s big ’nough to go ’round both of us.” "Le’s see. if ’t ain’t,” was the other boy’s ready suggestion. He stood behind Billy and they put the stays around both little bodies, while, with much squeezing and giggling, Billy hooked them safely up the front. The boys got in front of Sarah Jane’s one looking-glass and danced about laughing with glee. "We’re like the twinses what was growed together like mamma read me •bout," declared th* younger child. Presently they began to feel uneomfortable, especially Jimmy, whose fatj round little middle was tightly compressed. * “Here, unhook this thing, Billy, and le’s take her off,” 'he said. “I’m ’bout to pop open.” “All right,” agreed his companion. He tugged and pulled, but could get only the top and bottom hooks unclasped; the middle ones refused to “I can’t got these-here hooks to Jimmy put his short, fat arms arotmd him and triad his hand, but with no better success. The stays were -such a snug fit that the hooks **^We‘sho’ it In a fix”; Billy “look like God all time let tin’ us git in trouble.” “You thin* of more foot stunts to

’ (Copyright, by Reilly & Britton Co.)

do, William Hill, than .any boy they is,” cried the other; “you all. time want to get us hooked up in Sarah Jane’s corset and you all time can’t get nobody loose. What you want to get us hooked up in this thing for?” "You done It yo’self,” defended the .boy in front with rising passion. “Squeeze in, Jimmy; we jes’ boun’ to git outer this ’fore somebody finds it out.” He backed the other child close to the wall and pressed so hard against him that Jimmy screamed aloud and began to pound him on the head with his chubby fists. . Billy would not submit tamely to any such treatn\ent. He reached his hand behind him and gave the smaller boy’s cheek a merciless pinch. The fight was on. The two little boys, laced up tightly as they were in a stout pair of stays, pinched and scratched, and kicked and jerked. Suddenly Billy, leaning heavily against Jimmy, threw him flat on his back and fell on top of him. Bennie Dick, sitting on the floor, had up to this time watched the proceedings witft an interested eye; now, thinking murder was being committed, he opened his big, red mouth and emitted a howl that could be heard half a mile. It immediately brought his mother to the open door. When she saw the children squlnning on the floor in her only corset, her indignation knew no bounds. “You, Jimmy Garner, an’ you, too, William Hill, yuh little imps o’ Satan, what you doin’ in my house? Didn’t yd’ mammy tell you not to tamper wid me no mo’? Git up an’ come here an’ lemme git my co’set off o’ yuh.” Angry as she was, she could not keep from laughing at the sight they presented, as, with no gentle hand, she unclasped the hooka and released their imprisoned bodies. “Billy all time —” began Jimmy. “Billy all time nothin’,” said Sarah Jane, “ ’taln’t no use to’ to try to lay dis-here co’set business onto Billy; both o’ yuh is ekally in it. An’ me a-aimin’ fo’ to go to three fun’els dis Week an’ a baptizin’ on Sunday. S’pose y’ all’d brack one'o’ de splints, how’d I look a-presidin’ at a fun’el ’thout nare co’set on, an’ me shape’ like what I is?” “Who’s dead, Sarah Jane?” asked Jimmy, hoping to stem the torrent of her wrath. “Sis’ Mary Ellen’s las’ husban’, Brudder Littlejohn—dat’ a-who,” she replied, somewhat mollified at his interest “When did he die?” —Jimmy pursued his advantage. “He got ’way f’om here ’bout moondown las’ night,” she replied, losing /sight of her grievance in his flattering interrogations. “You know Sis’ Littlejohn, she been married goin’ on five times. Dis-here 11 make fo’ gentlemans she done buriet an’ dey ain’t

nobody can manage a fun’ellike she kin; ’pears like hit jes come natchel to her. She sho’ is done a good part by eb’ry single husban’ too, an’ she ’s figgerin’ to outdo all the yuthers wid Brudder Littlejohn’s co’pse.” Sarah Jane almost forgot her little audience in her intense absorption of her subject. “She say to me dis mornin’, she say, ‘Marri’ge am a lott’ry, Sis Beddinfiel’, but I sho’ is drawed some han’some prizes.’ She got ’em all laid out side by side in de buryin’ groun’ wider little imige on ebry grabe; an’ Sis Mary Ellen, seein’ as she can’t read de writin’ on de tombstones, she got a diff’unt little animal a-settin’ on eb’ry head res* so’s she kin tell which husban* am which. Her fus’ husban' were all time a-hunt-in’, so she got a little white marble pa’tridge a-restln’ on he’ head, an’ hit am a mighty consolement to a po’ widda ’oman fo’ to know dat she can tell de very minute her eyes light on er grabe which husban* hit am. Her secon’ man he got er mighty kinky, woolly head an’ he mighty meek, so she got a little white lamb a-settin’ on he grabe; an’ de nex’ husban’ he did n’t have nothin’ much fo’ to dlsgueese him fom de res’ ’cep’in’ he so slow an’ she might nigh rack herbrain' oft, twell she happen to think bout him bein’ a Hardshell Baptis’ an’ so powerful slow, so she jest got a little tarrapin an* sot it on him. Hit sho’ am a pretty sight jes’ to go in dat buryin* groun* an' look at ’em all, side by side; an* now she got Brudder Littlejohn to add to de res*. He de onliest one what's got er patch o’ whiskers so she gwine to put a little white cat on he’ grabe. Yes, Lord, es Anythlnk could pearten’ a widda ’oman hit would be jes' to know dat yuh could go to de grabeyard any time yuh want to an* look at dat han’some c’llection an’ tell ’zactly which am which.” Sarah Jane stopped for breath and Billy hastened to inquire: “Who else is dead, Sarah Janet” ‘"Taln’t nobody else dead, yit, as I knows on, but my two cousins is turrible low; one*s got a hemrage on de lung an’ de yuther’s got a congestin* on de brain, an’ I lows dey 'll bofe drap off twlx’ now an* sunup tomorra.” Her eyes rolled around and happened to light on her corset She at once returned to her grievance. “An’ sposin’ I had n’t ’ay’ came in here when Ldid? I’d ’a’ had to went to my own cousins’ fun’el 'thout nare

co’set. Y’ all gotta go right to T all’s mamas an* Miss Minerva dis very minute. I low dey 'll settle yo* hashes. Don’t y* all know dat Larroes ketch meddlers?” ‘ CHAPTER XIX. Twins and* a Sissy. Mrs. Hamilton and Mrs. Black were sitting bn Miss Minerva’s veranda talking to her, and Lina and Frances were in the swing with Billy. The attraction proved too great for Jimmy; he impolitely left a disconsolate little visitor sitting on his own porch whtle he jumped the fence and joined the other children. -»4'“Don’t you all wish you could see Mrs. Brown’s new twlnses?" was his greeting as he took his seat by Billy. “Where 'd she get ’em?” asked Frances. “Doctor Sanford tooken ’em to her last night." “He muster found ’em in a holler stump,” remarked Billy. “I knows, ’cause that ‘s where Doctor Shacklefoot finds aller ol’ Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy’s Peruny Pearline’s, an’ me an’ Wilkes Booth Lincoln been lookin’ In ev’y holler see ever sence we’s born, an’ we ain’t never foun’ no baby ’t all,' ’cause can’t nobody but jes’ doctors fin’ ’em. I wish he ’d a-give ’em to Aunt Minerva ’stidder Mrs. Brown.” “I wish he ’d bringed ’em to my mama,” said Frances. “I certainly do think he might have given them to us," declared Lina, “and I ’m going to tell him so, too. As much money as father has paid him for doctor’s bills and as much old, mean medicine as I have taken just to ’commodate him; then he gives babies to everybody but us.’’- • “I ’m awful glad he never give ’em to my mama,” said Jimmy, “’cause I never could had no more fun; they’d be struck right under my nose all time, and all time put their mouth in everything you want to do, and all time meddling. You can’t fool me ’bout twinses. But I wish I could see ’em! They so weakly they got to be hatched in a nincubator.” “What’s that?” questioned Frances. “That ’s a someping what you hatches chickens and babies in when they’s delicate and ain’t got ’nough breath .and ain’t got they eyes open and ain’t got no feathers on,” explained Jimmy. “Reckon we can see ’em?” she asked. “See nothing! ” sniffed the little boy. “Ever sence Billy let Mr. Algernon Jones whack Miss Minerva’s beau we can’t do nothing at all ’thout grown folks ’r’ stuck right under your nose. I’m jes’ cramped to death.” “When I ’m a mama,” mused Frances, “I hope Doctor Sanford ’ll bring me three little twinses, and two Maltese kittens, and a little Japanese, and a monkey, and a parrlt.” “When I 'm a papa,” said Jimmy, "I don’ want no babies at all, all they ’s good for is jus’ to set ’round and yell.” “Look like God ’d sho’ be busy a-makin’ so many babies,” remarked Billy. “Why, God don’ have none ’a the trouble,” explained Jimmy. “He ’s just got him a baby factory in heaven like the chair factory and the canning

factory down by the railroad, and angels jus’ all- time make they arms and legs, like niggers do at the chair factory, and all God got to do is jus’ glue em together, and stick in their souls. God got bout the easiest job they is.” “I thought angels jes’ clam* the golden stair and play they harps,” said Billy. “Ain’t we going to look sweet at Miss Cecilia’s wedding?” said Frances, after a short silence. “I ’ll betcher I ’ll be the cutest kid in that church,” boasted Jimmy conceitedly. “You coming, ain’t you, Billy?’’ “I gotter go,” answered that jilted swain, gloomily, "Aunt Minerva ain’t got nobody to leave me with at home.x I jes’ wish she ’d git married.” “Why would n’t you be- a page, Billy?" asked Lina. '"Cause I did n’t hafto,” was the snappish reply. * “I bet my mama give her the finest present they is,” bragged the smaller boy; “I reckon it cost bout a million dollars.” “Mother gave her' a handsome outglass vase,” said Lina. “It looks like Doctor Stanford would ’ve give Miss Cecilia those twinses for a wedding present,” said Frances. “Who is that little boy sitting on your porch, Jimmy?” asked Lina, noticing for the first time a lonely-look-Ing child. “That's Leon Tipton, Aunt Ella’s little boy. He just come out from Memphis to spend the day with me and I’ll be awful glad when he goes home; he’s bout the stuck-up-est kid they is, and skeery? He’s bout the 'fraldest young un ever you see. And look at him now! Wears long curls like a girl and don’t want to rever get his clean clo’es dirty.”

Billy Would Not Submit Tamely to Such Treatment.

1 think he la beautiful Httle boy* championed Lina. “Call him over here, Jimmy.” “Naw, I don’t want to. You all ’ll Hke him a heap better over there; he’s one o* these-here kids what the furder you get ’way from 'em. the better you like’em.” "He sho’ do look lonesome,” said Billy; “’vite him over, Jimmy.” s "Leon!" screamed hisdousln, "you can come over here If you wantta." The lonesome-looking little boy promptly accepted the invitation, and came primly through the two gates. He walked proudly to the swing and stood, cap in hand, waiting for an introduction. “Why did n’t you clam’ the fence, ’stead of coming th'oo the gates?" growled Jimmy. “You ’bout the prissiest boy they is. Well, why don’t you set down?" “ “Introduce me, please,” said the elegant little city boy. “Interduce your grandma’s pussy cats," mocked Jimmy. "Set down, I tell you." 7 .

Frances and Lina made room for him between them and soon gave him their undivided attention, to the Intense envy and disgust of the other two little boys. “I am Lina Hamilton,” said the little girl on his right. “And I’m Frances Black, and Jimmy ought to be 'shamed to treat you like he does." “I knows a turrlble skeery tale,” remarked a malicious Billy, looking at Lina and Frances. “If y* all wa’n’t girls I’d tell It to you.” “We are n’t any more scared ’n you, William Hill,” cried Frances, her interest at once aroused; “I already know ’bout ‘raw meat and bloody bonefc’ and nothing’s scarier ’n that.” “And I know ‘Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll ground his bones to make me bread/” said Lina. “This-here tale,” continued Billy, glueing his big eyes to those of the little stranger, “is pne Tabernicle learnt fer a speech at school. It’s all ’bout a ’oman what was buriet in a' graveyard with a diamant ring on her finger, an’ a robber come in the night—” The child’s tones were guttural, thrilling and hair-raising as he glared into the eyes, of the effeminate Leon, “an’ a robber eome- in the night an’ try to cut it off, an’ ha’nts was groanin’ an’ the win’ moan ’oo-oo’ an’—” Leon could stand it no longer. “I am going right back,” he cried rising with round, frightened eyes, "I am not going to sit here and listen to. you, scaring little girls to death. You* are a bad boy to scare Lina and Frances and I am not going "to associate with you;” and this champion of the fair sex stalked 4dth dignity across the yard to the gate. “I ’m no more scqred ’n nothing,” and indignant Frances hurled at his back. “You ’re just scared yourself.” Jimmy giggled happily. “What’d I tell you all," he cried, gleefully. "Lina and Frances got to all time set little ’fraid cats ’tween ’em,” he snorted. “It ’s just like I tell you, he ’s the slssyest boy they is; and he don’t care who kiss him neither; he’ll let any woman kiss him what wants to.

Can’t no woman at all 'cepting my mama and Miss Cecilia kiss me. But Leon is ’bout the kissingest kid they is; why, he’d just as soon 's not let Frances and Lina kiss him; he ain’t got no” better sense. ’Course I gotta let Miss Cecilia kiss me ’cause she’s ’bout the plumpest Sunday school teacher they is and the Bible say ‘lf your Sunday school teacher kiss you on one cheek turn the other cheek and let her kiss you’on that, too,’ and I all time bound to do what the Bible say. You ’d better call him back, Frances, and kiss him, you and Lina ’re so stuck on him." “I would n’t kiss him to save his life,” declared Frances; “he’s got the spindliest legs I ever saw."

CHAPTER XX. Rising In the World. The painter had just finished putting a bright green coat of paint upon the low, flat roof of Miss Minerva’s long back-porch. And he left his ladder leaning against the house while he went inside to confer with bar in regard to some other work. Billy, Jimmy, Frances and Lina had been playing “Fox and Geese.” Running around the house they spied the ladder and saw no owner to deny them. “Le’s clam* up and get on top the porch,” suggested Jimmy. “Aunt Minerva *ll put me to bed if I do,” said Billy. “Mother 11 make me learn a whole page of the catechism if 1 climb a ladder,” said Lina. “My mama *ll shut me up tn the closet, but our mamas are n’t bound to know bout It,”—this from Frances. “Come on, let’s climb up* “I ain’t never promise not to clam’ no ladder but —’’ Billy hesitated.

“You-all 'bout the skeeriest folks they Is,” sneered Jimmy. “Mama ’ll whip ine going and coming If she finds out 'bout it, but I ain’t skeered. I dare anybody to dare me to clam’ up.” “I dare , you to climb this ladder,” responded an accommodating Frances. *T ain’t never tooken a dare yet," boasted the little boy proudly, his foot on the bottom rung. “Who's going to toiler me?" > “Don’t we have fun?" cried a jubilant Frances. “Yes,” answered Jimmy; “if grown folks don’t all time be watching you and sticking thelrselfs in your way.” "If people would let us alone,” remarked Lina, "we could enjoy ourselves every day.” “But grown folks got to be so pertic’lar with you all time,” cried Jimmy, “they don’t never 'want us to play together.” He led the way up the ladder, followed by Frances and Billy; and Lina brought up the rear.' The children ran the long length of the porch leaving their footprints on the fresh, sticky paint. “Will It wash off?” asked Frances, looking gloomily down at her feet, which seemed to be encased in green moccasins. At that moment she slipped and fell sprawling on top of the roof. When the others helped her to her feet, she was a sight to behold, her wjiite dress splotched with vivid green from top to bottom. “If that ain’t jus’ like you, Frances,” Jimmy exclaimed; “you all time get to fall down and get paint on your dress so we can’t 'celve nobody. Now our mamas bound to know ’bout us clamming up here." "They would know it anyhow," mourned Lina; “we ’ll never get this paint off of our feet. We had better get right down and see if we can’t wash some of it off."

While they were talking the owner of the ladder, who had not noticed them —and was deaf in the bargain—had quietly removed it from the backporch and carried it around to the front of the house. * The children looked at each other in consternation when they perceived -their loss. “What we goln’ to do now?” asked Billy. - “If this ain’t just like Billy, all time got to perpose to clam’ a ladder and ■all time got to let the ladder get loose from him,” growled Jimmy. “We done cooked a goose egg, this time. You got us up here, Billy, how you going to get us down?” “I did n’t, neither.” "Well, it ’s Miss Minerva’s house and she ’s your aunt and we ’s your company and you got to be ’sponsible.” , “I can clam* down thls-here post,” said the responsible party. “I can climb down It, too,” seconded Frances. “You can’t clam’ down nothing at all,” said Jimmy contemptuously. “Tajk bout you can clam’ down a post; you ’d fall and bust yourself wide open; you bout the clumsiest girl there is; ’sides, your legs ’re too fat.” . . “We can holla,” was Lina’s suggestion. • ■ - “And have grown folks laughing fit to pop their sides open? I *m ’shame* to go anywheres now ’cause folks all time telling me when I ’m going to dye some more Easter eggs! Naw, we better not holler,” said Jimmy. “Ain’t you going to do nothing, Billy Y' "I 'll jest slide down this-here post and git the painter man to bring his ladder back. Y’ all wait up here.” Billy’s solution of the difficulty seemed the safest, and they were soon released from their elevated prison. “I might as well go home and be learning the catechism,” groaned Una. “I *m going to get right in the closet soon 'a I get to my house,” said Frances.- “Go on and put on your nightshirt, Billy.” Billy took himself to the bathroom and scrubbed and scrubbed; but the paint refused to come off. He tiptoed by the kitchen where his aunt was cooking'dinner and ran.lnto his own room. He found the shoes and stockings which were reserved for Sunday wear, and soon had them upon his little feet. Miss Miner va rang the dinner-bell and he walked quietly into the diningroom trying to make as little noise and to attract as little attention from his aunt as possible; but she fastened her eyes at once upon his feet v• ■ "What are you doing with your shoes on, William Y* wha asked

“You Cant.Clam’ Down Nothin’ at All."

Billy glanced nonchalantly at her. “Don’t you think, Aunt Minerva,” he made answer, “I’s gittln’ too big to go ’thout any shoes? I ’s mos’ ready to put on long pants, an’ how’d I look, I’d jest like to know, goin’ round* barefooted an’ got on long breeches. I don’ believe I.’ll go barefooted no mo’ —l’ll jest wear my shoes ev’y day." ”1 just believe you won’t Go take them off at once and hurry back to your dinner.", “Lemme jest wait tell I eats,” he begged, hoping to postpone the evil hour of exposure. "No, go at once, and be sure and wash your hands.” Miss Minerva spied the paint the Instant he made his se<ftmd entrance and immediately inquired, "How did you get that paint on your feet?" The little boy took his seat at the table and looked up at her wltji his sweet, attractive, winning smile. “PAnt Perlee’s little boys’ feets," he said, “an’ keeps ’em f’om gittln’ hurted, Aunt Minerva, don’t It?" Miss Minerva laid down her fork and gave her nephew her undivided attention. , . “You have been getting into mischief again, I see, William; now tell me all about it. Are you afraid of me?" “Yas’m,” was his prompt “an* I don’t want to be put to bed neither. The major he would n’t put little boys to bed day times.” She blushed and eyed him thoughtfully. She was making slow progress with the child, she knew, yet she still felt it her stern duty to be very strict with him and, having laid down certain rules to rear him by, she wished to adhere to them. “William," she said after he bad made a full confession, “I won’t punish you this time tor I know that Jimmy led you into it but —’’ "Naw’m, Jimmy did n’t. Me an* him an’ Frances an’ Lina’s all 'sponsible, but I promise you, Aunt Minerva, not to clam’ no mo’ ladders.” CHAPTER XXI. • < ■ Pretending Reality. The chain-gang had been working 4n-4he street not far from Miss Minerva’s house, and Lina, Frances, Billy and Jimmy had hung on her front fence tor an hour, watching them with eager interest. The negroes- were chained together in pairs, and guarded by two, big, burly white men. "Let’s us play chain-gang," suggested Jimmy. 1 "Where we goin’ to git a chain?" queried Billy; “’t won’t be no fun 'thout a lock an’ chain." “I can get the lock and chain off *m Sarah Jane’s cabin.” r “Yo’ mama don't Tow you to go to her cabin,” said Billy. “My mama don’t care if I just borra z a* lock and chain; so I’m going to get it." “I’m going to be the perlice of the gang,” said Frances. “Perlice nothing. You all time talking ’bout you going to be a perlice," scoffed Jimmy. “I *m going to be the perlice myself.” “No, you are not,” interposed Lina, firmly. “Billy and I are the tallest and we are going to be the guards, and you and Frances must be the prisoners." “Well, I ain’t going to play 'thout I can be the boss of the niggers. It’s Sarah Jane’sechain and she’s my mama’s cook, and I'm going to be what I please.” "I 11 tell you what do,” Was Billy’s suggestion, “we’ll take it turn about; me an* Lina ’ll first be the perlice an* y’ all be the chain-gang, an* then we ’ll be the niggers an* y* all be the bosses.” ’.'7' ’ This arrangement was satisfactory, so the younger boy climbed the fence and soon returned with a short chain and padlock. Billy chained Jimmy and Frances together by two round, fat ankles and “We must decide what crimes they have committed,” said Lina. "Frances done got ’rested fer shootin' craps an’ Jimmy done got ’rested fer ’sturbin”publlc worship,” said the other boss. * (to b*

Color Contrasts. She (tartly)—Don’t congratulate yourself that everything la going to be lovely when you reform. He (startled)—Why not? She—Because rosy futures don’t M with purple pasts