Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 236, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 October 1917 — Cinderella Without the Ball [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Cinderella Without the Ball

By George Haskell

“Oh, come on Em! It’s going to be a dandy party !*’ The girl looking over the fence was urging another who paused a moment tn the business of hanging clothes on the line to answer“l "can’t Grace — but Dora is going.” “Yes, Dora’s always ‘going,’ and you’re staying —staying home, and doing the “Oh, well, I’m trying to get a dress made. When it’s done, Pll be ‘going.’” Emily laughed cheerfully, gave a towel a vigorous snap, and hung it on the line. She was thin and rather colorless, but her hair scintillated in the shifting sunlight and had copper and gold glint s. The fence of the back yard In the village street was not too high for those who passed to look over, but Emily was not ashamed of her homely work, they were not able to hire it done, her mother had never been used to hard labor of any kind, and as for her younger sister, Dora» it was quite out of the question to think of her doing the family wash. Dora was eight years younger than Emily, very pretty, very self-willed, and very selfish. The

fast two traits were probably owing to the Spoiling she had received from both mother and sister. Two children Emily and Dora had died, and Dora w as the annle of her mother’s eye. She had lived inluxtiry, and - when Hur crash had come, followed soon by the death of her husband, she had taken the little that brought in a very slender Income, and had settled down to live upon it with no idea of trying to increase it withany labor ot her own. She was of the helpless, unthinking kind who will sometiine, somewhere, have to experience a heavy jolt to awaken them to the purpose of their being here on this terrestrial globe. When Emily was seventeen she hadtaken up the burden of attempting to better con(Trtron3r, ~gT»T mHke "the mile income go farther by doing the heavy

work that a woman had been paid to do. Next she saved dressmaking bills by making her own clothes, and eventually those of her mother and sister. It is always? the people who are willing who are allowed to carry the burdens of those who are not. There has been known, however, to be such a thing as “the last straw.” But Emily gave no Indications of the, last strawl till a cheery voice hailed her over the fence some minutes after her girl friend had passed on. A pair of merry eyes belonging to a tanned, honest face, not-especlally but invitingly reliable, smiled at her under the raised hat. Emily embarrassed and rather miserable at the thought of her appearance In the old, faded working garb, could only stanv, nier out: “Oh ! Mr. Hale!” » “You'll be there tonight at the er party, won’t you?” he asked. \ “No. I think not But my sister’s going.” “Why don’t you go?” he persisted. Emily thought she even noticed a tinge of disappointment in the tone. She pushed a wet sheet along on the line to better see his face, and said: “Well I—l can't explaln Just now, but I can’t go.” She felt’that any plea of ill health would be slightly incongruous with her vigorous handling of the week’s~=wash. She could not tell him the real reason. and with an expression of regret Hale passed on. The wet towel hung limply In her hand, and the wind catching an unfastened sheet, it slid to dihe ground unnoticed by the girl. Youth, the desire for companionship, the call of the heart were all having their say. Their demand was Insistent. They did not even ask why they should be nled. Bmlly had met Hale only two or three times, but she had been strongly attracted to him. When her mother

called from the doorway, the sfteet on the ground she had suddenly a glimmering realization that he meant more to her than she had supposed. ’ In the cool sitting Toom Emily dropped down on a chair. “I wonder If that blue voile would look well enouglk for me to - wear tonight.” she said. Her sister Dora looked up from the" novel she was reading, comfortably stretched out on a couch. “Oh Em, that old thing!” she exclaimed in a distressed tone. “Emily! you - would disgrace the family in that dress!” chimed in the mother from, her corner jay th© window where some stockings were receiving some desultory darning. ~ This aspect of the case had not before occurred to Emily, but she at once saw the force of the argument. “I Thought I might freshen it up a bit,” she‘answered apologetically. “But if you think it looks so shabby, why I’ll just let it go.” 4——=.--. “You must 'get at your clothes dear, 'and fix Qp something to wear, so that you’ll be ready for the next party.” Emily made no answer. She knew that the time for getting at her own wardrobe was not likely to come very soon with all the sewing for her mother and sister that was already laid out for her. She arose a trifle, wearily, and wonHmo fiye kltchen to prepare the meal.

Dora, came home from the party flushed and excited with the “dandy time” she had had. Howard Hale had danced with her more than with any other girl; and both women saw quite plainly that something like a romance had begun under their own roof. To the elder sister the knowledge came with a chilling, benumbing weight. She tried to "set it aside, andl_be glad of the other’s happlness, but, her own heart cried out in revolt. She saw before her a battle to be fought to gain the victory of renunciation. After Hale’s first call at whlch etlquette required the presence of the family, Emily invariably left the field clear for her sister, who had Intimated that she wished this. Emily was finding the battle with herself an unusually hard one. The more deeply she found she loved this man, the more strongly came the temptation to revolt; but her mother was so pleased, and her sister so happy how could she

reveal her feelings. Besides Hale evidently loved her sister, and had not even thought of her, so she hid all evidences of the struggle under a quiet, exterior. —— — ■ One evening Hale came when Dora was out, as she had not expected him. Emily met him with the information. After a few minutes talk he said: “Will you answer me frankly, truthfully one thing?” In surprise she agreed to his request. “Why do you always fly from me as though I were a pestilence?” he asked. “Why—why, you come to see my sis- >» . “No. I don’t,” he broke In. “I come to see you! Don’t you think I know you are worth all the Doras in creation. You’re courageous, unselfish little woman!” At this Emily quite broke down, sobbing out something rather unintelligible. But holding her close against his heart, he seemed to understand.

"I Know You Are Worth All the Doras in Creation.”