Out of the Burning

ut of tKe ^Burnin^ IVY WILLIAMS STONE Chapter Seven L tlKE a nine days' wonder the news spread through the town — Judge Harrison had found his lost daughter! People began to recall the occasion of the kidnapping. Women engaged in heated arguments over whether it had been a lilac or a snowball bush that had sheltered the twin-buggy. The story of the dyed hair and the injured foot skipped from mouth to mouth, losing nothing in the telling. The poor child had been bald-headed; no, her hair had been gray from abuse and malnutrition, like the Prisoner of Chillon: All ten of her toes had been torn and bleeding. Miss Eunice had snatch- ed her from death. The child had shown good blood; funny the judge hadn't noticed her before that graduation night. How would the pampered, in- dulged Portia accept her sister? Speculation ran high on this point, for Portia's gay, defiant attitude was common talk. Spike Reeves' yellow roadster, with its strident horn, had whirled madly along all the streets and highways, with Portia his constant companion. Consideration for another was foreign to Portia's standards. The necessity of sharing would hard. come W: HILE the town marveled and women gossiped, Portia and Pamela entered upon a difficult re-adjustment. They faced each other across a broad abyss. This chasm of life, nine- teen years in the making, could not be bridged by the judge's an- nouncement, "Portia, this is your long lost sister!" There was no guest chamber, so Portia had to share her room. The closet had to be divided, half the dresser draw- ers had to be emptied of a strange assortment, space had to be made for Pamela's intimate belongings. "It's like a dream; it doesn't seem real," mused Portia, pushing a pile of run down, soiled shoes into a far corner of the closet. "To think we are twin sisters, and have never slept together before!" "It's less of a surprise to me than to you," replied Pamela, "for I've known all about it for three years. You see, I knew Father would want me sometime, so I was con- tent to wait. And Mother has been so kind. I saw her nearly every day. And always I had Aunt Eunice." I LT'S all so sudden," Portia was really trying to be nice. "When you've been the only one, it makes you feel sort of queer to find your importance cut in two. I don't mean to be selfish, I've just never had to divide." "The difference between our childhood," laughed Pamela, "is that you had more than enough of everything, and I never had enough of any one thing. I was always a little bit hungry. I never had enough shoes to keep my feet warm and dry. I can't recall a winter's day when I wasn't just a little bit cold." "It made us different; it couldn't be otherwise," added Portia. "We look alike, and that's all. You are serious and sensible and bright. Harrison intelligence, Father calls it. I am frivolous and flighty. I hate studying. We are as differ- ent as if we came from separate worlds! What would you do Pamela," Portia continued with a touch of levity, "if you made a hole in one?" PAMELA glanced in quick alarm at her new sheer silk hose. "I'd darn it immediately," she replied. Portia enjoyed this immensely. "Do you know the difference be- tween a mashie, a niblick, a driver and a putter? What do you know about tennis? What would you do first if you were put in a car and made to drive it?" Pamela sensed that Portia was flaunting her own superior knowl- edge, so she hastened to answer with questions of her own. "Where would you look to find a cardinal's nest?" she retorted. "And what are doty chips? What would you do if a huge kettle of sorghum boiled over? And do you know what would happen if you swept the floor after sun- down? Do you know how many kernels of corn to drop in a hill? Which is better, to shell dried beans, or hang the vines from the rafters? Can you tell the difference between toadstools and mush- rooms? Can you distinguish the cry of a preying hawk? Do you know how many broods of babies cardinals raise in a year?" VJOOD gracious," cried Portia, "I'd get zero on all those questions. You are just like Father. He fires questions at me so fast, I forget all I ever knew. I guess education only means how much you know of all you ought to know. I can swim and dance and ride. I play golf and bridge and tennis, but I couldn't cook a meal to save me. I've never worked a

The Improvement Era for June, 1930 547 single day; I've never earned one penny." "And I," added Pamela, trying in her turn to get the point of view of her sister, "would be a misfit in your circle. I may learn to play, but I'll never forget how to work. Hot days, aching shoulders, poor food have left an indelible mark. I will always work." "Why worry about work?" queried Portia in a bored tone. "I know you had a hard childhood, but better forget it. Dad has plenty of money. Enjoy yourself now, while you may. Mother will fix up this room with twin beds, and presently all will be lovely between us. Some day a nice man will marry you because you are the Judge's daughter." .FATHER may not al- ways be judge," ventured Pamela. Portia 1 a u ghe d scornfully. "He'll die in office, never fear! Why, he's married to that court room. No one would dare op- pose him! My dear girl, for the last twelve years, both parties have endorsed his candidacy. It's too simple for words." She lay back upon the bed, kicked off her shoes and reached for a box of candy from under the pillow. "Wish they were better," she commented, "but my allowance was that near gone." "I heard of a young lawyer who thought he might run against Father," began Pamela, but Portia was dozing and Pamela thought best not to press the subject. a fatalist. Father will pack me off to some law school, in spite of all I may do. I wish I might dare tell him I won't go. Where do you get your courage, Pamela?" "From within me," stated Pa- mela simply. "I know what I wish to be, and I intend to train for it. I have to live my own life." r AMELA tried to please her father. Anything she chose to do suited Mother Echo. And so Pamela played at golf. She struck wildly at the elusive little balls, missed, endangered her cad- die. She could see no pleasure in the long hot tramps. She much preferred the huckleberry hikes of her youth. She was shocked to see cultured women haggle over tech- nical points in a game and vie for a trivial prize. But by listening and having little to say, she was soon able to confirm her suspicion. Judge Harrison was to have an op- ponent at the approaching election. A candidate was coming up in the Democratic party. They would no longer endorse Judge Harrison. HAVING lived away from her people, Pamela had a bet- ter opportunity to observe. Judge Harrison had not been able to please everybody. There were people disgruntled over his deci- sions. Some objected to his slo- gan, "The Law is no Respecter or" Persons." An ambitious young lawyer, a Legionnaire slightly wounded in the World War, an- nounced his candidacy. Twenty years was long enough to serve. The bench needed new blood, more leniency, less literal interpre- tation of statutes. Pamela, with keen insight, sensed the danger to her father's position. He was a poor mixer. He was too austere. She knew he would not solicit votes, that he would have no paid workers.^ He .would not campaign. If people- wanted his services, they should take the initiative at the polls. A- Ti HROUGH the summer months the Har- rison twins were dined and feted. Echo made plans for another bedroom; wanted to order an ex- pensive wardrobe for Pa- mela, but she desisted. "If Portia can put up with me for three months, all will be well," she explained. "I'm going in training as a nurse in September." "I wish I had your courage and decision," la- mented Portia. "You seem so confident. I sulk and pout and refuse to study. but all to no avail. I am "/ come ter marry ye. Curly' T first Judge Harri- son refused to believe that anyone would dare to oppose him. Fi- nally, when forced to believe, he muttered contemptuously, 'The arrogant little upstart. Why, he hasn't even cited a case in point!" "Portia," said Pamela solemnly, toward the end of summer, "that war vet- eran is going to defeat our father." "Pooh!" answered Por- tia. "You're a trouble bor- rower. He hasn't a ghost of a chance." "But you are wrong," persisted Pamela. "Father is too stilted. He simply won't unbend to people. You and I will have to elect him." "And how?" queried Portia. "You will go to yorr society friends. Tell them all what few people real- ly know — that Father re- turned Steve Turner's farm to him, after paying the taxes for nearly thirty years. Tell them he never prosecuted the Turners for kidnapping me. I shall go into Crow's Nest, and tell all the people there. I can speak their language. I shall persuade people to vote who have never done so before. It would near-

548 The Improvement Era for June, 1930 ly kill Father to be defeated." "He doesn't need the job," boasted Portia. "Can't you see it is his life? That he knows nothing else? He would be lost — go into a decline — rust! If you will do your full part, and he is elected, I shall un- dertake to persuade him to let you choose your own college." "Whoopee!" cried Portia all en- thusiasm. "I'll work for that bait. Spike will help me!" Wf HEN Pamela ex- plained their plans to her father, he was emphatically opposed. "No daughter of mine shall pollute her maidenly reserve," he began pom- pously, and suddenly stopped. He remembered a similar speech with its quick result. Once he had said, "No daughter of mine shall carry trays and linens." And here Pamela had already signed up for training in the hospital. "We shall work honestly, open- ly, courteously," explained Pamela. "The voting public doesn't really know you, Father. Only a very few people do. You are known to the first family set- tlers and those people who have to come to court. Hundreds of other voters never saw you. I am going to see that the women of the mountains register and cast their ballot. It's a privilege." "That impudent young scamp!" spluttered Judge Harrison. "Pre- sumptuous! Untrained! Not even native born!" "People are sentimental about soldiers," added Pamela. 'They will vote for him because he went over the top, not because he knows his Blackstone!" J' JUDGE HARRISON sighed. What a comfort it was to have a daughter eager and willing to help. One who did not wheedle for money, who never pouted, who knew her own mind; who couldn't be cowed. Under Pamela's systematic man- agement the two sisters set method- ically to work to sell their father to the voting public. To Pamela it was serious business. She could not bear to think of him bowed with defeat. He knew no other life. If defeated, he would cease to live. He would merely exist. To Portia, it was an exciting new game. She played more golf, at- tended more bridge teas, drove faster, had more people listen to her than ever before. Her active brain evolved a fantastic tale of her father's generosity. He had been kind to the man who had stolen his child. What an example of good for evil. She stressed the great privilege of the ballot, awak- ened flagging interest. Women who had not voted for years, who spent their leisure at bridge tables and beauty parlors, suddenly found it was "quite the thing" to cast a ballot. You didn't have to give your real age! Jr AMELA postponed her hospital training until after the election. Dr. Locke demurred, fearful lest she never come. "I sort of wanted you in good form when my boy Dick starts his in- terneship," he explained. "He's got good stuff in him, Pamela, even if he is my boy. Girls like you make wonderful nurses, Pa- mela. Level headed. No hysterics at the sight of a drop of blood." "I will come the day after elec- tion," promised Pamela. Pamela went into Crow's Nest, where the meaning of election day was scarcely known. Because she spoke their language, the people listened. She had been one of them; knew their privations, their pride, their superstitions. She had no fear of the shaggy haired men who carried guns. She offered no criticism of their mode of living. She could lend a hand at the kitchen tasks, could be trusted to watch a pot of bilin' syrup. She could read to starved souls, listen sympathetically to tales of physical miseries, could soothe a fretful child. Steve turner was genuinely glad to sponsor the cause of the man who had restored his home. Abe Walters, with unlim- ited leisure, volunteered to urge voting in the more remote dwell- ings, to see that people were reg- istered. Had not this jedge re- turned the farm to Millie's father? Surely they should vote. Cassie alternately cried and laughed over the return of Curly, told tales of her dipped hair to Millie's chil- dren, related all the details of the finding of the coal. Millie beg- ged forgiveness for thp precious book she had destroyed, and vol- unteered to name her next daughter Curly. Pamela insisted upon one defi- nite course. No campaigner should disparage her father's youthful op- ponent. She merely wanted peo- ple to vote; to know of her fath- er's twenty years of service. BUD TURNER, stal- wart, dark eyed, keenly observant, said little in the presence of this new, confident Curly. He felt there was no need for speech. Had he not promised his mother he would marry her and bring her back to Crow's Nest? But this was no time for love making or settin' up. Curly's thoughts were centered upon the election. When that was over, Bud decided he would go down to town, marry Curly and bring her home. She didn't need no more larnin'. She had plenty now. She had better marry than live in that queer smelling hospital where people moaned and screamed and most often died! Et warn't no place for his Curly. Reasoning thus, he contented himself by making her gifts of early nuts and autumn leaves, and secretly biding the time of his wedding day. She would be a joy to Cassie, whose eyes were getting too weak for the difficult task of wool spreading. "I'll tell ye, Judge," volunteered the county surveyor, dropping in- to the chambers after court, "that young soldier lawyer had a pretty good chance to beat you, if your girls hadn't a got into it. As 'tis now, I calculate you'll win. But et'll be close; mighty close." "I cannot reconcile myself to it," even to his court house asso- ciates the judge was frigidly polite. "Until this queer venture of m* sister's, the Harrison women were always content to remain in their homes. But my daughter Pamela is determined that the mountain people, particularly those residing in Crow's Nest, shall be educated to the full meaning of the ballot." Election day found the whole town more keenly inter- ested than they had been for years. Other offices faded into insignifi- cance besides the struggle for dis- trict judge. Why should a new- comer, unseasoned and unproven. displace one whose decisions had always been unbiased interpreta- tions of the state's statutes? Did (Continued on page 550)