Irene Throws a Boomerang

Irene Throws a Boomerang By MARGARET C. MOLONEY "G. QOD morning, Beau- tifuls," Irene, with a bowl of table scraps in her hand, addressed a pen of Champion Buff Orpington chickens across the backyard fence. Dandylion, the big chief, But- tercup, Daffodil, and Sunflower, the three fat matrons, came quick- ly at the sound of her voice. "Oh, good morning, Mrs. Blake, I didn't see you," laughed Irene scattering the tidbits about. "Look how they shine in the sun." I'M afraid you're going to miss them, Irene. "I'm selling out," she added quickly. "Have to go to Grace's." "Oh, no!" the tears sprang to the child's eyes. "What will we ever do without you? And my beautiful bouquet, too? Are they sold, Mrs. Blake?" "I've had an offer from Mr. Campbell — but not enough. Why don't you buy them, Irene. I'd let you have them for twenty dol- lars." "What! You don't mean it, Mrs. Blake?" "Yes, I do mean it. Couldn't you scape up that much? I've sold all the rest." "Twenty dollars, Mrs. Blake! But weren't you holding these for fifty dollars? Your Champions!" "Yes, but I'd like to know someone had these who loved them, and if I found I could take care of a few down there I'd expect you to ship me a setting of eggs, free of charge. You've been around me enough to know how to take care of them; and you are old enough to start in business. Fifteen is almost a woman now- adays." "Oh, if I can. I've almost enough, and I have some more due, you know for taking care of chil- dren after school. If I can collect this afternoon, I'll take them, Mrs. Blake. I'll run over as soon as I get home." "I'll hold them till tomorrow noon," Mrs. Blake promised. "Then if you can't manage, I'll have to let Mr. Campbell have them, and I'd — rather not." AFTER school Irene hurried over to Mrs. Allen's who owed her two dollars. Mrs. Allen was so interested that she added fifty cents interest on Irene's money. Mrs. Brownless also paid the dollar she owed; and then finding she still lacked a dollar the fifteen year old business woman sold the brief case that had been given to her for a Christmas pres- ent and which she needed, really, to carry her books in. Up the stairs she flew to her room to get her savings, bounded in the door — and stopped, a ter- rible fear seizing her at the sound of wild ungovernable sobs. "Emily!" Irene cried. "W — what's happened?" She thought of the mother they had idolized, and terror gripped her. liMILY sat up quickly at the cry. "Nothing," she managed to say in spite of the sobs that would not be checked. "I didn't expect any- one home, and I'm just weeping — a little — because I can't go to the picnic." Emily dried her tears with a very wet kerchief, and tried to smile. "Oh," said Irene. She went over and sat on the couch by her sister just six years older than her- self, the sister that had always A A Little Work By George du Maurier little work, a little play To keep us going — and so, good- day! A little warmth, a little light Of love's bestowing — and so, good- night! A little fun, to match the sorrow Of each day's growing — and so, good morrow! A little trust that when we die We reap our sowing! And so — Good-bye! given up everything with a smile. "Why can't you go?" Irene asked, knowing well that it was because she had no dress to wear. "Oh, it's just that I saw a silly blue dress down in Marr's window that I was crazy enough to go in and try on — and it made me so beautiful that I got a wild wish to wear it to the picnic and see if Henry Ramsay wouldn't — fall for me. You didn't know I was such a boob, did you?" ilOW much was the dress?" asked Irene. Her lips quivered, but Emily thought it was sympathy that was bringing the look of suffering to her little sister's face. "Twenty dollars," said Emily; "but it isn't going to kill me to stay at home. I've a lot of things I'd like to do. I'm not crazy about going with a crowd of peo- ple I don't care much about any- way. I see them every day in the week; besides they are to charter a train and leave at eight in the morning and don't come back be- fore six." "But — if you had a new dress you'd love it, wouldn't you, Em- ily?" Irene's face was drawn, but her eyes were like the stars. "Oh, sure," said Emily, trying to joke, "If I had a new dress and could show Henry how nice I can look if I have something decent to wear." "Henry isn't bothered much about clothes, I notice," said Irene. "He's proud to take you about — as you are; but listen, Emily, you can have the dress. I've just been collecting my bills, and I've twenty dollars that aren't working, and — ." "Oh, Precious! Honest? You don't need it for something?" L .RENE shook her black curls, and her heart grew warm at the radiant face of Emily. "Irene, Honey, I'll take it, if you are sure you don't mind. I never wanted anything so much in all

702 The Improvement Era for August, 1930 my life as I want that dress. And I'll make it up to you." "Make it up to me!" Irene laughed. "As if I didn't owe you everything I have. Oh, Emily, hurry, and go get the dress quick before they close, or someone else gets it. JliMILY dusted a bit of powder on her tearful face and ran off to get the dress. Irene sat a moment wearily and then went over to tell Mrs. Blake she couldn't have her gorgeous bouquet of Buff Orpingtons, after all. "But, maybe I could come down even a bit more," smiled Mrs. Blake. "How much have you al- together?" Irene had to tell her about the dress then. "Well, Irene, I can't be outdone by a chit of a child," said Mrs. Blake. "The Champions are yours." "But I won't be able to get twenty dollars together again for a mighty long time," said Irene. "It took me nearly a year to get this." "T I'M giving you the Champions," said Mrs. Blake, and smiled at the light that flared in the childish eyes. "That is, I'm giving them to you so that I can ask you to keep an eye on my house till it's rented — so the boys don't break the windows." "Oh, but I'd do that gladly for nothing — just because I love you so much, you know that." "Yes, I do know that, and I'm giving you the Champions be- cause I love you, dear, and I know you'll take good care of them." "Oh, oh, oh," cried Irene, fling- ing her arms about the plump little woman's neck and almost shutting off the wind. "A minute ago I thought life was a terribly cruel thing, and now I think every- thing's lovely." "The same way with Emily, too, I don't doubt," Mrs. Blake reminded her. "Well, let's go out and tell the Champions about it. They'll be glad, too." i i 1 "When a resolute young fellow steps up to the great bully, the World, and takes him boldly by the beard, he is often surprised to find it come off in his hand, and that it was only tied on to scare away timid adventurers." — O. W. Holmes. Love of the Land By Dr. E. G. Peterson President of Utah Agricultural College '"THERE is a feeling in all of us which attaches us to the land. Walk out some day through the grain or between the early corn rows. Smell the ineffably delightful odors which arise from the fructi- fying earth; see the colors, the green of the cultivated plants with masses of yellow flowers here and there in the meadow or in unculti- vated corners or along the fence rows. Feel the soft breeze carry- ing its measure of relief to the plants, billions of them toiling to produce their quota as it has been decreed. Birds sing in the nearby trees; the sky overhead is blue. Maybe a shower patters down gently, re- freshing the whole face of nature. You have not walked far until you feel the tremendous presence of life; in plants, in the myriad of moving things, in the vast sun illumined sky. Here you are, among the things that grow, under the bene- ficent ministry of the heavens. You become kin to it all, — a fellow of the ant toiling with his great load, companion to the bird sing- ing out his gladness born of a home a mate and young ones to feed. You almost reach out for a hand- ful of sunshine it seems so tangible. The soil beneath your feet is preg- nant with power. The water in a spacious canal ripples by carrying its liquid wealth to fields that joy- fully await its coming. Willows have grown up along its moist banks, and in its crystal depths water bugs of a thousand varieties ply their industrious trades, des- perately and blindly fulfilling their appointed destiny. Every man, Bailey once said, should own a piece of land, if it is only a barren hillside, upon which he can go and say quietly to himself, "This is my land." There is infinite comfort in nature, — the secret of it is in the myste- rious call to us to join in the com- panionship which includes all life which is one under God. Fortunate the country whose people own their own lands and with increasing understanding pa- tiently cultivate them. There has been much said of the man who, "Bowed by the weight of centuries, leans upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, the emptiness of ages in his face and on his back the burden of the world." Less has been said of the man of mental strength and moral integrity, of clean and clear vision, who deliberately chooses these paths, of toil but of high honor and dignity. The peasant who "leans upon his hoe" has been replaced in America by the profes- sional farmer who takes his place with the educated and the com- petent of the other professions. It is such men, not the dulled and downtrodden, who are working out the new agriculture with cor- porate efficiency but, it is to be hoped, without the deadening fever which comes from too exclusive a search for gain. The countryside, rich in natural beauty, the fascin- ating processes of plant and animal life, the old art itself more ancient than the records of Abraham, and the love of the land will restrain the modern American farmer from developing the merchandising mind to that excess which would make him just a business man and not also a creative husbandman. Yellowing, of Plants 'T7HE Utah Agricultural Experi- ment Station has just released a publication on chlorosis, or, more commonly called, yellowing of plants. Dr. F. B. Wann, the author, states that the most fre- quent cause of chlorosis is the lack of nitrogen, magnesium, and iron in the plant itself. However, an excess water-supply or an over- abundance of alkali salts in the soil may also be contributing factors as well as low temperatures and lack of light. The author suggests two pos- sible methods of control : ( 1 ) The mechanical application of iron on the plant by spraying or by its injection into the plant body; and (2) soil treatment consisting ot the addition of manure, ammo- nium, sulfate, or sulphur to the soil.