Nellie Sue Comes to Her Senses

Nellie Sue Comes to Her Senses By FLORENCE HARTMAN TOWNSEND N, ELLIE SUE had risen with rebellion in her heart. She tried to account to herself for her mood as she went to the gar- den for vegetables. "It's just that — that — I — well, I don't know what's the matter with me." She kicked the gate to behind her and flushed guiltily at her childish act. She attempted a re- pentant bit of song as she began gathering the peas, a bit of song that fell flat on the still morning air, and died completely at the end of the first line. I LT was while she was shelling the peas for dinner that the mail- carrier passed and left the flag up. She put aside her pan and went to retrieve the letter and the daily paper. The letter was for her grand- mother and she carried it in to her. "It's from your Cousin Floy," grandmother peered over her glass- es to say. "She and Cousin Belle and the girls want to come out for a week. She says if it's not conven- ient, to let them know, but if she doesn't hear from us she will know it's all right for them to come. But you write anyway, Nellie Sue. It seems more hospitable. Tell them to come right on. I'll be real glad to see the girls. It's been quite a spell since they were here. Your uncle's going to town after a while and if you'll hurry you can get the letter ready for him to mail, and they'll get it tomorrow." "Yes ma'am." Nellie sue went reluctantly to her room. More re- luctantly still she found pen and paper. The unrest in her heart was seething. She knew now what was wrong with her world. She was tired of company. And now, more company. More cakes and pies to bake and chickens to fry and sheets and towels and pillow- cases to wash and iron. All sum- mer long Nellie Sue had done these things — for the kinf oik who found the farm such a source of joy and peace and rest in summer. For as many summers as she could re- member she had done this — com- pany cooking and cleaning and dishwashing and washing and ironing. Had done it matter-of- factly, gladly, uncomplainingly. There was Aunt Lou and her four children who spent each June at home. Aunt Sara and Uncle Jack who came the first week in each July. Then the two cousins from Wakeford, and other relatives of varying age and degree of kin- ship, who came for just a day or two. And now the two cousins, grandma's nieces and their two daughters, from Springfield. The two spare rooms had hardly been vacant a day since the first of June, and today was August second. Furthermore, Cousin Floy and Cousin Belle, while very charming and cultured and lovable ladies in- deed, were the very hardest of all to cook for. Cousin Belle counted her calories and Cousin Floy ate thus and so, and the two hearty girls ate everything — especially fried chicken and cake. When the latter were babies, there on visits with their mothers, Nellie Sue it was who could be trusted with their formulas and cereals. And now it was still Nellie Sue who could be trusted with the special salad dressing that had no food value, and had to be told only once that Cousin Floy wanted this and that for breakfast and something else for dinner and what not for supper. Always when they left they told Nellie Sue how deeply they appreciated her efforts and what a lovely visit they had had. They always added, "Come to see us some time, Nellie Sue." Some time! That some time grew more vague with each passing year. There had been a time when Nel- lie Sue had thought seriously of visiting her cousins in the city; had had visions of attending the theater and a concert, perhaps, and of being entertained with parties and teas. That dream had faded to thin air. She had never seen the inside of her cousins' homes. N< |OW she looked at the blank paper upon which she was to pen an invitation and her dark eyes snapped vindictively. "I've been an idiot. All of us have. What do we get out of this but hard work? And in the very hardest season of the year. All day yesterday I canned peaches — thirty jars. All the day before I pickled peaches, and all the days before, back to June first, I've cooked and slaved for unapprecia- tive guests — kinfolk. Not a day's vacation have I had — ever. I can't see that they need it any worse than I, but they never reverse the order and have me visit them. And I'll not be a jelly fish any longer. At last I've come to my senses, and I'm going to make use of them! I'm going to " She did not finish the sentence but dabbled the pen vigorously in the ink bottle. It moved rapidly across the white page, leaving a heavy, jerky, black scrawl behind, that was in decided contrast to her usual neat and dainty penmanship. Dear Cousin Floy: (the letter ran) Come on if you want to, but Aunt'a rheumatism is worse and she's having a dreadful time with her last hatching of fall chicks, and — (she paused only a split

The Improvement Era for August, 1930 683 second) — I'm thinking of taking a little vacation myself at this time. Hastily, Nellie Sue. "Well, I don't know but what I shall," she confided to herself as she sealed the envelope and took it down for her uncle to mail. H: .ER sudden desire for change of climate increased in pro- portion to the heat of the day, so that when night came she went so far as to get her clothes in order, pack her grip, and at the breakfast table she announced her intention. It had taken considerable muster- ing of courage to manage this. They would all object. The idea of a perfectly well, healthy young woman needing a vacation — in the city! But her determination had grown and with it new desires — or at least desires that had renewed themselves at this slight encourage- ment. Nellie Sue was going to the city. She would attend the style show at Foster's. Cousin Floy and Belle might smile, remember- ing her dresses four inches too long and her uncut hair. Well, let them! How could they know she wore them thus to please her decidedly old-fashioned grandmother. Poor grandma, who thought all the young folk but Nellie Sue had gone to the dogs because they wore short skirts and hair! Nellie Sue want- ed them as badly as anybody. Had- n't she sat up half the night be- fore turning up the hems of her frocks exactly four inches? Fur- thermore, she was going to buy a ready-made dress. The fact that she had never had one was suffi- cient reason why she should have one now. It was to be very smart and very, very colorful] She was going to eat, alone, in the city's most fashionable restaurant, wearing the new smart dress. Nellie Sue, whose most extreme frivolity had been Sunday School picnics, was thrilled at the thought. But that was not to be all. With ris- ing spirits and revolt reaching its peak, she had a more daring thought. She, who had gone to Sunday School every Sunday of her natural life had planned what seemed to her the very essence of wickedness; she was going to the theatre on a Sunday. In broad open daylight, in her to-be-pur- chased frock, yes, and high-heeled patent leather pumps — she was go- ing. Not a movie, mind you, but a show. She had never seen one, but she would. She neglect- ed to mention her intention to the family lest they detain her by sheer physical force. The style show had been shock enough. Ni IELLIE SUE tingled clear down into the sensible heels of her sensible oxfords. If she had been sixteen instead of twen- ty-four she couldn't have felt — nor acted — giddier. And utterly A plain little nurse with wispy blonde hair, smiled down at her. shameless with it. She even thought of having her lovely hair cut. She was positive she'd visit a beauty parlor anyway, just for fun. There was not a thrill due her that Nellie Sue missed. She went to a palatial hotel for twenty-four hours and felt like Cinderella. Then she very prudently found a respectable boarding place more in keeping with a cinder girl's purse. She attended the style show and resolved all over again to own one of those smart and flaring dress- es. How chic the girls were, and young and pretty! She bought a frock, quite smart, but hardly so short, after all, as last year's models. The high heeled pumps added a still smarter touch, and when Sunday came Nellie Sue went to the theatre, heavy of conscience, and with a presentiment that pun- ishment for her Sabbath breaking was inevitable. The show was a revelation. She hadn't dreamed it would be so dar- ing. She looked straight ahead in shocked fascination. She could not bring herself to join in the applause and she found none of it funny, as many did. She fled when the curtain fell, in confusion and re- lief. r ERHAPS in her con- fusion she failed to watch her step closely, or perhaps the unaccus- tomed heels were to blame; at any rate, when a big car came around the corner just as she stepped from the curb, she went down under its wheels with terrifying force, and at the lunch hour, that she had meant to spend in a fashionable restaurant, she was regaining con- sciousness in a hospital. A plain little nurse with wispy blonde hair smiled down at her, and then she retreated queerly into space and then was there again. She became conscious of other persons moving about and talking softly. When she tried to turn her head she found it very heavy and very sore. There were energetic pains in her ankle and in her left arm that raced in a frolicsome manner up and down, down and up. The nurse spoke. "You'll soon be better now. You met with an accident." "Yes, I remember." "Just lie perfectly quiet and rest," she admonished, and slipped noiselessly away. (Continued on page 716)