The Groom News (Groom, Tex.), Vol. 15, No. 41, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 12, 1940 Page: 2 of 8
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Carson County Area Newspapers and was provided to The Portal to Texas History by the Carson County Library.
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TRAILER GIRL
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Lesson for December 15
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Lynn.
God expects His
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CHAPTER XX
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CHAPTER XIX
dom.
JESUS TEACHES HIS DISCIPLES
TO PRAY
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Lesson
LESSON TEXT—Luke 11:1-13.
GOLDEN TEXT—Ask, and it shall be
given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock,
and it shall be opened unto you.—Luke 11:9.
place.” Then
‘‘Now get out.
you want to
house.”
Lynn stood
wall,
thing was ghastly,
sobered by the turn of events
“I apologize Lynn.
He went over to her, touched her
arm appealingly, took his hat and
left without a backward glance. And
he left her to contemplate the most
humiliating experience in her whole
young life.
Jack reached for the telephone
himself.
straight against the
The humiliation of the whole
Wild suddenly
rose.
I’m a fool!”
subjects and Scripture
id copyrighted by Int<
Religious Education:
Lynn, standing there in the mid-
dle of the floor, covered her face
with her hands. It was disgusting!
A fury took possession of her. How
dared Wild! How dare he!
She began packing wildly, deter-
mined not to stay in this place a
moment longer than necessary. She
began tossing clothes, hats, books
onto the cot, pulling out suitcases
from under the bed
Lesson I
lected an<_
Council of
permission.
TT WAS midnight on Christmas
A Eve. Seven-year-old Jack,
having baffled the sandman
since eight o’clock, tossed back
the covers and crept
stairs.
Now, at long last, he
learn the truth about
Claus. Man or myth?
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'------■"’IMPROVED'"'""
UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL
QUNDAY
□CHOOL
By HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST. D. D.
Dean of The Moody Bible Institute
of Chicago.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Shepherd Village Plays Bethlehem
Les Baux in France, a village of
shepherds, puts on one of the most
dramatic Christmas celebrations in
the world, and has done it yearly
for over a thousand years. The peas-
ants act out the whole Bethlehem
story with real oxen. Thousands of
visitors come every Christmas eve
to see the event.
Christmas in Sweden
Sweden celebrates her Christmas
December 24 with fish and rice por-
ridge.
CAPITAL CHAFF
Justice Frank Murphy’s recipe for
keeping fit at 50 is to walk to and
from the Supreme court, and ride
horseback every afternoon. Justice
Murphy walks the long way round
to his office, going first to the Wash-
ington monument.
The 25,000 government workers
who daily lunch in government res-
taurants in Washington consume an-
nually 187,000 pounds of butter, 187,-
000 dozen eggs, 135.640 pounds of
coffee, 2,446,336 bottles of milk, and
43,266 gallons of ice cream.
len
A Burdar
Chnshnas
“I say, will you marry
me, Lynn?”
haggard eyes. “I was drunk. That’s
the only explanation I can offer!
I’m a fool. If you only knew what
I’ve been through these last two
days!” He put his hand over hers
and would not let her take hers
away.
‘‘You’ve got to listen. You’d allow
a murderer that! I—” he stumbled
on.
He could not tell Lynn there had
been a difficult scene with his
mother. She had tried to be kind,
had tried to make him see how
impossible his infatuation for Lynn
was. She’d kept her temper and had
been logical and straightforward.
“You don’t understand how I love
you, Lynn. I mean it!”
She looked so ill and tired,
reviled himself bitterly.
“It was pretty awful, wasn’t it?
That old fool! But I must have been
mad. I ran into Terry and he said
he’d seen you and that you’d moved.
I had no idea of time. I just came,
that’s all!”
An officer came along and told
Wild not to park his car there. The
morning rush traffic was beginning.
“You didn’t sleep did you? Or eat
any breakfast?”
“I’m all packed, ready to move.”
These simple words pushed Wild
back into the slough of despond.
“I’m no good! I deserve to be
shot! What can I do, Lynn, to make
you forgive me?”
Tears were rolling down the girl’s
cheeks, and he tried to wipe them
away with his pocket handkerchief
as they halted in traffic. Finally he
saw a place to park and pulled his
car over to the curb.
“You’re going to get something to
eat.” Together they went into the
nearest automat. “I’ll have the boy
bring us something.”
The place was crowded now with
the rushing men and women, fight-
ing for their breakfast coffee. It
was noisy and confused. Lynn
leaned her aching head on her hands
and tried to hear what Wild said
above the clatter.
“I say, will you marry me, Lynn?
Now, any time, ever?”
He had to say it twice, to make
himself heard above the clatter of
dishes. The waiter slammed a tray
down and unloaded their breakfast.
Wild put her coffee before her and
motioned for her to drink it. Lynn’s
eyes looked less frozen now. As the
clatter increased Wild grinned at
her and shouted:
“I pick the nicest places to ask
you to marry me! I didn’t hear what
you said.”
“I said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ ”
How could she remain furious at
him in this absurd situation? There
was a faint quiver of her mouth
and he reached over and gave her
-’a saueeze
would
Santa
Chim-
ney sweeper or a lovable old
red-nosed gentleman?
When the clock struck one Jack
was still sitting patiently in the chair
by the fireplace, watching the em-
bers glow and wane. Tinsel on the
nearby Christmas tree glistened. It
was all very exciting, but where was
Kris Kringle?
The noise Jack heard a moment
later might have been Santa but it
didn’t come from the chimney.
Quickly the boy jumped back in
the shadows while he heard the din-
ing room window raise slowly. A
gush of cold air, heavy footsteps,
and then Jack heard the window
close.
Frightened, he crept forward un-
til he could see where blue moon-
light filtered into the dining room.
There Jack saw—not Santa Claus
but a masked burglar, systematical-
ly looting the silverware!
Seconds later his softly slippered
feet carried the lad upstairs into
his parents’ bedroom. The boy shook
his father.
“Dad!” he whispered loudly, eyes
blazing. “Dad! Wake up!”
“Grrummph,” came the sleepy
answer.
“A burglar, Dad! Wake up! Call
the police!”
Not waiting, Jack reached for the
bedside telephone fiimself. His moth-
er still slumbered.
“Operator?” he asked. “Send the
police over to our house right awayl
There’s a burglar downstairs!”
By that time it was out of Jack’s
hands. His parents were wide
awake now, clinging to their hero
Washington, D. C.
ENVOY LEAHY NO ‘APPEASER’
French appeasers who favor co-
operation with Germany, particular-
ly Vice Premier Laval, are going to
have a rude awakening on the ar-
rival of Admiral William Leahy, new
U. S. ambassador to Vichy.
Officially inspired French news-
papers received Admiral Leahy’s
appointment as an indication that
the United States had decided to
play ball with Germany and was
veering away from Britain.
But they were so wrong. Inside
fact is that Admiral Leahy is one
of Roosevelt’s most vigorous ad-
visers in favor of helping Britain,
and has even urged that a large
part of the American navy be sent
to Singapore in order to keep an
eye on Japan, and serve as a silent
warning against Japanese penetra-
tion down to the Dutch East Indies.
Wi
I
son and listening. During the next
two minutes they heard a stark
drama—downstairs the dining room
window opened and closed. In the
distance, growing ever nearer, was
the hum of a motor which they
knew would be the police car.
They heard it stop outside. Taen
came a shout, “Stop thief!” A brief
scuffle, and they knew the burglar
was captured.
Next morning Jack was awakened
by his father.
“Son,” he began, eyes twinkling,
“I forgot to ask last night how you
happened to hear that burglar.”
Jack blushed.
“I was downstairs, Dad, waiting
for Santa Claus. Wanted to see if
he really does come on Christmas
eve.”
His father laughed heartily.
“But Jack!” he protested. “Don’t
you know that Santa Claus never
comes when little boys and girls are
watching? I’ll bet he’s been here by
this time, though. Let’s go see!”
Downstairs Jack’s surprise was di-
vided between two equally fascinat-
ing subjects. Around the Christmas
tree were more presents than he’d
ever seen before, including a brand
new bicycle!
But off to one side was a jolly
looking, blue-uniformed policeman.
“Sonny,” the copper began. “That
burglar you captured last night was
‘Lightning Pete,’ a most notorious
house breaker.”
Jack’s jaw dropped.
“Best of all,” the policeman con-
tinued, “there’s a $500 reward for
his capture, and it all belongs to
you. Here’s the check.”
Jack could barely say “Thank
you,” so amazed was he.
“I guess,” he finally mumbled,
“that Santa Claus is wearing a blue
uniform this year.”
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
AID FOR GREECE
The mail sack arriving at the
Greek legation these mornings at
last is showing evidence of popular
support for the Greek cause. Let-
ters are pouring in, many with en-
closures of cash.
A Mississippi school teacher sends
five dollars; an unknown man from
Arkansas sends six dollars; Oscar
L. Johnson and Harry L. Carpel,
both of Washington, send $100 each.
The total has reached $40,000, all
forwarded to New York, where a
special committee is handling con-
tributions.
One letter comes from a retired
army engineer in Atlanta, who says,
“I could still pass for 40,” and asks
to enlist in the Greek army. In
New Brunswick, N. J., a group of
young aviators who flew for Fin-
land now want to fly war planes for
Greece.
Authors of these letters get
swers signed by the longest name
in Washington’s diplomatic corps—
Diamantopoulos. He is the minister
of Greece, and he gratefully ac-
cepts both the money and the men.
They were completely and utterly
happy, those two, oblivious to the
rest of the world. That Autumn al-
ways remained one of the happiest
times in Lynn’s life. In after years
when she’d see the city she loved
sparkling in the Autumn sun, or lit
by a harvest moon, it brought a
vague nostalgia, a little heartbeat
one feels for lost youth.
Wild did not, however, take Lynn
back to Austin Manor. The girl’s
name was not mentioned between
him and his parents, although he
talked to Chuck about her. But Mrs.
Austin knew her son was seeing
the lovely model. She heard gossip.
She was bound to, for Lynn’s face
appeared more and more frequently
in the magazines, Rene’s work war
causing considerable comment
Then, too, Wild was too important i
person to escape general gossip.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
4:2).
swer
ask aright, not for your own selfish
purposes (James 4:3). The real
asker is also a seeker—he doesn’t
ask and run away empty-handed—
he persists. He not only “seeks,”
but he “knocks” at God’s door. A
knock is an evidence of faith—ex-
pectancy, and often persistency—all
essential in real prayer.
II. The Promise of Prayer (vv.
9-13).
Here is the promise of our Lord.
We are quick to claim the promises
of our friends, business associates,
the government; why are we so slow
in claiming the promises of God?
Can it be that we have less confi-
dence in Him than we have in our
neighbor? Asking means receiving,
seeking results in finding, knocking
brings the open door of His bless-
ing. Why not do it?
God is our Father. Even a man
rightly bearing the beautiful title
“father” is loving and considerate.
Will not the heavenly Father then
give us every good thing? In fact,
the Holy Spirit Himself is ours in
all His fullness, and in Him there
is every other gift.
III. A Parable Concerning Pray-
er (vv. 5-8).
The point of this story is that we
should be persistent in prayer. Im-
portunity carries with it a sense of
being troublesome, bothering some-
one until the desired result is at-
tained. God encourages His chil-
dren to a holy boldness which does
not give up (see Luke 18:1-8; Matt.
15:21-28). If a man who is only a
friend will at the impossible hour of
midnight supply a need which should
have been anticipated to feed one who
is a stranger to him, will not our
Father, who “neither slumbers nor
sleeps,” who knows and loves us
all, meet our deep spiritual need?
Indeed He will, “exceeding abun-
dantly above all that we ask or
think” (Eph. 3:20).
IV. The Practice of Prayer (vv.
1-4).
There is no one who can teach us
to pray better than Jesus, for He
“practiced what'He preached.” He
prayed. It was seeing Him pray
that led the disciples to ask Him to
teach them to pray. To profess
is one thing, but it is far better to
practice. The teacher who does not
practice prayer will accomplish lit-
tle in teaching this lesson, but the
one who prays, though able to say
but little, will cause many to say,
“Teach me to pray.”
For he practice of prayer, Jesus
taught His disciples a model pray-
er. This does net mean that this is
the only prayer to be offered, nor
that it is the only form of prayer.
As suggested, it is rather a model.
This prayer opens with a recog-
nition of God as Father, followed
by a reverent petition that His name
may be hallowed; that is, that He
may have glory as His will is done
and His kingdom established in the
hearts of men. Those who have that
spiritual life and attitude are ready
to ask for the supply of daily needs,
and above all forgiveness of sin and
deliverance from temptation. Note
that verse 4 is not the prayer of the
unsaved for forgiveness and regen-
eration, for that is all of grace (Eph.
2:8). ‘The man outside (of the king-
dom) gets his forgiveness with no
condition; but once he is in the king-
dom of the Son of God’s love, he
lives within the laws of that king-
Then he does not get forgive-
ness unless he is ready to forgive,
unless he has forgiven” (Morgan).
“Nothing more surely destroys com-
munion than the urffcrgiving spirit
(Matt. 6:14, 15; Mark 11:25). The
fact that we forgive others is not
the ground' on which God forgives
us, but it is the condition of our en-
joying God’s forgiveness (Eph. 1:7;
4:32)” (Bradbury).
Teach us to pray!
The request of the apostles was
not that He should teach them how
to pray, for He had already done
that (see Matt. 6:5-7) in the Sermon
on the Mount. What they needed,
and what we need, is not so much
to learn how to pray, but actually
to pray. Prayer is more talked
about than practiced. We discuss
the doctrine of prayer, the time of
prayer, the manner of prayer, pos-
ture in prayer; but how much do
we really pray?
This is a very important and plain
question which we must face per-
sonally, “Do I pray, or do I only
talk about praying?” Let us not try
to dodge it or.excuse ourselves; let
us face it honestly, do something
about it, and know God’s richer and
fuller blessing for our lives.
We have in our lesson,
I. A Principle of Prayer (v. 9).
The one who has a right to call
God his “Father” (v. 2) has a right
to come and “ask” God for what-
ever he needs.
children to ask, and many “have
not, because ye ask not” (James
Give God a chance to an-
you by asking, but be sure to
As she worked, dawn began to
break. She worked with a white set
face until everything was neatly
packed, the pictures she had hung
with such pleasure, the little vases,
even the disturbing papers from the
table.
She made some coffee and man-
aged to drink it. Then she bathed
and dressed slowly watching the
slow-moving hands of the clock. By
seven, she could stand the place no
longer. Ready for work, she walked
down the stairs, praying she’d meet
none of her neighbors on the way.
She made her escape and almost
ran into the street. She’d have to
begin the job of apartment hunting
all over again. There parked at the
curb was Wild’s car. He was at the
wheel. When he saw her he got out
and walked over to her.
Somewhere he’d found a barber
shop. He was shaved, and sober.
Only the fine moisture on his fore-
head showed his two days of drink-
ing.
“Lynn.”
She did not answer him.
“Don’t make a scene here. I’ll
pick you up and put you in the car if
you do. I swear it!” And Lynn
knew he meant it. She opened the
door and got in.
Wild drove away in silence for a
few blocks, then parked the car and
turned to her.
“I’m asking you to forgive me,
- .mr./’ jie tried to look into her
When he dropped her off at the
shop, he said: “I’ll be waiting for
you tonight.” And he dashed off to
complete his plans for the day.
How different this day was than
the one previous! Lynn chided her-
self and sometimes when she
thought of Wild’s absurd proposal in
the little automat, her heart got
cold. She must tell him all about
Rene. Tonight she’d tell him. The
longer she waited the worse it would
be.
That night Lynn flew into her
street clothes.
And then she went out to meet
Wild.
“I must drop in and see Rene for
a moment and then go apartment
hunting. Maybe I can stay in a ho-
tel tonight. I’m all ready to move.”
“I’ll wait,” Wild retorted crisply.
“It’s all my fault you’re moving.
The least I can do is to help you
find another place.”
When Lynn got to Rene’s studio
she found him and Marty deep in a
conference.
“Where on earth have you been?”
Rene demanded in annoyance.
“Apartment hunting.”
“I thought you’d found some-
thing.”
“It didn’t pan out, Rene. I’m sor-
ry. Why this solemn conclave?”
“Rene’s going to do the illustra-
tions for Bryant Montgomery’s new
novel,” he announced. “That means
we’ve got to work like wildcats,
Lynn. I’ve been reading the thing
and we’re mapping out plans now.”
Marty insisted that Lynn sit down
and talk to them.
“It means you’ve got to leave
Mme. Reanoud’s, Lynn. Rene needs
you. He’ll pay you $50 a week.”
“But, poor Mme. Reanoud.
hate to leave her now when she
needs all of us.”
“I’m going up there tomorrow to
see if I can fix things with her.
Maybe she’ll let you work after-
noons and give the mornings to
Rene.”
Lynn had a bad time trying to get
away, but she escaped at last to an
impatient Wild,
back he said:
“I thought you’d stood me up!
Now—”
“I want to get my stuff.”
“Just a minute. I had our rental
agent get a list of apartments down
here today, at the price of your oth-
er one. Let’s try this address. On
Minetta Street.
Glad of the suggestion, Lynn com-
plied, and they stopped before a
tall, old building.
“These look too expensive.”
“Same as your old one,” Wild said
shortly. “I’ll go get the caretaker.”
When the man opened the door to
the little apartment, there was
something oddly familiar about it.
On the walls were her pictures.
Through a half-opened door, she
could see her clothes neatly hung in
the clothes closet. The place was
filled with fresh flowers.
“Wild! What have you done!”
Lynn just stood there, staring about.
It was a pretty room. Much nicer
than the other, and there was a neat
little bedroom, and best of all, a
view of the city up town.
Wild was laughing in delight.
“How much is this apartment? I’m
sure it’s too expensive, Wild.”
“It’s $40, lady.”
That was the price Lynn had paid
for the other. Wild did not explain
he had sworn the man to secrecy,
had paid the additional $40 for six
months.
Lynn ran to the fireplace, to win-
dows with their view.
“It’s perfect, Wild! How did you
do it?”
“I called home and got Elsie to
come down and move you. Simple.
I had nothing to do with it all.”
There was a knock on the door.
Wild opened it. It was a waiter from
a nearby restaurant, with a menu
card.
“We’re having a house warming,
darling. Do you want a steak?”
Lynn hurried around and set the
little table by the window. It was
cool tonight, and the stars were
clear in the deep blue sky.
The fire was blazing on the hearth
when their dinner came. There was
even a bottle of champagne.
“Miss Morrow, your good health!”
Wild said as he raised his glass and
touched hers.
“And yours, Mr. Austin.”
“May I call you Lynn?”
Then he took her in his arms,
kissed her solemnly and they sat
down to the house-warming dinner.
BRITISH SUDDENLY FRANK
What is happening in England to-
day is a barrage of truth. Sudden-
ly, British censors have passed a
succession of news stories which ad-
mit what U. S. military observers
long ago knew, that the damage in
England was terrific, that airplane
production had slowed down, and
that British shipping was in a more
desperate predicament than during
some of the dark days of the first
World war.
These facts also have been ad-
mitted by responsible cabinet offi-
cers on the floor of parliament. The
sudden frankness means only one
thing—the British are telling us that
unless they get even greater help
from the United States, they may
face defeat.
Actually the situation has not
changed materially, except for the
willingness of the British to talk
about it. The odds definitely have
been against the British from the
very minute France surrendered.
But thanks to the Greeks and the
failures of the Italian fleet, British
odds have improved considerably,
though they are not yet 50-50.
* * ♦
NEW MEXICAN PRESIDENT
In the dispatches about the inaug-
uration (performed December 1) of
Mexico’s new president, Manuel
Avila Camacho, nothing is said of
his mother, who stands upright in
her grave in the state of Puebla.
Senora Camacho de Avila, mother
of four sons, was one of the most
colorful and dynamic women in the
history of Mexico. She died only a
year ago, and her last words were
to direct that she should be buried
upright in the ground. “The Avila
Camachos,” she said, “have always
stood on their feet.”
Accordingly, the coffin was put
into the ground in an upright posi-
tion, in the town of Tezuitlan, state
of Puebla.
The people of that state needed
no such graphic action to remem-
ber her. For her sons will not al-
low her to be forgotten. One now
becomes president of the country.
Another, Maximino Avila Camacho,
is governor of the state of Puebla,
actually is a stronger figure than
the president.
He is the Mussolini of Mexico—
powerful, lusty. The owner of 100 full
blooded horses and an amateur bull
fighter, he stages private bull fights
for the amusement of distinguished
visitors.
Chances are that it is this moth-
er’s son, rather than Manuel who
will run the government of Mexico.
By VERA BROWN
CHAPTER XVIII—Continued
—12—
“You’ve never seen Wild tight,
have you? He’s a scream! Kept us
in stitches. He put Mrs. Wall’s gold-
fish in the champagne. You should
have seen them. They got cock-
eyed!”
Terry was not trying to be cruel.
It never occurred to him that Lynn
was taking Wild seriously.
She felt she could not face Rene
just now and she went straight to
her new apartment. Terry wrote
down the number.
“Have you a telephone? Well, I
can get you at the shop,” he waved
good-by. “See you soon.”
The room darkened. It must have
been nine when she got up and
bathed her face, and put on a white
linen dress. She’d go to Rene now.
Then she laughed at herself. She
knew why she was going. To see
if Wild might be waiting.
From the street she could see
Rene’s apartment was dark. He oft-
en sat with the lights out, so she
went on up. Rene, however, was
not there. She found a note for her.
“I’ve gone to eat with Marty.”
She waited a while, idling about
the room, picking up this sketch and
that. She could stand it no longer.
She scribbled a few words on the
end of Rene’s note and left. If only
Wild were waiting for her as usual.
She was crying now, for she knew
that Wild would not come. What
had happened? Terry? His mother?
What?”
Wearily she made up the cot for
the night, and undressed.
It was hours later when the door
bell awakened her. She jumped up,
stubbed her toe on the strange
chair, felt for the buzzer. Rene? He
must be ill. She hunted for her
dressing gown and threw it on over
her thin nightdress. Her eyes were
heavy with sleep as she waited at
the door. She could hear somebody
stumbling up the stairs at the next
floor. She was sure something had
' happened to Rene! She waited until
the footsteps reached her door. Then
she opened it. It was Wild.
He came to her and took her in
his arms, buried his face in her ruf-
fled, blonde hair.
“My God, Lynn! I couldn’t stay
away. I tried, bjit I couldn’t!” He
would not let her go, his lips on
hers.
“Wild!” Lynn’s voice was plead-
ing. She realized he Jiad been drink-
ing. She struggled to get away
from him.
“Don’t, Lynn! I love you so!”
There were tears in his eyes as he
spoke.
“You’ve got to let me go.” Lynn’s
voice was desperate.
“I’ll never let you go, not after
these two days.” Finally she broke
away from him.
“You’ve got to leave here, Wild.
Right now!”
Lynn was in a panic. Mrs. Roth
had warned her against men visitors
late at night.
He laughed softly: “I thought I
could give you up if I wanted to.
Well, I’m putting my cards on the
table. I can’t.”
He sat down suddenly, as though
his knees were weak. “And I
thought I was so smart! I who hate
women!”
“Wild, please.
good boy.”
He pulled her down into his arms.
“Of course, I’m not going! I’m here
—to stay.”
Lynn could not break away from
him, and she lay there sobbing as
though her heart would break. Wild
was nonplussed at the storm.
“Don’t you love me, Lynn?”
asked plaintively.
“I think I almost hate you to-
night!” All her suffering of the last
two days welled up. But he held
her there, a rebellious, sobbing fig-
ure.
Just then, there was a knock on
the door. Lynn struggled out of
Wild’s arms and went slowly to an-
swer. It was Mr. Roth, in his night-
shirt which hung below a hastily
donned raincoat.
“This is a nice way to carry on,
young woman,” Roth charged into
the room.
Lynn, horrified, managed to say:
“I’m sorry Mr. Roth. The gentle-
man was just leaving.” Roth
brushed that aside:
“You’ll leave tomorrow morning.
We told you this was a respectable
" ~ he turned to Wild:
Take her with you if
but get out of my
THE GROOM NEWS. GROOM. CARSON COUNTY. TEXAS
4
y
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Wade, Mrs. W. J. The Groom News (Groom, Tex.), Vol. 15, No. 41, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 12, 1940, newspaper, December 12, 1940; Groom, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1371333/m1/2/?q=music: accessed July 1, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Carson County Library.