The Lampasas Daily Leader. (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 8, No. 3149, Ed. 1 Tuesday, January 30, 1912 Page: 3 of 4
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Drusilla’s 1 Patience
■K * *
By CLARISSA MACKIE
(Copyright, igix, by Associated Literary Press.)
■I
; “Patience is bitter, but its fruit is
sweet.” Drusilla Ford repeated the
tines of her motto with quivering lips.
■It’s the bitterest thing there is in
[life,” she added, picking up her sew-
ing once more.
1 Drusilla pulled her needle so sharp-
ly that the thread snapped. Her life
was rather lonely, for her aunt was
•old and deaf, and as she made dresses
(for her friends and neighbors there
|Was plently of time for reflection, and
Drusilla meditated so much that she
'grew quite morbid and bitter.
; Five years before Emmet Blake had
(departed from Laurel Cove with Dru-
(silla’s shy maiden kiss upon his lips
land a great jresolve swelling his soul.
[Was not Drusilla Ford the prettiest
girl in Laurel Cove and had she not
promised to wait for him and be mar-
jried when he came back from his un-
icle’s sheep ranch in Montana? If
.Emmet liked ranch life he intended
jto purchase a half interest in his un-
icle’s place and after the wedding he
[would take sweet Drusilla to the west.
| But the years had passed until five
[had marked the round of Emmet
(Blake’s absence. He wrote regularly
i—twice a month as the girl in the
jpostoffice testified to curious inquirers
(—and as poor Drusilla opened each
(envelope her hopes arose only to fall
(at his ready excuses for delaying the
[return.
Some people said he had married in
(the west and was afraid to tell Dru-
[Silla the truth; others said he had
tired of the girl he left behind and
was only waiting for her to break off
(the engagement.
1 Drusilla had not received her usual
letter and its non-arrival embittered
(her usually sweet disposition. She
(knew that the girl In the postoffice
(watched her sensitive face as Drusilla
sapproached the window each day, and
(she tried to school her features to
calm repose at each disappointment.
(Two weeks had passed over the usual
[letter day and so Drusilla stayed
[away from the office rather than suf-
fer humiliation from encounters with
he village gossips.
The deaf old aunt with whom she
Ived came into the room. To Drusil-
’s annoyance her Aunt Betsy kept
n accurate record of her niece’s eor-
espondence and by reference to her
wn almanac could tell If Emmet’s
letters were a day ahead of time or
itwoVIays late in arrival. Now she was
a-tiltJ with excitement and vague spec-
ulation.
’ “forusilla,” she said in the loud tone
|she\always used, “how long since you
jbeen\ to the postoffice?” *
I “Tnree days,” returned Drusilla.
j “W»en are you going again?”
; j “I aon’t know.” Drusilla’s voice was
[markedly careless. “Here are some
ipretty pink pieces for your bed quilt,
Aunt Betsy.”
“Put ’em in my basket,” shouted
(Aunt Betsy, obstinately. “I guess I’ll
go over to Mrs. Buell’s a little "while.”
|She jerked on her sunbonnet and went
(out/, leaving the screen door to slam
(noisily.
“I hope she won’t go to the post-
office,” Drusilla mused, as she thread-
led her needle. Then her thoughts flew
jto her negligent lover and she wonder-
led If he might not be sick.
An hour later Aunt Betsy came hop-
ping back again brimming with- sup-
pressed irritability. She sank into a
rocking chair and fanned herself with
her calico suhbonnet.
Drusilla Ford—there ain’t a letter
today. What do you think is the mat-
ter with Epimet Blake?”
Drusilla paled. “Aunt Betsy, you
aven’t been to the postoffice?’’ she
ked sternly.
Aunt Betsy tossed her head defiant-
y. “I have been over to Mrs. Buell’s
and Lulu came home to dinner while
I was there, and so I asked her if
there was any mail in our box—I
thought mebbe Emeline might have
written—”
“You had a letter from Emeline
hree days ago and you havn’t answer-
ed it yet,”Htnterrupted Drusilla coldly.
Her aunt blushed and hesitated,
then went on rapidly: “Lulu said
there wasn’t any mail, but she was
ull of news.”
, Aunt Betsy watched her niece close-
jly, but Drusilla did not respond to the
entative remark.
News about Emmet Blake,” insin-
ated Aunt Betsy.
It took Drusilla off her guard. She
ew quite pink and then paled again.
‘He—isn’t sick—or anything?” she
stammered eagerly.
“I guess not!” retorted Aunt Betsy.
‘He’s going to get married—just as
verybody said he would—the worth-
ss scamp!”
Drusilla sat as if turned to stone. At
ast the blow had fallen and it seem-
d as though the shock had torn the
art, from her body, for she felt no
ief, no pain, at this evidence of her
over’s perfidy. There was merely a
feeling of ic> coldness and a strange
lightness in her head.
“If that isn’t just like you* Drusilla
Ford! Sitting there dumb and quiet,*
while most girls would either faint
dead away or tear their hair or some-
thing,” Aunt Betsy was plainly out-
raged at being deprived of the dra-
matic scene she had conjured up in
her fertile brain.
Aunt Betsy did not spare a word—
she tmd how Emmet Blake’s uncle
had sent a Montana newspaper to a
relative in the village and in the
Windy River news was a marked
paragraph which stated that “we un-
derstand that out esteemed neighbor,
Mr. Emmet Blake, of Olympia ranch,
is about to bring a bride to the hand-
some residence he has erected there.”
“I expect her name is Olympia and
he named the ranch after her,” com-
mented Aunt Betsy, breathlessly, in
closing.
“Very likely,” smiled Drusilla, her
face suddenly losing its frozen stern-
ness, and Aunt Betsy flounced from
the room to prepare the neglected din-
ner.
When she was alone Drusilla relax-
ed her clenched fingers and leaned
back in her low chair., She closed her
eyes and there were little lines of
suffering about her temples and lips.
“If they wouldn’t watch me so,” she
whispered to herself. Presently she
sat up and pulled at the ring Emmet
had given her and which she always
wore on her engagement finger. She
realized that the gossips who pre-
dicted Emmet’s desertion regarded the
ring as a barometer. So long as she
wore it they knew he must be faith-
ful. In the face of current talk about
the newspaper item she knew they
would expect the ring to disappear.
Suddenly she pushed the ring back
to its place and a soft light filled her
eyes. “How do I know?” she asked
herself earnestly. “Perhaps Emmet
is faithful. I promised to wait for him
and I will until it is proved that he is
false. Laurel Cove can say what it
likes—I don’t care!” So Drusilla
Ford kissed the ring with a little-half-
shamed gesture and picked up her
needlework once more. Faith in her
lover shone in her eyes.
So Aunt Betsy found her, and as the
old woman surveyed her niece’s sweet-
ly serene countenance she felt that
here was an unswerving constancy
that must compel her admiration, and
she began' to doubt the authenticity of
the Windy River paragraph. “Half-ill*,
time these newspapers don’t know
what they’re writing about,” she
grumbled as she suddenly turned
around and hopped out to the kitchen
“Drusilla,” she called mildly, “come
out and get your dinnlt—you must be
most starved!”
Of course they came to see how
Drusilla Ford took the news of her
lover’s desertion.
Drusilla was cool and sweet and"
evaded their indirect questions, and
changed the subject whenever it grew
objectionably close to her intimate
affairs.- So they went away baffled
and told each other that Drusilla was
cold-hearted anyway.
The next evening at sunset, while
Drusilla and her aunt were eating sup-
peri; there came a knock at the'front
door. It was a familiar double knock
that brought a radiance to the girl’s
face and startled Aunt Betsy to keen
alertness.
As Drusilla started for the door,
Aunt Betsy arose and followed her to
the entry.
“Whoop-eeee?” cried Emmet Blake
softly as he held out his arms to Dru-
silla. “You got my letter, dear?” He
asked this question with his lips press-
ing against his sweetheart’s fair hair.
“You got my letter telling you I was
coming after you, and to have the wed-
ding duds all ready?”
“I never got it,” said Drusilla. from
the shelter of his arm; “but I’m ready
—as I said I would be, Emmet, when
you came for me!”
Aunt Betsy, peering around the
door, admired Emmet Blake’s tall
manliness and considered that he had
grown very handsome and brown du-
ring Ms absence. She heard him tell
Drusilla about his ambition to own a
big ranch before he sent for her, and
hoW at last he had built a large new
house, and they were to stop in Chi-
cago and choose the furniture on their
way out to Montana. ,
The old woman, looking at them,
felt a warm glow In her heart and her
face softened magically. Just then
Emmet looked up and saw her gazing
at them. He Winked amiably at her
and waved a dismissing hand, and
Aunt Betsy laughed as she disap-
peared.
“I’ll write to Emeline; she can send
one of the girls to come and live with
me now,” she murmured Importantly;
“and I guess I’Pl go and tell the newt
to Mrs. Buell!”
SATIN AND FOULARD
CHARMING COMBINATION- THAT
IS POPULAR JUST NOW.
Design Worth Keeping When a New
Costume Is in Order—Satin and
Cashmere Good to Use
Together.
The first sketch, shows a charming
way of combining satin and foulard,
the latter is used for the upper part of
front, the entire back and sleeves, the
lower part of front is of Satin; straps
lace edged with satin are taken from
each side of front over to back, where
they cross in the midddle and finish off
in points at each side of front; the
sleeves are set to satin bands, which
turn up at the lower edge.
The collar is of the lace, cut square
at the back and straight across in
front.
Materials required: One-half yard
satin 42 inches wide, three-fourths
yard foulard 42 inches wide, one yard
lace 18 Inches wide, four buttons,
v The second is a combination of two
materials, satin and cambric being
used this time; a wide piece of the
cashmere is taken over the shoulders,
crossed at back, where a buckle forms
a finish; at front, the right side of
the cashmere Is taken to waist, from
this a piece of the satin is taken over
the cashmere on the left side; a row
of buttons and loops are sewn on the
satin; the sleeves are of satin, turned
back with cashmere cuffs. Lace is
used for the yoke and collar.
Materials required: Three-fourths
yard satin 42 inches Wide, one yard
cashmere 40 inches wide, one-half yard
lace, one-half dozen buttons.
HAT TRIMMINGS ARE RICH
Eastern Ideas Predominate In the New
Millinery Decorations of the
Paris Models.
Curious and beautiful are the new
hat trimmings.
At the millinery openings, exclama-
tions of surprise, oT Joy, of admira-
tion are heard on every side; women
are delighted with the quaint touch
that is seen on many of the Paris
models.
Egyptian designs worked out in the
rich East Indian colors are a favorite
mode and will be much worn. Browns
in every shade, with a decided leaning
toward the golden tones, describe the
keynote on a goodly number of the
latest Importations. Purples, In every
tone from the rich and royal to the
palest shade of lavander, find their
way into the fall styles. Scarlet and
the deep rich red tones are to be pop-
ular, while black and white, the fa-
vorite combination-**bf many women,
will be as much <■ in evidence as
ever.
Feathers play an important part in
the new hat trimmings. Curiously
enough, there is a decided absence of
the willow plume in the newer models.
Can it be that these graceful and beau-
tiful feathers are passe, that fashion
makers will discard them altogether?
To be sure, the broad sweeping pic-
ture models are often adorned with
long willow plumes, but on the smaller
hats—and /'these are still in fashion
this winter—-the hackle feathers have
taken their place. Garlands of bright-
colored flowers will adorn velvet and
felt hats. These are made of ribbon,
silk, velvet, gold and silver cloth, and
crocheted with fine zephyr in all the
hard bright tones that are found- in
the old-fashioned crewel work our
grandmothers were so fond of.
Tiny blossoms they are, with wired
edges and stems of wire covered with
wrappings of zephyr. Fur is another
note in the trimming of winter hats.
Rows of fur, ends of fur, fur tails and
little furry heads of animals all go to
beautify milady’s headgear.
Theater bonnets are trimmed with
metal flowers and high-standing ai-
grets of fine metal wire, gold and sil-
ver. Osprey feathers and all sorts of
upstanding wings and fancy feathers
will be seen on the correct models
during the coming season.—Philadel-
phia Ledger..
GIRL’S DRESS AND OVERALL
The First May Be Made Up In Cash-
mere, the Second In Any Kind of
Pretty Material.
The dress would look well in cash-
mere; it has the skirt made with a
wrapped seam down center of front
and an added piece at foot set on un-
der a material strap; pieces-of passe-
menterie are sewn at sides above the
band.
The bodice has a square yoke of
lace edged with a material strap;
buttons are sewn on the seam down
front of both skirt and bodice; bands
of passementerie and material finish
the sleeves at the elbow. A soft rib-
bon bow Is sewn on bodice below
yoke, this adds a Charming finish.
Materials required: Sy2 yards cash-
mere 46 inches wide, 1% yard passe-
menterie, % yard lace, 15 buttons.
The overall might be made in
zephyr or printed sateen, and Is a
semi-fitting Princess, high to neck and
sleeves to the elbow. The pocket at
the side of front would be foupd ex-
ceedingly useful.
Material required: 4 yards 36 inches
wide.
Beneath the Big Coat.
Hand-embroidered white satin or
white crepe blouses are to be seen
this winter constructed upon simple
tailor-made styles, with the edges of
the collar and sleeves scalloped and
buttonholed, a good idea for the girl
who can do needlework, both plain
and elaborate.
Net blouses are well liked to be
worn under heavy coats, should a sim-
ple dress of the one-piece order not be
preferred. Gossamerlike though they
are, they take the place of the fine
lingerie blouses very satisfactorily and
make a pleasant change.
For the New Baby.
A pretty present may be made by
using one yard of double-width fine
white net .... Whip the edge to a lace
beading, and on the beading full an
edge of Valenciennes lace. Pink or
blue baby ribbon may be run through
the, beading, with soft rosettes at each
corner. This cover may be used to
throw over the baby carriage when
the baby is asleep.—Ladies Home
Journal.
Wk''Mm-.
y
IX NESBIT a
WHITE LIGIff
or miff
For years he labored day and night, with
all his mental main and might
To get his name spelled out by fame on
reputation’s dizzy height;
His services were truly great in various
1 affairs of state,
But ,'twas his fate to have to wait foi
many things to culminate.-
As years rolled on he gained in worthy
likewise in ruddiness and girth,
But we must own he was unknown among
the great men of the earth;
Yet faithfully he did each task that hia
superiors might ask,
Quite confident that it was meant some
day for him in fame to bask.
’Tis true he held important place and did
his work with ease and grace,
That now and then the artist’s pen made
aimless cartoons of his face;
*Tis true the correspondents sent accounts
of how he came and went
And now and then admiring men would
mention him for president.
But fame, alas, is more than coy; man’s
hopes it often will destroy—
It hangs a prize before his eyes and
Jerks it back with wicked joy;
And oft his brow was overcast, his disap-
pointment was so vast,
(Until one more, sure as you're born, his
1 meed of grandeur came at last!
“O, joy!” he cried. At last I’m great!
@j I’ve wrested now the prize from
fate!”
His wife looked up across her cup and
beamed on him with smile elate.
(‘‘Within this paper here I note a musty,
; moldy anecdote—
And O, my dear, as printed here, I am
’ the author that they quote.
“It is no common modern jest; it is a quip
' long YaM to-irestr *
A quip once doomed and then exhumed
by old Joe Miller at his best!
The laurel rests upon my brow because I
am a statesman now—
The chestnut tree is plucked for me—ip
fame’s white light I stand and bow!”’
With wifey, both now freed from gloom,j
he danced and capered round the!
room.
And ere the night with prospects bright!
he launched a presidential boom,
(For be it known by this attest that no!
man wins his weary quest
To pla’ce his name on scrolls of fame!
until he backs the ancient Jest.
-|-*---— s/vfJ
A GOOD EXCUSE. , I
Bill, the Burglar—Well, Judge, l
can’t help taking things. You see,
when I wuz a kid me father learned,
me to.
Judge—Aha, another proof of my
theory of' hereditary influence. What
did your father do, my man; was he
a burglar, too?
Bill—NO, yer honor, he wuz a pto
tographer.
A Matter of Course.
“Your love for me,” declared Hor-
ace Huntmonneigh, while the lambent
rays of the moon cast a soft radiance
about them, “has made me rich.”
“Huh!” sighed Gladiola Gottherox,
“I should think it would. You haven’t
got a cent and papa-left me a million
dollars. I should think it would make
you rich, Horace.”
And the moon hustled under a cloud.
Naturally Adapted.,
Bobbs—What has become of that
stenographer you used to have—the
one who took your dictation so well 1
Dobbs—She does the dictating now
►—I married her.
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Vernor, J. E. The Lampasas Daily Leader. (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 8, No. 3149, Ed. 1 Tuesday, January 30, 1912, newspaper, January 30, 1912; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth889640/m1/3/: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Lampasas Public Library.