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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 12, 1934)
\ o 1 1 r 24 THE BATTALION WE UNDERSTAND— * (Continued from 171 the little town—until summer heat t>efrAri t'*j start the yearly, worried-conversation about the crop pros|»^ct. Corp *as yellow- injf daniferoiwly. ('otton looked ba<l. John K«*ni|H*r confided to “Doc” Weaver,-’over a heavin" cow, that he wasn’t iroin>r to make any feed that fall. \ Storekeepers be^an to pull their chairs out on \he sidewalks. * TWere ttlfV sat every afternoon, with httle knots of harried - farmers, rubbing the stubble on their chins, and faftfiing fUe* attracted by the tobacco juice on the pavement.- The air jrrew hot ami sticky. At m«rht pe«*ple rah their - fans, and fought mosqditoes. The jrirdleless Mrs. Bixby. nearly every day. panted a^td sweatee! her p<»nden»us way between the houses of the <*ardeiy Club members— ami most everyone else’s house. She t«K>k flow.\ crs to old “Dad” Milfcr—-told him about the out-of-town past4>r ' at the I’nion Revival Meeting — kept her copy of the American ized Bible circulating, and made assignments among the young people for B. Y. P. U. meetings. One afternoon she told Mrs, Weir that dear Brother Orrison looked so badly lately. She hadn’t seen his car in front of Mar- ,. cials for over two weeks either. She had seen it last night at Peneldpe’s though. Their, dear, sweet Marcia didn’t, after all. appreeiate Brother Orrison like she ought. Mrs. Weir agreed. Mrs. Bixby. sorrowfully shook her head Summer droned on monotonous. The first cool breeze of (>ctol»er stirrrd faintly in the dusty, yellow curtains behind the choir-box. and barely brushed Mar cia’s tired numbed body. The ajr in the church was humid, sticky- hot ami stifling from a torrid sun the day before. In ^the middle of the building, people poured sweat and felt* their clothes sticking to. the backs of the pews. Marcia coughed at the dust rising from the seams of the t*ld splintering floor. She st«*od up with the rest «»f the choir, and began t«* sing: “Just As 1 Am.” How sweetly the old hymn rang this morning! Mareia felt- its soft timbre pulsirtf? in her heart. She was glad, and gloriously happy over iC—yet somehow she knew she should be sjfrpnsed. , Why didn’t she rage inward at Mrs. Bixby this ntoming? Loathe that fat, coruplent back? Every Sunday, for l* she could remember, the turtle'-*ha|H'«l woman Ka.l as lontf been in front of her in the soprano section. She had. aJways. refilled at the stringy hair, plastered repulsively against the damy fat neck . ... ... at the '-O irty-whit*- collar, greaoy w^th |»erspi rat ion around the edges at thy tight dress stretched forbid dingly over huge mounds of quaking jelly. Mrs. Boxby had al *»>’* been her “Exhibit^Ahet dirpirtKinK the ttmall town The woman’s presence had a4^ays sickened her ...... goaded her nerves. ^ — . But dear Mrs. Bixby! wasn't that way this morning. How sweet she looked! The little felt hat so winning. t - Poor old soul ; how shameful to think of her *o meanly all these years. Why! she asks nothing of anyone foe* her way tirelessly, helping everybody! She had seemed e trifle gossipy when she asked why Vinny had stopped coming by ...... talked about him looking s-i troubled. But. after all, that was just her way of trying to ' Mp . . . . . . trying to show how foolish Oh, this new feeling! How nice to he here in church., Hot maybe, but pleasant, peaceful. , F*art of Jack's letterl It had kept running through her mind all morning. How it. had opened her eyes! ••Darling, you won’t have to come after me after all. I’m coming back to you—to live i i our little town. Oh, you’ve l.ifr there, Marcia that I’ll never take you from that I want to share myself. - “I'm so tired of city muik. dear. It’s cheap bawdy sometimes. People shellack themselves * with. a sorry ^•eneer and call it polish. They literally purr with affected “culture.” I’m glad I’ve found them out! Culture? Intellect uality? I'm going to breathe* Indb at home with you. my dear.” How clearly she had S4*cn things after that letter! She had suddenly known -realized that Jack was right. Known top/, -she could not . manry Jack since he was coming'home. Ja^A was her lover in the city—not here. Here ^ it could only be Vinny. Vinny! Why it always was c how could she love anykhkiy else? Oh find fdol How ashamed she had felt when she awakened from her dream last nij^ht. She had seen Vinny and herself out on the lake again—last spring. Heard herself saying, “ .- how ouieth wonderful it is with you here -lik** this. How delight fully placid, Vinny!” Saw v herself look up at him this time, quick enough to gasp at his face, grown hard and cold. He had broken out, “Marcia! »nn't you understand that that hurts tortures me? Peace! Ha, so that’* how I affect you. iHow his eyes had burned her>. Vm a man! I offer 1-ove. What ki\ir< right have you to find tha* placid ‘to warm your hands at y fire, fireat («ndM want t«> see you happy but I want V>u^^ OK. to He'l with youi ja-ace!” She had ladled upright in bed. Shaking. It was true! True! No rt^ht to call that phtcid (trvil warm hands at fi*«e\ w—nt vou “Oh Vrtmy,” she had crieil into the darkness. “Cm.so sorry.” tjuivering* crying. “I love you Vinny—want you. You can have me- vou can have me!’ 7 “Dear (iod”, she bleated now, The hymn was over. Vinny was getting*-up to preach. A little more now. and it wKuld be over the |ieople would leave the church, and she could throw her arms around him. and cry out her love beg him not to think hef a devil anymore. Oh. if she could tuily *oh it, out no\\! If she could only be in his arms feel bis lips kissing away the tears shf knew would come. ' How strong his voice sounded! It folded on itself in every corner. M arcia imagined it wrapping"'around the great shafts of light. f1<MMimg from the peaked-arch windows. Hanging then*, vibrant for the little congregation that listemd so in tensely. • I’m not, going tir u>e a text this morning. He al*uY!* begins *«> ouidlv! * . , [ Want U# to awaken to the honesty of our lives this morning, my ’friend* to realize that w'e are cho—en. We sh«»ul«l r«-J«>«<-e in the fortune of firnily- irr^>untl«-«l hap|*ines*. / ’* Is he still pleading? He needn't. Oh. Vinny! . ^ The worth of a lift* is thtj worth of itn loyalties. f)ur^ loyiltiw,'thank bear lle(l«n. b»'»r nM toward oma- ment. tinsel, or sham. We ne«4i no affections, no sen-s » timentalities. to command res|m-<’t from others. Here i* no charlatanry, no j»edantry. no shaltow profundity. Rejoice in your honest life, jny friends. Honest! Yen darling yes, yes I know. I know. iTtar.i forcing t)u*ir way t>ut. Lips quivering. Soul breaking! Here is the hearth, and fireside, .hhaunch friends. We are tha* only Class of iH*a»pla- in America left with tha- chance at I-ifat. jas it >houlal ba*. Here are a»ur babies, children. Sunday dinners. ( all it “rural” if you will. r ipU>’ ymraelves if you will, but these incorjiorate the toundation on which the whole mess of the world’s "culture” rests its crumbling structure. * g| % Oh, hurr> Vinny darling ' 4 The little church was afuiet now . . . . all the |>«a>pla: ncarly gone. The sulaiutsl murmur of Voices on the outside grew less and less "audible. The curtains rustled faintly. A w asp hummed overhead. The breeze - freshened now-- laid its cool (Continued on Page 28)