Page 34 - 1913 November - To Dragma

TO DRAG MA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI 39

chance to see the Four Hundred. It's by me how you can enjoy a l l

that racket. I like music but I want it a waltz or a two-step, tho' a

barn dance isn't too bad. As for books, life's too short to spend it

that way. I want what I want when I want it—a good time and no

work."
She finished in a harsh low tone that grated on Cimbria's nerves.
"Don't we live here in America where we are all supposed to be

free and equal?" she rushed on. " A healthy lot of freedom we have.
We are the slaves of the upper classes!"

"Come, come, girl, cut that out." Hannah interrupted. " I am
glad that Russian you used to admire so, got another girl. He cer-
tainly worked his tongue over time. He was awful generous with his
ideas but they didn't seem to bring him in any money."

"Speak not of him to me, I hate him," flamed Sophy.
"Well, quit your pipe dreams of red autos, they aren't for the likes
of us, and the sooner you know it the sooner you'll find you can
enjoy a car ride on a hot night," counselled Hannah. With her
lightning change of mood Sophy tossed off her emotion with a laugh.

" I guess you are right, Grandmother," she said scoffingly.

Cimbria and Gretchen were growing used to these discussions be-
tween the practical Irish girl who had a vein of sterling common-
sense in her makeup, and the reckless, passionate Canadian.

Sophy's mental processes reminded Cimbria of an ant she had once
idly watched. She judged he was the father of a hungry family for
he was staggering under the weight of a dead fly and he seemed to be
in a feverish hurry. He would rush up a blade of grass which
would always bend at the end letting him fall back again to the
place from which he started. I t was p i t i f u l to see him wasting so
much energy.

So it was with this girl. Lacking the mental ability to frankly
face her situation and become content in it, she allowed her emotions
to lash her over the same well-worn road only to be brought back to
actualities by Hannah who really liked her, for they had been fellow-
workers for some time, and the Irish girl understood her moods per-
fectly.

"Why care so much about things, Sophy," said Cimbria, "It's
only the people with whom one lives that really count."

Her listeners knew she was alone in the world. Mrs. Anderson
had died in giving her birth on board the steamer whose name she
bore. The father, crazed by grief, jumped overboard before New
York was reached, leaving his small daughter to be taken by some
kind-hearted emigrants. They had chanced to work in a mill where
the owners ran a library for their employees, and there Cimbria had