"Oh, I don't know. Kinda lonesome, I guess. What's the news down at your place?" "News! Nothing ever happens in our office. Honestly, some days I think I'll just drop dead, it's so slow. I took three hours dictation from Hubbell this morning. He's writing the 'Dangers of Dora' series, and I almost go to sleep over it. He's got her now where she's chained in the cave with the tide coming up, on a deserted coast, and nobody for miles around. I was tickled to death when old Slezak called me away to fill out the contract blanks for him and Willie Kaplan. Kaplan's signed up with the Slezak's for three years at a million and a half a year. He stood over me while I was filling it out--him and his brother Gus--as if I was going to put something over on 'em when they weren't looking." "My land! How exciting! It must be wonderful working in a place like that." Myrt yawned, and stretched her round young arms high above her head. "I don't see anything exciting about it. Of course it isn't as bad as your job, sitting there all day, sewing and mending. It isn't even as if you were sewing on new stuff, like a dressmaker, and really making something out of it. I should think you'd go crazy, it's so uninteresting." Martha turned to the window, so that her face was hidden from Myrt. "Oh, I don't know. Darning socks isn't so bad. Depends on what you see in 'em." "See in 'em!" echoed Miss Myrtle Halperin. "See! Well for the love of heaven what can you see in mending socks, besides holes!" Martha didn't answer. Myrt, finding things dull, took herself off, languidly. At the door she turned and looked back on the stiff little figure seated in the window with its face to the gray twilight. "What's become of your friend What's-his-name that you used to darn socks for at home? Grant, wasn't it? Eddie Grant?" "That was it," answered Martha. "He's married. He and his wife, they've got to visit Eddie's folks back home, on their wedding trip. I miss him something terrible. He was just like a son to me." [signed] Edna Ferber Those Who Went First A distant bugle summoned them by day, A far flame beckoned them across the night. They rose--they flung accustomed things away,-- The habit of old days and new delight. They heard--they saw--they turned them over-seas,-- Oh, Land of ours, rejoice in such as these! This was no call that sounded at their door, No wild torch flaming in their window space,-- yet the quick answer went from shore to shore, The swift feet hastened to the trysting place, Laughing, they turned to death from peace and ease,-- Oh, Land of ours, be proud of such as these! High hearts--great hearts--whose valor strikes for us Out of the awful Dissonance of war This perfect note,--in you the chivalrous YOUNG SEEKERS OF THE GRAIL RE-LIVE ONCE MORE,-- Acclaimed of men, or fallen where none sees, Oh, Land of ours, be glad of such as these! [signed]Theodosia Garrison A Summer's Day