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"I could say that," said Ann, "because I know you, and know you don't want people starved. But if I'd never heard anything about you except that I was to be starved in your name " "I should think even so you might question. Didn't it ever occur to you that God had more to do with your Something Somewhere than He did with things done in His name in Centralia?"
No one can consider that he understands the technique of holding down the Reds until he has studied this case, and therefore every friend of "Big Business" should send fifty cents, either to the I. W. W. Headquarters, 1001 West Madison Street, Chicago, or to the "Liberator," New York, or to the "Appeal to Reason," Girard, Kansas, for the booklet, "The Centralia Conspiracy," by Ralph Chaplin, who attended the Centralia trial, and has collected all the details and presents them with photographs and documents.
You were all kinds of different things. Lovely things. You were Something Somewhere. You were the something that was way off beyond the nothingness of Centralia." "The something that didn't squeak," suggested Katie tremulously. "Something Somewhere. You were both a waking and a sleeping dream. I knew you were there. Isn't it queer how we do know without knowing?
Alive with the things that there were out beyond the nothingness of Centralia. "The man played something from an opera and showed pictures of beautiful people going into a beautiful place to listen to that very music. He said that the very next night in Chicago those people would be going into that place to listen to those very voices.
And it was on those streets that a lonely little girl with deep brown eyes and soft brown hair had dreamed of a Something Somewhere. As she turned in at the residence of the Reverend Saunders Katie was newly certain that Ann had not come back to Centralia. It seemed the one disappointment in Ann she was not prepared to bear would be to find that she had returned to the home of her youth.
But soon I was too crazy about their clothes to care and then after the music began "Oh, Katie! Suppose you'd always dreamed of something and never been able to catch up with it. Suppose you'd not even been able to really dream it, but just dream that it was, and then suppose it all came No, I can't tell you. You'd have to have lived in Centralia and been a minister's daughter.
There was nothing so large and flexible as the real joys of either righteousness or unrighteousness. Nor was Centralia picturesquely desolate. It had not that quality of hopelessness which lures to melancholy. New houses were going up. The last straw was that Centralia was "growing."
She retraced her steps and waited for two hours at the station, reconstructing for herself Ann's girlhood in Centralia and thinking larger thoughts of the things which spoiled girlhoods, the pity of it all. And it seemed that even self-righteousness was not wholly to blame. Katie felt a little lonely in losing her scorn of "goodness." She had so enjoyed hating the godly.
Then I'd get the connection and Life would pass through the cords. That was the closest I came to it operating the cords that it went through. There was a whole city full of it beautiful, laughing, loving Life. But it was on the wire just as in Centralia it had been in the pictures and in the box. And oh I used to get so tired so tight operating the cords for Life.
But as she stepped from the train and approached a group of men lounging at the station it came to her that "Ann's father," particularly as Ann had not been Ann in Centralia, was a somewhat indefinite person to be inquiring for. After a moment's consideration she approached the man who looked newest to his profession and asked how many churches there were in Centralia.
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