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BOOTS
Boots, yes black boots... Part 2.
Continued..
And hard by the next are threadbare, worn. Is this pair that strode
to the Bank outwardly confident and business-like, that had such clear
vision of what might be.
House
documents are in hand. They will be put on the line, mortgaged to buy
a scow to run coastwise. It is depression time when to have one coin
is a fortune, two is untold wealth. Soon these boots will stand continuous
days and nights working on stopped engines.
Disaster,
total financial diaster is imminent. Then at the darkest hour, the midnight
of gloom, a sooty chortle of diesel shatters the quiet and all is saved,
the house is saved.
Then years
pass to wartime and bring cargoes of sand for glass; a post war boom
and an economy shining with unexpected brilliance and newly shone the
boots then march into the board room chair and at Lodge they look up
to their new Grand Master.
But a softer
set lie alongside. These are the ones the elderly, the widows saw as
they received this and that for their table, that various in dire straights
saw, that offered help, hospitality to the desperate and saw such things
that few knew and fewer spoke.
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