Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1895-06-06
THE ERROR OF A MAN

THE ERROR OF A MAN
Laburnuns! golden, tassled, feath-
cry; tender-leaved and amply bios
somed; arching over and gently SD
ing the long, grassyytathway from he
home to the outer world. The trunks
are old and warped and twisted, but
ever juvenescent as the spring returns;
claiming youth by reason of the tender
green of their bra hches and the droop-
ing bloss; -3hich hang as golden
alley. dissea
Milwyay he atate De and the 1 world
s s'anes the n ner needle sts as
s guar choice q bies winch tumble
ON the gr,sesidents her. Two Of them
the fiicks9f 7dows and pick the
daisies whihas TX up at them, grasp
i fing ens n theilp ooing when the treas
ures lie limp within their palms. A
man-baby and O girl-baby; and the
man-baby wears black sash and rib
bons to his white frock, for he is an
orphan. The giri-baDy is the daughter
of the house, and she is also mother
less, but she wears no trappings Of
woe.
BY and by breeze comes and bends
the supple branches of the laburnums
and shakes the golden petals on to the
green path; and the babies look grave
~ at them as they fall, and the girl
baby grasps them in her dimpled
hands. Then, crawling close to the
man-baby, she opens her fingers and
showers her golden treasures, all
crushed, into his tumbled pinafore; for
some minutes the man-baby sits star
ing at them, still, then at length he
smiles a lovely smile, and, leaning his
curly head close to the head Of the
girl-baby, he rubs her plump cheek
with his own.
Laburnums blossom every spring,
despite caprice of climate; and ten
years later the grassy pathway looks
unchanged, except that the grave
faced nurse is graver, and the man
baby and girl-baby have grown. The
white frocks, too, have given place
to tumbled holland, and the chubby
faces have become more shapely. The
girl-child is dark haired, dark-eyed and
impulsive; the man-child's head is COW
cred with short brown curls, and his
eyes are soft and dreamy. They both
lie flat, their chins propped on their
palms, and they kick their heels as
they turn the pages of q book.
"Oh!" cries the man-child, suddenly
and with disgust, ''some one has scrib-
bled in my book! What a shame"
and his handsome face Pushes with
the strength of his objection.
Then does the girl-child spring from
the flush also; but the man-child does
not look at her; he is looking at the
writing.
"It's a verse;" he says slowly. Then,
after pause, II think don't mind it
so much after ALL
Then does the girl-child spring from
the ground, and, crossing to the old
laburnum tree by the wooden seat, be-
gin to tear it's bark with rusty iron
nail. The man-child rises also and
slowly follows her, looking absently
at her handiwork as he thinks of other
| things. Then, turning to him with n
| smile lurking in her eyes, the girl-child
points to the tree, and the man-child,
rousing himself, reads in rugged, mis-
shapen letters the words, "Angela
did it."
"You did it? You wrote verse;"
| exclaims the man-child.
eyes," replies the girl-child, with a
pout of depreciation.
Il am not angry" he replies earn
estly; "I'm glad now. But you must
be very clever"
The man-child grows thoughtful,
and, taking knife from his pocket,
cuts the lightly scratched letters deep
er into the tree; and the girl-child
watches him in silence.
| Angela is clever, SIR" remarks the
man-chlld gravely to the gray-haired
man who sits by the open window of
the study as they go into ten, 'she has
written poetry
| Laburnums come and go, defying
time; and again, ten years later, they
are just as young and tender, just as
green-leaved and blossomy as when
they gently waved their shadows on
the babies at their play.
But the babies have grown yet more;
they are man and woman now. The
| grave-faced nurse has gone and the
wooden seat is vacant, save for a
loose-leaved book and broad-brimmed
hat with dangling ribbons. The man
is tall and languorous and gentle;
but save that the brown curls lie
longer on his collar, and the though
full expression has deepened in his
eyes; his face is much the same as the
boylsh face which bent over the book
ten years ago. The woman is still
dark haired, dark-eyed and impulsiye,
and her figure is still slight and
straight in her Powered dimity gown;
but something has stamped her with
a sweet restraint which checks the in
pulsive tongue and softens the bright
eyes, and the power which has done
this is love. For the woman loves the
man.
TO the man this love, or, indeed, the
love of any woman, is a thing I'M
| ;,,, ITa TOLLS hor