Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1900-06-15
NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.
A BeVated AvowaI
BY Mary c. Hews.
NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS. ca

leighton awkwardly, leaning against
the kitchen window sill and looking in
with Il shy, embarrassed smile. I've
never seen my way clear to telling you
so efore-but-but-I've made the last
payment on that old account this morn
ing, Barbara. can start fair after
this"
The woman to whom he spoke stepped
back and returned cooling hatiron to
the stove before she answered.
Eyes. John, | know you always liked
me-" she spoke in a hard, resolute tone.
81 feel like telling you just once, john
went on the voice at the ironing table,
chow much you've cared for me in re-
atty. 1t began when l was Is, you re-
membcr-with plenty of others to choose
from. was a pretty girl in those days,
too, as there's no harm in saying now,
when all the prettiness has faded John
Leighton's honest eyes rested upon her
in establishment, but hers were bent upon
her work. you paid me lots Of atten-
ton at nrSt but you never really said
anything. | kept expecting that you
would through week after week and
month after month, and | set my whole
heart upon you, John, 10 years ago. It's
q long time to be kept waiting upon un-
certaintics, isn't it?
"You needn't look at me so reproach-
fully, either / understood all along that
your mother had queer turns and wasn't
exactly right in her mind, and everybody
said she was scared almost to death for
fear you'd bring wife home. But didn't
you know you could trust me to wait,
John, and hold to you steady through it
all?
"What did you say? That was just II
you didn't want to stand between me
and anything better. | showed SO many
signs of wanting anything better, didn't
II" She smothcred n sudden sob. "And
a girl has no pride to be hurt Of course,
when folks keep asking her when it's to
be, and she knows in her own heart that
there is no it let alone the when"
She flung a handful of drops at ran
| dom across the sleeves of garment that
she had been drying while she talked.
| Her cheeks were scarlet now, her eyes
| shining you needn't look so ashamed
OF meY she flashed out eNcitedly. Il
| know you're thinking I'm too bold to live,
but ! shouldn't be saying all this TO you,
| John Leighton, II the house wasn't let
and my trunks all packed to go out of It
tomorrow. When this ironing's finished
and I've taken up n little root Of myrtle
from the burying ground-I'm through
here. Don't upset that fowerpot, John;
there's no need of jumping round as il
something had stung you, if am"
Barbara, aren't you forgetting about
my brother, and the shame
what did that amount TO. anyway 2
1t wasn't you that forged the check
besides. ] never can see that it's any
| mans duty to put on every yoke that a
| whole family see fit to whttle out for
| him. You were foolish to let il 20 that
twas your signature: 5000 is a pretty big
sum for a farmer to save up and pay
out for somebody else, as you have. But
| never cared so much for you in my life
as ! did the night you told me about it
and when you got through the telling you
took up your hat and went home without
so much as a goodby."
The man who stood outside the window
had bowed his head More than one
thread of silver cleaned in his hair as
the sunlight fell upon it; his face was
grave and pale. Barbara" he began,
with a curious choking in his voice, I've
always
She did not seem TO hear him. II did
expect you'd speak. John. when father
died and | was left all alone here. can
too, you see, Something has died in me
lately; my heart, perhaps, or the old
happy feeling, and there's nothing left
but the loneSomeness and the ache"
sigh that was almost a groan came
from her listener, but he made no at
tempt to speak.
81 used to think there never were two
people any better suited TO live together
than we were" For the first time her
voice trembled. Were both pucky and
fond of work; a good laugh now and then
suits one of us just as well as it does the
other; we like books, too and we're
about the only ones in the neighborhoOd
who realize that there can be a little strip
OF the world outside of what's in sight
from Montrose hill. AS to dispositions
I'm quick, know, but | don't hold my
temper; and you-why, you haven't any
temper to hold"
81 don't know about that" John twirl.
ed his straw hat upon his fingers and
made the admission with slow sincerity
II can be pretty spunky when get
started, but I've always liked you toe
much for
"Oh, well, it doesn't make any differ.
ence now. The end has come at last
both to the wishing and the worrying
She had dried her wet fingers upon bel
apron and stood erect with tightly folded
arms. you've let duty and what you
were foolish enough TO call disgrace
stand between us like a great iron fence
You've played at being dumb SO Ions
that you are almost dumb In reality al
last; and I'm nothing but a homely, dis
agreeable old crosspatch in these days
whatever l may have been once. I'm go
ing to live in Springfield after this, out
of sight of the old home where used Il
be so happy. When you go by here OIL
your way to the postOffice, perhaps you'll
remember the times we've talked togeth
er down by the cinnamon rosebush in tbs
garden and forgive me for being so hate
full this last morning. It's almost kill
ed me TO blame you, John, but-somehov
i can't help It," Her voice yielded
upon the words to a sudden storm Of
sObs that shook her from head to foot.
The straw hat fell unheeded to tn,
ground. Its owner made two steps tC
the open door, two more to the kitchen
, and clasped her, needless of resistance
| In his arms. His eyes, misty with sym
, pathy and love, sought hers eagerly; hi
] heart beat with strong throbs of tender
ness-but his lips shaped only the ia
I miliar words: "You know ! like you. Bar
r bara! I've always liked youw-CriteriOn
Facing the Enemy.