The Washington weekly post. (Washington, D.C.) 1878-1916, 1900-10-23
BIT MRS. GEORGE E. PICKETT.
Mistress Mary. quite eontrsy.
How does sear garden EToEf'

HOw does yoaF garden gT0sf''
MY name IS not Mary"
sylvia would not rhyme. You must al
low something for poetic license"
strangers call me Miss Linton"
There is where your friends have the
advantage, Sylvia being not only much
prettier. but also nearer the requirements
OF poetry"
sylvia's gaze did not wander from Old
Badly, looming purple in the distance.
Il admit that Old Badly is somewhat
larger and more majestic than / am, but
he viii probably stay there till tomorrow,
ard you can look az him then This Is
your last chance to look at me for a
long time"
VIII you enter a monastery, or do you
intend 10 wear a mask when you go into
society,""
Neither. I am going to San Francis
co"
Laid away in the cataeombs. Live peo-
pie stay in Los Angeles"
When did you become an agent for a
Southern road?''
About the time that you were relegated
TO collection of geological specimens
and eatalogued for San Francisco
Having reached this crucial point they
were silent for moment, she still gazing
at the bare summit OF Old Badly la the
distance. he looking at her sun-crowned
head, so near. and yet so UNNECESSARILY
out of reach.
I'D like to know what makes you so
cross"
I'm not cross. am wretched."
Then | am still more concerned to
know the cause
"Oh. / live in such a world of misfo--
tune. Look at thatr'
She stretched her arms tragically to-
ward long row of China's sacred lilies.
Il don't see how anything so pretty can
be looked upon as an irretrievable calam-
ity"
THAT Is Just like your shallowness
You neYer look at the roots Of things. II
you did you would see-gophers."
"Ohw
Il can stand like a stick and say that
myself"
Sticks do not make remarks"
Other wooden things do"
Another silence, interrupted by tie ap-
proach Of a tall young MexicGn with a
dark, brilliant face, lit by a pair of flash
ing black eyes, and shaded by a wide
sombrero. which ne removed with a wide
sweep as ne bowed low.
'Oh, Ramon, see my beautiful lilies;
they will all die"
THE gopher is sacrilegious," said Ra-
mon in his slow, soft southern way. He
has no respect for the sacred flower, nor
what is far more Wicked-its beautiful
mistress. He deserves to be condemned
See me catch him as We do in Mexico
You must not move or breathe"
The young Mexican put his handkerchief
over the hole where the gopher had en-
tered upon his path OF destruction and
lay upon the ground. After a moment of
unbroken stiffness he began TO whistle a
soft, soothing, seductive air that was still
er than silence and yet 1t seemed 10 fill all
space with music. 1t struck the rose tree
against which Sylvia was leaning and was
reflected softer and sweeter than when it
first trembled on the air. IT lost itself in
the wilderness of scarlet geranium hedge
around the garden and came back heavy
with bloom and fragrance. 1t fiOated over
TO the nasturtium that crushed the trel-
lis with bewildering masses of scarlet and
gold and returned in a deeper tone II
drifted to the bird-of-paradise tree and
few back as if il had borrowed the ruby
and amber blossom wings that seemed
lifted in flight as they poised quiveringly
on their stems.
The broken hillock that had been crum-
bling up toward the lilies ceased TO length
en-. The movement of the earth indicated
that the gopher was retracing its path.
In few moments the handkerchief began
TO rise and Ramon's hand closed around
the neck of the marauder He wound the
handkerchief about the gopher and put 1t
into his pocket
"Oh, RamonT cried Sylvia. "You have
saved my lilies and my life?'
II am most happy to have performed
two such benefcent actions. A Dios,
senorita."
Sylvia's gaze followed him admiringly.
How very handsome Ramon is, and
how good, and what a brilliant intellect
he has"
"All for catching a gopher. would
scorn TO make gopher-trap of myself"
1T wouldn't DO any good IL you did.
You could no more catch a gopher than
you could catch an idea"
Good bye. l may not come back soon"