The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1900-05-06
a WIND FLOWER
BY JOSEPHINE DODGE DAsKAM.
Author Of Smith College stories.
copyright, Isco.1

Wizards landlady smiled Sympathetically
across the narrow breakfast table. 81
guess you've got to stay in this mornin',
Mr.. willard" she said. Its a good deal
too raw and cold for you to be out around,
paintin' to-day"
willard odd ''Quite right, Mrs.
Storrs.' he returned, and he smiled at his
landIady's daughter, who sat opposite. But
she did not smile at him. She continued her
silent meal, looking for the most part at
her plate. and replying to direct questions
only by monosyllables.
She must be nineteen or twenty, he de-
cided, but her slender, curveIess figure
might have been that of a girl several
years younger. Her face was absolutely
without character TO the casual glance
pale. slightly eckle lighted by gray
green, half-closed eyes. and framed in
light brown hair. Her lips were thin and
her rare smile did not disclose her teeth.
Even her direct look, when he compelled it.
was quite uninterested.
Her mother chartered with the yolu-
biIity Of a woman left much alone, and
glad of an a~ppreciative listener, but the
girl had not. of her own accord. spoken a
word during his weeks stay. He wondered.
as he thought of IT. why he had not noticed
# before, and decided that her silence was
not obtrusive. but only the outcome of her
colorless personality-like the silence of the
prim New England house itself.
He groaned inwardly. What. in time
can / do? Nothing to read within five miles:
my last cigar went yesterday; this beastly
weather makes me idle and gloomy at
the same time. If she weren't such a stick
heavens! I never knew a girl could be so
thini'
The girl in question rose and began clear
ing the table. Her mother hustled out OF
the room. and left Willard in the old-fash-
Toned armchair by the window. almost In
terested, as he wondered what the girl
would do or say now. After five minutes
of silence he realized the strange impress
sion, or rather the lack of impression, she
made on him. He was hardly conscious of
a woman's presence. The intangible atmos-
phere of femininity that wraps around a
tete-a-tete with the most unattractive
woman was wholly lacking. She seemed
simply a more or less intelligent human
being.
Given greatly TO analysis, he grew inte-
4NSICd- WHY MdS lnlS ouG Olu nOL lack
intellectually, he was sure. Such remarks
as she had made in answer to his W were
not noticeable for stupidity or even stolid-
ity of thought. He broke the silence.
What do you do with yourself, these
days?" he suggested. 81 don't see you
about at all. Are you reading, or walking
about these fascinating Maine beaches?"
She did not even look up at him as she
replied. II don't know as / do very much
of anything. I'm not very fond of read
ing-at least, not these books" Remem-
bering the Pilgrims Progress. Book of
Martyrs, Mrs. Hemans's Poems, and the
Adventures of Rev. James Hogan, Mission
arr to the Heather of Africa, that adorned
the handicapped table in the parlor, he
shuddered sympathetically. But L walk
a good DEAL" she volunteered. 'I've been
all over that ledge you're painting"
isn't it beautifu1?"~ he said. 1T re-
minds me of a poem 1 read somewhere
about the beauty of Appledore-that's on
this coast somewhere. too. isn't it?. You'd
appreciate the poem, I'm sure-do you care
for poetry?"
She piled the dishes on a tray, and car
ried it through the door before he had time
TO take it from her.
mo" she replied over her shoulder; no;
/ don't care for it. It seems $3.50 smooth
and shiny, omehow.
Smooth? Shiny?" he smiled as she came
back: II don't see'"
Her high, rather Indifferent voice fell in
a slight embarrassment as she explained:
40 1 mean the rhymes and the verses;
they're so even and like a clock ticking"
He took from his pocket a little red book.
LET me read you this" he said eagerly,
"and see if you think it smooth and shiny.
You must have heard and seen what this
man tries to tell" She stood awkwardly
by the table, her scant, shapeless dress ac-
~centuating the straight lines of her slim fig
IRE, her hands clasped loosely before her,
her face turned indifferently toward the
window. which ratified now and then at the
gusts OF the rising wind. Willard held the
little book easily between thumb and fin
ger, and read in clear. pleasant tones. look
ing at her occasionally with interest:
Fresh from his Businesses. wholesome and spa
cious,
The north wind. the mad huntsman. hallos on
qSsr f6 6hs gray; I roaring S reaches caches { az and ar rid nos;a
Hark 70 the peal OF the pack In full cry,
AS he thongs them before him. swarmirg yoiu-
WllOUS.
Weltering. wide-waIIowing. tIl in a running
Chaos OF energy. hurled on their quarry,
They crash into foam!"
There! Is that smooth and shiny?" he
demanded. She had moved nearer. to catch
more certainly his least information.
Her hands twisted ~nervously. and. to his
surprise. she smiled with unmistakable
pleasure. "Oh. no. she half whispered.
cycling the book in his hand wistfully. "Oh,
no. That makes me feel different. II
love the wind
What's that?' Mrs. Storrs entered
quickly. Now, Sarah. you just stop that
nonsense, Mr.. willard. has she been tellin'
you any foolishness?'
Miss Storrs had only told me that she
liked the wind" he replied. hoping that the
woman would go. and let him develop at
leisure what promised to be a most inter-
esting situation. She had really very
pretty. even teeth. and when she smiled her
lips curved pleasantly.
But Mrs. Storrs was not to be evaded
She had evidently a grievance TO set forth.
and. looking reproachfully at her daughter.
continued: Ever since Sarah was five Or
six years old she's had hat crazy nkin' for
the wind. 'Tain't natural, I say. and when