Crittenden press. [volume] (Marion, Ky.) 1879-1907, 1901-11-14

CncCktu MS WdANaIu ldHNA WIN
sharp reproof. lie was in public gall
lery with publisher who had just re-
iected the best piece of work he had
ever done.
"Do you ever read Sianton's
poems?" he asked, in tone mat held
a hint of twilight in its tenderness.
"All of them" she returned, with
out lifting her eyes.
"Thcy are wistful things"
eyes" she interrupted, 'bu; il is
the wistfuluess of strength, not
What an absurd subject for - phvsi-
ologist and a publisher 10 be wasting
time over! That misty hit of moon
light must have gone to our heads
1T is eNquisitcly true 10 nature
he returned. setting aside her change
of manner.
"Is it? Wen. my holiday is over.
I"
Don't say good.by," he interrupt
ed quietly. IL am going hoinc with
you"
'It will not be worth wr'lc. II il
had been possible to handle the book
with any promise Of profit the house
would have accepted il Mt once.
/ We"
81 don't want to discuss the book"
he interrupted imp1tiently
She looked at him, frankly puzzled.
well" she said, las YOU like" and
then led the way toward the en-
trance.
Stanford followed with sturdy de-
termination. Was she at heart gar
den flower or bantam? lie was re-
solved to know And if-if-? His
thought broke there and ne fell TO
studying the passcrs by with quiet
intentness.
The head of tho concern had not
forgotten his presence. but that
serene moon above the darkcned
trees came between her and all prac-
teal thoughts. She attempted to
reason upon the cause Of his pres
ence. to remain alert. But in q mo-
ment her thoughts slipped from her
control and ran back TO those dim
pines massed against the eastern
sky. Could it be possible that it was
only ten years ago? Vt IS she had
been a poet of limitless ideals; at
2s she was a hard working woman,
given to testing by the sordid STAN
dard of dollars and cents.
Stanford took her arm to guide her
over crossing and she smiled invol-
unfairly.
What is ito" he asked.
Nothing" she returned.
81 did not know YOU were the WOMB
an to smile at nothing, and" ne con-
tinued. as they reached the door, II
don't believe YOU are" He rang tho
bell and faced her on the steps.
what were you smiling at?'
"Whv. only at the thought of my
being guided over a crossing
Stanford followed her into the IL
brary before he spoke agar"
; "Youmean, he said. earnestly you
have been q bantam so long that YOU
have quite forgotten the garden flow
er's love of sunshine and shelter
He placed his hand on the back Of
the chair and hesitated moment be-
fore dragging it near hers.
"Do you think that YOU can per-
suade ne that you are banian
quite to the heart-that all your
womanly tenderness has been lost
beneath determination to bring tho
house through?'
"Why, yes
You think that you can quite con-
vince me of all that-and yourself?'
"Why. yes. | assure you feel
quite strong and woody but she did
not meet his eyes. The memory 81
that moonlight was troubling her,
that. and other things.
you quite believe that? Then YOU
will not mind reading this for me-
and he laid Stanton's Even Song on
her knee.
She took il up at once;
"Dear heart. life is not long,
The shadows deepen and the waning
light
Drifts 10 the music Of the even song
| And then-Good night.
Dear heart. though love may live
In loftier realms through Gods eternal
years,
IT'S here we heed the Joys that 1t may give.
Its tenderness, its tears.
And yet such barriers rise
To keep the outstretched, suLdered hands
apart,
What is fulnllment IN the far. faint skies
! When earth is dumb, dear heart
Stanford's hands closed over hers.
Tell me-" he whispered, lis the
garden flower quite dead?'
The hands in his quiyered and he
stopped to kiss them passionatcly.
my queen rose of the rosebud
garden of girls"
Garden flower or bantam, stern
hearted or tender, love knocks alike
at the heart of all, and TO each that
opens unto him he brings a food OF
light, soft-tinted and glad.
One of Twain's DIGS.
They tell a good many stories OF