The San Juan County index. (Aztec, N.M.) 1890-19??, 1902-01-24
Concerning Olive.



Copyright 1901. by Daily Story Pub. Coz
Under It's swirl of RULED organdie
Polly's heel gave a little vicious dig
INTO the earth that sent the gaily vail
lnced hammock forward. Polly
irowned disapprovlngly at her smart.
little shoes and the glimpse Of silk
mesh above them; frowned. too. at her
slender, ringless hands with their pink.
shining nails.
In Polly's vernacular the afternoon
vas adorable; so warm and still with
the low sound Of the wind in the pines
and the drifting clouds that changed
and changed again.
The mountains-for Polly, foresee-
Ing that between her mother and Mr..
Dillingham; she would become Mrs,
Dillingham; in spite Of herself, had
taken to her heels and fed to the
mountains.
Polly, in the gay hammock, swung
slowly. She looked dejectedly at her
slim hand. The flashing diamond that
Mr.. Dillingham; wanted to place there
wouldn't have been so bad; Mr.. Dilling-
bingham, himself, was better than
nobody.
Polly was very detected. Below
these heights, in her world, there were
dances, dinners-men.
She sat up very straight, for the man
big, brown and splendid-who tow
cred above her was holding out his
hand to her. and his eyes we're Sc en-
gagingly blue.
"Olive knew that you were up here p
he said; she has just written me
about It. She asked me to hunt you
up-and there we're lots Of messages
about the old schooldays." He smiled
down on her.
Polly caught at those words as q
drowning man clutches at a straw
There was only n Olive and she had
married ~Tom-Polly's brain worked
frantically-Tom Tate, Of course.
She beamed on Mr.. Tate. She was
pleased with herself at the rush Of
memory that had saved the situation
from awkwardness-for it is awk-
ward to have forgotten the name Of
the man who has married your dear
est school friend.
Mr.. Tate was not handsome, but
bronzed, and his vital, frank person
ality was irresistible. He talked gaily;
Of Olive, and her friendship for Polly;
Of boat races and football games, and,
at parting, he held Polly's hand a trihe
longer than custom decreed and looked
into her eyes with eyes that spoke un-
uttered things.
Given a man, a maid and a moon
even a baby moon-and the combina-
ton is not without danger.
Tate fell quickly into the habit OF
dropping in on Pauline--she was Polly
to her special friends-at all hours.
There was a dairy, and she played
~dairy-maid while he superintendent
the making Of the golden pats of
butter; there were books, and they
read or seemed to read; there was a
piano, and she played and sang for
him; there was a lake on which they
foated idly.
Once in pursuit of a squirrel, they
went deeper and deeper into the wood.
Tate's gun was in his hand, he was
in the mountains for the hunting. But,
in the big, silent wood they found no
squirrels, and that night Pully brought
up her thoughts with a little SILVER.
She had been trying so hard to remem-
Der all the little tender things con-
corning Olive during their school
days; trying to remember the look in
her eyes as she babe her goodbye. and
It was olives husbands eyes that
looked into hers. A vague fear OF
herself assailed her.
What are his eyes to me?" she said
angrily. What is he to me? It's pre-
po~sterous!" She blew out her light.
having suddenly felt a longing for
home and her mothers arms. Safe in
the knowledge of her resolution to re-
turn home, she avoided Tate diligently
next day, but at sunse she walked
through the odors Of the sweet old
fashioned garden to where the ham
mock swung, disconsolate.
He came; perhaps she had gone
there knowing the fact. Oh, the sweet
poison that turks in ren|unciation! The
evening was warm and soft; the wind
stirred his fair hair; and he played
strange, sweet tunes that limited things
beyond the telling. The moon, big and
red, anne over the hill and seemed to
linger there as though loath to plunge
into space.
In spite Of the warm air, Polly shiv-
cred. She wasn't responsible while
that moon looked ONT mt strange
thoughts In her head. As If divining