Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1903-08-28
END OF LOVES DREAM.

GNO Or IONES DREAM,
They were not a romantic looking
couple, both approaching the mark
which the world unfeelingly calls mid
die age. Both were slightly inclined
to embonpoint.
She was pleasant and comfortable
in appearance and gave the impress
sion of having arrived at the stage of
existence when she no longed expect
ed things to happen. Why indeed
should she? They never had happen
ed, to any extent; she had grown up.
gone to school, placidly fallen in love
and maIried-and there a respect
able wOman's experience should stop
He was also inclined to placidity-
OutwaTdly. at least-but with a differ
ence. Things had happened within
his memory. Indeed. he was even
then going quietly over them and
retroSpectiOn which does not include
the partner of mans joys AMI sor-
rows is not only dangerous luxury
but is sure sign of boredom.
They were travelling between Little
Rock and Fort Smith. She was think
ing busily of the number of pounds
of sugar necessary TO a given number
of baskets of cherries awaiting her
IOuStN iltIN care. anu Ht--Wcll ms
mind was concerned with cherries too
but they We're cherries in the blossom
the snowy boughs of a tree that had
shaded a little village lane.
Underneath the boughs stood a girl
and a boy-how we'll he remembered
the face of the girl, the pink of her
cheeks, the blue of her eyes, the
brown of her hair-he could feel yet
the sting OF that braid of hair as she
switched it roughly across his face
when he tried to steal kiss.
He stole a side look at his wife's
plain. wholesome features and sighed
He even wondered why his dream of
the tree lane had never come true
why he had-iust then the train slow
ed up at a little side station and he
became aware of an unusual hustle on
the platform His wife said with some
excitement in her voice:
John | do believe a theatrical
troupe is getting on here
John dimly remembered that Flora
had always called him Jack" as he
answered lazily:
Well, my dear, what of it? There
is plenty of room, isn't there | don't
see any immediate need for my being
interested" and lasped into the region
of past delights again-'what a mis-
chief Flora had been he was rudely
iolted back TO the present again by
severe pinch from Mrs. John.
For goodness sake John did you
ever see such get up"
"Eh-what did you say Margaret?
Get up where" and following the
direction of her eyes he looked down
the aisle.
Ye gods Was he dreaming? 1t was
Flora, Flora in flesh. in fact more so
than when they had last met, not
Flora of the cherry tree, but unmis-
takaOly his early sweetheart, the star
of the transforming troupe.
She came up the aisle talking loud
ly to a detected individual whom she
she called Tommy" Her dress was
brown and the feather in her hat
a hat too large for traveling-was as
green as a Brazilian birds wing.
The pink was in her cheeks as in
the days of the cherry trees. but it
had a suggestion of permanency un-
like the fitting roses of fifteen years
ago-and her hair-surely FlOras hair
was brown, while the green parrots
wing shaded a voluminous pompadOur
of golden yellow.
John was not sure by this time
whether he was most afraid she
wouldn't recognize him or most hoped
she wOud-but it mattered little -
she did,
In moment she was bearing down
upon them like a ship of Tarshish
in full sail and was shaking him by
the hand and was talking as only Flora
could do.
Surely this is Jack Benton? /
couldn't be mistaken, though you
have grown a lot stouter since we
last met. Don't you remember Flora
Marcy? If you don't then a mans
memory for an old sweetheart is a
pretty thin thing"
Poor John could feel Margaret
stiffen at the last sentence, and
grooming inwardly he introduced his
wife to Miss Marcy whose volubility
made un for any awkWardness that
Mrs. Benton's manner might have
caused
Jack and I were old sweethearts
at Fort Smith. Lord. what larks we
used to have in the old days after
school and coming home from choir
practice. | never thought of going on
the stage in those days, but talent
will not be surpressed-and here
am. 1t looks like fate our meeting
like this, dosent it? Q
John shuffied nervously and cursed