Mower County transcript., 1904-05-25

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need me, and Lucille, Lucille can't
you understand? Can't you say some
thing?" *+f Il - -. 3zs..2 1f5
! Then the girl turned and looked at
him with cold, pitiless eyes. ~.
eyes, can say just this-I hate you,
and hope I will never look on your
face again.
Then she turned back to the window.
but the bird had stopped singing, and
the flowers seemed to bow their heads
in sympathy.
! Henry walked down the narrow
stairway; then came the murmur Of
voices, long, shivering sob. and she
! knew that Aunt Johnson had parted
with the boy who was as dear to her
| as if he had been her firstborn.
The weeks dragged drearily into
months, frightened at the Johnson
farm only by rare letters from south
ern camps. The kindly farmer and
| his wife had dreams Of promotion for
their boy. who had started in as a pri-
vate. They talked bravely of the day
| when he shoUl,l come home with straps
J on his shoulder. Then came a message
from Libby prison and-silence. The
war was over. the wounded and the
well came home, and there came also
silent soldiers who were laid to rest in
the village cemetery. But Henry was
among neither the we'll nor the wound
ed nor yet the voiceless soldiers. But
from the Johnson farmhouse went
forth many a prayer, many a heart
broken sigh, for those who lay in the
trenches to the south - the unknown
dead.
After fashion the farm was work
ed and the crops were garnered, but
the old couple seemed never to rally
from their loss. And then came the
bitter winter, which brought pneumo-
MIA and peace to them both.
Lucille was alone. The villagers and
neighboring farmers whispered that
now the naughty beauty would prob
ably sell out the old place and go back
to her beloved south. but her lawyers
knew better. A strange whim seized
the girl to keep the place just as it had
always stood. She hired competent
man and wife to assist her and went
at the work In fashion that made
the critical neighbors open their eyes;
not that she cared what they said or
thought. She had made no friends
among the village women.
Yet one rare day in May as she drove
back to the farm from a trip to the viii
lage she made the first overtures of
friendship. \ young woman was walk
ing toward the cemetery, a mass Of
spring flowers clasped against her
black dress. Lucille knew the story
of that girl-how she had married a
village lad, then followed him to the
depot, waved her hand at him bravely
and had never seen him again until a
few Of his old comrades had brought
back the flag draped coffin
Lucille drew up her horse sharply.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Davis. Are
you going far? May l take you in the
buggy?'
The young widow raised her eyes in
surprise at the gentle tones The vii
lage girls had never understood nor
cared to know the little rebel.
II am just going to the cemetery to
put some flowers and a fresh flag on
my husbands grave"
All, the thrill of pride, strong, yet pit
lful. in that word husband Lucille's
lips Quivered, then set firmly.
LET ME drive you oyer IL shall be
very glad"
Without a word the other woman ac-
ceptel the unexpected offer. Side by
Side they rode to the city Of the dead,
and Lucille, with White face and dim
eyes. watched while the widow decked
the grass grown mound.
'Why do you cry?' she asked sud
denly, as she saw Lucille's tears. ''You
have no grave to mourn over''
perhaps that is the reason whis-
pered Lucille. SO softly that the other
woman hardly caught the Words
When she reached the farm the after
noon shadows fell aslant the CHEEKY
living room. but she passed swiftly to
the stairs. In the south window the
flowers bent their heads toward the
sweet spring air. She stripped every
blossom and with eager. trembling fin
gers twined them with soft green.
Then she went back to the sitting
room. Over the revered haircloth sofa
hung Henry's picture. an oil painting
done from the only photograph Aunt
Johnson had owned. Softly Lucille
crossed the room and hung the picture
Next she drew from her pocket tiny
fag-tlle flag he had loved-and fas-
tened it in the wreath. With that act
the last vestige of pride seemed to die
out. and she fell sobbing on the great
sofa.
eff only had told him that loved
him. But he thoughr-oh, what must
he have thought. when he was dying?"
she moaned.
. A step sounded in the hall without,
and the sitting room door swung open.
Lucille sprang to her feet, terrified and
humiliated that any stranger should
look upon her grief. She faced the in
truder with much of her old impert-
BUSINESS, but at the first glance her
arms drODDed limDlV to her side. q