Okolona messenger. (Okolona, Miss.) 1900-current, 1904-04-27

a.
The morning wind huttered his win
dow blinds. and straight to bis bed
side. borne on the joyously dancing
curtains that streamed out Ike a
brides veil. came Polly's voice. lifting.
sweet: And II ever you missed the
sunshine" she sang. you'd find II In
Polly's hair"
Some little time later Pearson ran
down the stairs and entered the dining
room with a schoolboy swagger. He was
not old; no man was old when Polly
sang for him like that
That night, when Pearson puned
smoke-rings on the side porch and
looked across the barbed wire at Polly
and her followers, who we're very,
very gay, he felt like an aged Peri lis
tening at heavens side entrance.
Pearson had closed the door to his
heart and rolled a big stone against IL
telling himself he was done with wom-
ankind forever. as far back as Polly's
p~inafore days.
Polly came to the barbed wire some
times, but she made no attempt to leap
over It. Always she was very, very
gay, and after her going Pearson count
ed up his birthdays. a his fingers
through the hair turning gray on his
temples, and called himself an old, old
fool.
The twilight hour that Polly leaned
over the wire to pin a rose that had
burned in the coils Of her golden hair
on Pearson's coat she sang something
tender and foolish about the rose being
her heart.
your heart" Pearson chided; "Its
asleep, little child"
tits his heart that sleeps" said
Polly. THE little white guest cham
Der that is mine has its door ajaF. but
he won't come in, ever"
Afterwards he crept up to his room.
to drop his arms on his desk and his
head on his arms and sat there while
night gathered deep and deeper into
the room.
Pearson stumbled down the stairs,
that ecboed to his footsteps, The empty,
lonely stairway over which no wom-
ans soft draperies ever trailed, and
out on the porch, there to find Polly on
the top step.
He sank down beside her. What
becomes of men who hang around the
side entrance Of Heaven, straining
their ears to catch the music when
they know 1t is never possible for them
to slip in; what becomes of middle
aged Peris. Polly?"
81 don't know" said Polly; but
know what should become Of them
scornfully. why doesn't your Peri g
around to the front? Perhaps she
hasn't any spirit, either, his heroinei
perhaps she sits on the doorstep ans
waits, perhaps"
,"Polly!"
"He's-he's a wooden Indian SAIL
Polly. "He let's the girl sit there OF
his steps and pretend that she's look
ing at the stars. He doesn't care. HI
thinks she's a dol-baby stuffed will
sawdust, that she cures for all tn
empty, gay, frivolous things that sh
hates; he thinks she likes to be for
ever surrounded by a lot Of pink
checked, light-headed boys that Dor
her stiff. And all the time she know
Pm sure l don't know how, for b
acts so queer-that he loves her, an
that a little question Of arithmetl
troubles him. It1doesn't really troubl
her. The arithmetic of the heart ism
counted by years, He's lonely and sac
and she can put into his life all that
: has missed, but mot unasked, an
sometimes she's wild thinking thing
over" Polly's voice trailed of int
!, silence, and she struggled with a sob.
The sob acted as an aecolade 0
Pearson. It raised him into a knig1
erranr, bewildered, it's true, but read
I and eager to go to the very ends Of tn
world, if need be, after this dereli'
who had stolen his little chum's haI
piness from her.
He put out his hand and 1t fell 0
Polly's bent head. Polly" he said
! ''Polly"-helplessly-"f he we're heI
! beside you"
"He is" sobbed Polly.