The Montgomery advertiser., 1904-03-07
THE INTRUSION OF POLLY
BY SARA LINDSAY COLEMAN.

Copyright, 1904, by Daily story PuD. Co.)
 As Pearson sat on the little porch and sent circles of blue smoke into the soft night, snatches of gay talk. of laughter and of music came to him-Polly was at the old home once more. The little Pol- ly who used to spring across tine bar5 sd wire fence that divided them and drop on the top step of the side porch, breath 1ess; the little audacious Polly who plucked her short skirt full of his volets without even by your leave. and clinio- ed his cherry trees to toss his own cher xies down to him.
 Polly had wintered at a fashionable school in New York, had summered abroad and, crossing again. had made her smiling entrance into a world that seemed vastly interested in her. It rfronicled her horseback rides as events, her tea-pourings at smart gatherings us ep0chs, and her dinner-dance was put down as history. Now. for 8 few weeks of what Polly called quiet. she had coane back to the old place to break into She tranquility of Pearson's after supper cigar. There were other porches where . man might have smoked in peace, but at 70 ones habits are well nigh unchange- able.
 4 little white clad figure came through the odorous darkness and leaned on the 14rBeu wire, a nttie pidlnIiVe NOlce call cd Hello softly.
 Pearson took refuge in silence. If jt had been the little girl with whom he had chummed, but this fashionable young woman. whose goings and comings were of such import, was not even distanuy related to that little hoyden-Polly, and, as 6 plain American citizen, he was sll- ent, not knowing the language that the new Polly spoke.
 'Hello!' she called again into the siI' ence.
 With a Hash and fiutter of feminine fiounees she was over.
 That's still barbed wire" Pearson called.
 "Ohr' she clarionetted, "a barbed wire?' She sped across the space that intervencI to drop on his top step in breathless scorn. Was it that?" she demanded. five been home a whole day"
 s'No." said Pearson, calmly, "I don't mean to come. You've so many dancing about you that I'll never be missed. And. anyway. Polly. hear such out rageous things about you. Is it habit of yours to whistie up your dog and stalk from the room in the midst of gil the proposals?"
 Its because they make such blunder of I" said Polly. 'T know how it should be done"
 You're not so pretty" said Pearson. dlsapprovingly.
 aNos" plaintively.
 You're little, and you're brown"
 sYes," more plaintively.
 ''Then, hy"-irritably-"does ev- erything in mans shape go down before y0u?''
 n doA't know: but"-sorrowfully- '.fhey do. I-I"-she sighed heavily ~feIl the bearded men at a breath, and the youths that grow between But pei hans you aren't familiar with LonEfel- low2" Polly was gone, and her low, knocking laughter drifted back to Fear eon.
 m the deep midnight stiffness Pear non sat by his window to hear a voice 50 remote and sweet as a wind- blown bell singing. siren-like' the words com ing faintly: And looked at my sweet little Polly till looked my heart away" He half smiled. half sighed. The little Polly had no heart.
 Tie morning wind fiuttcred his window blinds. and straight to his bedside. borne on the joyousIy dancing curtains that etreamed out like a brides veil, came Polly's voice, Hitting sweet: And If ever you missed the sunshine" she sang. s'you'd find it in Polly's hair"
 Some little time later Pearson ran down stairs and entered the dining room with a sehoolboy swagger. He was n ot old; no man was old when Polly sang for him like that.
 That night when Pearson puffed smoke rings on the side porch and looked across the barbed wire at Polly and her fol- lowers. who were very, very gay. he felt like an aged Peri listening at Heavens side entrance.
 Pearson had closed the door to his heart and rolled big stone against 1t, mankind forever as far back as Polly g pinafore 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 counted up his birthdays. ran his fingers through hls 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 chlded; "it's asleep. little child"
 sIt's his heart that sleeps" said Polly. ''The little white guest chamber that is mine has it's door ajar, 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.
 EsaEHan stumbled down the stairs. that