The daily palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1904-1905, 1904-03-22
(Continued.)
Copyright. 1901. by Charles W. Hooke


all, and it was necessary to return at
once to st. 10. In that city | expert
enced some small delays, and it was
after o'clock when l came again to
Mrs. Witherspoon's and helped the man
who had ridden out with me to carry
in my trunks When he had driven
away, l sat down by window and en-
joyed the view. The place savored of
romance. 1t was delightfully."- unreal,
and l was beginning to fancy myself
floating on the lake in the moonlight
with Anna Lamoine when the baser
craving of hunger shattered the dream.
The vision had endured for a few
seconds only, for l was in a state to
gnaw the bark of the apple tree that
shaded my eastern window. Indeed l
had some thought of its fruit, scarcely
out of the bud, and glanced in that di-
rection for an instant Turning again
to look out toward the lake, l stared
straight into the face of Jimmy La
moline, whose head just reached above
the window sill.
Jimmy enjoyed my surprise. He had
a way of grinning with his eyes, the
lower part of his face remaining as
expressionless as a slice of beefsteak.
Il told Mrs. Witherspoon I'd show
you the dining ROOM" said he.
You don't mean to tell me that there
is anything to eat at this hourr' 1 ex-
claimed.
''You can always get something to
eat here" he said. There amt any
hours"
In previous experiences with rustic
living 1 had been burdened by the ri
gidity Of mealtime regulations, and /
had had no thought that Mrs. Wither-
spoon would serve lunch as late as half
past 2.
you are taking a starving sailor off
raft" said 1 to Jimmy, and 1 gave
him half a dollar, which he received
with the solemnity of a rite
He laid the coin in the palm of his
hand, closed his fingers upon it and
opened them again. My money had
vanished. Having performed this mys-
terry, Jimmy gravely led the way to-
ward the dining room, seeming to know
by some sort of intuition that should
make my exit by the window instead
of taking the longer route.
Mrs. WitherspOOn's dining room was
in sections, like the house, and each
section had it's exits and it's entrances.
l was aware, in the course of my meal,
that several persons were lunching in
my neighbOrhood, but l saw none of
| them. | sat at a little table by the
window and was we'll served by a neat
maid. The bill of fare was ample, and
everything was cooked to admiration.
After luncheon, being entirely upon
my own resources in the matter of
amusement, / wandered down to the
lake The path led alongside the or
chard, but the view in its direction
was INSTRUCTED by bushes that overran
the fence. There was no one to pre-
vent my walking across the orchard.
No signboard interdicted it, but there
was law in the air, and this was a
popularity of the place
At the foot of the path 1 found a
small boat drawn up on the shore, and
L felt privileged to take it. l pushed
the craft off and sat in the stern, using
one oar as a paddle, Indian fashion.
The lake was very pretty and blessed
by a cool breeze. | padded out a
little way and lighted a cigar
To the left the hill came down, verg-
ing upon the water in singular wall
of rocks that would have seemed the
work of man but for the vast labor it
would have cost. CHANGING along this
wall and so on to the bare field that
fringed the orchard, / perceived a girl
in pale green dress at work before an
easel. She was shaded by a large UNI
brella, such as artists use, planted in
the ground and set at so nice an angle
that it accurately beheaded her image
in my eyes.
The distance was not so great but
that | might have recognized a person
very well known to me, and | stared
at her, expecting every moment that
she would stoop and reveal her face
Whom should l see? Pretty Miss Jones
from st. 10 or-some one else? l was
conscious of a most unusual thrill of
anxiety.
| could see her right hand plainly; at
least, there was nothing but distance
to prevent. 1t seemed a pretty hand,
and it welded the brush with engaging
grace. Yet in my present calm frame
of mind | am willing to admit that one
human hand looks much like another
at 300 yards. But this consideration
did not come to me at the time. Such
things are for the best; they make up
the joy of youth. Thank heaven, l am
still subject to such illusions, for all
this did not happen long ago.
l watched the lady's hand with
most agreeable fascination and tried
to remember a hand which it was my
chief business to forget. But ones
memory in such matters is not what
the romantic would like to believe that
it is. The actual fact is that l prob
ably could not have identified Anna
Lamoine by her hand alone if it had