Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-05-24

when the 20-mile stage ride ended and that dust-laden vehicle, with Martin as sole passenger, halted at the doctors | just at twilight, no one was there to receive him. Martin paid the rather surly driver who dumped his trunk on the porch and then hurried away, ob- livious to what became of, CT how fared, his passenger.
 Then Martin sat down to think. He had returned to the home of his boyhood after 12 years absence, dusty, 1 hungry, tired and slightly cross, and 1 his only welcome was an empty house and the chance to skirmish for supper at the village tavern.
 This he did with not ever-satisfyins results, and then he wandered up the street. A quietude akin to that of cemetery now pervaded it, and though occasionally he could see the occupants l of a house on the porch, most of the houses seemed empty. Firefies twinkled above the broad meadows of the Mizzy, down the valley came the low murmur l of it's falls. the scent of new-mown hay perfumed the air, and as he strolled on, somewhat soothed by the evenings stiffness and his cigar, he came in sight | of Aunt Comforts. Toward it he haG many times before turned his steps l on just such summer evenings long ago, and what if Angie should be there now on the vine-hid porch alone and waiting his coming, as she used to l then! The thought made his pulses quicken, but as he drew near he. halted. l The spot had not changed at all The great naples, now thick with summer foliage, almost hid the house, the faint odor of 1ilacs and syringas greeted him; the two oval panes over the front door gleamed like two wide open eyes, but no White-clad girl sat on the porch. Instead, from out the house issued medley of voices chat ting and laughing, quite oblivious of listener. He did not catch what was said, and did not try, and as he ad- 1 sanced again the tinllling of a piano began, and some one started singing It sounded like Angles voice, and then others joined in one of the old songs, well remembered by him. It was ''In the Sweet Summer Time, Long Ago" and many a time had he been the sole audience while Angie sang it. And HOW once more laughter and voices, two of them certainly masculine and while he halted again in shadow, he | heard how
 il ''In an ivy-covered cottage,
 Hidden back by oaken trees
 Lived a little maiden
 Blithe and happy as you pleasa
 There upon a low veranda Every summer eventide,
 sit among the flowers
 Fair Camelia by my side"
 It was all very sweet ana charming, and doubtless the young men who were joining Angie in the old-time ballad en- joyed it, but somehow Martin didn't. He wasn't sitting amid flowers with a sweet Camelia" by his side-and what made it worse, another man was in his old-time place. If Angie had been pining for him all these years, it hadn' t affected her spirits to a serious extent. Then, as another burst of low laughter reache ed him, he moved on. @
 A little gathering of friends were doubtless enjoying call at Angles, and he was not one of them. More than that it began to dawn upon him that now, upon his return to the scenes of his youth, he was likely to find him. self forgotten. At the head of the street he paused again, looking across the Mizzy to where the home of David Curtis stood. There was no light or laughter here issuing forth, instead the house was silent, solemn and appar- ently empty, while the low rumble of the Mizzy falls, now close by, was the only sound. For moment only Martin paused, his spirits at low tide, and th en retraced his steps. I Reaching Aunt Comforts again, he halted. The callers were still there voices and laughter still issuing, and the two wide-open eyes over the front door now seemed to glare at his in de- rision.
 A stranger in the village of his youth -there was not one there who thought of his existence!
 Even Angie, once all in all to him, was, or just had been, joining her voice with another mans.
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