The San Francisco call., 1905-01-07
ID INDIAN SUMNER D.:
BY KEITH GORDON.

The barbaric red of the parasoi
which she presently unfurled
when with a sort of aimless re-
luctance she had passed down
the steps and out into the Septem-
Der sunshine formed vivid back
ground for the small. well-set head
and face which was at once humor-
GUS and quizzical, as If the pageant
of life had raised in her an eternal
question and an accompanying smile.
At the distance of half block the
trim figure in its severe white pique
seemed all girl. A closer approach,
however, showed in the wavy dark
hair isolated silver threads-those out
riders of Time which come to lay low
the loveliest.
And, indeed, only few days before
two placid matronS who had cast off
their girlish slimness as a snake does
it's skin and achieved in it's place solid
ity and double chins might have been
heard discussing her case.
Strange that Elizabeth Ware doesn't t
marry!" observed one, as with eyes
bent upon her embroidery hoop she
caused a strange floral piece to bloom
upon piece of white linen. She's
getting on. Let me see. She was in
the next class to me at Madame Dore's,
and Harold will be IA next October!"
Harold was her eldest child-one of
those cantankerous pegs by which ma
irons keep tab on the age of their
unmarried friends.
She must be nearly 35 If she's a
day. the speaker concluded after a
brief pause, in which she debated with
herself what would be the proper
shade of green to use for maidenhair
fern. Her time is growing short"
Her companion, engaged in a SINH
lar employment, looked meditatively
off over the smooth-shaven lawn
which seemed to share her own do
mestic placidity.
'Thirty-four, / think" she an
nounced in voice whose preoccupa-
ton suggested that she had been rum
maging in that prehistoric past which
contained neither husband nor babies.
"Thifty-four, I'm pretty sure. Still,
she certainly doesn't look it, and she's
always had plenty of attention"
In the absorbing interest of the
flowers they were fashioning the sub
ject was dropped, but the thought
wave then started reached Elizabeth
Ware herself later on.
1t was wonderful day, full of mel
low, mature, indescribable charm.
Summer grows wise," Elizabeth
thought to herself; mo longer daz-
zling and shriveling, but flooding the
world with tender light, yelling IT'S
spiendors in mists.''
The strong, white, ungloved hands
twirled the parasol thoughtfully while
their owner drew in a deep breath.
There was something in the day that
stirred memories, brought back half
forgotten f1irtations, filled her thoughts
with q vague, beautiful regret-the
loss of something she had never
known.
its warning of the frosts to come.
Miss Wares eyes grew dreamy. pen
sive with that questioning of the fu-
ture which will disturb the mind Of
the minated woman until the last
fence Is reached.
Had she, perchance, made mis-
take? She thought of her school
friends wrapped in contentment-and
fiesh-who no longer seemed contem-
poraries. They had secured their
matrimonial prizes. Yes, and sat down
by the roadside of life, with no desire
to fare farther! So far as she knew
all were mildly happy. But beside
them she felt ridiculously young and
joyous. A smile touched her lips as
she reflected that 1t was with Harold,
the 14-year-old that she preferred to
walk and talk. rather than with Har-
old's plump and settled mamma
Then she reviewed the thirty-five
years that stretched behind her, fam
ing like the tail of a comet with
with an ever-changing group Of men