The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1905-01-02
The Philos0phy Of Phoebe.


have known Phoebe for beg
her pardon. I have known Phoebe
since she was IA. During that time I
have been able to form a pretty ac-
curate opinion of her.
Having known girl for-so many
years Gin order to feel quite honest I
have written the real figure on my
blotting pad, where it will be seen by
nobody, usually feel justified in ac-
cepting new departure without sur
prise.
Any one who has known Phoebe for
the same length of time-would feel
the same.
Still, when, as I have said, last
visited her was surprised to find that
instead of the pale blue or old rose
which she had formerly affected in her
scheme of decoration, the whole room
was lit with a pale gold.
Inc wall paper was a pale yellow
picked out with fuIi-blown roses of a
darker shade5 the lamp shades were in
the form of primrOSes; the white
paint of the woodwork. even, caught
the reflection and possessed an added
delicacy.
For-the number of years from
when she was IA to now, to be exact
Il have never been astonished at any
thing she chose to do. For the first
time the change staggered me.
isn't it charming?" said Phoebe,
as 1 sat down with a slight gasp.
The only adjective I could remen-
Der was quite inadequate
Guess what it MEANS was her
next remark
bered that for the last six months the
room had been pale rose.
Il am SO sorry
She was surveying the room with
pride, but looked back to me quickly.
What for?'' she said, ungran1-
matically as the jackdaw of halfowed
memory.
About the lamp" answered.
1.-THE lamp7" she queried
Yes; that the lamp should have
smoked and spoiled it, I answered.
''It looked SO pretty
When Phoebe looks scornfuI (you
hadn't spoken I wished I hadn't
spoken then.
Suddenly realizing what was ex-
pected of me, I hazarded:
THE expectation of a future"
was SO obviously habbergasted Gas she
herself would say) that she never
even accused me of sarcasm.
Look at mel" she said
never had any objection. I looked.
She was dressed in dark red dress,
nearly hidden with clouds of some
flrnv white material. She always
wears filmy things.
at is a passionate soul in the icy
grip of realism" she informed me
gravely.
If any one can tell me the correct
retort to such statement I shall be
glad.
Again I looked around the room,
and my glance rested on the piano.
I suppose, to its iron frame,
it managed to support small florists
shop of white, yellow and bronze
chrysanthemums- The back was
draped to match her dress, dark red
shining through white and gold.
1t looked so charming that could
not suppress an exclamation of ap-
prevail.
you know George Farrant7' she
asked.
1 bowed stiffiy for do not like G. F.
''He has written a song to carry out
having given me some tea, went over
to the piano.
I put down my cup and listened.
Dvorak himself, believe, would have
o1y in the music, and as for the words
well, they were just like George Far
rant.
The first verse went something like
las sit at the edge of the flame.
Rushing, the wind goes past;
Catching, however, I strain
All of my hopes in it's blast.
All, Love! Could see thee again,
Feel but thy hand in my hand,
So would I give
All of my life
That I might live
For thee. All, Lowell"
The s'Ah, Lovei" was repeated about
six times at the end of each verse. I
heard two, but that is no reason why
everybody else should suffer.
1 do not know how much more George
Farrant had written like that, but the
second verse proved pretty conclusive
ly that he had exhausted his ideas
when he finished the title.
AS she rose from the piano I took
both her hands in mine.
''Phoebel" I said, and if ever a man
put all his soul into one word told
her then-how I hate George Farrant.
I seemed to see the whole of the
toning down into rich gold.
"A passionate soul in the icy grip
of realism! Does it feel like that % I
asked.
Just then her mother came in,
dressed in a particularly bright hello
trope.
We both looked at her mother.
back into an armchair-which she
filed.
your new dress has come.
Phoebe" she said.
ate souls hands, and felt that some
remark was needed from me to re-
lieve the tension
What does it mean % I cried.
1t was Phoebe's turn to look CRATE
full and she did it to perfection, while
her mother explained the dress as
lucidIy as it possible for a woman.
1T is all black she said, covered
bodice is swathed across with white
rosebuds, and there is a garlanI of
white roses on the shoulder.
I looked at Phoebe fnquiringly.
''It is the birth of golden hope from
the darkness of despair" she ex-