Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1906-09-28

as late as you've mind to. old man.
For commuter it's n relief, can tell
you, from our ordinary o'clock rush
ed affairs"
The next morning, however, Ken
nard was up betimes. The rain of the
night before had vanished, save for
the last light simmer of silver on the
grass and under the almond bushes
adroop with their slender pink
branches. And such n morning - all
scintillating with olive green and gold
sunshine!
Kennard stole on tiptoe from his
close apartment which seemed to
breed all the fever driven extrava-
gances of an overeXcitcd world into
the freshness of the May air. The gar
den, like the house. was obsequiously
awaiting n signal TO wake. The flow
ers seemed still motionless, holding in
their perfume that breath might not
disturb the seepers whom the resplen-
dent rising sun itself could not attract.
But beyond the garden, through a
hedge of trees where the honeyed
trickle of song came from the throats
of wild birds, Il path led to wide awake
fields and meadows.
Fowls were growing, cackling, COB
bling, gabbling, in matutinal eXuber-
ance; calves were bounding outside
the milking pen, hungrily bleatlng at
the sight of the usurpation of their
rights within; in the pastures the sheep
were grazing industriously.
To Kennard as he walked along
there seemed to be vague, expectant
quality in the morning. AS il, he said
to himself, the very freshness and
grace of it all were preparing the way
for something splendidly alive and
debonair!
His path suddenly merged into lit
tie bypath, largely screened by thick
cts. At the end was dilapidatcd
summer house, fastened between three
trees on bank overhanging CUR
Cling stream A girlish figure was
leaning over the rickety railing, appar-
emily looking at the pebbly, variegated
mosaic of the streams bottom. She
had thrown off her hat, and her chin
was resting in the cup of her two
hands. He could see nothing of her
profile because of the mass of dark
hair coiled over the back of her head.
Not wishing to intrude or disturb
the girls evident reverie, Kennard
would have retreated, but at that in
slant, hearing Il twig snap under his
feet, she turned.
She felt his immediate recognition
and calmly faced him.
Il reckon you are bit surprised"
she admitted quietly. "Well, it's the
simplest sort of story. The old
estate down there yielded nothing, and
for three years now I've been earning
my own living. At present l am Mrs
Archer's companion
"For three years, Gwendolen?"
"Yes. You've been in England most
Of that time, haven't you? And you've
written several mighty successful
books. Oh, l haven't lost complete
| track of my old friends, you see."
There was still that inimitable flash
of raillery in the beautiful eyes, Ken
| nard noticed. And still that dear,
blessed little smile.
AS Gwendolen's glance met the quick
fame that spread across the mans
Opaque pupils all the playfulness went
out of her own, and the spirit of thrust
and parry went out of her soul. An
other spirit, guarded against, often
crushed out, leaped in again.
"You-you are still the same old Bob,
aren't youW said she, with adorable
incoherence. But Kennard was very
grave. He was looking now where the
girl had been looking before-at the
mosaic bottom Of the clear water.
Yesterday, Gwendolen," he said, 81
saw some women buying violets. Ever
since I've been haunted by the eyes of
girl l once knew, girl whom I've
tried oh, SO vainly, to forget. Do you
remember, dear
She made little impulsive, forward
movement as If to stop his words. He,
seeing it, held out both his hands.
And then they-well, all at once she
knew that the question he had put to
her down in Mississippi when the
mocking birds were singing hadn't
been mere poetic sentiment any
more than his thought of her eyes had
been, and he, for his parts illuminat-
ingly realized that the answer she had
given him that moonlight night hadn't
been an ultimatum.
The morning air was giving Gwendo-
len Moore the repose and refreshmeut
denied by sleepless night, but withal
she looked pale and little tired
"We'll have to change all that sort
Of thing, sweetheart" Kennard was
saying an hour later as ey sauntered
happily toward the house. "And you
were not at dinner last night-you
were Ill. Was that
"Your telegram, sir" she broke in
with mock severity, while the di:noles
went rioting. "Look, there are Mr.
and Mrs. Archer coming down the gar
den to meet u.s."
'Why, Mr.. Kennard, you know Miss
Moore" cried Mrs. Archer foolishly.
"Well, rather. And, Dan," cried