Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1907-04-16
In Search Of
Simplicity.
By Constance Darcy Macksy.
Copyright. 1907. by NJ. NJ. Cunningham.

Copyright, 1907, by NJ. NJ. Cunningham.
1t was q clear October day. Fifth
avenue was radiant with sunshine
Mrs. ST. Aubyn, standing at the French
window of her pretty little breakfast
room, noted the blueness Of the sky
and the bright color of some autumn
leaves that drifted by on puff of
I wind.
Below in the street girl walked
briskly, her cheeks glowing from the
keen touch of the air. A newsbOy
whistled blithely as he lOitered on the
corner. An old woman passed, bas.
ket on her arm. 1t was filled with ap-
pies, rosy and fresh looking as If they
had just been shaken from the trees
or gathered from the frost starred
grass of an orchard. An orchard!
Mrs. st. Aubyn smiled. How long was
It since she had roamed in one? Twen.
ty years at least, for Mrs. st. Aubyn
was thirty-seven.
Twenty years of dinners and teas
and dances, of summers passed Mt
Newport and winters spent in idle
fittings from Paris to London and
from London home again! Luxury had
smoothed Mrs. st. Aubyn's path, and
time had touched her lightly. Her fig-
ure was as slender and supple as q
girls, and there were those of her ac-
quaintance caustic enough to say that
during the period Of her mourning she
had prolonged the wearing Of widows
weeds because black set Off her amber
colored hair and dazzling complexion
q clear rose and white that still detied
the aid of cosmetics.
"An orchard"' repeated Mrs. st. Au-
hyn, looking after the old apple wOm-
an who had hobbled to the crossing.
Il wore my hair In braid then, / re-
member. and big frilled sunbonnet.
How fresh an! wonderful the world
seemed In those Gays! It's so long ago
that I've almost forgotten what rus
ticity Is like. And yet
She paused. A sudden longing for
the country took possession Of her-for
the real country, where no smart, high
seated traps met the incoming train,
where roads wound between fields. not
lawn, and where the air was full Of
autumn scents and sounds. the smell
Of earth aud withered grass. the rus
tie Of dry leaves underfOot. She turn
ed abruptly from the window and with
swftness that denoted decision
crossed the room and rang the bell.
Prompt as trapdoor fairy Antol
nette appeared.
II am not going shopping after ALL"
said Mrs. st. Aubyn. "And you may
telephone to tie dressmaker that l
can't keep my appointment for this
afternoon"
Antoinette opened her brown eyes
wide in astonishment. She would have
opened them still wider an hour later
had she seen Mrs. st. Aubyn seated In
car whose general dinginess pro-
claimed its acquaintance with obscure
places Off the gcIaral line of travel.
Instead of well groomcd commuters
and their wives there were men whose
clothes We're Il bit rusty and women
whose bulky satchels ana bags bore
witness that they had been to spend Il
week with daughter in the city. Wide
eyed children clung tenaciously to dolls
and bananas. crying babies were velie-
mently urged to look out the window
ut grandpa" and when the train began
to move goodbys were said with an
abandon which half amused. half
stirred Mrs. st. Aubyn. In her world
repression was the law Of life. 1t was
long since she had been in touch with
the simple. homely things of existence
"To think that this actually occurs In
New York.. she murmured to herself
and then laughed little guilty, for
under her monogrammed morocco bag
there reposed neat brown paper par
Gel containing chicken sandwiches and
a bottle Of olives that she had paused
to buy Mt the station In the breathless-
ness of her fight. Bought ut the sta
ton. With what Mortified shruggings
would Anto;nette have protested had
she known. and with what CALCULATIONS
would she have complained against the
crowded stuffiness of the train!
"Fairview" called the conductor.
Mrs. st. Aubyn looked at her time
table. Four stations more!
1t was noon when she stepped out at
Meudowbank. The narrow platform
was deserted save for young tele-
graph operator. who looked apprecla-
lively at Mrs. st. Aubyn's tailor made
costume Of gray and violet and In
uured II she would like a team. She
shook her head. She would rather
walk. How we'll she knew the road!
And how little it had changed! She
followed 1t by cluster Of trim fenced
houses. past the general store and on
to where the fields widened and
stretched away to hills whose SUBMITS
were misty blue. Blackberry vines,
rusty with fall, tangled at the roadside,
and here and there asters glowed like
II purple fame At the far edge Of the
village outskirts she came to ram
bling white house. Grass grew knee
deep In its yard. Its windows were
thuttered. Its door bore placard.
"For. Sale" Over its porch the bare
tendrils Of honeysuckle vine stirred
with every passing wind. BY path
still family discernible through a net
work Of weeds Mrs. st. Aubyn took her
Nay to the orchard. There she came
upon sight which held her stock still
with amazement.
"Jimmy! cried Mrs. st. Aubyn.
"What in the world are you doing
here?"
Jimmy vanringcourt forsook the ap-
pie for which he had been reaching
and cOlored to the roots Of bis iron
gray hair. Then he came forward.
"My dear Helene" he exclaimed.
sWho ever would have thought Of see
ing your"
~ came BY the noon traln," said Mrs.
st. Aubyn.
"Ah! And I by the one before 1t.
Hasn't changed much. has it?" he con.