The Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Ky.) 1895-19??, 1907-05-21
In Search Of
Simplicity.
BY Constance Darcy Mackay.
Copyright, 1907. by NJ. NJ. Cunningham.

1t was 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 blueress of the sky
and the bright color of some autumn
leaves that drifted by on a puff of
wind.
Below in the street girl walked
brisbly, her cheeks glowing from the
keen touch of the ar. 4 newsboy
whistled blithely as he loitered on the
corner. An old woman passed. bas-
ket on her arm 1t was filed with ap-
pies, rosy and fresh looking as if they
had just been shaken from the trees
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 ut
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 a
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
clear rose and white that still defied
the aid of cosmetics.
"An orchardn repeated Mrs. st. Au-
byn, looking after the old apple wom-
an who had hobbled to the crossing.
II wore my hair in a braid then, / re-
member, and big frilled sunbonnet.
How fresh and wonderful the world
seemed in those days! It's so long ago
that I've almost forgotten what rus
ITCHY is like. And yeti
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 and withered grass, the rus
tie of dry leaves underfoot. She turn
ed abruptly from the window and with
a swiftness that denoted decision
crossed the room and rang the bell.
Prompt as trapdoor fairy Antoi-
nette appeared.
Il am not going shopping after all,''
said Mrs. st. Aubyn "And you may
telephone to the dressmaker that |
can't keep my appointment for this
afternoon"
Antoinette opened her brown eyes
wide in establishment 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 general line of travel.
Instead Of we'll groomed commuters
and their wives there were men whose
clothes were a bit rusty and women
whose bulky satchels and bags bore
witness that they had been to spend q
week with daughter in the city. Wide
eyed children chung tenaciously to dolls
and bananas, crying babies We're vehe-
mently urged to ''loOk out the window
at 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 a neat brown paper par
eel containing chicken sandwiches and
a bottle Of olives that she had paused
to buy at the station in the breathless-
ness of her fight Bought at the sta
ton! With what Mortified shruggings
would Antoinette have protested had
she known, ,and with what calculations
would she have complained against the
crowded stiffness 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
Meadowbank. The narrow platform
was deserted save for a young tele-
graph operator, who looked apprecia-
lively at Mrs ST. Aubyn's tailor made
costume of gray and violet and in
Quired if she would like a team. She
shook her head. She would rather
walk. How we'll she knew the roadi
And how little it had changed She
followed it by a cluster of trim fenced
houses, past the general store and on
to where the fields widened and
stretched away to hills whose SUBMITS
were a misty blue. Blackberry vines,
rusty with fall, tangled at the roadside,
and here and there asters glowed like
a purple fame. At the far edge of the
village outskirts she came to a ram
bling white house. Grass grew knee
deep in its yard. It's windows were
shattered. It's door bore placard,