The Spokane press. [volume] (Spokane, Wash.) 1902-1939, 1907-09-05
The Daily
| Short Story
FELICIA

e'N 'COnhhS oitCI ooIll6
llalternately. Corn mush and a
tFrench classic are somewhat diver
|Igent, but Felicia was riddle, any
|sway.
And she did not heave a sigh as
she left the scenes of the book. and
sat down to her solitary supper.
I'm hungry as a BEAR she said
half aloud.
so am I. Don't be frightened"
said voice at the open window.
And. being a riddle, she didn't
scream, though no door about the
house was closed, and it was dusk.
I'm alone Her voice was
steady. though her blood was
pounding her veins. There isn't
even dog here: SO if you wish to
come in you will have no trouble"
She was even sarcastic.
She filed a tlimbIer with milk
from a pitcher at her right, while
he came around to the door.
You're very brave" he said.
She did not look up.
I'm very hospitable as we'll.
Don't hesitate a moment"
He went into the wide, low-ceiled
kitchen half blindly, a man with
unshaven face, brilliant eyes and
sinuous body that seemed made for
endurance.
He sat opposite her, eyeing with
real hunger the steaming mush
pushed over to him.
He hpnf hic bno1 CHI
and ate eagerly.
She looked at him steadily for
the first time.
An awful fear, greater, but diff
ferent, from any fear of molesta-
ton, clutched at her. Unconscious
ly she moved forward, her gaze so
piercing that involuntarily the
mans intellectual eyes fastened
upon her as if hypnotized.
They stared at each other silent
ly for several seconds, the self pos
sessed slender girl and the wide
eyed man.
DO you think such method as
this of obtaining data is entirely
laudable? Some people are easily
Ia I1cl St GS otlIl Ills,
and coldly.
= He jumped from his chair, over
throwing his glass. searching her
face. Who are you?"
Felicia Thrawley"s
you are mott" rudely. "Feicias
hair was brown; your is almost
white, and it is only 6 years. You
cant be-"
Indeed" was her only rejoinder.
The mans fingers trembled. He
tried to say something, but could
not. and shame overwhelmed him
at thought of the great work he had
neglected. becoming in the last
years next to, a vagrant in reality,
instead of posing as one to study
the conditions Of his country. And
Feliciat Felicia, the clever, the girl
whom he used to imagine loved him
at times; then as he sought her
out. eluded him, seemed to hate
him.
How did you come here?" he
managed to say finally.
81 live here. I'm living the sim
pie life," she laughed a little, hunt
ing eggs, wading in the creek. cook
ing when | like, and incidentally
filing a. small post as critic" She
named a well-known publication.
He interrupted here with a cry
of gladness for her strong, ambi-
tious womanhood. and seized by
impurse, he did not try to fathom,
he confessed his neglect of the
university's expectations of him.
him whose chair there was as yet
filled only temporarily while he, the
master at economics and sociology,
was .ramping the world for actual
knowledge of it's conditions. And
he had come to love the life so that
he had deceived the trustees, his
friends and newspaperdom, revell-
ing in the gipsy's love of woods and
hills and flower-tangled paths,
though they thought him still dill
gent in the work he set out to do.
Wasn't it. isn't it, glorious?"
Felicia was radiant, the evr-
charming Felicia.
WHAT" he said, duly. as a child
who expect sto be scolded.
why, to be half pagan, forget
ting universities, dusty books and
Problems"
You don't hate me for stop
ping"
"To live awhile?" she finished
scornfully. mo. I've done as near
the same as | could. being a wom-
an. Chloe and Sambo are here
with me, delayed in the fields to-
night. Father is dead, you know"
she added with her face paling.
And | couldn't bear 70 stay In town
any longer
You are alone"
Except Reindeer; he Is in the
stable" She smiled, though her
eyes were downcast, her mouth
sad.
MAY I stay, then? Felicia, love,
you know | would never have stay
ed away so long if your caprice
had not been so puZzling. | was