The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1907-04-23

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 a puff of
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 APP
pies, rosy and fresh looking as II 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? Tween
ty years at least, for Mrs. st. Aubyn
was thirty -seven.
Twenty years of dinners and teas
and dances, of summers passed at
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
coiored hair and dazzling complexion
a clear rose and white that still defied
the aid Of cosmetics.
"An orehardv repeated Mrs. st. Au-
hyn, looking after the old apple wom-
an who had hobbled to the crossing.
II wore my hair In braid then, l 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 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 and withered grass, the rus
tie of dry leaves underfoot She turn
ed abruptly from the window and with
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. Apbyn. 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
a car whose general dingi ) pro-
claimed it's acquaintance with obscure
places off the general line of travel
Instead of well groomed commuters
and their wives there We're men whose
clothes were bit rusty and women
whose bulky satchels and bags bore
witness that they had been to spend a.
week with daughter in the city. Wide
eyed children chung tenaciously to dolls
and bananas, crying babies were 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 YVES 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 guiltily, for
under her mOnogrammed morocco bag
there reposed a neat brown paper par
Gel containing chicken sandwiches and
bottle of olives that she had paused
to buy at the station in the breathless
ness of her flight. Bought at the sta
toni 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 morei
1t W as uOOll WbCA SIZE SlcDibeu OlI 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 team. She
walk. How well she knew the road!
And how little it had changed! She
followed it by cluster of trim fenced
houses. past the general store and on
to where the fields widened and
stretched away to hills whose SUBMITS
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 ram
bling white house. Grass grew knee
deep in its yard. Its windows were
shattered. It's door bore a placard,
"For Sale" Over its porch the bare
tendrils of honeysuckle vine stirred
with every passing wind. By path
still family discernible through net
work of weeds Mrs. st. Aubyn took her
way to the orchard There she came
upon a sight which held her stock still
with amazement
''Jimmy." cried Mrs st. Aubyn
what in the world are you doing
here?
Jimmy vanringcourt forscok The ap-
pie for which he had been reaching
and eolored 70 the roots OF his iron
gray hair. Then he came forward
"My dear Helene" he exclaimed
Who ever would have thought Of see.
ing your"
81 came by the noon train" said Mrs.
st. Aubyn.
"Ah, And | by the one before 1t.
Hasn't changed much, has it?'' he con-
tinued, noddng toward the old house.
Except that the grass is ragged. 1t
looks just the same as that summer
you spent here with your aunt. Have
you ever been back here SINGER
Never" said Mrs. st. Aubyn, flush
ing.
"Nor l. Strange, isn't 1t, that we
should meet? What prompted you to
come today?"
''Oh. don't know. think the social
merry go-round has begun to pail.
got so tired of people and things, and
/ wanted to get away from them"
There was moments silence. The
wind stirred the fallen leaves with a
soft rustic. and bit Of thistledown
fioated lazily by.
81 thought" said Mrs. st. Aubyn |
that you were in Europe"
$50 have been for the last six
months. l got back yesterday. And |
this morning l had the strangest long
ing to see this old place, and so /
came"
1.-TWO worldlings in Already" laughed |
Mrs. st. Aubyn, land hunger reminds