The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1907-04-11

n t-Cok OhS ooAANJ AAASAS '" ANA- " 49,
wright sat alone on the back porch
stunning at guitar white dress
glimmered in the doorway, and pres
emily Mary came out and sat down.
please don't stopr' she cried as
Wainwright smothered the last chord
of college glee. "I'm very fond of
music!''
what else are you fond Of, l Won
der?' thought Wainwright, and he
deity led her on to speak Of herself
She was fond Of reading, she confess
ed, and knew many of the poets by
heart. Her taste in literature was as
simple as it was fine and the more she
spoke the more Wainwright wondered,
for she seemed utterly content with
her present occupation.
"Any work that is done we'll is beau
tifuI," she declared earnestly, and
though her illusions to herself were
delicately reticent, Wainwright found
it easy to picture her priSetive life.
primitive and yet not humdrum. Her
love of nature and beauty forbade that
"What a wonderful country it is"
unused Wainwright, 'where even the
rustics have ideas Of their own and
vivid way of expressing t'%m." Marys
personality was the moss challenging
and illuminating one that he had dis
covered so far, and descriptions of her
covered several pages of his notebook
In the days that followed he found
that if he helped Mary with the sup
per dishes the longer they would have
to sit on the porch in the cool OF the
evening. So while she splashed the
suds he polished plates and cups and
quoted his favorite authors. After
ward they would stroll together down
the orchard path, watching the first
stars and listening to the eerie notes
of the whippoorwill, pleasant state
of affairs destined to end abruptly, for
wainwright returned from the fields
one evening to find Mrs. Rolfe alone In
the kitchen Mary was gone.
"Had a letter from one of her folks"
said the farmer, land she went right
off. Wouldn't take cent of her pay
cause she left so sudden"
Wainwright looked blank.
"Didn't she leave any address?" he
queried.
"Said she'd write" answered Rolfe
laconically.
"But wasn't there any messenger
persisted Wainwright.
"Not q word,' said Farmer Rolfe
cheerfully.
Mrs. Rolfe had some of her famous
biscuits for supper, but Wainwright
had lost his appetite. He stood on the
back porch in the afterglow, and ev-
erything seemed strangely deserted.
Mary had gone, and something of the
10Y of living>had gone with her. Elk
istence seemed suddenly very tame
and dull to the young professor. He
was conscious of emotions not classl-
fed in his notebook.
ST must have overworked," he said
listlessly to himself as he sat on the
LeffingwelIs' veranda week later. 1t
was shutdown. A breeze swept up
from the Hudson. and a tall glass of
lemonade tinkled pleasantly in Vain
wrights hand.
Mrs. Leffingwell, of whose house
party he was a guest, sat near him in
a wicker chair and chatted irrepreSsi-
bly,.
"We've had an inkling of your ex-
ploits," she said, 'and will expect
full account Of them. Tonight there's
a girl coming to dine who's awfully
fond of that sort of thing. She spent
the summer working on farm where
she met the most extraordinary young
harvester that There she is noww
Mary, in a white lace dress, was
coming slowly across the lawn.
'You didn't leave me any message"
said Wainwright reproachfully the mo-
ment after their hostess had left them
alone together, "but l have one for
you. l wonder if you will care to hear
itY'
"You might try and see," suggested
Mary demurely.
When dinner was at it's gayest, Mrs.
Leffingwell turned to Wainwright.
do you think" she said, ''that your
experiment was successw
Wainwrights eyes met Mary's in a
comprehending flash.
"The greatest I've ever had,' he an
swered. smiling