Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1908-12-25

and cleared away her tea things, but
first she drank a cup of strong tea to
steady her nerves. Afterward she
lighted a lamp In the parlor, started
the fire In the crate and then went up
stairs to her room.
She went at once to the tall ward
robe In one corner and threw back the
doors, holding the lamp high above
her head. A long row of liHp gowns
depended from the hooks. They were
mostly of a bygone style, for Sarah
had had few new clothes. She looked
them owe critically, and her choice
fell upon a bright blue poplin. 1t had
a full skirt trimmed with scallops that
were bound with blue velvet, and the
tightly fitting long wasted basque
bore the same garniture. She brushed
her hair into a becoming fuffiness
above her low forehead and blushed at
the years that dropped from her face.
She slipped on the blue poplin and
frowned at the smallness of the
sleeves. Still, there were reasons why
she should wear 1t. About her shin
waist she tied a dainty, ruff1y apron,
and from a locked drawer she brought
forth a blue silk workbag. Then with
another look at her shamed face In the
mirror she caught up the lamp and
descended to the parlor.
She drew a low chair to the fire and
sat down. She did not open the work
bag, but crossed her slender hands
upon 1t and stared into the fire with
reminiscent eyes. The last time she
had worn the blue poplin gown had
been the night before her father died.
Lorenzo had spent the evening with
her, and that night he had come nearer
than ever before-or since. She had
listened to him with down bent head
over her crocheting. 1t was q pink
wool fascinator, and the ivory hook
was thrust into the ball of pink worst
ed now. She had " opened the
blue silk bag since that night. Then she
had been young and full Of happiness
and hope. Now she was old and for
iorn and despairing, and she was about
to shame her maidenly pride in order
to save herself from the poorhouse.
She would give Lorenzo every oppor-
tunity to declare himself, and then
The doorbell changed noisily, and
Sarah uttered a startled cry. For one
instant she stood ~irresolute, and then,
with quick. unhesitating tread, she
opened the front door and admitted
Lorenzo Rider.
Good evening, Sarah" said Lorenzo
in his hearty, mellow accents.
"Good evening, Lorenzo" she said
primly, leading the way into the coy
parlor.
Mr.. Rider hung his soft felt hat upon
the rack in the hall and then. closing
the parlor door behind him, looked
goajally from the fire to the little wo-
man seated before it. "Kind of early
for a fire, Sarah" he suggested, seat
ing himself in the willow rocker,
which creaked beneath his great
weight.
81 like to see a fire; it seems more
homelike." Sarah had drawn forth the
pink wool fascinator and the ivory
hook and was picking up the stitches
she had dropped a quarter of a century
before.
at always seems homelike here to
me. Sarah replied Lorenzo, looking
at her downcast face intently.
Sarah redeemed to her small ears,
and she set her lips firmly. I'm glad
you've enjoyed it in the past. Loren
TO-" she said, with a quick glance to-
ward him. "because = because there
won't be any more Of 1t after this
EVENING"" She piled. the ivory hook
furiously, and the ball of pink wool
rolled from her lap to Lorenzo's feet.
He picked it up slowly and laid it in
her lap; then he sat back in his chair
and looked at her with clouded eyes.
From the top of her light hair to the
scalloped hem of her blue dress his
eyes travelled, taking in all the dainty
accessories of her costume-the white
apron with the blue bow or the tiny
pocket and the blue silk bag lying half
open in her lap. 1--WE been expecting
you'd say something like that some
day" he said at last.
Sarah breathed quickly and knitted
faster. She was overwhelmed with
shame that Lorenzo should have adj
mitted that he was waiting for her to
speak, yet something must be done
and done tonight.
Eve been expecting you'd say some
thing like that some day." repeated
Lorenzo In an embarrassed tone.
81 shouldn't think you'd make me
say 1t, them retorted Sarah bitterly.
Lorenzo Rider stared at her and
then around the familiar little room
as If he doubted his own senses. There
was Sarah Downs, looking fair and
pretty, as she had always looked to
him; there were the coy room, the
green shaded lamp and the cribbage
board and pack of cards waiting the
"Wednesday evening game. and Yet