The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1908-06-18
FACE ON THE CANVAS


their profleS were so delicately fine
that many turned to look at them.
Last night" Mabel was saying ~
dreamed of muddy water. / kept
dreaming of it all night long. 1t came
on and on, rolling up to my very feet
The waves were big. turbulent, threat
enlng. was afraid"
"A sign Of trouble" murmured Flor
ence-"that is, unless it cleared Did it
clear?"
Mabel frowned. She closed her fan
and tapped it impatiently against the
palm of her other hand.
mo, it didn't" she answered. But
what difference did that makeT
when did you hear from Arthur"
Arthur was Mabel's soldier sweetheart.
THAT is the trouble" sighed Mabel.
II haven't heard from him for ages,
but | am expecting him home daily.
His regiment came last week, but he
was not with it. Perhaps he stopped
somewhere to rest. 1t is wonder they
didn't all die down there in that oven
of a place" Then under her breath
she added 81 hate that dream Of mud
dy water"
Il thought you didn't believe in
Dreams" exclaimed Florence.
81 don't, butt
She was interrupted by the appear
ance of me and Jack" upon the can
vas. There was ripple of subdued
laughter as the little girl fell from the
ropes into the water the dog SWIM
ming coolly off and leaving her there.
Picture after picture was then pre-
pared. There was the naval parade,
the warships passing up the Hudson.
the yachts skimming swiftly in front
of them, partially obstructing the view
of the sailors, who stood like white
statues along their decks; next Hobson
walked leisurely down the deck of a
little cruiser; then a review of the
| troops at Tampa was announced.
Perhaps it is Arthur's regiment that
is to be reviewed. whispered Mabel,
clasping her hands ecstatically togeth-
err "Oh, hope SOP
There was drumbeat, and before a
dim vista of white tents the troops
passed in review.
Their faces look sad," said Flor
ence, "and they walk as If they were
tired to death"
A white dog, the mascot of the regi-
ment occupied the center Of the can
vas for second, a soldier following.
A piece Of paper fioated along be-
hind. Then came row of six stall
wart men. The man in front suddenly
turned his face toward the audience.
He looked straight at Mabel. His eyes
were hollow and sad. Intense weari-
ness was stamped upon every line Of
his gaunt features.
Mabel leaned eagerly forward. She
laid hold of Florences arm.
Look, Florencew she gasped. Look,
it is Arthur"
In moment the face was gone from
the canvas, others had taken its place,
the drum ceased to beat, the review
was over, and the canvas was dark
again.
Mabel was white to the lips. She
hurriedly gathered up her belongings.
her fan, her handkerchief, her opera
glasses.
what are you about" asked Flor
ence. ''The thing is not half over"
II can't help it," said Mabel. II
must go now. The heat in here is
sitting. | can't stand it. l must have
the fresh air."
Outside she trembled so that Flor
ence took her arm.
''If l were you," she said, II should
be glad that l saw him. Why do you
worry SOP"
His eyes were hollow and sad,"
stammered Mabel, land his cheeks
were thin. He looked so tired-so
dead tired. Oh, Florence, suppose he
is very ill; suppose-oh, remember my
dream!
Florence affected an overwhelming
surprise.
81 thought you didn't believe in
dreamsW said she.
Il don't; don't. Who but an idiot
would believe in such rank foolishness,
but you can't help thinking
"Oh, yes, you can! Come, we will
take this car, and l will see you home
myself. Don't be sillyw
By the time they reached the house
Florence had coaxed the girl into some
thing like her old gayety. She laughed
at bit of her nonsense as they ran
up the steps together.
They passed into the hall. On lit
tie table reserved for cards lay let
ter.
Mabel took it up and held it between
her fsrefnger and thumb. 1t was old
and yellow. A dozen postmarks disfig-
ured the face Of it, upon which there |
was no stamp.
Florence took it from her.
Il WIN open it for you," she said
Mabel sank upon her knees on the |
carpet. She remained there trembling,
her white face clasped between her |
slender, bloodleSs fingers.
She saw once more the tired face on |
the canvas, the weary limbs dragging |
laggingly along, the hollow eyes peer. |
ing straight into hers in all the sad
ness Of a last farewell.
For before Florence could read the /
contents of the letter her heart had |
guessed the truth.-Criterion.
It's Purely Female Habit.