The Washington herald., 1908-07-15

Miss Cynthia's attic was fragrant with
aromatic herbs Little bags Of lavender
and OF dried rose leaves hung from the
rafters and mingled their delicate per
fume with its coarser aroma Of sage and
sweet marjoram and thyme and summer
savory.
On autumn afternoons the attic was
golden with sunshine, and from the little
peaked window one could see the long
white road and the blue hills beyond
II was 70 this fragrant and gold-ught-
ed attic that Miss Cynthia would come
when the summer rush was over, and in
its peace and quiet try to forget that
she was worn and worried and wiJhered-
AT thirty-five one should not be wor-
ried and withered- But hard lives do not
make for youth and freshness, and Miss
Cynthia had always drudged- Work had
been the watchword on the farm, and
when prosperity had come in later years
the habit OF keeping summer boarders
had become fixed. and even after the
death Of her parents Miss Cynthia had
continued IT.
But with September came rest and
freedom. and it was then that Miss Gym
thia sought the attic and wrote in her
diary.
The diary was a safe outlet for her
woes There were pages blotted with
the tears she had shed when she had
closed the volume Of her drst romance,
and two leaves. On which she had penned
a poetic swan song Of affection. were
pinned together with a black pini
Miss Cynthia had old-fashioned ideas
about love. She had loved once, and
hence there could be no other affair. Il
mattered nothing that the man in the
case was married and had grown fat and
puffy and uninteresting- It was not the
man. but the idea. and to that idea Miss
Cynthia was true,
To be sure, no second suitor had en-
tered her life so that there had been no
severe tax upon her Consuaucy. But the
roses had gone out of her cheeks when
she was twenty. and she had twisted
her hair in an uncomprOmising knot and
had, at that early date. given herself I'd
70 mourning and 10 memories
You're silly" Martha Ann told her
one bright September morning. as Miss
Cynthia. with her black diary Ia her
hand. prepared 10 ascend TO the attic.
Why don't you 90 out and visit and
have a good time. instead OF writing IN
that dark old placer
Martha Ann was an old and privileged
servant, but Miss Cynthia would brook
no interference with her acts Of attic
ton.
i don't think good times are my por-
ton. Martha Ann she said. and went
Up the stairway thoughtfully.
Halfway up she paused TO say: Make
a good vegetable soup for lunch. Martha
Ann I'll throw down a bunch Of my
herbs. Soup viii taste good on q cool
day"
Love-" wrote Miss Cynthia in her
little book, " IS Of mans life a thing
apart 'Jis woman's whole existencer 80
When she had rounded of the last prim
letter. she bit the end Of her pencil and
sighed and looked out Of the peaked win
dow.
Far down the road she could see
cloud Of dust Coming nearer. the cloud
showed itself the forerunner of an auto
mobile.
The big machine swerved out Of the
road and into Miss Cynthias own drive
II stopped at her door. and she had to
lean far out Of the peaked window to
see Martha in her gingham apron speak
ing TO the occupant
Miss Cynthia could not hear a word.
and she almost fell over the sill in the
effort 70 satisfy her curisiry. She saw
Martha Ann go in, and presently she
felt a pull at the back OF her dress.
Goodness" Martha Ann said GROSSLY
I called and called. and couldn't make
you hear That man wants something
TO eat"
WHAT Miss Cynthia gasped. But
he doesn't look Ike a tramp. Martha
Ann
Tramps don't ride IN automobiles"
Martha Ann smiled: ''he SAYS he's been
riding all the morning. and he Just
couldn't ind place 10 eat, and he would
be glad to pay for a-meaL He understood
that we took boarders he said
We'll, you 90 down and hurry the soup
and make an omelette and some hot bis
cults and I viii talk to him, Martha
Ann
You'd better stop n your room and
primp- little" Martha Ann advised;
he's awfUlly good looking"