Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1908-11-14

terfy flashed across his mind, and he
found his imagination revising the cast
Of characters. He remembered how he
had longed TO kick the hero Of that
piece, just as he was mentally kicking
himself now. And yet, what had he
done2 Nothing that could account for
the unrea sonable state of his con-
science. Quite Internationally, even I'M
consciously, he had won the true love
of an Oriental, thing as inscrutable
as time and space, and the sudden real
ization of it filed his susceptible soul
with great pity; that was all. How
was he to tell her that she must come
no more, that their innocent little tea
drinkings, guitar playings, and one-sid
ed conversations under the mango tree
must cease? Cation, who would not in
tentionally have hurt fly, shrank from
the ordeal with all the repugnance Of
deeply sympathetic nature.
How did he know she loved him?
Well-he smiled unconsciously to HIM
weaker sex who know when they are
really loved, was so very ridiculous.
Every movement of the sinuous little
body, every glance from the bright little
almond eyes, every smile told him far
palmer than words that she was his,
not for the asking, but the taking.
A mango dropped In the grass at his
side and recalled him to the present
with a wrench, Oyosi had finished her
work among the kiawi beans and came
towards him smiling. Cation felt like
thief in prospective, flung the writing
pad and indelible pencil into the grass
and called, "Soon!"
''Tea," he ordered, tersely.
The Korean cast his customary look
Of contempt In the direction of the
bright kimono at Cations feet, and
withdrew.
They sat without speaking until the
tea was brought. Cation squared his
shoulders for the third time-let his
eyes fall on the little brown neck that
bent over the tea cup-and was silent.
Suddenly Oyosi looked up, straight
into his eyes, with an expression Of
sympathetic inquiry.
Him sick?' she queried, indicating
the place where Cations waistcoat
little gesture.
Cation gravely shook his head. mo,
1 was thinking very old thoughts, Oyo-
ST." he said, nothing new or interest
ing; was thinking what deal of I'M
necessary suffering there is In this
world. We trample through life, crush
ing the hope and happiness of others
just as we would go through this gar
den on a fine summer day, and uncon-
sciously at every step crush the life
out of some creeping thing, worm, a
snail, a spider; it's all an accident, Of
course, but the result is just the same.
Something that was once palpitant with
life, perhaps, who knows, even with
hope and happiness, rejoicing in its ex-
istence, becomes dust before it's time,
and we pass on-unconscious murder
ers. Yet there are some &C us in this
whirlwind Of a world who take time to
notice and to think; it is our nature,
and we see what we have done, and
often suffer more than the worm we
have crushed"
Oyosi took another sip of tea, and
bazed away over the hibiscus hedge
with the inscrutable expression Cation
knew so well, and which always left
him wondering exactly how much she
understood.
"Him no good" she said at last, de
liberately, almost accusingly.
"As a story / admit it's weak" said
Cation, "but it's old and true, so what
else can one expect"
"Tell him all same last night story"
she suggested, accommodatingly.
NO" said Cation, firmly; 'it will
have to be a different story tonight ;
all about little girl, little garden,
and a great big man."
Oyosi settled herself more comforta-
bly, in the grass, resting her weight on
one little brown hand; Cation found
himself watching the wrinkles at the
join of hand and wrist. Her feet in
their spotless white socks were tucked
away somewhere in the folds of her XII
mono, her face set in grave attention.
There was once" said Cation, "a
little girl, a little garden, and great
big man. The man liked the girl, the
girl liked the man, and they both liked
the garden, so they were very happy
all round. But outside this garden, a
long way of, but creeping nearer every