The Idaho recorder. [volume] (Salmon City, Idaho) 1886-1927, 1908-04-09

of seclusion. They were tall and
lush and branchy enough to screen
the whole porch space throughout the
pleasant weather. People wondered
not a little that the Greers did not
plant vines instead-vines were so
much more graceful and lasting; then,
too, since everybody had them, they
must besthe right thing.
Drenton was sick of right things.
therefore, to see the hollyhocks, at
heir best in blaze of midsummer
sunshine, was to resolve that he would
live with them for the next fortnight
at least He turned in through the
sagging green gate with the free step
of assured welcome 1t did not in
the least astonish him to have some
one say from out the hollyhock am
bush: Come in, though don't be.
lieve you can have any business
here"
You are mistaken" Drenton said.
smiling family. Settling oneself is
always a fearful business. You'll help
me? Oh, l know you don't take board
ers-there is no look of boarders, not
the least-but you'll let me stay?''
q can't tell until Mary sees you.
She's away-won't be back for an
hour" the voice replied. 1t was
mans voice, high-pitched and weak,
yet not unpleasant. Peering wHhin
the leafy shade Drenton saw a wheel
chair heaped with pillows, among
which there sat drawn figure. pitt
fully distorted But the mans face
was fresh-colored. almost handsome,
and little tanned. He held out a
knotted hand to Drenton, as he added
Il sha'n't say "a word Shed let you
stay If she thought | wanted you even
the least bit | should like to have
you-you look new and strange.
Strangers are precious when you've
been fast in one spot for IL years"
Denton shivered. yet shook the
crippled hand warmly and sat down
facing the wheelchair. Il sha'n't
make trouble for-Mary," he said
smiling. yet gulping little over the
name. TEL me about her-and
yourself-hefore she comes. Then
shall know better If ought to ask
shelter here. | want to stay badly,
and yet"
There is little to tell--now Once
! thought there was a great deal"
the man, William Greer said, sigh
| ing family. THAT was before I I'M
derstood-when | was ready. almost,
! TO curse God and die. You see, mar
| ried Mary partly because ! was so
| sorry for her. She had had hard lines.
| taking care of two on an income not
half big enough for one. II was her
| stepmother she took care of, and tho
woman hadn't been overly kind. But
she had nobody else. so when the bus-
band died. just after she fell Ill. Mary
stayed by her as though IL were a
thing of course, How she did II no.
body knows. There was only the
| house. and two hundred year from
Mary's mother. The stepmother was
five years dying, and Mary somehow
saved enough to bury her But the
strain told on her; she was faded and
scrawny-looked nearer so than 80
We were just of an age, and |, too
had been taking care of people in.
stead of looking out for myself. They
were my own people-brothers sis
tiers, and grandmother. Granny willed
the farm to the other boys, and what
money she had to the girls-'because
my dear grandson William is so well
able to take care of himself The
others thought the will very Just
Maybe I'd looked for something little
different. Anyway. married Mary
almost out of hand. And the very
next week came rheumatic fever-tc
leave me as you see me
And Mary" Drenton breathee
rather than spoke.
Greer smiled wanly. yet with ar
illumined look. Mary didn't com
plain--then nor ever. I had a trif,
of money saved-enough to buy thi!
place Her old home had gone to par
some of her fathers debts as soon al
1t was free of the dover right
There's a bit of ground behind-it'i
been our salvation. She plants things
there. and kepes me out in the sun
shine while she is tending them"
you look to her for--everything? p
! Drenton asked.
Greer smiled again. There's neve
any question of looking to between
u.s." he said. AT first--for a Who'll,
month"; prayed to die Say. rather
fought to die-the idea of a man liy
ing on and on. clog and burden {,
the woman he had married."
Il understand" Drenton inter
rupted Death. whatever may com,
after, must be JOY beside that"
Mary must talk to you-why. yon
der she comes," Greer said, his fac,
lighting wildly. A talIish woman
sunburned and slightly stopped. hui
ried along the path.
Drenton rose. holding out his han,
TO her; he dared not raise his eyes [,
her face. they were SO very dim. II
only you'll let me stay awhile" h.
said plaintively. I'm work in the gar
den and look after the chicks. aul
even pun a donksy-cart II nothin
else win serve"
Drenton stayed Before wee
was out there was mutual wonder a
TO how the Greers had got on so lon
, without him. He was deliciousiy avn
ward al everything. yet ready for an,
thing
, Mary knew that somewhere
woman's heart was breaking for thi
fine young fellow. soft-handed. wei
made. full of charm. but she did n
spxfuO- that dfd NOT tsaforU IN her