The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1909-02-13
Copyright 1903 by Bent. B. Hampton

nee In q while there come to me out OF
the long ago the fragments of a story
/ have not thought of for years-one
that has been hidden in the dim lum-
Der room of my brain where store my
bygone memories
These fragments thrust themselves out of the
past as do the cuffs Of an old-fashioned coat, the
fittings Of dounce, the lacings of bodice
from out a quickly opened bureau drawer. Only
broad shoulder; smooth out the crushed fril that
swayed about her form. and trace the siken thread
fashion Of the day in which they were worn.
And with the rummaging of this lumber room
come the odors: dry smells from musty old trunks
less deeds tied with red tape; musty smells from
chests iron bound holding moldy
cracked vardrobes stuffed with moth-eaten hunt
Ing coats. riding trousers, and high boots with
rusty spurs-cross-country riders these-roister-
or perhaps it is an old bow-legged high-boy-
its clubfeet slippered easy rollers-the kind
handles, its outside veneer highly polished that
you are quite sure it must have been brought up
In some distinguished family. The scent of old
lavender and spcer rose leaves and a stick or two
Of white orris root. haunt this relic: my lady's
iaces must be kept fresh, and SO must my lady's
knuckles quite to her elbow. And must her
she folds across her BOSOM
It IS this kind of drawer that am opening
now-one belonging to the Little Gray Lady.
on the finger of glove. the end of lace scarf,
and the handle Of an old fan. my mind goes back
wore begin
ing everything upside down. lifting the corner Of
this incident prying under that bit Of talk recall
Ing what he said and who told of it q shall have
the whole drawer empty before I get through
and whose fault 1t was that the match broken
on and why she. OF all women in the world, should
have remained single all those years. Why, too.
she should have lost her identity, SO to speak and
become the Little Gray Lady
And yet no sobriquet could better express her
personality She was little-a dainty. elf-like lit
tieness with tiny feet and wee hands; she gray
"a soft: silver gray-too gray for her forty years
uh0 ch0 <o-A,
and she was lady in every beat of her warm
heart; in every pressure of her white hand in her
She liyed In the Quaintest of old houses fronted
BY brick path bordered with fragrant box. which
leo up to an fashioned porch its door bright
tn co steps and sits Of windows on each side of
garet, who had lived with her for years.
But 1t is her personality and not her surround
ings that fingers in my memory No one ever
heard anything sweeter than her voice; and no.
body ever looked into loveer face, even if there
were little hollows in the cheeks and shy fanlike
brown eyes. Nor did her gray hair mar her beau
y. It was not old. dry and withered-a wspy
sr.y. THAT is not the way it happenedl It was
week-so Margaret once told me-bleaching it's
brown gold to silver. But the gloss remained and
90 did the richness OF the folds. and the wealth.
inside the green-painted door with its white
row hall hung with old portraits, opening into q
room literally all fireplace. Here there were equity
SOFAS, and hve or six big easy chairs ranged in q
half circle. with arms held out II begging some
body to sit In them: and here too, was embroid-
cred worsted fire screen that slid up and down a
standard. to shield ones face from the blazing
logs: and there queer tables and old gold
tains topped back with brass rosettes-ears really
behind which the tresses of the parted curtains
were tucked: and there were more old portraits In
dingy frames, and samplers under glass. and q rug
which some aunt had made with her hands
from odds and ends: and huge workbasket spill
Ing worsteds. and last. and by manner of means
least, big undiscovered rocking chair. the little
lady's very own--its thin ankles and splay feet
hidden by modest frill. There were all these
things and lot more-and yet / still maintain
that the room was just big fireplace. Not
alone because of the size (and It certainly big
Many doubling curly head. losing faith In Santa
Claus. has crawled behind the old fredogs, the
child's fingers tight about the Little Gray Ladys.
and been told to look up into the bue-a lesson
forgotten all their lives) but because Of the
wonderful and never told forgotten things which
constantly took place before its blazing embers.
For this fireplace the Little Gray Ladys
altar. Here she dispensed wisdom and cheer and
love. Everybody In Pomford village had sat in
one the other OF the chairs grouped about 1t and
had poured out their hearts to her. All sorts Of
p0urings: love aairs. for instance. that hope
less until she would take the girls hand In her
own and smooth ont the tangle: TO say nothing Of
bickerings behind closed doors. with two lives pull
ong apart until her dear arms brought them to-
GotAes.
hut III this = only the outside q the old ma