The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1909-06-19
THE EVENING STORY
Her True Music.

dence?"
The parks thick turf had deadened
the sound of steps, hence the two cler-
| ical-looking gentlemen had observed
at close range for some time the girl
in the swing before either of them
spoke.
ed by a big hat, lifted, and pair of
glowing black eyes travelled with slow
elaboration from one to the other,
before she replied.
''The gray stone. First turn to the
Then she resumed her book, the
wide hat dropping so that the mer-
est outlines of chin and neck peeped
from below the edge of the brim.
the Rev. Paul Freyer mediated. aand
a picture worth remembering"
Two hours later, from the landing
| of the stairs his eyes fell upon the
same hat, entirely at home on the
rack in the Woodson hall. He knew
| it instantly. BY no chance could there
be two such hats. 1t was broad and
low-crowned, mass of white poppies
with dark hearts; one of those articles,
in fact, which proclaim with brazen
tongue the personality of the wearer.
| Perhaps the gray stone, with its
web of dull green and gay red creepers
and it's more than full quota of hooks,
and shadowy, had something to do
with the Rev. PauPS mood. AT any
rate, before he stirred from the land
| ing, the pretty girl in white, with the
| glowing black eyes, had responded to
| his imagination by assuming the pro-
portions of his ideal; Portia. YER
| liable Portia.
| Who was she? The Rev. Paul de-
rived a pieasurable shock from an in
spired guess Who else, indeed, but
Ada, stepdaughter to his sister. Mrs.
Sara Woodson? Quite distinctly he re-
called a forgotten fact; there had been
at the time of the marriage mention
made of a child. That, of course, was
years ago. She was now probably well
grown.
He had been in college then, after
ward travelling abroad. Returning, he
| had Immediately settled into pastor
ate that had taxed his powers to the
uttermost and tired his very soul. Sis
ter and all else outside of duty had
gone from him with an imperceptible
drift till the day dawned- when he was
| had come protesting, regretting. and
now-what IF He laughed softly
and sought his sister.
| In the dining room when he enter
ed the pretty girl prettier than he
the back of a chair at the foot of the
table.
my stepdaughter." Mrs. Woodson's
smile was gracious and sweet. Ada.
my brother, the Rev. Paul Freyer, and
his assistant, the Rev. Condor. Just
think. Ada" she laughed gayly. "for
the whole summer they have nothing
to do nor a thought or wish but to
amuse. That list we were preparing
for our summer reading
ooh, Sara!' Eager and bright the
clear voice floated from the foot of the
table. 1--WE must, we must first finish
that story of sSinbad the Sailor 1t is
she reflected. perhaps, now, it's Poe,
or MAYBE the big childish eyes
sought those in turn of each present.
| mo, 1 have it. It's Halifax. Am
Mrs. Woodson's hands dropped,
heavy, on her unfolded napkin and the
Rev. Paul's heart contracted to dim
| inutive proportions. For him the gold
en- bowl was broken, the swift-born
hope of an hour trailed in the dust.
The-the hat-then, had not been---
He sighed, and the sigh was--for the
| smallness of the beautiful concrete
and for the greatness of the beautiful
| abstract.
| And Ada babbled joyously on, her
clear voice and soft laugh dominant
features of the dinner hour. 1.-The chat
ter of a child the Rev. Paul decided,
unconsciously talking down to her.
Afterward she fitted about the rooms,
never still, the quick tattoo Of her high
| heeled slippers quite as musfca1 as her
rendition of a famous concerto, and
disappearing early with a pleasant
good night.
"a charming young girl ventured
the Rev. Condor, and the Rev. Paul
reinforced the remark with "for all
the world like white butterfly. Has
she never gone to school, Sara ?"
! But If Ada had not womanly graces
and scholarship, she possessed an ac-
| complishment out of the usual, con-
slant irruption of small talk. No con-
versation serious or learned, could re-
sist it. Without thought, she left it
at a blow. severing each thread past
hope of redemption.
"Tinkling cynbals," the Rev. Paul
remarked one day, watching the NY.
| ing, whirling, white figure in pursuit
of butterflies in the occasional patches
of sunshine among the great trees.
''It's a pity SO exquisite a creature
should be so--so-you ought to SEND
her to school, Sara"
Mrs. Woodson flushed to the little
| curls on her forehead. Paul" she
said, "you do Ada injustice, =
She stopped, laughing lightly, as Ada
1 fluttered into the room
/ ada she called, paul is recalling
his youth by translating some of the
Homeric poems. He's found his stone
wall Perhaps you can help him over.
ObedientIy Ada bent over the stall
wart reverend, her white forefinger
tracing the lines, translating slowly,
| word BY word, with great difficulty,
but with absolute correctness the en-
tire passage her bright eyes meeting
4 his upllfted gaze at the IiHlsli Win euS
! frank pleasure of an unspoiied child
| sfWty. ladybird,'' he laughed. who
could have dreamed of that pretty
1 head holding such gems of wisdom %
mere accretionsi' She had seized
her net and was off after big white
/ moth with dark patches on his downy
1 wings.
The Rev. Paul watched her thought
fully. "Sara," he said. "the child has
| possibilities This glimpse of memory,
with one or two glimmerings of a
/ mind that I have surprised. convinces
me that she could be awakened. You