The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-07-20

couldn't have known' And yet all the time from the very beginning I had marveled that he could have escaped knowing.
 It was on a night when he was host to the Fer gusons. The occasion of Mortons monthly birthdays. and everything very gay and perfect as Billy and his Japanese boy knew how to make them. There was ice cream and with it some sticky heavy, yet delicious little cakes, the like of which neither the Fergusons nor Miss Peterson had ever tasted.
 Il never ate anything exquisite, but shouldn't think they'd be very wholesome" said Miss Peterson
 I suppose you don't eat very many of them''
 I'd eat hundred and think nothing of it." he answered, inconsequent usual, and as usual far overlapping his guests faint praise There's nothing wouldn't do to get them. I'd beg borrow or steal I'd go to tea with impossible old ladies or to lunch with more impossible new if they'd lure me with Maillards petite tours"
 sYou do real partial to them" smiled Miss Peterson
 The next day Elizabeth had, as we afterwards realized opportunity to the yet inevitable Perhaps thinking my friend frivolous than she thought Miss Peterson where petite fours might be obtained. And Elizabeth( without thought and without inquiry, gave the desired information and promptly forgot all about it. Billy had forgotten too; but Miss Peterson, grudging car fare, walked three miles downtown (you will say she country girl) and three miles back, and paid seventyve for pound of the sticky little cakes Billy had never expressed desire to her before His part had been all giving flowers theater tickets books and panionshfp To him these were civilities not quite impersona perhaps for he above all things kind and this forty years old child-she in many ways no more than child-held him and fascinated him. But such gifts, such attentions he had shown her were an old story to him. and they part of the language of everyday courtesy that the people among whom he lived understood and accepted.
 But here was creature, woman, to whom the last petal of his last flower treasure who held the very boxes precious. Nothing matter of course to her. Her god forever popping in and out of his machine like jack-n- thebox and show erfng favors as he moved. She never knew or dreamed that he being ordinarily and quite con- ventionally polite And she had such a genius for communicating her pleasure that Billy felt every rob of the joy he gave, and spent his kindly heart in de vsing ways of giving and sharing happiness
 'Take her to the theater" he told us once, "and, before the curtain goes the second act, she'll make you feel that the play is masterpiece. that you wrote it, and that you could beat the leading man to a standstill if you hadn't something important to do. And take her to the opera-'
 Have your" I asked
 1.-Two three times. You never saw anything like her enjoyment. It's dreadful to think of her being shut away from it all for many years. She told me quite frankly that she had expected to do the musical season rather thoroughly, but that the prices staggered her.. She concerned at my buying tickets that had to tell her my father gave them to me- Then she settled down to absorb and tell you she didn't miss much She reads the ]bretto," he marveed Twas little he knew of the eager soul in search of culture.
 I think it is not necessary to say that she loved him. Emotion had hardly touched her before and