The Huttig news., 1910-07-30

"An empty place surrounded by longingi" he retorted You want your dinner. that's what's the matter with you"
 shut the door on him then. He seemed suddenly sordid Dinner. I thought, Although, as a matter of fact, I made a very fair meal when, Granger's suitcase not having gone. in his coat and some other mans trou- s.rs. I was finally fit for the amen ities. Alison did not come down to dinner. so it was clear she would not go over to the clubhouse dance. pied my injured arm. and fictitious, vaguely located sprain from the wreck as an excuse for remaining at home. Sam regaled the table with accounts of my distrust of women, my one love affair-with Dorothy: to which I responded, as was expected. that only my failure there had kept me single all these years. and that If Sam should be mysteriously missing during the bathing hour tomorrow, and so on,
 And when the endless meal was over. and yards of white veils had been tied over pounds of hair-or is it, too, bought by the yard?-and some eight ensembles with their ab- ject complements had been packed into three automobiles and a trap, drew a long breath and faced about. l had just then only one object in life ito find Alison, to assure her of my absolute faith and confidence in her, and to offer my help and my poor self, if she would let me, in her service
 She was not easy to find. I searched the lower floor, the veranda and the grounds, circumspectly. Then 1 ran into a little English girl who turned i out to be her maid, and who also was searching She was concerned be- cause her mistress had no dinner. and be cause the tray of food she carried would soon be cold. took the tray from her, on the glimpse of something white on the shore and that was how 1 met the girl again.
 She was sitting on an overturned boat, her chin in her hands, staring out to sea. The soft tide of the bay lapped almost at her feet, and the draperies of her white gown melted hazily into the sands. She looked like wrath, a Respondent phantom of the sea, although the adjective is re- dundant Nobody ever thinks of a cheerful phantom. Strangely enough, considering her evident sadness. she was whistling softly to herself. over and over, some dreary little minor air that sounded like a Bohemian dirge. She glanced up quickly when l made misstep and my dishes jingled. All considered, the tray was out of the picture; the sea, the misty starlight, the girl, with her beauty-even the sad little whistle that stopped now and then to go bravely on again, as though it fought against the odds of a trembling lip. And then I came accompanied by a tray of little silver dishes that jingled and an unmistak able odor of broiled chicken.
 "Ohi" she said quickly; and then | I "Timeo what's the rest oi i it?" I asked. rendering my offering You didn't have any dinner, you know" I sat down beside her. See, i I'll be the table. What was the old fairy tale? Little goat bleat; little table appear! I'm perfectly willing to be the goat. too
 She was laughing rather tremu- iously.
 We never do meet like other peo- pie. do we?" sh. asked We really ought to shake hands and say how are you"
 q don't want to meet you like other people. and I suppose you always think of me as wearing the other fel- lows clothes I returned meekly. I'm doing it again; l don't seem to be able to help it. These are Grang- CTS that have on now"
 She threw back her head and laughed again. ioyously. this time.
 "Oh, it's so ridiculous" she said. "and you have never seen me when l was not eating! It's too prosaic.'
 Which reminds me that the chick en is getting cold, and the ice warm, I suggested At the time, l thought there could be no place better than the farmhouse kitchen-but this is. I ordered all this for something I want to say to you-the sea, the sand the stars"
 How slliterative you are," she said. trying to be flippant. You are not to say anything until I have had my supper Look how the things are spilled around"
 But she ate nothing, after all. and pretty soon I put the tray down in the sand. I said little; there was no hurry We were together. and time meant nothing against that age-long wash of the sea. The air blew her hair in small damp curls against her face, and little by little the tide re treated, leaving our boat an oasis in waste of gray sand
 "If seven maids with seven mops
 swept 1t for half year
 Do you suppose, the walrus said, that
 they could get it clear?"
 she threw at me once when she