The wageworker., 1910-04-22
MALINDA'S
HOMECOMING
By NELLIE cRAVEY GILMORE
Copyright, 1909 by Associated Literary
Press.)

Copyright. 1909 by Associated Literary
Press.)
Malinda arrived at the decision
abruptly; she would go home that
night. Jack Cottrells declaration OF
love the night before had, presumably
been the eye-opener to her position !;
In reality 1t was the climax of grad
ual disillusionment.
She had been living in a fictitious at.
mosphere that daily was growing
more fiat and intolerable to her sensi.
lively constructed temperament. At
first the open prominence and success
she had achieved in her work had ex-
hilarated her; now she was beginning
to suffer the inevitable depression of
the aftermath.
Yes. she would leave New York
(and her career) thassnight. To be
exact, she would taAts the seven
o'clock train that woHM put her in
her home town at five In the morning.
At first she thought Of. .telegraphing;
then she decided to surprise them all
How would they receive her? She
had deliberately gone against her
family's wishes In this move, and re-
fused stubbornly, during the months
that followed, to listen to their persua-
sions to return home.
And Billy? Had she ceased alto
gether to occupy a place in his
thoughts? For time he had written
to her regularly, until only an occa-
sional line found its way to her ad-
dress, and by and by did not come at
all. Malinda sighed as she packed
her trunk with trembling fingers, and
every little while paused to dash the
mist from her eyes.
Promptly at 6:45 she bought her
ticket and boarded the train. She
spent a restless night, and reached
her destination more nervous and de-
pressed than she cared to admit, even
to herself. But as she quilted the
stuffy car and walked swiftly down
the avenue toward her old home, she
felt the heaviness lift magically from
her feet, and the buoyant blood begin
to pulse through her veins.
Avondale was sparkling in the pale,
pink dawn. On every side, the rose
gardens were languid with bloom. and
the verandas hung with curtains of
wistaria. Malinda paused a second
with her hand on the gate latch, q
swarm of uncomfortable emotions sud-
denly upon her. But she calmed her.
self in a moment, and passed through
into the wide, shell path that curled
itself picturesquely among the flower
beds. up to short flight of stone
steps.
She ran quickly up to the door, and
fumbled in her bag for her latch key.
The high, paneled door yielded in
stantly, swinging back on noiseless
hinges under her light touch.
Inside. everything looked familiar
enough. The same highly polished
floors gave back her image as she
glanced down; there lay the identical
rich old rugs of oriental patterns, scat
tered about among the antique chairs:
the self-same masterpieces, hung sus-
pended from the frescoed walls; the
statuary stood just where it had
stood on the night she went away.
With a deep-drawn breath that
sounded surprisingly like a sigh Of
relief in her own ears. she threw her
self into a chair to collect her tumultu-
ous thoughts before proceeding to her
own room.
After all, she reflected, it was a
whole lot better to be at home-home.
with her own people-than to be
sticking it out" alone among strang-
ers, whatever the glory and profit.
She was one of the few who had made
the venture a winning one; yet had
she been repaid for all she had missed
in the intervening time? Strange she
had been SO utterly unconscious of the
"aching void" until now in the flush
Of Joy over her Homecoming. And
again she began to torment herself
phant results she was bringing home
to her parents would in any measure
compensate for her obstinacy.
Suddenly whole regiment Of
clocks from here, there and every
where began to strike six, and innum-
cradle whistles shrieked the hour in
various notes of warning.
Malinda started up in alarm, and,
quietly crossing the length of the
hallway, moved with half-hesitant
steps up the deep, carved and carpet
ed stairway. The door of her sitting
room stood ajar, and she entered
noiselessly, depositing her bag and
parasol on the familiar, spider legged
table that held the student lamp.
For the moment a rush of feeling
dimmed her eyes so that she could
not see, but she pulled herself togeth-
er quietly and glanced critically about
the room, noting, with little heart
throb, that nothing, apparently, had
been disturbed Everything was just
as she had left it-every picture and
book. She bent toward the reading
table with a swift rise and ebb of
color Her own photograph, the one