The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1910-03-31
THE EVENING STORY
On Counting Night.
DIV Edith Gray.l

/ ABOVE IN the shadows, the author
was speaking softly to the other board
er. The other boarder was an artist,
| and the author and he seemed always
to have great deal to say to one
another. They often came to the lit
| tie Miller farm to spend care-free
week ends. undisturbed by obtrusive
critics and condescending art pa
irons, and tonight, as was their GUS
tom. they tipped their chair legs back
against the shingles, their feet
| stretching out toward the piazza rail,
! their eyes searching the stars beyond.
Below on the steps, sat the pretty
daughter of farmer Miller, gorgeous
/ in the panoply of counting evenings,
her soft hair, of mornings SO allur-
| ing in the careless disarray of gold
brown strands careSsing slender neck
knotted in = tight, awkward wad;
and the soft house dress, which US
ually chung so prettily about her
shapely, little figure, displaced by
was counting evening, and she sat
! primly upon the steps, complacently
conscious of the Importance of the
occasion and of her own immaculate
Miller were troubled, and a frown
puckered the usual serenity of her
sun Drowned forehead.
Was it, after all, she pondered, SO
wonderful a thing 60 be loved and
wooed by young Dave Stetson? Of
course, he was handsome and rich, in
his own account, and richer still in
anticipation of greater things, for
some day he would be the sole owner
of the old Stetson place, with its wealth
of barns and greenhouses, its eXpanse
of sun kissed hills and rich brown
meadow land. 1t is true, however,
that he might have had Nellie Wharf
ton, the Justices daughter, or pretty
Mary Howard, for the asking. Nellie
had been away to school and Mary's
father, part owner of The big Howard
mills man whose wealth and
influence were in no way to be scOrned.
Yet, for all that, David had turned
to her, despite the greater attractions
of wealth ana beauty. Tonight, with
in ear shot of the softly modulated
voice of the writer man and the an
swering echo of his friends sympa-
thetic understanding, the eyes of Lis
beth Miller were troubled and the
frown. deep puckering, defied the
calm tranquility of the summer stars.
She could hear, plainly, every word
of the author. though he was sub
timely unconscious of her presence,
hidden as she was behind the piazza
pillar. He was speaking strange, in
comprehensive words, socialism,
anarchy, democracy and the tyranny
of the powers. But it was not the
words, or their import, it was the
voice, with its peculiar richness, it's
strange risings and fallings, its num-
erous subtle infections that held and
thrilled her inmost being. David
might say, ct love you, 7 love you, 1
love YOU, a thousand times, but his
passionate outpourings could not
move her ona-haIf as much as the ut
terances of this strange creature, cold
and impersonal as he was. She
thought, "He must see that I am
pretty! Perhaps in time- Her
cheeks famed scarlet under their rich
Wen, she would wait. The writer
and his less prepossesslng friend would
be returning from time to time, dur
II -, @1.or- oh
have ample time to think it over, and
sufficient occasion to impress the writer
with her unsurpassed week day dex-
terity and her .woudrouss Sunday
sp1endor.
There was the cerise silk that Aunt
Sabina had left her. She would wear
that one day-and grandmother Mil
ler's black jet necklace and earrings
should be called upon in time of ne
cessity. She knew that the women
in the great city were beautiful, but
she would show this man that she
could cope with any fair damsel or
the far metropolis.
She patted her pink Bingham
thoughtfully and lifted her hand APP
provingly to the shapeless couture
above. Then her chin rose in proud
determination Yes, she would ten
meet him when the front gate clicked
and inform him of the fact that there
could be no more counting, no more
mer afternoons no more winter con-
fidences over the open fire. The
thing should lie ended at once and
for all time.
brain was 7azzled with the thought
of the tall slender man, with his
keen, well chiseled features and far
seeing but frankly impersonal eyes,
heavy. but regularly nodded, its dark
eyes overshadowed by a shock of
wavy hair, thrust itself persistently
upon her.
Yes, David was handsome, and big, |
and kindly, and he knew how to turn
a pretty compliment. She recalled
the night Of the dance in Evans's
barn. It was two years ago that he
Yesterday. So pleasant had been the |
time of counting. There was sud |
den throb of fiddle in her ears, the
scrape of many feet upon bare, swept |
boards. the sweet, punlg I, odor OF
swinging high from the rafters, and |
jack-o'-lanterns grinning, fantastic, |
from far corners. And then mighty |
beating of heart as Dave, having lured !
her beyond the great doors, spoke to
her beneath the stars.
"Your eyes are very big he had |
said simply, and there Is light in
"Your eyes are very big and there |
is light in tnem," Gould the writer |
man do better?
Yes, yes; a thousand times: yes!
For If David, with no schooling at |
all, could say such things, what might |
this other man express, with his list |
unreasonable of magic words, the |
more remarkable that they were but
half understood?
Surely. even after this review of
old. surging memories, for all that the
past had been so sweet, her decision
was made, and irrevocably. For,
org,,;po with woman.s logic if the
past had been pleasant with a man
iil~e David. what would the future be,