Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

eyes dropped to the walls wooden sur
base at the stairs end. And again the
years had rolled back, and he saw him.
self a child Of five or six, lying there upon
the floor, with a little white skirt but
toned to little white waist. spattered with
blood from ragged cut where. in falling
down those stairs, his chubby chin had
come in sharp and forceful contact with
the edge of that mopboard.
Garden drew his hand across his eyes As
though he would brush away the scene
and began slowly to mount the stairs. At
the top of the fight. to the rear. was
what was known as the sitting room. His
recollection of it, as it had existed in his
childhood, was much more clearly defined
than his recollection of the parlor; and,
because he had spent the better part OF
his days there, the memories that clus-
tered about it were more numerous and
varied. 1t was here that he could see his
mother most clearly. This window was
hers; and there, at the farther one, his
father was wont 10 sit in the mornings
before breakfast. reading the newspaper.
And in the early evenings. before the
childs bedtime, his father sat there, too,
smoking his pipe and again reading the
newspaper.
The room was very different now. of
course, but not so different as the parlor.
because. though the furniture was not the
same, there was still much the same at
mosphere Of domestic comfort, He saw a
wOmans work basket on a little wicker
table between the windows, and. lying
beneath it, boys blue-and- white striped
pajama jacket, which had evidently been
undergoing mendns. A newspaper lay,
as if suddenly dropped. in the seat of 4
low, comfortabie-looking rocking chair.
and sthere We're some new books, novels.
with freshly cut leaves on a center table,
under a green-shaded droplight
Against the wall opposite the window
was a piano, and Garden stopped to read
the title on the sheet Of music which
was propped upon the rack 1t was a
new arrangement of the familiar Con
slider the lilies Of the field and it brought
back a long-forgotten childish error Of
sung in church. had subsequently had his
mother repeat to him the words, and
had puzzled for days as to why lilies
should be expected TO whrl-for so he had
mentally translated "spn'-and as to just
Solomon was not one, and lily was.
He smiled as he recalled his puerile mis-
conception, and then frowned little be-
cause the piano was occupying sacred
spot. To this place belonged a long hair
cloth upholstered sofa, with curved ends
of rich mahogany, which could with facii-
ity, be transformed at an instant's notice
into a great numbering stage coach,
drawn by four horses. A hundred times
or more he had driven such a coach,
with imaginative passengers trusting their
lives to his handling of lines and brake;
and a hundred times and more he had,
with all the marvellous power OF the
legendary fairies, changed hassocks into
valses and handed them down from his
perch to alighting travellers.
And the stage coach, having become a
sofa once more, made such a convenient
mapping place for tired father, whose
habit it was to throw himself down there
on returning from his Office. doing
sometimes until dinner was announced,
when mother would kneai beside him and
kiss him to Weakening.
He wondered whether the bathroom
was in its old place back of the sitting
room. No. it was not likely. The mod
ernizing MANIA must have changed that
transferred it nearer to the bed chambers
The door was still there in the old place.
He would investigate what was beyond
And so deciding. he crossed the floor, and,
softly turning the knob, pushed the door
gently ajar. To his delight he found it
really little altered. There was a new
bath tub Of course-a porcelain cnameled
affair having replaced the old zinc-lined
tub in which he had been lathered and
scrubbed as an infant-but it occupied the
same place; and there Tas stove in the
room, too. as there used to be- And--the
explorer hlinked his eyes and looked
hard at an object standing to the right of
the doorway. Then he closed his eyes
for moment, fancying that his sight was
playing him tricks. but when he opened
them once more the object was still there
"a prancying hobby-horse, covered with
natural horsehide and having real horse
hair name and tail. Oh, no, it could not
be the same! That was impossible. But