Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1910-06-23
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doors and viewed Zelda with the in
terest that the girl always had for her.
Polly was ZeIdas slave, and she went
about half the day nuttering and
chuckling over what seemed to her
Zelda's unaccountable whims.
Polly" said Zelda, this is Julius
Caesars birthday-or Napoleon Bona
parties or the Duke of Argyle's-do you
understand"
The black woman showed all her
teeth in appreciation.
And Wen have out the candlesticks
those very high ones; and you may
use that gOld-banded china and the
real cut glass"
Polly departed chuckling and Zelda
went to her room. Her father was
reading his newspaper by the fireplace
when she came in upon his startled
gaze an hour later She had arrayed
herself in a white silk evening gown.
He had never before seen her dressed
so at their family dinner-table. The
long skirt added to her height. Her
hair was caught up from her forehead
in an exaggeratiOn of the prevailing
mode.
Good evening, father! I thought I'd
dress up tonight just for fun, and to
get the crinkles out Of my things. Isn't
this gown a perfect love? It's real
Partisan"
She swept past, the rich silk brush
ing him, and then-Polly having APP
peared at the door with her eyes star
ing from her head:
Now let US feast while we may" she
said.
She passed before him into the din
room with an inclination of her
head and to her place. The old man
had not spoken and he sat down with
painstaking care, finding apparently
some difficulty in drawing in his chair.
He bowed his head for the silent grace
he always said, and raised his eyes
with a look of sweet resignation to the
girl Nothing in the old house ever
escaped his sharp eyes. The old china
with it's gold band, and the cut glass
that had not known service for years
struck him at once.
Ezra Cameron did not understand
much about human nature, though like
all cunning people he thought he did.
1t was beginning to dawn upon him
that Zelda was deeper than he had i'm
agined. Perhaps, he said to himself,
she was as shrewd and keen as him
self; or he asked again, was she not
playing some deep role-even laying a
trap for him? He did not know that
the moods of a girl are as many as the
moods of the wind and sea. He re-
membered that his wife had been cas-
lily deceived. He had crushed the moth
er; but this girl would not so easily be
subdued. The candles made a soft
light upon the table. He lifted his
eyes furnively to see whether the gas
in the chandelier overhead was light
ed; and was relieved to note that the
extravaganza of the candles was not
augmented there. He drew his bony
fingers across the table, cloth, feeling
it's texture critically. He knew that it
had been taken from a forbidden shelf
of the linen closet. Clearly his rule
over the ancient Polly was at an end.
When they returned to the living
room he tended the fire; and when he
took up his paper nervously, from hab-
it, ne put 1t down again, and began to
talk. Almost for the first time since
Zelda's return, he showed an interest
in her foreign experiences, and led her
to speak of them. And she exerted
herself to be entertaining. He had
supposed that Mrs. Forrest would
prejudice Zelda against him during the
years in which she had kept the girl
away; but his daily scrutiny had dis
covered no trace of disrespect or con-
tempt in her attitude toward him.
1t had been on her tongue several
times to ask him boldly about the debt
of olives mother, even if it should be
necessary to confess that she had over
heard his conversation with Mrs Mar
riam; but this might cause an I'M
pleasant scene. No great haste was
necessary, she judged; and so she
waited. She could probably persuade
her aunt or uncle to help her in the
matter when the time came if no other
way should occur to her.
When she went at last to her room.
the old cedars outside her windows
were moaning softly. She found a
satisfaction in boiling her door, and
then she drew from her writing table
the little book, tied with it's faded rib
bon, and opened it to the charge her
mother had written-those last pitiful
words-and read them over and over
again, until they seemed to be audible
whispers in the room:
Perhaps 1 was unjust to him; it
may have been my fault; but if she
can respect or love him I wish it to be
So"
She lay awake staring into the dark
for half the night. with fearless eyes,
one hand clasping the little book under
her pillow.