Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1910-02-04
THE LOVE
THAT DID
lOriginal.]

together. 1t was one OF those rare
April mornings so full OF possiDln-
ties and OF varying suggestion, ac-
cording to ones mood. To me the
softening freshness OF the air was
exhilarating, the deep blue OF the
sky told Of hopes unfathomable, and
the occasional touch of the maple
seed wings, as they fell from the
blossoming branches above, were ike
gentle oft repeated kisses from ram
iliar lips. knew my companion to
be a thoughtful appreciator OF nat
ure, and one whose eyes were ever
open to her beauties. but on this oc-
casion he seemed TO be depressed,
and when | attempted TO turn into
a short street, sort or DyWay cut
ting off a block or SO OF our Journey
he almost roughly cut me on, tread
ing on my newly polished shoes in
his determination 10 keep Oh In
straight route. little surprised l
fell back into step again, wondering
SO positive in his objection TO my
fayorite route. Perhaps he remark
ed my momentary silence, at any
rate, he looked up into my face pre-
sently and said:
For years | have gone down TO
my Office by Spruce street until six
months ago. | don't go that way
row. because OF the haunted house!'
Haunted house," I repeated. Il
didn't know there was one, or, with
a look abroad at the general alive
ness of the scene. Il thought ghosts
walked only at midnight"
He smiled a little at the idea OF
the conventional ghost stalking about
on a shining April morning. Ny
ghost" be said. lis the most pitiful
OF specters, a sad child. | have
known him since tabyhood, not as
ghost. but the jolliest sort OF roll
licking boy, the pride OF his easy
going father and the darling OF his
proud spirited. intense mother.
have assisted at the festivities on
every one OF his birthdays, | think.
and / have watched the evolution OF
his home from a plain, coy little
place 70 the more pretentious house
It. - now. know every room almost
3s we'll as my little ghost knows
them. 10 whom each and every cor
ner was a part or his happy He II
makes ne homesick 70 think Of his
own particular den, crammed with
precious things no money could buy.
There were tho bow and arrows 10
tamember that summer in Canada oy;
the flags bought on Dewey day. the
first one, the Cuban gun and the nre-
mans helmet, the musty-looklng
pair of cows horns, brought home
from the vacation on the farm, the
Indian arrow heads and the steam
engine. Then there was the table
in the corner Uttered with cherished
paint boxes, scrap books, marbles,
campaign buttons and almost any
thing you could mention, all thrown
down In the happiest and most con-
yenient confusion. That room was
his particular domain, but the whole
house was his, and every room bore
some sure sign OF the boy in the
house And the yard!
Perhaps II the people who live
there now would paint the house so
as to cover the marks Of his heels on
the porch railing and cut down the
apple tree that stands at the corner
inst where / can see the board seat
in its crotch, or, II they would take
down the flagstaff from off the back
fence, perhaps after while, II they
would do some Of these things, the
ghost would cease 10 haunt the place.
None OF these changes had been
made when | CHANGED one day TO
pass there about twilight, and the
poor little ghost sat there on the top
step OF the piazza. his hands clasped
about his knees and his chin resting
on them. His cap was pushed back
on his head Just as the boy used to
wear II, but the look In his eyes was
one the boy had never worn. / hes
itated a moment, and then hurried
on with an ache In my throat and a
queer, uncanny feeling that had
seen a ghost.
"a few weeks after that I happen
| cd to be in New York. In the office
OF the hotel, where men were stand
| ing about In groups or hurrying In
and out. bent on their own affairs, |
saw across the big rotunda my little
ghosts father. He was big and blon-
3 de. and healthy looking as ever, but
[ noticed that he was not mingling
with the crowd, and that In all that
busy world he seemed to have no
mart. | ventured little nearer and
caught the same look In his eyes that
had seen In the eyes of the little
ghost on the veranda. While ! stood
tncre he took a leather case out OF
his pocket absently as II he had done
II great many times. and though
he did not hold 1t, just held 1t in his
hand. knew II was the boys pic
ture.
81 reached home the next day and
I'm the evening called at the apart
! ment where the boys mother lives.
When I entered she rose to greet ME
With something OF the old gracious,
cordial manner, but there again. In
the smile and eyes. was the look
had grown so familiar with. We sat
and talked awhile and then the boy
/ himself came in. He had grown tall
and was no longer rollicking. lie
camo across the room to speak to
me. but could see that the meeting
reant nothing to him, and presently
be sat down and began to read. There
was no heart In the reading. either
for before left surprised the same
look In his eyes. as be Eat looking
idly out into the darkened street.
You thought the boy had d.ed
you say! No. 70; nothing OF th'
sort. It was love in the home tha
died. And the ghost? Well, PER
haps that was loves too.
.sNo tho hoy "a alive. They didn