Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1910-03-19

Now the place must be sold. Dorinda
wanted to so away before it happened.
Early one March morning she climb
ed into the stage and saw her one
trunk tumbled into the seat beside the
driver. The woman who had stayed
with her locked the door OF the house
and walked along the path beside the
rumbling stage and talked to Dorinda.
AS they passed Gilbert Fane's big
lot next to the Cedar House Dorinda
saw a gang Of men digging into the
brown turf. what are they doing?"
she asked.
That's the foundation for GIL
Fane's new house." interpolated the
stage driver.
AS they rolled through the village
toward the railroad station DOrinda
waved her hand TO the few friends
she cared for and a little later was
whirling away in the train toward the
city.
Dorinda did not seek employment
In the shops or factories, nor did she
attempt any work that she did not
thoroughly understand, She found
position as domestic in a, small house
hold and thus Immediately was in pos
session of home and good wages.
To her surprised mistress she explain
ed the situation: Il have no time to
learn new trade. 1 must earn money
and buy hack my old home. Being
your cook cannot harm me. 1 shall
always be what I am said Dorinda
proudly.
The neighbor who had stayed with
Dorinda after the old uncles died
wrote to her occasionally, and after
awhile she told, as Il reluctantly, Of
certain piece of news.
cit is said that Gilbert Fame is soon
to be married. Nobody knows just who
the girl is, but they say she is from
Middle Village. He has built a fine
house on his lot. 1t is called the
Naples"
Dorinda laid the letter aside and
went about her household tasks with
a strange pressure on her heart
The Mapies-how bright and sun
shiny that sounded. She knew how
strong and vigorous the naples grew
in Gilbert's new dooryar5-just like
Gilbert himself-protecting and shield
ing, letting the warmth of the sun
ohl4c GilCA lhEOuSn ulOn uCI SidINtO
existence.
AS the spring advanced Dorinda
grew restless. under the close confine-
ment of city life, and she thought
wistfully of the budding countryside
where she had always lived.
When she could no longer withstand
the call Dorinda begged a holiday and
took late afternoon train for Little
River. Dusk was falling when the
train drew into the familiar station.
and, pulling her veil closely about her
face that she need not be recognized
by old acquaintance, Dorinda hurried
down the long yellow road toward the
Cedar House. If some one was living
there she mighc stay among the trees
for few minutes, inhale their fra
GRANGE and listen to the throbbing call
of the whippoorwill back on the hill
side. After that she could catch the
evening train to town.
If the house was vacant she would
steal inside and spend one night among
the old familiar rooms. now empty
and untenanted save by memories.
Dorinda uttered stifed sob as she
came near the house and saw the cedar
trees pointing black against the even
ing sky. She passed Gilbert Fane's
new house without noting the bright
lights in the windows. Home was be-
fore her, the only home she had ever
known.
Up the familiar path under the ee-
dars and then-nothing Dorinda star
ed with unbelieving eyes at the empty
hole in the ground vaguely outlined in
the semidarkness. Where was the Ce-
daE House? What had become of her