The Penn's Grove record., 1911-12-01
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A Vagabond Dreamer
By o DOUGLAS

Literary Press.)
while he struggled against the tu-
multi In his heart This witch had
breathed on hidden chords; he felt
strangely unaccountable for his &C
tons, his words.
you are tired" he said finally.
and little girls should be in bed at
this time of night. Comet"
But Molly Ashwell stood still and
looked down at the arms extended to
lift her from the step, then her eyes
travelled up to the face on which the
light shone full.
DO you know" she stated. that
you look very much like Uncle
Gray?"
Blair turned swiftly from the glare
of the lamp. "Come!" he said, and
his voice held a note of command.
With a little hurt look in her eyes
Molly put out her hands. For a
breathing spell the universe seemed
hung in midair. Molly tore herself
free then and fled in the darkness.
Blair watched her go, a moonbeam
darting from path TO path and finally
into the old rose garden and up the
great stone steps between the guard
ing lions and out of his sight through
the French windows.
For a long moment he sat staring
at the windows through which she
had gone. Finally he arose, unteth-
cred his horses, hitched them to the
arava and drove off into the night.
"She is too wonderful" his lips re-
peated. 81 could not Withstand her
long"
Three years came and went before
Molly Ashwell and the Vagabond
Dreamer met, three years in which
her eyes had worn a peculiar, brood
ing look-a look which John Gray
had tried in vain to fathom or to
tighten.
you are not SO happy looking
yourself" she had chided him on one
occasion.
He had grown a shade paler.
Il have cause-a terrible cause for
being miserable-but l deserve it"
was all he had said.
She glanced quickly at him now as
they sat in the theater. The curtain
went up on a new play. The scene
was an interior.
1T is almost exactly like I'LL draw
ing room!" exclaimed Molly breath
lessly and waited for confirmation of
her words.
John Gray neither answered nor
seemed conscious of her presence.
AS the play progressed Molly felt
the peculiar tension that held John
Gray. After a spasmodic clutch of
the hands on the chair arms. he re-
manned as n turned to stone.
The play was the old, old story Of
the son who had fr%equented the stage
doors and had been turned away from
home by an irate parent. In this case
the son had lived in the theatrical
atmosphere merely as a stepping
stone. He had run away from home
to go on the stage that he might gain
intimate knowledge of stagecraft.
The strong plot woven in this fabric
was neither here nor there except
that at the close of the last act the
author was called forth.
He came from the wings.
MY son!"
John Gray sprang to his feet and
held out a pair of shaking arms to-
ward the nan on the stage.
my Vagabond Dreamer!" came a
girls voice through the hush that
followed the meeting Of father and
son.
Regardless of the excited audience,
the two men met and the older man
clasped the other in his arms as if
he was still a very small boy.
Finally the quiet tones of the vaga-
bond went out to answer that I'm
asked question.
my father and l have been long
estrangedII am too happy to say
more, except that l thank you for re-
ceiving my play SO kindly"
During the thunder of applause
that followed a slim little figure
slipped quickly out of the theater and
into the great limousine that crept
up to the curb at her call.
Her heart was beating painfully In
dull, miserable beats.
Nobody loves me-" she wept softly
into the kindly cushions.
She sat huddled and broken, neither
seeing nor hearing the excited crowd
that came forth from the theater.
1t seemed ages before the two men.
arm in arm appeared. Molly dried
her y e hastily and peered out as
they approached.
The younger man glanced at the
car. Then Molly saw his hand go up
to shade his eyes. He made a quick
movement.
She was very near him and the
limousine had turned into a darkened
street when next she heard his voice
Mine! All mine," he whispered
against her lips.
Can we go in the c~aravan?" Molly
asked by way of answer to his oues
ton of a moment later.