New-York tribune., 1912-03-17

And your hair has become very white,
And yet you necessarily stand on your head
Do you think at your age it is right"
she quoted mirthfully. "Thats exactly
what they're always saving to me. Merry;
though they are a trihe more tactful about
| it,"
Merry tossed her sleek head a bit to show
that she was listening, and Miss Penelope
cantered on, her heart a little lighter already,
through the vivid spring sunshine. Thcn
! young green Of the trees was all about her,
the ground was lush and springy under
Mcrrys feet and the country rolled away
| Iinvitingly before hcr-hcrs for the taking.
! The road was almost articulate in its prom
iscS, its lure to follow beyond all known
| bounds, perhaps TO the "NcvcT Never Land.
As she dwelt idly on the phrase her mind
slipped back to the place where she had seen
| it last, and a single line of the same poem
came to stand out vividly against the back
ground of her memory;
Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost
and waiting for you. Go!
What an insistcnt ring the words held!
How they might prod one away from placid,
usual, daily occupations on to seek the un-
discovered the unattaincd How they must
push the seeker forward, holding him un-
sparinglv to his task, cheering him with the
promise of a treasure waiting for him alone!
Such a field OF thought was as unfamiliar to
| Miss Penelope as was the April road before
| her; but today she Travelled it with the same
abandon that made her give free rein to the
mare. The habits of a lifetime were begin
ming TO gall her and her heart to keep time
with the ripping undcrtonc OF the spring
chorus The age that Josephine had thrust
upon her dropped from her spirit like the
dried calvX Of a flower, leaving only poig-
nant longing for someone to enjoy HE with
her But, though alone, she rode gallantIy
on, light hand on Mcrry's neck and her
eyes searching the road ahead.
And suddenly that harmless country road
| did a most astonishing thing. With one
wet. splashv leap it cleared tiny, Drawing
stream and landed almost in the middle OF a
miniature meadow, with miniature rocks
and little, straight miniature pines scattered
! all about it, But the miniature meadow be-
| came unimportant in the eyes Of Miss Penc-
| lope when she saw that on the other SIDE OF
| it rose the hills that she had laughlngly
| threatened 10 cross. And, more, that
! friendly, incomprchcnSble road was wcnd-
| ing its way up through them as II 1t knew
| quite confidently where II was gong, but
! had already forgotten lndl II ndu COIL
panion. So Miss Penelope, who in all her
proper. rvcntional thirty-cight years had
never gone SO far unattended, nor yielded to
one impulse that was not perfectly correct
and accountable, lifted her bride and started
eagerly after the road.
1t led her by devious, winding ways
among the hllsdcs, lush green and starred
with late violcts, with here and there the
CLINT of early buttcrcups; through little
groves of pines, spilled down the slantcd
border of the road; past huge, unfamiliar
bouldcrs that seemed to have paused there
to rest in some century long journey. And
still the road climbed and climbed and
twisted and turned, until just short OF the
summit it seemed to consider that II had
reached an appropriate place to turn and
! look back, and it accordingly did so. Miss
! Penelope and Merry, a little out OF breath,
followed suit, and looked out over miles Of
rolling meadow land, cut by the green fringe
! of the road they had travelled. And nearer
were the hills. falling away in terrace after
terrace Of soft green below them, showing
clear before the faint, sunlit haze that vcilcd
the distance An crrant friSky breeze fluitcd
! Miss Pcnelopcs smooth hair, and bird IN
nest nearby stirred softly and lifted up lis
voice in the tinicSt tentative tTlll.
| E,- ,,,q,,- minutes Miss pCTClGDc sat