Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-06-23
THE EVENING STORY.
Golden Eyes.
BY E. EVERETT GREEN.

DR.. Dane walked to and fro in his gar
| den. 1t was a clear, soft evening In
| May. He had come home from his rounds
some while ago. How strange to him
was this large leisure of his country
practice. after the whirl and night and
day calls on his time of those strenuous
| years in London,
He was only forty, but he looked older,
| for he had never spared himself until
| bad breakdown about year ago had
| decided him to accept country practice
where his work would be light.
At that very juncture a modest for
| tune had Unexpectedly come to him.
So he looked about him, bought coun-
try practice from retiring medical man.
| took over his house. and added long
! bungalow annex to it. with wide veran-
| das. where he could find either sunshine
| or shade as he desired. and settle down
| to life, not of idleness-that he would
| have hated-but of le;surely toll, varied
! by intervals of pleasant leisure. He was
not dependent patients. but he had a
| gave his services gladly and ungrudging-
| ly TO the poor among the laborers and
! cottagers
1t was a peaceful. pleasant life. and
lvor Dane was happy in it in a meas
ure: but now that the strain of ardu-
| Gus work had ceased, he was oppressed
| from time to time by a sense of great
| loneliness; longing after some Of the
sweetesns of life which had never been
| his.
And upon this sweet golden spring
evening a wave of loneliness seemed
sweeping over him. perhaps because the
peaceful hush of happy world about
| him brought back such vivid remem-
| brance of that spring and summer when
| he himself was a young lover. when he
Went Woolng his mate in all the pride of
! his strong young manhood; when he be-
| lieved that he had but to make his way
little further. and those lovely golden
| eyes. which lighted and shone a his
approach. those hands confidently out
stretched in greeting and welcome-would
! be his very own. For he had been so
sure that Ruth loved him But he was
poor, and she had no dowry.
And he had gone-''to make his crown
pound. like the lover of the sweet
old ballad. And in his absence misfor-
tune had fallen upon Ruth's parents.
and the old story repeated itself. He
| had never blamed her; for she had
promised him nothing. and doubtless
the parents she loved so we'll had put
unconscious pressure upon her.
Ny fayther urged me. sar;
My mother did ma speak:
But she looked into me face
I'LL me heart was like to tbreak.
| old song breathed out from the signing
| pine trees behind. Well, well. all that
was long past now. A good twelve
years since sweet Ruth married. and
| "Clfp-clop. clip-clop, clip-clop," a
horse was trotting down the lane which
ran behind his house. and Dr. Dane
could see farmer he knew riding along
from market, and perched up in front
of him was a little, brown-ha haired boy
in wide sailor hat.
,he Hello w Dec" &c, cried the man; You
word with you. and if il doesn't suit
you to take him home along by-and-by
send round to me and I'll get him taken
| overlook him on the tramp to a kind
doctor what folks all talked about
Shall | hand him over, and he'll tell
! you all about it?'
m just going to have my tea. The
yoMngster can take it with me
me youngster was smiling all over
very. attractive and very squarely
built face; square, wide brow. with
curling brown hair shading it, But it
was the eyes which held DR.. Danes
him the while. Those golden-broWn
eyes. holding sunbeams enmeshed.
| Those upcurved lashes, giving such ex-
preston pres ii to the glance-sometimes arch,
| sometimes merry, sometimes curiously
| before?'
All, How well he knew. How it all
walked up the path beside him. toward
the broad veranda where the tea had
utes he had seen ali those familiar ex
pressions chasing themselves over the
| child face.
II SAY, say. what ripping place. cried
Sonny w.
"Oh;. say. but how do you know my
rs that YOUR name,"
Well its what mother calls me. NV
real name s funny one. It's the
name nam of friend of mothers what she
was very fond Of. It's Ivor. I say.
you've broken that plate And your
Dig dogs eating all the cake" The
cnlid went off into an explosion of
together.
Now. Sonny. tell me what has
brought YOU here todayr'
,r Ihe child's face grew suddenly grave.
ne SoIden eyes grew Wistful troubled
serious.
It's about my mother I've come" he
said. with manner far older than his
years. mo
rs she illr asked Dane hastily
And he sounded the table gong as he
| spoke. The dog cart round in twenty
minutes. was his order. then his ewes
turned m1,: back to the boy.
very well. She coughs at night. and
her eyes hurt her when she does her
beautiful work"
DO you mean your mother has TO
work for a living"
Tears gathered in the little bows
eyes.
If l was only grown UP she should
never, never work. Oh, that wicked
man."
What man. Sonny
Him that took care of the money
when daddy died. He said to me.
You must take care of your mother
and I've always taken care of her.
though l was only quite little when
daddy died. But man had the money
to take care OF, and he ran away, and
then everything was sold, and mother
came and lived in the little cottage.
and she does beautiful work, and peo-
pie buy it. But she gets so tired, and
she won't have a doctor. cause she
says that costs SO much money, and
they tell you to do things that she
can't do The little fellow moved
up nearer to Ivor, and he drew from
his pocket small leather bag, and
out of his bag he poured sundry small
coins.
And then somebody told me there
| was a nice. kind doctor over here. who
didn't want a lot of money And I've
got some money Of my very own. and
/ thought -
Finish you tea, Sonny" spoke Iyor