The Colorado statesman., 1913-06-07
UNFINISHED STORY
BY JEAN DOUGLAS.


books, paper and pencils. She reread
the page just completed, made a few
corrections and began to write an
other, when a hummingbird flew into
the bower to filch the sweets from
the trumpet flowers. She watched it,
poising gracefully in the air, gorg-
ing itself with honey, not daring to
move for fear of frightening the
timid creature. When the flowers
treasure was exhausted the tiny rob
ber departed
The pretty teacher had dreamed for
years of writing romance of the
days of chivalry, but many vacations
ended with the story untold. She de-
termined to have the manuscript
ready for the publisher when Sep
tember arrived, and to accomplish
this she had sacrificed a summer
spent at the mountain cottage with
chums to come to Fairview with her
Aunt Eliza. who was deaf and not at
all companionable.
Her vacation was almost ended and
the story but half told. The thoughts
refused to form clearly, so Mary
walked to the garden and picked
bouquets for the house.
In the next garden the professor
was endeavoring to train the refrac
tory honeysuckle vines in the way
they should 60
Good morning, Miss Molly" he
called cheerily. How goes the ad-
venturous knight today?"
\
am loath to confess. In return may
ask how the translations from the
Arabian poets are progressing? Your
light still burned after midnight and
we agreed not to work later"
Il became so absorbed that our
compact was forgotten. Pardon mel"
He drew nearer to the hedge. Il
knew you were writing in the summer
house, and longed to interrupt your
work, for it is a glorious morning for
tennis, but, knowing how anxious you
are to complete the book, l bade
Satan get behind me. Noticing the
neglected tangle of vines decided to
help them to a higher plane"
But why aren't you translating this
morning? Yesterday you said we
must waste no more precious hours
or we would both return to our labors
with comparatively nothing accom-
plished."
Il must leave here sooner than l
expected. A letter came this morning
from the president of the college, re.
questing me to spend the last two
weeks with him, to discuss some
changes in my department. When
realize that only ten days remain for
me to enjoy the beauties of this place.
the Arabian poets no longer charm.
Are you going to condemn me to soli-
tary ramblings or do you prefer the
company of the tenth-century knight?"
Il dare not waste any more time in
pleasure. You can imagine how the
girls would ridicule me if | returned
without the book"
We'll, I'm off for the country club.
Goodby, and good luck to your
knight"
Mary worked furiously that after
noon, but now and again she found
herself gazing absently through the
vine-curtained door to the hills be-
yond.
At sundown her neighbor returned
and called cheerily across the hedge,
You missed packs of fun for the
sake of your knight; we had three
exciting sets and l actually won two.
Surely, you are not going to work
tonight"
Mary nodded her head in the posi-
tive. you are unkind to continually
remind me of the sacrifice / am max
ing"
There is to be a moonlight sail on
the bay and l wanted you for my
mate. That is all, he said, sadly, and
swung up the path toward the house.
She did not change her frock that
evening, for fear of changing her
mind with it, and ate such a small bit
for dinner that Aunt Eliza protested.
She strolled into the garden to take
one last look at the flowers in the
moonlight. The professor came out,
| apparently for the same reason, and
catching a glimpse of her white dress
among the tall shrubbery, he called,
Come with me! This night is too
| glorious to be spent indoors"
She felt her good resolutions crum-
BILE, like a house of cards.
wait until / get my coat" she said.
81 will 60"
Two hours later they were skim
ming over the unruffled surface of the
bay. The wind waited snatches of
songs from the other sailboats and
the professor locked the wheel and
came to Mary.
81 want to take you back with me-
he said. viii you marry me tomor-
row."
81 don't want to marry she gasped.
Yes you do" he insisted.
WELL then, there's my book"
Hang your old book" said the pro-
fessor, clasping her to his breast
The poor knight still rides through