Abbeville progress. (Abbeville, Vermilion Parish, La.) 1913-1944, 1913-08-16


trailing strings and long
straws after them; from the back
pOrches Of the fats were loud, awak-
ing, tinny sounds. breaking the long
silence. The clank of the cable-cars
was borne over the roofs, clearly now
in the damp, heavy atmosphere; from
somewhere came the jingle OF a street
piano. Floating down the mild after
noon came the deep, mellow note OF
some big propeller, loOsing her winter
moorings at last and rousing to greet
the tug that would tow her out of the
narrow river. Kelley, the policeman,
strolled along the sidewalk, with his
hands locked behind him, his nose In
the air. shifting eagerly and pleasur-
ably. He had left off his skirted over
coat. and changed his clumsy cap for
his helmet
Annie had sat at her window all the
afternoon. but. as the spring day wore
toward its close, she began to realize
that only the melancholy and none OF
the promise Of this first spring day
had touched her. She had thrown
open the window, to test the quality
of the air. Now and then warm
breath came wandering in of the
prairies, though when It met the cold,
persistent wind from the lake, 1t hesi-
tated. and timidly turned back. But
Annie would not let herself doubt that
the spring had come. She knew that
in time the prairie wind would WOO
its way until II would be playing with
the waves of the lake itself, the little
waves that danced all day, blue and
white, in the sunshine. And then the
summer would come, and on Sunday
afternoons Jimmy would take her out
TO Lincoln Park and they would have
their supper at Fishers Garden.
Leadam street was dull enough on
week days; on Sundays 1t was wholly
mournful.
Once Annie saw a woman, with a
shawl over her head and tin bucket
in her hand, go into Englehardts
place, down the street. The woman
went in furtively, and brushed hastily
through the Family Entrance"
though why could not be told. She
went there nearly every hour of every
day. Then Annie was left alone. She
did not turn inward to the fat; that
was too still and lonesome, and II was
growing dark now, as the shadows
gathered. She heard the strenuous
gongs OF the cable-cars over in State
street. and she could imagine the
ND haI
day, that filed them. clinging even to
the running boards. She might have
gone out and been with them, as ev-
cry one else in the street seemed to
have done, but she would not for
worlds have been away from home
when Jimmy came. She heard the
Jingle of the street piano, too; she
wished it would come down that way.
She would gladly have emptied her
purse for the Dago.
II was not unusual for Annie to be
left alone, and she had grown used to
ft-almost; as used as a woman can
even the wife of politician
Jimmy has told her that she must not
worry at any of his absences; an
alderman could never tell what might |
detain him. She had but vague no
tion of the things that might detain |
an alderman. though she had no doubt |
Of their importance. At times she |
thought she felt an intimate little
charm in the importance that thus re-
fiected. itself upon her, but, neverthe- |
less. D r heart was never quite easy |
until she heard Jimmy's step on the |
stair and his key in the latch, and |
then-joy came to the little fat, and |
stayed there, trembling and fearful,
until he went away again. She had |
grown to be so dependent on Jimmy.
Ever since she had been graduated |
from the convent his great, strong
personality had stood between her and |
the world, so that. as her girlhood had
merged into womanhood, she had
hardly recognized the change, and she
remained a girl still, alone but for
him; he was her whole life She had |
doubted his entrance into politics at
first, just as she had doubted his 60
ing into the saloon business, though
she scarcely understood either in their
various significances. Father Daugh-
erty had told her she was a fortunate
girl to have Jimmy for husband and
that had been enough. Her only OBJ
lection was that politics seemed to
keep Jimmy away from home oftener
than the old work in the packing
house used to; she had trembled at It
at times, and at times had grown a
little frightened. His success In poll
tics had pleased her, Of course. and |
made her proud. but 1t could not have
made her prouder of him than she
had been. He was all-sufflcient for
her; no change could make any differ
ence. without Jimmy, what
could she have done? He had never
been gone so long before: here It was
Sunday evening; he had left at eleven
o'clock Saturday morning; there was
to be an extra session of the council
Saturday night, an unusual thing. and
she had not been surprised when she
awoke to find that II was Sunday
morning-and that Jimmy had not
come.
The morning wore away, and she
had made all the arrangements for
the dinner she would have awaiting