The Kansas City sun. (Kansas City, Mo.) 1908-1924, 1914-10-17

N@1N WI 80 - ~ ~
way. But what had he done? Moth
ing. That was just 1t; he was only a
boy and couldn't understand. But
what was there to understand, except
that she hated him?
She went up to her room at last,
and then she crouched down by the
window and cried in earnest. Pres
emily a slight squeaking sound inside
the chimney made her tiptoe over to
the stove. 1t had not been lit since
the warm weather began, a month be-
fore. Something like a mouse was
%squeaking and s%currying behind the
place where the stovepipe sntered.
Frank Barton, at the end of the
piazza, saw the girls shadow thrown
on the lawn. He was not going to
look UP at her. But he looked up, and
saw that she had pulled the %stovepipe
from its place and was bending over
something.
She's found a mouse's nest" he
thought, and a wave of disgust surged
over him. He had heard the little
beasts scurrying to and fro at night.
He had thought of pulling out the pipe
and drowning them. How like a girl!
He almost hated Ida then. He
hoped she had not been angry with
him because-because she guessed!
The shame Of that would make him
hang his head the rest of his days.
He saw Ida clearly again, a pale young
woman whose twin pigtails had
changed into fluffy, straw-colored hair.
He did not even want to take another
girl to the picture show now.
Aren't o getting cold, Frank?
It's turning quite chilly" said his
mother, from the window of the liv-
ing room.
II guess not" he answered.
Shall l light the fire In the stove?"
she asked.
He hesitated. Yes, it might warm
up the house, he answered.
The boy was in his room and it was
morning. He leaned over the window
sill. Underneath a lilac tree was be-
ginning to blossom and the scent came
up to him. The world was very fair
that soft spring morning. Why was
his heart aching SO?
In the next house, but shut off as
by a thousand leagues, was Ida. Some
times she would lean from her win
dow and wave a good morning to
him, and he looked for today. But
there was no sign of her.
She's still mad at me- he thought,
and the old sense of resentment be-
gan to stir in him again.
Suddenly he heard a sound of sob
bling. 1t came from the next house.
He heard it through the chimney, and
put his mouth to the stovepipe.
"Ida!" he called. "Idal Ida!"
There was no answer, and he went
downstairs. He stood beneath the H.
lac tree. The beauty of nature
seemed suddenly to have become &C.
cursed and dreary. He leaned against
the trunk and idly plucked a spray of
lilac. Then he saw a girl coming
along the piazza and went toward her,
a little sheepishly, not yet decided in
what spirit to approach her. But he
saw the tears in her eyes, and his
heart leaped with And in
her hand she vas carrying some
thing. She held it out Indignantly.
1t vas three little dead birds-chim-
ney swifts, which had been killed by
the fire he had let his mother kindle.
Jaw, say, Ida! l didn't know. |
thought they were mice" he protested.
You have killed them for wan.
t%onness, just like a boy!" she said in
d~ignantly.
Her eyes were wet. She stroked the
limp little wings, and then suddenly
burst into passionate tears. Frank
stood by helplessly. He was sure
now that she would never speak to
him again.
I'm sorry, Ida-honest, I am" he
muttered.
She raised her eyes to his, but there
was not anger in them any more.
There was something he had never
seen there. 1t was not love; it was
more like humility-that which is born
Of sudden understanding. Something
of the tragedy OF life had gripped
them both, and the seriousness of it
when one puts aside childish things.
You didn't know-did you, Frank
she said. And she slipped her arm
through his, and in that moment the
new life lay before them, though they
only dimly realized what was happen
ing in their souls. For when the but
terfy energies from the cocoon it
at ice forgets and only rejoices in it's
new happiness.
From her window Mrs. Norris
looked down at the pair, strolling un-
der the trees, and called her husband.
There was the shadow of a smile upon
her face.
II don't know-maybe they're not
too young, JIM" she said.
Copyright. 1914, by w. G. Chapman.)