The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1914-04-25


flesh bought with sound walnut tim
Der from the hillside. How he and
Shirley would go galloping over those
cleaning roads, in that roseate future
when she belonged to him!
Uncle Jefferson, from the door of
the kitchens, watched him swinging
about in the sunshine, whistling the
Indian Serenade."
Young mars feel way up in de
clouds dis day." he said to Aunt
Daphne. "He wake up ez glad ez
ef he done 'fessed ligion las night.
Well. all de folkses cert'n'y ,joyed
deyselves. or Mistah Fargo done eat
bout forty uh dem jumbles. All heah
him talkin' ter Mars John. 'Reck'n yo'
mus hab er crackahiack cook down
heah,' he say. Hyuh, hyuh!"
"Gway wild yo' backyardin'!-"
shifted Aunt Daphne, delighted. Dom
need ter come eroun' honey-caffuddlin'
mel"
Oats whut he say" insisted Uncle
Jefferson; "he did fo' er fac'!"
She drew her hands from the suds
and looked at him anxiously. "Jeff'eon,
yo' reck'n Mars John gwineter fotch
dat Yankee CONAN heah ter Danny
CO'ot, ter be ouah mistis?"
"Humph!" scoffed her spouse. dat
highfalutin' gal whut done swaller do
ramrod? No suh-ree.bob-tail! De
oldah yo' gifts, de mo- foolishah yo'
citations is! Don yo' TEX no mo-
trouble on yo' back den yo' kin keelk
off'n yo' heels! She ain gwineter run
dis place, er OF Devil-John tuhn ovah
in he gravel"
Sunset found Valiant sitting In the
MUSHROOM before the old square pi-
ano. In the ehadowy chamber the
keys OF mother-of-pearl cleaned with
dull colors under his fingers. He
struck at first only broken chords, that
became finally the haunting barcarole
OF Tales Of Hoffman," 1t was the
air that had drifted across the garden
when he had stood with Shirley by
the sun-dial, in the moment of their
first kiss Over and over he played
it, improvising dreamy variations, till
the tender melody seemed the dear
ghost Of that embrace. At length he
went into the library and in the GRIM
eoning light sat down at the desk.
and began to write:
Dear Bluebird of Mine:
Il can't wait any longer to talk to
you. Less than a day has passed
since we were together, but it might
have been cons, if one measured time
by heart-beats. What have you been
doing and thinking, / wonder? l have
spent those cons in the garden, Just
wandering about, dreaming over those
wonderful, wonderful moments by the
sun-dial. All, dear little wild heart
born Of the flowers, with the soul Of
a bird (yet you are woman, tool that
old disk is marking happy hours now
for me!
How have l deserved this thing
that has come to me?-sad bungler
that have been! Sometimes it seems
TOO glad and sweet, and | am suddenly
desperately afraid shall wake to find
myself facing another dull morning
In that old, useless, empty life of mine.
am very humble, dear, before your
love.
Shall tell you when it began with
me? Not last night-nor the day wo
planted the ramblers. (Do you know
when your little muddy boot went
trampling down the earth about their
roots, | wanted to etoop down and
kiss IL? So dear everything about
YOU wasD Not that evening at Rose
wood, with the arbor fragrance about
us. O think shall always picture YOU
with roses all about you. Red roses
the color Of your lipsD No. il was not
then that it tegan-nor that dreadful
hour when YOU fought with me 10 save
my liie--uOr tho morning You sat your
horse in the boX-rows in that ycw-
green habit that made your hair look
like molten copper. No, il began the
first afternoon. when ] sat in my mo.
tor with your rose in my hand! It
has never left mo since, by day OF by