Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1914-11-03
Evening Story
A-MAYING.
BY MARY ALLEN DECKER.
Copyright, 1918, by the Mcclure News
paper Syndicate.

| Copyright, 1913, by the Mcclure news
| paper Syndicate.
ooh, that we two were Maying!
The words came softly through the
| open windows of the tiny cottage set
| far back from the road.
| ooh, that we two were Maying.' fol
lowed the same words in masculine
tones and to the same music.
| Russell Barr stopped suddenly at the
gate and listened. Yes, it was duet;
| another voice sang it with Caroline's
He felt wave of disappointment over
his whole being. So Caroline had so far
| forgotten as to be able to sing with
some one else the duet they had loved
so well-the song they had sung to-
gether so happily.
| He continued to listen, and the old
melody tok him bacl. five years and
made his heart ache. Caroline had told
did not return for years. With her
promise in mind he had sought the
small village he had left for the dia-
mond mines in Africa. Caroline still
lived in the cottage on Crescent road
with her mother; that much he learn
ed at the postoffice. Now he wished
he had not come He could not bring
himself to enter the garden and rattle
the old brass k:1ocker when he realized
that Caroline could sing ooh, That We
Two Were Maying" with another man.
! Retracing his steps he found the lit
tie hotel and buried himself in mag
azine. When he retired he could not
sleep; he felt too bitterly the disap-
polntment of the evening. He would
leave in the morning and Caroline
would never know that he had return
| ed
| From his chamber windows he
watched glorious spring sunrise, for
the village hotel was not surrounded
by high buildings. He thought Of the
date-it was the first of May. How
| often he and Caroline had gone a-May-
ing! How often they had filled baskets
with the early spring flowers to hang
on the doors Of their young friends
homes. He remembered even the tniest
details of their Maying parties-the
dew drops on Caroline's pink cheeks
when she had buried her head in the
sparkling blossoms
The spring was far advanced, and it
| occurred to Russell that he might-be-
fore he shook the dust of this old home
village from his heels forever-go out
to the woods and seek some Mayday
flowers. He could not sleep, so why not
revive custom now becoming only a
memory to him? 1t seemed the irony
! of fate that he should go alone, but it
was better than this lonely thinking in
motel bedroom.
The fresh, sharp air Of the first
morning of May sent. thrills Of new
life into him as he wound his way
along the village pathways to the out
skirts of the town. His step was light,
his head was held high and a brilliant
color began to radiate through the
bronze of his cheeks.
If it had not seemed too much like a
boy Russell Barr would have yelled for
joy when he spied the first tiny ane-
none among the leaves. He bent to
pick 1T, and his eye caught sight Of
many more. He found, too, little cl1rs-
ters of Sweet William and here and
there purple or a yellow violet. He
gathered them all and held them in a
tight bouquet. He was not artistic and
he never could arrange flowers, but it
occurred to him that they used to gath
er violet leaves to surround their bas-
ket bouquets with. This he did, and
when he had a handful of flowers and
leaves he stood quietly in the lonely
woods and looked about. The birds
tW1ttered in the boughS. above his head
and the sun made sparkling jewels Of
the dew on the leaves.
His flowers gathered, he felt lost.
What could he do now? He had no bas-
ket, and if he had possessed one he
would hardly have dared to hang it on
the door of the girl he loved-now
Slowly he found his way out of the
woods and, almost without knowing it,
he was returning to town by the road
that led past her cottage. AS he drew
near he thought more seriously Of
hanging the flowers on her doorknob.
1t would be a silent farewell and she
might even guess who did it. When
the gate was in sight he determined to
leave the flowers for Caroline I'm
pulsively, he took off his hat and let
the flowers tumble into the crown.
Then, treading as lightly as he could,
Russell ran along the path to the
steps and, laying the hat with it's mes
sage of spring on the doorstep, he
shook the knocker and ran, bareheaded,
away.
Not for years had he felt SO buoyant-
ly foolish. Here he waS-a man nearly
forty-running bareheaded through the
village street before o'clock in the
morning. Fortunately uncovered heads
were the fashion in the village and he
need not be conspicuous because Of his
loss of hat.
Caroline, in her little last snooze be-
fore rising, heard the knocker of the
front door. Being curious, she slipped
on a klmona and went down stairs as
quietly as possible to peer through the
sitting room windows.
"Oh!" she exclaimed aloud when she
saw the blossoms peeking over the hat.
IT'S Mayday and l haven't had a bas-
ket for years."
She slipped out to the porch and
picked up the odd offering. Curiousity,
wonderment, then a fleeting shadow of
memory passed through her thoughts
Why did Mayday always make her
think of Russell Barr? She was fast
leaving the springtime of her own life
and all such sentiments as she had
entertained for him-and yet his mem
Dry became so poignant when spring
came creeping over all the world that
she sometimes wondered if he might
not one fair day in May return to her
Caroline looked at the hat. She took
out the flowers and looked within. ''R
B." were the initials in the leather
band. 1t vast must be he!
She almost ran upstairs to dress. If
he had been SO close he would surely
come again. Humming softly, she found
dainty morning dress and arranged
NIT a -