The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1914-10-15

laughing. Inc IuOu6uI pAoosSo nAA0s
but he only sat sullenly at the end OF
the piazza, his chin on his hands, star.
ing out into the dusk.
Ten yards away the girl sat by the
window in the living room. She was
alone, too; her father had gone out
upon some errand, and her mother
was making up accounts in the htch-
en-. From the corner Of the window
she could just see the Barton end OF
the piazza She had book in her
hand, but she was not reading.
She had been trying hard not to
cry, and she was exceedingly angry,
because it was not about Frank Bar.
ton-and yet it was, too, in a sort OF
way. But what had he done? Moth
ing. That was just it; he was only q
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 slight squeaking sound inside
the chimney made her tiptoe over to
the stove. 1t had not been lit since
the warm weather began, month be-
fore. Something like a mouse was
squeaking and scurrying behind the
place where the stovepipe entered.
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 houses nest" he
thought, and 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 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. 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 you getting cold. Franki
It's turning quite chilly" said his
mother. from the window of the liv.
ing room.
II guess not" he answered.
shall I 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 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 on a.
by q thousand leagues, was Ida. Some.
times she would lean from her win.
dow and wave 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.
bing. It came from the next house.
He heard it through the chimney, and
put his mouth to the stovepipe.
"Ida!" he called. ida! Ida!"
There was no answer, and he went
downstairs. He stood beneath the II.
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 remorse And in
her hand she was carrying some.
thing. She held it out Indignantly,
1t was three little dead birds-chim.
ney swifts. which had been killed by
the fire he had let his mother kindle.
Jaw, say, Ida! didn't know. I
thought they were MICE" he protested.
You have killed them for wan.
tonness. just like boy!" she said in.
dignantly.
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 tn
him again.
I'm sorry, Ida-honest, 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 waa
more like humility-that which ia horn