The Idaho Republican. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1904-1932, 1914-07-03

"tDys
flesh bought with sound walnut tim
Der from the hillside. How he and
Shirley would 60 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 ca
eff 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 err crackahjack cook down
heah,' he say. Hyuh, hyuh!"
"G'way wild yo' blackyardin'!-"
shifted Aunt Daphne, delighted. Don
need ter come eroun' honey-caffuddlin
mel"
Oats whut he say" insisted Uncle
Jefferson; "he did TO- er fact"
She drew her hands from the suds
ard looked at him anxiously. "Jeff'son
20 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 de
ramrod? No suh-ree- bob-tail! De
oldah yo' gifts, de mo- foolishah 20
citations Is! Don yo' TEX no mo
trouble on yo' back den yo' kin keeh
off'n yo' heels! She ain gwineter rur
dis place, err OF Devil-John tuhn ovah
in he gravel"
Sunset found Valiant sitting in the
mushroom before the old square pi
ano. In the shadowy chamber the
keys Of mother-of-pearl cleaned with
dull colors under his fingers. He
struck at first only broken chords, thai
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 theil
first kiss. Over and over he played
it, improvising dreamy variations, til
the tender melody seemed the deal
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:
81 can't wait any longer to talk tt
you. Less than day has passed
since we were together, but it might
have been cons, If one measured time
by heart-beats. What have you beer
doing and thinking, wonder? 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 thai
old disk Is marking happy hours now
for me!
GLOW have I deserved this thing
that has come to me?-sad bunglel
that have been! Sometimes 1t seems
too glad and sweet, and am suddenly
desperately afraid I shall wake to find
myself facing another dull morning
in that old, useless, empty life Of mine
I am very humble, dear. before your
love.
"Shall l tell you when 1t began with
me? Not last night-nor the day We
planted the ramblers. (Do you know
when your little muddy boot wenl
trampling down the earth about theil
roots, I wanted to stoop down ant
kiss It? SO dear everything about
you wasl) Not that evening at Rose
wood, with the arbor fragrance about
us. Il think l shall always picture YOU
with roses all about you. Red rosei
the color of your lipsD No, 1t was moi
then that it began-nor that dreadful
hour when you fought with me to save
my life-nor the morning you sat youl
horse in the box-rows in that yew
green habit that made your hair lool
like molten copper. No, It began the
first afternoon. when sat In my mo
tor with your rose in my hand! Il
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