Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1915-01-08
CHAPTER lI-contlnued.

CHAPTER lI-Continueu'
Under the pink rose soft PINK
flush bloomed on either OF the OLD
lady's cheeks Her eyes flashed Win
unconquerable pride, and her square
firm chin she held very high; for now,
indeed, she was filled with terror OF
what folks would say" TO this home
leaving, and 1t was bright June after
noon, too clear for an umbrella with
which to hide ones face from prylng
nelghbors, too late in the day for a
sunshade.
Angy tucked the green-black affair
which served them as both under her
arm and swung Abe's figured old car
petbag in her hand with the manner OF
one setting out on pleasant journey
Abe, though resting heavily on his
stout, crooked cane, dragged behind
him Angy's little horsehair trunk upon
a creaking, old, unusually large 10Y
express wagon which he had bought
at some forgotten auction long ago
The husband and wife passed into
the garden between borders of box
wood, beyond which nodded the heads
OF Angy's carefully tended, outdoor
"children'-her roses, her snowballs,
her sweet-smelling syringas, her wax
like bleeding-hearts and her shrub of
bridal-wreath.
Jest a minute" she murmured, as
Abe would have fastened on to the
gate. She bent her proud head and
kissed with furtive, half-ashamed pas
sion a fluffy white spray of the bridal
wreath. Now overlapping the hus-
not
rome so high rs his knee when they
Iwo had planted it nearly half-cen-
fury ago.
You're mine!" Angys heart cried
out to the shrub and to every growing
thing in the garden You're mine.
planted you, tended you, loved you
into growing. You're all the children
] ever had. and I'm leaving you" But
the old wife sid not pluck a single
flower, for she could never bear to see
q blossom witifer in her hand, while
all she said alold was: I'm glad twas
Mis- Holmes that bought in the house.
They say she's great hand ter dig
In the garden"
Angy's voice faltered. Abe did not
answer Something had caused q
swimming before his eyes which he
did not wish his wife to see; so he
let fall the handle of the express
wagon and, bending his slow back
piucked a sprig of Goldman" Though
he could not have expressed his senti
ments In words, the garden brought
poignant recollections of the hopes
rose color about the young days of his
marriage. His hopes had never bios
somed into fulfilment His promises
to the little wife had been choked by
the weeds of his own ineficiency
Worse than this, the bursting int
bloom of seeds of selfish recklessnesi
in himself was what had turned thu
garden of their life into an arid waste
And now, in their dry and witheret
old age, he and Angy were being tori
up by the roots, flung as so mucl
rubbish by the roadside.
Mother, be dretful sorry ter TAX
yew away from your posies," mutterot
Abraham as he arose with his greer
sprig in his hand.
With shaking fingers, Angy sough
a pin hidden beneath her basque. "Fa
Their, shall l pin yer old-man' in ye
buttonhole?" she quavered. Then a
he stopped for her to arrange tn
posy, she whispered: 81 wouldn't care
'cept fer what folks must say. Lee
hurry before any one sees us. toll
everybody, that we want a-gwine tie
break up till termorrer mornin'."
Fortunately, there was a way acros
lots to the Old Ladies' home, an III
frequented by-path over field an
through a bit of woodland, whic
would bring the couple almost unol
served to a side gate.
Under ordinary circumstances Angt
line would never have taken this path
for it exposed her carefully patche
and newly polished shoes to scratches
her fragile, worn silk skirt and stiff
white petticoat to brambles. More
over, the dragging of the loaded littl
wagon was more difficult here TO
Abraham. But they both preferre
the narrower, rougher way to facin
the curious eyes of all Shoreville nov
the plying windows of the villag
street.
AS the couple came to the edge c
the woodland. they turned with on
accord and looked back for the las
glimpse of the home. Blazing golt
red against the kitchen window flame
the afternoon sunlight.