Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1916-04-27
Euening Story
THE MORALE OF LORD OLLIE:
BY lola Forester.
Copyright, 1916, by the Mcclure
Newspaper Syndicate.)


Newspaper Syndicate.)
We have been accustomed to heal
Ollie speak of the Countess in, we'll
not exactly friendly or comradely OF
familiar terms, but as if he knew he1
pretty we'll. For instance, he would
say when the mail was broug hit in:
Another letter from the Countess
Now. I'll get it for not writing" Quite
as if it mattered to the Countess
whether he wrote or not. l think we
all vaguely resented his tone for her
sake, even while we knew absolutely
nothing about her.
He had come to the old fashioned
boarding house on West Fifty-flfth
street in the summer time. From his
tone and words we gathered that he
was man of peace and would not go
to war, that the Countess disapproved
of his sentiments, and that his elder
brother was fighting somewhere in
France.
He was slim, dark, nice sort Of
chap, with big, speculative, humorous
blue eyes behind eyeglasses. Until
Jessica came to stay with us, he had
matters his own way in an argument
down in the dining room. The rest OF
us were too hungry and weary to COM
bat world peace or anything else.
But Jessica was different Fresh
from the west she was, and thoroughly
prepared for war at any moment. She
was in the nurses training school,
waiting for her chance to 60 abroad in
Red Cross work. Not that she approx
I,,,+ eh4 In q
nations who were big enough to see
the vision of the future combining and
forcing disarmament on the bar
barian ones, as she called them.
Ollie was all for social evolution,
and the two of them would sit and let
their dinners grow cold while they
thrashed the wars of the nations over
and over again. His name, by the way
was Oliver Grovesnor. Sometimes his
mail came to Mr.. Oliver Grovesnor and
sometimes to Lord Oliver Francis Gro
vesnor, but we called him Ollie.
A boarding home Is curious COM
monwealth. To save your life you
can't help knowing every other body's
business. We used to run across the
two of them sitting out on the little
green wooden bench in the bit of front
yard talking after dinner, finishing up
their argument. And sometimes. in
order to cool off, they would have to
stroll up to Columbus circle, and over
into the park, where spring was dane
ing with fauns and dryads. We could
see plainly the way they were wend-
ing, lust into the same old path OF
romance all youth treads some time.
Then came another letter from the
Countess, the first one since Jessica
had come to stay. Oliver found it I'M
der his napkin as usual, glanced at it
whimsically, said it was another letter
from the Countess and that he'd get 1t
for not writing.
And Jessica being woman, prompt.
Nv asked who the Countess was.
Whereupon Ollie answered simply:
my mother
She eyed him from different aspect
from that moment. At first, with sus-
picion as if he might be poking fun at
her. You see, Jessica came from
small town in South Dakota and she
was twenty-one. She had always had
to work for her living ever since she
could remember. There were five
Youngsters entered in the family bible
after her own name. and the last one
had been the end Of her mother. After
that, it had always been work for her.
Now, with most Of them half grown.
she had slipped away to follow her
own star even to the battlefields and
try to realize some of life's tumult and
mystery.
Oddly enough, the Countess seemed
part of what she was seeking. But
she wondered, just as we all had, If
Ollie were telling the truth. We had
been content to let the matter rest
where it was, afraid Ollie's pleasant
myth might vanish If the searchlight.
Of truth ever lit it up.
Jessica waited until she had him to
herself on the green garden bench.
There was a moon looking very pale
and wan. Elusive enough to please all
fond lovers. Only Jessica was not in
a loving mood She was, as usual,
combative and pernickety as 1t were,
and she approached the subject Of
Ollies connection with the English
nobility without fear or compromise.
as the Countess really your
mother?''
$50 have always been told,' re-
piled Ollie, gazing from the made
quate moon to the glamour OF the cleo