Ottumwa semi-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1916-1918, 1917-10-12
Evening Story
HoMEsIck.
BY hiida Morris.
Copyright. 1917, by the Mcclure
Newspaper Syndicate.)

Christine had come to Stillville
from the city to be substitute
teacher in the township high school.
She had been there only month, but
already the country air had begun to
work wonders with her pale cheeks
and hollow eyes.
IF only it weren't so lonesome"
she thought, as she walked country
road one bright, windy Saturday af-
ternoon. It was her holiday, and she
was endeavoring to make the most of
it, but lonely walks are not exciting.
Christine kicked stone in her path
little viciously, as though it were
responsible for her boredom. But
just then she heard someone calling.
Hi there!" a mans voice shouted.
Hi there, Miss Gray"
1t was Richard Harding, greeting
her in the local fashion. Christine
stood and waited as he came striding
towards her, fine, strapping young
man clad in a farmers overalls and
a flannel shirt
Are you taking a waikiki he asked
as he caught up with her. His voice
had the easy modulations of an edu-
Gated man. He was graduate of an
Eastern college.
Eyes. I'm going through your GENE
terry. It's so quaint! I'm only used
to crowded city cemeteries that reach
for blocks and blocks. Tell me, are
all the people in this town related?"
Richard laughed.
Very nearly. The Bullits are re-,
lated to the Emmetts and the Emmetts
to the Hardings and the Hardings to
the Bullits again. We're all kin
somehow"
"All but me-" said the girl, laughing
4 little wistfully. ut must seem
queer to have so many relations"
Richard did not appear to have
heard her remark. He was looking
ahead at the big square red brick
farm house where he lived with his
mother and sister. His mother, a
sunbonnet on her head. was cutting
tulips from the rows that bordered the
garden walk. She Strengthened up as
they approached, and came to the
gate.
"Howdy!" she said cordially. ITS
right cool for an April day, isn't it :?
Have you been walking. Miss Gray?
Well, do come in and have a cup of
tea. I made some cinnamon cakes
this morning that must be eaten
Christine hesitated.
1T isn't FIVE o'clock yet" said Mrs.
Harding. royalty sweeping aside the
girls unspoken objections. Richard
was holding the gate open. so almost
before she knew it Christine found
herself in the big square sitting-room
~ the HARDING hnmocfood
She had not been in a private home
Of this size for years and years, not
since her childhood days and before
long arid years Of furnished rooms.
The house gave her rather an awe
some impression of vastness and, ele-
gance. II had been solidly built for
posterity BY . forebear from New Eng
land. It's furniture was mid-Victorian.
A massive black walnut bookcase
against one wall held rows Of volumes
in mellow old bindings. The carpet
lowered into strange blossoms of
tropical proportions. A crate fre
flickered pleasantly, Illuminating a
faded print of sleek-haired maiden
in decollete reading the Bible. Every
thing seemed unbelievably generous
in its proportions.
cHave you always lived In the city?"
Miss Lottie Harding asked in her tim.
i'd voice. Miss Lottie was an "old
maid" who spent her years in making
endless yards Of tatting.
Since was two" said Christine.
Are your parents living?" pursued
Miss Lottie, to whom family was
ones most interesting attribute.
NO" answered Christine.
This put sombre period on the
conversation, broken only when Mrs.
Harding brought in the tea. The wo-
men talked comfortably of church So
Gals, gardening, fancy work and the
like, while Christine tried politely to
join in. But she felt strangely alien
they spoke of things and ways of life
she had scarcely known existed. Rich
ard sat silent. He scarcely took his
eyes off Christine, and he absently
emptied the plate Of cookies which
stood at his elbow.
began to feel the homelike warmth Of
the place. When she left, stepping
out into the damp spring dusk, it
seemed as though the chill wind
struck her with redoubled force. She
shivered. and hurried back to her
dingy room In the village hotel. On
the way she passed rows Of comfort
able homes. Lamp-lit windows light
ened the street, women stood in the
doorways calling children home to
supper. The girl felt a sudden wave
OF loneliness sweep over and engulf
her. When she reached her room that
night she threw herself upon the bed
and sobbed. For the very first time
in her life she had caught a glimpse
of happy home life as 1t may be in a
quiet country town.
The next day Christine met Richard
Harding on the corner by the post
office.
Cant you take a driver" he called
eagerly my teams just over yon-
der
The girl perked her pretty head as
though considering.
why. perhaps" she conceded. "for
a little while"
Presently they were riding off down
q winding road bordered with dogwood
and the picturesque Towering Judas
tree