The Wrangell sentinel., 1917-01-04
The Answer to
 His Question
Why the Widow Plimpton
 Didn't Give It Sooner.
By CLARISSA MACKIE

gate of the Pimpton farm gleamed in the distance he paused for brief instant, and the whistle died away into silence.
 "She loves me. I know she does. It's nothing but sheer contrariness to keep me dangling along. l swear I'll settle this matter today or"- Gilbert paused and swallowed hard. Then his big brown clinched fist fell to his side, and he resumed his walk.
 The Widow Plimpton sat on the step of the side porch making flow CT wreaths-heaps of yellow eyed daisies, dark green ivy and box, an armful of purple lilies, 8 mass of syringa blooms and few very early roses which the hot month had fore ed into flower.
 "Good morning." said Gilbert Butler from the stone wall. Widow Plimpton raised sweet face to his, a face framed in dusky hair, with cheeks like pink roses and golden brown eyes. *Good morning, Gilbert" she said gravely.
 "Going to the cemetery, l see" said Butler dissgreeably. Of course. It is Memorial day."
 "You go there every Sunday too," said Gilbert quickly.
 Anna Pimpton crimsoned indig- .nantly. "Why shouldn't IF" she asked haughtily.
 "It's heathenish custom. Ain't it enough that George Plimpton should have got killed down there and then to be brought home and buried with military honors, and just because you're his widder"-
 "Because 1 am his widow l shall continue to express my love and respect for his memory by visiting his grave as often as I please. You must be very small minded, Gilbert Butler, to grudge few flowers to a dead soldier"
 Gilbert reddened to his ears, and his blue eyes flashed ominously. q don't grudge the flowers, Anna," he said with slow deliberation, "but it seems to me if you could spare a little kindness to some folks that are alive, meaning myself, it would make more real happiness. George, he's been dead nine years, and l been coming to see you for five of 'em."
 Widow Plimpton rose to her feet and daintily shook the broken leaves and stems from her white gown. Then she slipped four wreaths over her arm and descend ed the steps.
 "I'm going up to the graveyard now, Gilbert. Will you go with me% she asked gently.
 s'I can't" he said almost roughly. 'You're not treating me fairly, Anna. If l were dead up there in the graveyard you'd come and put flowers on my mound, but just be- cause I'm alive you grudge me one bit of happiness. You have never given me an answer to that ques- ton 1 asked you"
 Anna Plimpton bit her red lip re- fectively. of you will go home and think the matter over quietly per haps you may discover why your question may not have been an- swered."
 She went out of the gate and dis appeared up the white path that led to the cemetery on the hill.
 Gilbert stared after her with fascinated eyes until she disappear cd among the clustering cedars; then he took her advice and went home.
 All that day he wrestled with the problem. What reason could there be for Annals withholding that long delayed and coveted "Yes" Was he not industrious, of good habits, possessed of comfortable means and not i'll looking? And there wasn't another living man whom Anna had favored with her smiles, and yet
 "By thunder!" he exclaimed at last. "It must be because Pm so all fired mean spirited as to be jeal- ous of a dead man. She's seen it right along and despised me for it. :"
 He sat there an hour and thought deeply. At last he went into the house and opened the door of the sitting room.
 In the square bow window luxuri- ating in the waning sunlight were Aunt Heppy's calla lilies. Twelve stately plants they were, and each one bore two snowy blossoms, twen- ty-four in all. Aunt Heppy had nurscd them tenderly all winter, and now-they were rewarding her