Catoctin clarion., 1917-10-11

of coffee after her husband had left
| for the office, sighed uncOnSciOusly sew
| eral times as the warm blossom-laden
breeze gently blew in the dining room
| window.
Finally She shook herself free from
| her reverie. Time was going and dishes
We're to be cleaned up and she had
| full days work ahead. She had been
so busy with emergency classes and
sewing for the soldiers that the spring
| cleaning had had to wait Now she re-
| allied that if she wished to finish be-
| fore very hot weather, she would have
| to begin at once. The attic was
scheduled for today. Being model
wife and housekeeper, it shocked her
immeasurably to think that so much
dirt should accumulate in her house
And for several hours her broom flew,
her scrubbing brush ratified, and
chamois whined over the window
panes.
At last the dirt was "out," except
what had adhered to her and she came
to the sorting-out process.
Reserve bed clothing had to be shak
en- out Of It's moth-ball coma. summer
garments ouSted from trunks to make
room for fWrS. and accumulated Junk
sorted for the ragman, keepsakeS gone
over, laughed over or cried over and
replaced in their pastcboard boxes.
Mrs. Irons had come down as far as
the keepsake process.
On the floor in front of an old bu'
reau with yawning drawers, she sorted
letters and pictures of a time gone by
-carefree, mad, happy time of her
girlhood. when as Flora Fleming, she
had hearts strung aquiver. pierced by
the arrow of her charms. The hearts
had offered homage by the usual vari.
Gus tokens that youth in love general
ly sends his lady. and Mrs. Irons now
fingered tendcrly lunches of faded
flowers, strings of candy spoons, rep
rcsentng on an average five pounds
of bon-bons apiece, photographs. etc
And as the hlossom-Sweet breeze
blew languorouSly in she suddenly
found herself with Il dry bunch of vio'
lets in one hand and photograph OF
Fred Mnpl"t"n in the other.
Why hadn't She married Fred? She
picked up tn" photograph again and
looked thoughtfulIy into the intense
ewes, and glnncrd rather fond!y at the
dark hair waving back romantically
from the forehead. "If had married
Fred" she reflected. II wouldn't be
cleaning Emery Irons attic. I'd be
roaming hand in hand with him mid
the blossoms of Normandy rs h" used
to say. Fred mcan." and her heart
stirred uncasily. 81 wonder why | did
marry Emery? Just hccauSc-Well. be-
cause he insisted so. | guess. He's
that kind-makes everybody do just as
he wants. And, besides Emery was
nice before he got so deep in business
and gray-haired and stout. But
Fred" she sighed softly again and
shook her head "Tm afraid I've missed
something in life. l wonder where he
is and if-if he Is married." she said
tcndcrly laying the flowers and photo
graph back in their box and closing
the drawer.
The bell rang and Mrs. Irons went
down. forgetting that she much re-
sombled blue-checked beetle in O
night cap.
Looking through the net curtains on
the glass door, she identified her visitor
as an agent, and opening 1t rather
belligerently armed with round OF
copper-tipped refuSals, she suddenly
found herself voicelesS and unabl" to
move with chagrin and aStonishmont,
Her caller was no other than her for
mer sweetheart, of whom she had lust
been so fondly reminiscing, Fred Ma
pleton. Fred of the curly hair, pas
sionate eyes and supple, graceful con-
tour, but now partly bald, eyes faded
and embedded in puffs of fat, fi-ure
rotund, but not portly, and clothes that
+ if they bespoke that their wearer had
taken the advice of Polonius, and that
his raimpnt was as rich as his parse
could buy. certainly attested to short
bank account.
But it was neither the clothes. the
badness nor the agents case he car
ried that fairly stupefed Mrs. irons,
1t was the eyes-eyes that spoke OF in.
diligence soft living and decline, eyes
that had lost their temper-their nan
hood. She drew back involuntafily,
and he caught the motion.
"Is--is the lady Of the house IN"
he asked, hurriedly.
"N-now said Mrs. Irons family,
starting to shut the door. 1-Im
sorry :" she added, rather compassion.
ately before the latch clicked.
The telephone rang three times BE-
fore she answered. 1t was Mr.. irons
"That you, Flo?'
eyes, dear"
"What you doing"
"Cleaning house"
"Oh, it's too nicc-cut ii out and Sct
somebody to do 1t. I've sort of cot
spring fever-feel as moony as two
year-old. Let's get the car and run cut
to MAYFAIR inn for dinner, just us tW".'
His voice was as firm and snappy rs
fine steel. And Mrs. Irons knew the
clear, fearless look in his eyes. she
put her arm tenderly around the tele'
phone.
"All right, dear, I'd love it. I think
I've got spring fever, TOO. I'll get ready
right away. It's nice of you to think
of it,"
After all, the world was just right
Tomorrow she would finish the attic