Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-01-18
Miss Mariana S
Family
By Hilda Morris

lCopyrlgnt, 1911, by the MCCLURE NeWSpa-
per Syndicate.)
Miss Mariana Winn's old house
fronted or Shannon Square. Shannon
Square was not large. 1t was one of
those blessed bits of green that offer
Fairgrounds for children, shade on hot
days, and sunny benches on the crisp,
cool afternoons that come in the late
September.
There were always plenty of people
In Shannon Square, for below 1t was
a poorer section of the city, crowded
with children. The children sought
the park as ducks seek water, and old
err people followed-big sisters to look
after the children, old men who liked
to sit and watch life go past, and some
times young people who anxiously
scanned the "Help Wanted" columns
In the papers.
Miss Mariana liked to open the long
white shutters at her front window
and watch the people in the Square.
She had no yeranda, and the little park
was her front yard. She loved it at
all times of the year, but especially in
autumn, when the leaves piled up for
children to play in and the branches,
half unveiled, traced delicate patterns
against the sky.
In truth Miss Mariana was some
times a little lonely and she found
comfort in the people outside. She
used to imagine things about them
make up romantic stories about their
anDarovti., C1,J;1 1;,n1 NJ. 4,., 1sfo
had been so quiet, so remote from ro-
nance, that it thrilled her delicately
even to think of romantic things, such
as love affairs and travel and adven-
ture. Miss Mariana was only twenty
eight, but she had spent her life in a
quiet round of duties that was like a
still back-water in the city's busy life.
Her mother had been an invalid, re-
curing constant care, and when she
did Mariana was thin and a bit faded,
with a spare figure and plain couture
that were far from girlish. Yet there
was a look of innocent youth In her
eyes, shy, and a bit wistful. There
was no one to notice it, however, and
she continued to live alone in the old
house, watching the people in the park
and filling her days with dreams.
There was one young man in par
ticular who sat in the Square very
often. He brought a little boy with
him-a fine, sturdy child of about four,
who romped on the patch of lawn with
the other children. The young man
himself always seemed to be busy. He
would write steadily for several hours
at a time, only looking up now and
then to call the child, or going after
him if play became too rough. Some
times the little boy would come and
climb upon the bench with his father,
smuggling a curly head against his
shoulder. And the young man would
pat the child and go on working, now
and then looking down to smile at his
little son. They seemed to be good
pals.
Mariana tried vainly to imagine
what the young man might be doing.
Also, she wondered where the mother
was and why there was nc one else
to care for the boy. She often hoped
that the young father, who must be
a widower, would notice some of the
pretty girls who sat in the park. 1t
was a shame for such a pleasant man
to look so lonely. But he never did
notice any of the girls. After all, he
looked quite like a gentleman, and
they were not his kind of girls. He
was probably an author; she had heard
that they were usually poor.
81 wonder that child doesn't get into
mischief" thought Miss Mariana. II
guess it's a good thing I'm sitting here
wrapped up in that book, or whatever
it is he's writing"
And then as the Young man looked
up, gazing abstractly, apparently to-
ward the window where she sat, Mari
ana leaned forward eagerly to notice
his fine, clean profile. Her eyes were
bright with an innocent interest. 1t
never occurred to her that he might
be~looking at her-nobody had ever
cared much about looking at her, even
when she was very young. Uncon-
scious of his gaze, she sat there, rock
ing gently, between her long white
shutters, the very picture Of homely
peace and quiet. After that the au-
thor's eyes strayed often from his
work, as though he must seek inspira-
ton in the walls of a red-brick cottage
or the long white shutters at its win
dows.
The day after this the young man
did not come into the park at all.
Mariana, having finished her simple
household tasks, took her place at the
accustomed window. eager for a sight
of the life that moved about outside.
If she was eager for the sight of one
particular person she did not know
1t herself. Her heart was unused to
even the first throb of that emotion
called love. Love as she had read
about it was a thrilling thing, that
came upon one suddenly, usually In