Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1918-08-01
Wander1ust
go
By JANE OSBORN
1918, by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate.)

\SoQy[lSnt, 1918, by the Mcclure NeWSp2-
per Syndicate.)
1t was n of the first warm days Of
spring and, because Mrs. Buttersby had
opened n of her dining-room win
dows, a scent of spring freshness
morning sunshine on the blades of
frosh young grass and breeze that
blew fresh from q bright blue sky
mingled with the aroma of coffee,
buckwheat cakes and fried sausages.
But instead of having a benedictory
effect on the thirteen boarders-this
first breath of spring-it seemed to
cast them into a gloom that was even
deeper than usual. 1t is often that
way with those first whitfs of spring.
We wait for weeks and months Of win
ter expecting that the blue skies and
sunshine and freshness of spring will
fill our hearts with good will and o n
tent, forgetting that with that spring
freshness and with those blue skies
come queer, unaccountable, quixotic
longing that make some of us quixotic
melancholic and others downright ILL.,
natured.
Hortense Perry was of the gently
melancholic sort, while Matthew Watts
who sat behind an outstretched news
paper directly opposite her at break
fast, was one of those whose spring
fever took the form of extreme irrita-
bility. Primarily this was because it
seemed to rouse in his heart feelings
Of tenderness that he was loath to own.
He found himself repeating to himself
snatShes of poetry that he had read in
his boyhood and that had managed to
survive, tucked away somewhere in
the recesses of his mind; and then
there were disconcerting, entirely
maudlin-so Matthew Watts thought
sentiments about the gentler half Of
mankind-not womanhood in general,
but Hortense Perry in particular. He,
could sit across from her for an entire
winter-in fact, he had done so-wlth-
out ever going any further than think
ing that she was q mice girl" and
hoping in a passive sort of way that
she would remain opposite him, sim
| ply because her presence saved that
| seat from being occupied by any n
with a less ever disposition-aDd then
let come one of those first balmy days
| of spring and he was termented with
all sorts of school-boy thoughts of her.
If his eyes fell on the graceful curve of
| her light hair as it was arranged down
her ears and cheeks he was filled with
q silly desire to e the dainty ears
that only showed the merest coral edge
from under the waves of hair, and
when she put her little hand out to
reach the bread plate he was filled
with a really catfish desire to clap his
own hand over it and feel the sOftness
Of it moulded into the hollow of his
own. 1t was because of these mac
countable longings that the eminently
sensible Matthew was irritable. The
only way to combat the spring frenzy
was to indulge in his i'll nature, even
to the point Of keeping his paper spread
before his face at breakfast.
But the paper only barred his vision.
1t did not render him deaf, and he was
not oblivious to the occasional signs
that escaped from Hortense's lips. One
of the other boarders asked her why
She sighed and Matthew heard her
sigh again and say that she was tired
of living in Peace street-Mrs. But
tersby's boarding house was in Peace
street. She said she |onged to get way,
to travel, to be a nomad in fact, she
thought she was part gypsy. which was
hardly consistent with her blonde hair
and her round blue eyes, Matthew
thought.
Then he heard one of the boarders
remark that shat was wanderlust,"
and Hortense sighed again and re-
proved the boarder for using a German
word. After that Matthew conceived
a dislike for residence in Peace street.
Still, he had lived there for several
years and he knew that when the at
tack of spring fever had passed he
would be well content with life at Mrs.
Buttersby's-at least, as we'll content
as he would be with life in any board
ing house.
Meantime, after dinner that night
Hortense went to her room with. the
eagerness Of one who had some pleas
urable plans to make. First she pick
ed out the bottom of a dime bank by
the aid of q nail file and a fine hair
pin. Then she counted the dimes. The
amount was three dollars and a half.
Then she laid aside from that and her
weeks wages enough to pay a weeks
rent to Mrs. Buttersby and then enough
for carfares and luncheons, a few
other necessities and a minimum for
%incidentals. She had nine dollars and
q half left. This she put in q special
purse in her handbag, and then she set
about taking an inventory Of her ward
robe. That evening she washed two
pairs of doe-skin gloves, pressed
some dainty accessories Of dress and
generally refurbish"d her small but
w~ell-selected wardrobe. She darned
minute holes in the toes of several