Emmons County record. [volume] (Williamsport, D.T. [i.e. N.D.]) 1884-current, 1918-01-03
|P0LLYS INTRUSION
BY ELIAS KlLLIAN.

As Pearson sat on the little porch
and sent circles OF blue smoke into the
soft night, snatc,les of gay talk. 81
laughter and Of music came to him
Jolly wes at the old home once more
The little Polly who used to spll:ln
across the bnrbed wire fence TINT di-
vided them and drop On the top steli
pf the side porch. brca,.iess; the little
uudacious Polly who y ucfed her Snort
skirt full of his yoicts without even
'by your leave" and climbed bis
cherry trees to toss his own cherries
down to him.
Ppi'y had wintered at fashionable
school In New York, had sulnmered
abroad, and, crossing again, Ind made
nor smiling entrance iHto world that
seemed vastly interested in her.
A little white clad figure came
through the odorous darkness and
leaned on the barned wire, little
ilain5ive voice called "lIcllo" softly.
Pearson took refuge in silence.
With flash and iiuttcr Of feminine
founces she WIS over.
"T'hut's still baroed WIRE" Pearson
called.
"Oh!" she clarionetted, "a barbed
wirf 2" She sped across the space that
inter encd to drop on his top step
in GREATNESS scoril. "Nas it thnt?"
she demanded. "I've been home a
whole day"
NO" said Pearson calmly. " don't
mean to come. You've so many dane
ing about you thnt I'll never be missed.
and, anyway, Polly. hear such out
rageous things about you. Is 1t Il habit
Of yours to whistle up your dog and
stalk from the room in the midst of
ali the proposals"
"1t's because they make such blum
der of It," said Polly. 81 know how
it should be done"
"Iou're not so pretty" said Pear
son, disapproving'y.
"No!" plaiutively.
"Noure little and you're brown"
eyes" more pinntively.
"rhcn wily-why--" irritubly, "does
everything in mans shape go down
before you?"
~ Cont know; but"-sorrowfullY-
'tllcy do. IL" size sighed heavily
| "fell the bearded men at Il breath, and
| the youths that grow between. But
| perhcps you aren't familiar with Long
feliow?' Polly WAS gone, and her low,
mocking laugh Griftcd back to Pear
son.
Pearson Ind closed the door to his
| heart and rolled big stone against
| 1t, telling himself he was done with
womnnkind forever, as far back as
| Polly's pinafore drys.
Polly came to th; barbed wire some
times, hut she mad. no attempt to leap
over it. Always she was very, very
gay, and after her going Pearson
counted up his birthdays, ran his fin.
| gers through his hair turning gray on
| his temples, and called himself an old,
old fool.
The twilight hour that Polly leaned
over the wire to pin u rose that had
burned in the coils Of her golden hair
on Penrson's cont she sang something
tender and foolish about the rose be.
Ing her heart.
"Your heart" Pearson chided. "It's
asleep, little child"
"It's his heart that sleeps" said
Polly. 1.-THE little white guest cham.
Der that is mine has it's door ajar, but
he won't come in, ever"
Afterwnrd he crept up to his room
to drop his arm on his desk and his
head on his arms, and sat there, while
night gathered deeper and deeper into
the room.
Pearson stumbled down the stairs
that echoed to his footsteps, the empty,
lonely stairway over which. no wom-
ans soft drnperies ever trailed, and
out on the porch, there to find Polly
on the top step.
He sank down beside her. "What
becomes of men who hang around the
side entrance Of heaven, straining
their ears to catch the music, when
theyknow 1t is never possible for them
to slip in; what becomes of middle.
aged PERKS, Polly?"
II don't know" said Polly. "but ]
know what should become of them,"
scornfully. "Why doesn't your Peri
go around to the front7 Perhaps she
hasn't any spirit, either, his heroine;
perhaps she sits on the doorstep and
waits, perhaps"
"Polly!'
"Hes--he's a wooden Indian" said
Polly. "Ie lets the girl sit there on
his steps and pretend that she's look.
ing Mt the stars. He doesn't care. He
thinks she's doll-baby stuffed with
s;rwdust; that she cares for all the
empty, gay, frivolous things that she
hates; he thinks she likes to be for.
ever surrounded by lot Of pink.
checked, llght-headed boys that bore
her so. And all the time she knows
I'm sure don't know how. for he acts
so Gueer-that he loves her. and that
Il little question of arithmetic troubles
him. 1t doesn't really trouble her.
The arithmetic of the heart isn't
counted by years. He's lonely and sad,
| and she can nut into his life all that