The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1918-01-22

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DoNNA's ANNUAL CEREMONY

AS I was about to go. little
book, Harvey's old father looked
at me from under his shaggy
white brows and said rather curl
ously, And your husband, does
he know that you have attempt
ed this Sir Galahad sort OF un-
dertaking in my sons behalf?"
mot yet, Mr.. --. l may
tell him all about 1t when / go
back home, but / am not sure.
You see, / do not feel that ! have
right to tell anyone this adven-
ture as 1t is not my own but the
very intimate, personal expert
ence OF another"
81 confess the modern woman
is a puzzle to me-" said Harvey's
father, who had again taken on
the more or less sarcastic man.
ner with which he greeted me.
But there is one thing you have
demonstrated to me, madame" he
said as he touched the buzzer at
his elbow, land that Is that the
modern woman does not lack
courage. u will go tonight to my
son. am an old man," he add
ed, "but I don't think that age
has blinded me to beauty or to
courage" and he bowed me out.
There you have 1t, little book.
Isn't it beastly kind of world
that makes a man think he can
get away with anything with a
woman If he only flatters her?
That old man down in his heart
thought he had rehabilitated
himself in my mind by that bit
of flattery thrown out to me as
l left.
Il did not get back to Donna's
until late that afternoon, and
when l got in I found her en-
gagged in a mystic and mystifying
rite.
She was gowned in deep morn
ing, not a bit of white anywhere
to relieve the somber blackness.
Her hair, in its beautiful white
ness-she had somehow contrived
to make it quite white again
was the only thing that was not
sober about her. Her lips were
unsmiling and her eyes were not
only sad, but little hard, as
tho the grief she had undergone
had crystalized her soul a little.
l was cudgeling my brain to
think IL 1t was an anniversary Of
Bills death she was celebrating,
but soon came to the conclusion
that ! was on the wrong task, for
Bill died, / distinctly remem-
bered, in the spring of the year.
I went in to Donna's own lit
tie sitting room and found her
placing a bunch of violets under
a full length picture of herself
when she was girl of 16. Be-
side the picture she had drawn
up a cheval mirror and from time
to time she looked from the pic
tured girl to her own face and
form in the mirror.
I had come up the stairs I'M
announced and she did not hear
me until I was in the room. As
I turned suddenly to go QUIT
seemed to me that had surprised
her doing something that was not
for the eyes of even her devoted
friend-I made a little noise and
she turned.
With a little sigh that might
have been a laugh or a s-oan, she
turned to me and put out her
hand. Come on in, Margie," she
said. you have inadvertently
caught me at a little ceremony
that l have gone thru with on
the recurrence of this day for
years. Ever since my first birth
day after l had left Will, when l
found that he was in love with
Kitty Malram, l have been foolish
and sentimental enough to go
back over my life on my birthday
and also by placing q few flowers
under this picture here I have
tried to tell this dead girl pic
tured here that I remember her."
But, Donna, have always
thought this was your portrait.
ut is a portrait Of me painted
when l was sixteen years old, but
the girl in that frame is Just as
surely dead as tho she had been
buried and had crumbled away to
dust"
looked at the picture, little
book, and then l looked at Donna.
She had told the truth--the six
teen-year-old girl was dead and
the woman sitting near her was
something quite different.
l wondered, little book, If
were SO changed from the girl
who way back in the old days had
taught school and who had fallen
so desperately in love with Dick
at sight.