Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1919-01-02

ONE JUNE NIGHT
BY LOUISE OLIVER.
Copyright, 1918, by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicato.)

I1afilllSlOnS anQ tile NealS-anu with
every years growth of the vine and as
every twig lnterlaced to thicken the
density Of the green wall, the barrier
of hate between the two families had
likewise grown in vast proportions.
The v~ine-covered fence itself com
memorated the beginning of the feud,
for, as is usually the case, it had start
ed with a disagreement about the
boundary line.
TO arbitrate a quarrel is not to set
tie it. Neither side winning, there is
no one to forgive. So the Harringtons
and the Meals nursed their hate into
the second generation, and still it
grew.
Violet Harrington, the last and only
one at home now, had always hated
DR.. Wilbur Neal bitterly. She hated
him chiefly because he had always
seemed politely and supremacy indif.
ferent to her. He was almost the only
man in town who had not sooner or
later lost his heart to her. Violet had
always been the envy Of every girl in
Coburg, because she was the prettiest
and most popular. Naturally accus-
toned to homage, she resented the fact
that Will Neal paid so much attention
to his books to the exclusion almost Of
everything else.
Now she was twenty-eight and he
was thirty, and neither of them was
married. Knowing that she could have
anybody, she had taken nobody. Now
she was alone in the great house.
1t was June and a wonderful moon
light night. Violet sat out under the
maple tree in the yard, near the fence,
in a soft white dress, stroking Dick,
her Persian cat, and whispering little
secrets in his ear.
cts a lovely night, Dickie. Do you
smell the roses? Listenl That soft
little murmur is the voices Of the love
fairies. Do you hear? They slide down
on the moonbeams to the roses on
June nights and plan whom they shall
enslave next. Then they mix a sort Of
magic out Of dew and fragrance, and
fly with it to the chosen ones and
anoint them. After that it's all over,
Dick. That love potion never fails.
II suppose you're wondering, Dick,
why they never chose me. I've often
wondered, too. I wonder why they
never did. There are so many splen-
did, wonderful men, I wonder why I
never loved any of them. I'm getting
awfully old, Dick. Some day I'll be
walking with a stick. Oh, Dick, 1 wish
I could love somebody. 1 don't want
to be old and lonely and ugly"
Her head went down on the soft coat
and a tear dropped.
Suddenly there was a chirping and
%f1uttering in the vines, and Dick i'm
mediately jumped down to investigate.
A fedg!ing had dropped out Of it's nest
and got tangled in the leaves.
Violet jumped out Of the swing and
hurried after him. But by the time
| she reached the ~vine-covered fence the
cat had worked his sinuous way into
it's very heart. STOPPING, she reached
into the black shadows for her pet.
But he vas gone.
When she tried to straighten she
found she could not. Her hair-a won
derful copper, the chief charm Of her
beauty, was caught cruelty by the
thick, twisted branches. She took out
the pins and tried to work it free, but
it was useless. She found she could
sit comfortably enough, but that was
no help to matters. She couldn't stay
there all night; too far back from the
street to be heard, and no one near but
the hated house of her neighbor.
Suddenly she heard a voice. 1t was
masculine and quite near. She peered
through the fence, and in the moon
light saw 8 swing much like her own,
and in it a man smoking a cigarette.
Between puffs he was talking to a
white bulldog on the opposite seat.
The man was Wilbur Neal and he
was in uniform.
She started. She had not heard he
had Joined the army.
rags, it's a bully night, isn't it?'
said Doctor Neal. II wonder if
they have nights like this in France?
But of course they have, only / sup
pose I'll be too busy to notice them.
"It's funny, isn't it, Rags, how we
waste time and waste it, and suddenly
realize what things mean to us when
they're about gone? For instance, there
is a girl I like very much-very much
indeed. And she hates me, and she
thinks I hate her and because I didn't
know how to overcome her dislike /
just let it 60. And now it's too late
to do anything about it. Too bad, isn't
it? And if nothing happens to me in
this war, and I come back, I'll grow
into a cranky old man without friends.
Isn't it silly? I've watched her grow
up, and she's a fine, useful woman, as
we'll as beautiful. And I've lost her
because I haven't any courage. But
I've courage tonight, I believe, Rags.
I wonder what she'd say If I went over
there? It's only next door, Rags"
But Rags had heard something. A
white shadow had flashed out Of the
hedge, then in again. 1t was too much
for canine endurance.
IC.xs k-.o Dc-rV TNonSt h,,rk