The Topeka state journal., 1919-12-25
Eoening Story
The Pariah.
BY s. B. HACKLEY.

BY S. B. HACKLEY,
Lydia Bromley dropped her big corn
cutters knife to listen to the coo of
a mourning dove in the far side Of the
cane field. The time of killing frosts
| was near and Adlai Booth had be-
sought her to help cut his cane-a
mans job, but all the young fellows
of the neighborhood were either in
France or on tho way besides she
needed the work.
dove" the woman unconsciously
spoke aloud, wish me happiness, tool
Wish me miles away from these cruel
people on a nice, big farm, with cows
and pigs and flocks of fowls that
would bring in a living that wouldn't
keep me tied to the axe, chopping
wood all winter, and bound to the hoe,
chopping weeds all summer, with all
my leisure time being hired man to
| the neighbors decent enough to hire
mel oh, little dove, if could. right
| this minute, I'd run and play and look
for Dutcnman's Pipe in the brown
leaves in the woods over there!"
Just behind the Bois dare hedge
that bordered the cane field lean,
brown-faced man stood. Lindsay
Temple had come up the little hill
path back of Lydia's old cottage that
sat below on the road, in the midst
of the two acres that belonged to 1t,
stopping on his way to town to speak
to her about some quilting she'd
agreed to DO when the outdoor work
was done, for, since his wife's death
four years before, Lindsay had lived
alone and Tended for himself.
Listening. Lindsay gazed curiously
at her from behind the leafy screen.
A hundred times he had seen her,
and tho her straight erectness,
her blue eyes, sparkling with a proud
independence, and her clear pink skin
lat fifty, smooth as a girPs-had al
ways appeared to him as pleasantly
different from his neighbor women,
he saw her now with new vision. I'm
seen, he went back down the hill to
where he lad left his buggy.
Six years before, in hope. Lydia
had brought her consumptive hus-
band and her young daughter from
Vermont. But Park Bromley had
died in their third month of Ten
nessee and Lydia, learned the mystery
| that comes of misunderstanding.
| A spring, ice-cold and deep, ran out
from under a mighty rock by her
front door, and passersby, men and
women, often stopped for a drink.
And Lydia did not consider it a detri-
nlent to her character to talk to the
men, easily, pleasantly. of the affairs
| she did the women, to sit sometimes
| for a little time on her porch.
| But in that section of the country
I it was not the custom of the women
| folk to converse much with men, and
| this innocent, sociab1e practice of Ly-
dia's came under bitterest. ,condemna-
| ton. Fanciful tales were circulated
about that bold northern woman"
and in the course of time, she found
! herself ostracized.
And Lydia, become a pariah, hid
the hurt in her friendly heart and
! ~ l.
ing, with a proud defiance of mein.
Laura, the daughter, found occupa-
| ton in a town in another county. and
Lydia stayed alone-the only bright
spots in her life her love of the out
doors and the occasional visits of her
wife and daughter, good women, edu-
| Gated and cultured.
| Lindsay. on his slow way to town,
wondered what had come over the
day: He felt strangely young, the
mellow autumn air he breathed was
| like the wind off the blooming grape
| in May.
| "She amt any more like the ma
jority of these snuff-dippin' women
| hereabouts than a thrush is like a
mud duck!" he told himself. These
fools down here amt got wisdom
enough to understand she's jest had
different raisin' and comes from diff
ferent customed place to this. I'm
a-goin' to-Pm a-goin' To-
| That evening at dusk, with infinite
| care not to arouse the woman in the
| kitchen. Lindsay left a basket of fine
Concord grapes and '"rhe Rose Gar
| den Husband a book he had that
| day bought at the drug store. He
didn't quite understand the title but
! 1t sounded good and the clerk had
! told him it was a pretty love story.
That night at his five miles distant
| home ho sat until y11idnj0hf thinking
, At last he rose and faced the crayon
portrait caricature of the meek spirit
who had been the mother of his three
daughters. ''Sene," he whispered.
you was a good girl and we loved
one another, but, oh, Sene, you're
gone and I'm onesome-lonesome as
a. bear on the mountain"
He rose and went out to the grave
under the NAPLES beside the highway
Reaching down one big lean hand he
reverently brushed aside the red and
yellow leaves that covered the dead
grass.
'Twouldn't be showing no disre-
pect to you, Sene, honey, eff swas to
marry again"-his voice was a plead
| ing apology-"I wanted 10 tell you,
Sene, I'm thinkin' of somebody. Tain't
+, nobody about here Sene, you ever saw
you needn't worry about it bein'
one of these women hereabouts, Sene!"
Each week Lydia found a pleasing
parcel on her porch, and she went
about her work in happy expectation
One man of all these people was try
| ing to tell her he respected her, ad-
mired her. wanted to marry her!
| One evening at dusk, at the end OF
| the fourth week, Lindsay knocked at
| her door.
I've been a wantin' to be your
beau for a month"; he said bashfully.
'only L was afraid you wouldn't let
me be. May I come in and set for
a while? ?''
| The humility and the tenderness in
| his voice brought the tears to her
eyes, but her tone was bitter.
81 can't let you-they'd scandalize
you,"
He flushed thru his tan. ITS dark