The evening Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1918-1920, 1919-04-09
CHAPTER VII .
In Which an Angel Hovcrs Awhile
Over Earth and Beholds Strange
Sight and Signs and Then Goes
on Again About Its Business

But there were many weeks before
she did come back to Paris.
Mibb Henderson alighted onto oul
station platform from the four o'clock
train which had brought her up the
valley. She had made the trip in d
day-coach; her only baggage was a
small black valise.
No one recognized her; few indeed
there are among present day Parish
ans who have lived long enough in
one, place in this one town
to know the prodigals when they re-
turn. Uncle Joe Fodder, still driving
his depot hack, knew. Perhaps for
that reason she avoided him. She
did not take a carriage up to the
business section. She walked up slow
1y, as though at last there were no
need for hurry,-no need for hurry
ever again. She had no place to
reach. She had just come home.
She was still stylishly dressed. The
smart hat concealed the iron-gray
hair. The modish veil with it's field
of black polka-dots hid the tell-tale
wrinkles and traces Of cosmetics. She
was yet well-built woman and in
deed would pass as far younger than
the Paris of yester-year knew her to
be. But Mibb was old; somehow as
she walked up Depot street to Main
she was broken and burned out and
bowed. She made a pathetic figure
as she came up Depot street in the
soft afternoon Of late Spring.
When she got up to Main street
she stopped frequently on the corn
crs as though undecided where to go
or what to do. Reaching the taxi
stand in front of Joe Farrell's quick
lunch and finding driver whose face
was strange, she suffered him to put
her bag in his machine and she
climbed in the back under the auto
top which partly hid her identity
from those who might recognize
her. A few years before there
would have been no such
attempt to keep her visit private. She
would have gone up Main Street as
Uncle Joe Fodder had once express
ed it: with all the pomp and i'm
portance of a fat wash-lady in the
back seat of new Ford" But
Mibb's star had set now. And Mibb
knew that it had set. All she wanted
was to flee away to some quiet place
somewhere like a ii ed and perhaps
wounded animal; let nature heal
those wounds. Yes, Mibb was very
tired. Pitiful was her souls yearn-
ing for Alsatia.
"Where to-" asked the Chauffeur.
"Take me. out to the Purse
place on Cobb Hill"
F. The driver started his engine and
Nib went through town with no one
to sec; no one to care.
n The car was but a few moments
covering the ground that in far-off
happier year had seemed an after
moons journey to reach. How small
and scrubby the little town was, after
all!
1t turned around the corner by the
bridge; it climbed the long sandy
grade; the raspberry and blackberry
vines brushed it's dusty sides as it
skirtcd the road along the stone wall
banked with birches and dwarf will
lows and sumach and hiding the poor
Purse place from sight. With dex-
ferrous twist it headed up, into the
yard-the yard with it's shoft-cropped
grass, behind the old stone wall
where the sweep had once stood but
banked now by the fragrant lilacs
and shrubbery of the wild roses, the
yard where there were no farm inn
elements lying around and where a
fence-rail was wedged firmly against
the rusty red doors of an empty
barn.
She alighted from the car. It wait
ed for her with its engine running.