The Yale expositor., 1920-06-17

you see on the SldeDOard Oughtnt 10
be hidden In the vault"
IL am sure Uncle Bash would be
happy to know you care for these
things so much" i said, noting that
the white roses she had chosen for ths
jar--l knew the choice was hers
served to emphasize the deep red Of
its exquisite glaze.
II am among the unelect," remark
ed Mrs. Farnsworth. when am
told that such things are beautiful
they are beautiful. and that is
enough"
THAT has always been enough for
me-" / replied, MY uncle used to
try TO interest me, but he gave il up
when he found that my pagan soul
was aroused by nothing but pottery
idols: | am heathen~
IL am gratified that you make the
admission so frankly" said Mrs. Farms
worth. II have always been q great
admirer of the heather. But. you know,
Mr.. Singleton, Alice and / never can
agree as TO just what "a heather is.
All our squabbles have been about
that | am disposed to include all
who believe in fairies good, or bad,
and persons who honestly believe in
signs. omens, and lucky stones and
all who have the receipt of fern-seed
and walk invisible-there's Shakes
peare for that"
81 think" said Mrs. BashfOrd
sOberly, that ! have always believed
in witches; and II | keep on believ-
ing shall see one some day. We
shall find anything in this world that
we believe in hard enough"
She was talking very gravely, as
though witches were the commonest
topic OF conversation, but finding my
eyes turned upon her In frank wonder,
she laughed at my amazement
LET us be honest with you, Mr..
Singleton" Mrs. FarnswOrth explained,
land tell you that we are just testing
you. 1t may be a breach of hospital
ity, and you are but stranger, but
we are curious to know whether you
are of that small company of the
favored of heaven who can play al
being foolish without becoming idiotic
Alice is sometimes very near idiocy.
You admit that, Alice"
81 not only admit II, hut might
even boast of il! my aunt replied.
At the mention Of witches / had
caught Antoine crossing himself as he
turned to the sdeboard. confess
that / myself had been startled by the
drift of the talk. Mrs. FarnSwOrth
and my aunt treated each other as
though they were contemporaries, and
IL was Alice and Constance between
them. AS the talk ran eXhaustively
through the lore of witches and COB
Tins | had hoped that one or the other
would drop some clue as 10 the previ-
Gus history of my amazing aunt. 1t
was as plain as day that she and
Mrs. Farnsworth INDUCED In whims
for the JOY OF il, and her zest in the
discussion Of witches, carried on while
Antoine served the table, lips tightly
compressed, and with an exaggeratioB
of his stately tread, was the more
startling from the fact that my aunt's
companion was woman Of years, a
handsome woman with high-brcd ali
who Gid not look at all like a person
who would discuss witches as though
they had been made the topic of the
day by the afternoon newspapers.
And when the shape of a witch's chin
became the immediate point Of dis
cusslon I knew il was in Antolne's
mind that such conversation was I'M
becoming. an offense TO the memory OF
Raymond BashfOrd. Mrs. Farms
worIh's brown eyes sparkled, and the
color deepened in my aunts cheeks us
we discoursed upon witches and the
chins thereof. l had a friend in cot
lege who used to indulge In the same
sort of piffling, but that my uncles
widow and her elderly companion
should delight in such absurdities be.
wildered me. / had been addressing
my aunt as Mrs. Bashford-it
seemed ridiculous TO call her Aunt
Alice-and in the heat of our argu.
ment as 10 whether witches are neces
sarily naughty and malign beings ]
had just uttered the Mrs" when she
bent toward me and said gravely and
with no hint of archness: Cant we
make il Alice and Bob? l think that
would be lot friendlIer," ,->-.~---'
experienced q curious futter of
the heart the first time tried it, but
after that 1t came very easily. She
was simply the jOlliest, prettiest girl
that had ever crossed my horizon, ind
t. be talking to her across the table
gave me thrills compared with which
sliding out of clouds in an airplane is
only rocking-chair pastime for old
men.
We had coffee on the veranda (Allce
thought 1t would be nicer there), and
as Antoine gave me my cup he edged
close to my chair to whisper:
"That party, sir If he should
come"
"TelI the troops not to attack any
| ~ n g. A.