The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1920-06-10
WHEN ROSES BLOOM
BY MILDRED WHITE.

Copyright, 1917, Western Newspaper Union.)
Many days had Leila sat, her pretty
face pressed close against the window
pane, wistful blue eyes gazing far
down the street, but he, had not come.
He had told her as they parted in
anger that long time ago, though not
yet eight weeks by the calendar-that
he never would come back, until" he
added scornfully, your roses are
blooming again." That at the time
had seemed to him the most hopeless
| emblem. About them, as they stood
in the dreary garden, leaves lay thick
upon the ground, the flower beds brown
and desolate. Perhaps he had not
| meant to 90 so far In his anger, but
the girl had tried him sorely, Leila, too,
may not have been blameless in that
her smile worked havoc where 1t was
merely intended to be friendly. To
Philip Strong she owed her allegiance,
and her repentance and dismissal of
| each new sutton heretofore had won his
speedy pardon, but this-was "the last
time" he told her. IF 1t happens
again" he had said, 81 will never
come back" and-it had happened
again.
The splendid car belonging to the
latest young man from the city, with
vista of a glorious autumn ride, had
| been her temptation. Leila had taken
that ride, and because of it, Philip was
never coming back, until her roses
bloomed again. Dead against the
early fallen snow lay the bushes. In
vain she had used former coaXing
wiles, which had never failed to win,
lingering Carelessly, yet with eyes
bright and eager, to await the evening
train. Twice, Philip had passed her,
swinging along easily, with firm
pressed lips, his hat just raised in
greeting. And now, the other man had
become so tiresomely uninteresting,
pettlshly Leila had crossed to the OPP
posite side of the road to avoid the
| fateful driver of that same splendid
car; but now, a greater forebOding
possessed the girl. Among the printed
names of those accepted to answer
their country's call, she read that of
Philip Strong; Philip, brave as she had
always known him to be-and true.
| Could he go without reconciliation?
| Could he cross the great seas, perhaps
10, If = Wit al nf
fort for her aching heart? Leila could
not believe it possible. Tears fell upon
the Khaki colored sweater she was
knitting, in the hOpe-just in the hope
that he might wear it.
But Philip remained silent, as far
away in the little town as though seas
| divided. A note might bring him to
her side, a word of repentant love
might move his heart to forgiveness,
but youth is proud, and Leila could
not force herself to write that word.
And how could one know? 1t is u chang
| ing world; the heart of Philip Strong
might have changed toward her,
"Three days MORE" so the paper said,
and then the brave soldiers would be
| off to camp. Desperately the girl
snatched the little red hat he had ad-
mired, breathlessly, she walked
through the bare autumn woods, to the
hilltop, where they had so often
fingered together, on again, past the
stores of the busy town, home discour-
aged and heartsick at evening. And
then, because she wished to be alone,
Leila sat down at the old piano, to
play in the dusk.
Before her upon the wall hung
quaint framed mirror, and as she
played, her eyes appraised, suddenly
back to her whitened cheeks came the
wild rose color. A moment her fingers
trembled, then triumphantly pressed
the keys. For in the mirror the girl
had seen a viSiOn-a vision of Il mans
soldicr-clad figure, his face deep with
tender yearning. Leila laughed hap
PLY at the stars. In the morning she
would go up to the top of the hill,
where in the sunshine, a little old
woman tended a dollhouse of glass.
Here, upon festive occasions came the
women of the town to purchase bloom
ing plants.
1.-TWO days more" whispered the
girl, and again at dusk her fingers
touched the keys of the old piano.
The vision this time was long in COM
ing, but at last she saw it in the mir
ror, the somber reflected eyes beneath
a soldiers hat Of felt. Then as Philip
Strong fingered for his long farewell
look, a light bazed through the win
dow, and the girl stood gazing out at
him above a blooming rose tree.
Wistfully she bent to touch with her
hands the fragrant flowers, then with
a bound the soldier assembled the steps
Leila was at the door to meet him.
"Forgiye, sweetheart that foolish
threat of NINE" he begged. And Leila
smiled.
"hIy roses arp blooming doaru gho