The Washington herald., 1920-07-31
CONTINUED FROM PAGE ONE.

the wood starring dogwood, the
voice OF bluebird - even so gross
reminder as the farewell hand
shake OF the retiring buckwheat
and oyster before they can well
come the Lady in Green to their
dull bosoms. But to old earth $
choicest kind there come straight
sweet messages from his newest
bride. telling them they shall be
no stepchildren. unless they choose
to be.
On the previous summer, Sarah
had gone into the country and
loved a farmer.
Un writing your story never
bark back thus. 1t is bad art. and
cripples interest. Let it march,
march.
Sarah STAYED two weeks at Sun
nybrook Farm. There she learned
to love old Farmer Franklin's son
Walter. Farmers have been loved
and weeded and turned out 10
grass in less time But young
Walter Franklin was a modern
agriCulturist He had telephone
in his COW house, and he could fig
ure up exactly what effect next
years Canada wheat crop would
have on potatoes planted in the
dark of the moon.
1t was in this shaded and rasp-
berried lane that Walter had
wooed and won her. And together
they had sat and woven a crown
OF dandelions for her hair. He
had immoderately praised the ef-
feet of the yellow blossoms
against her brown tresses; and
she had left the chaplet there, and
walked back to the house swing
ing her straw sailor in her hands.
They were to marry in the
spring - at the very frst signs
of spring, Walter said. And Sarah
came back to tho city to pound
her typewriter.
A knock at the door dispelled
Sarah's visions of that happy day.
A waiter had brought the rough
pencil draft of the Home Restau-
rants next day fare in old Schu-
lenberg's angular hand.
Sarah sat down to her typewrlt-
er and slipped a card between the
rollers. She was nimble worker.
Generally in an hour and a hait
the twenty-one menu cards were
written and ready.
Today there were more changes
on the bill of fare than usual. The
soups were lighter; pork was
eliminated from the entrees, hg-
uring only with Russian turnips
among TIE roasts. The gasoline
spirit OF spring pervaded the en-
tire menu. Lamb, that lately ca
pered on the greening hillsides.
was becoming exploited with the
sauce that commemorated Its
gambols The cong of the oyster
though not silenced, was dimuen-
do con amore The frying-p pan
seemed to be held inactive, behind
the beneficent bars of the broiler.
The pie list swelled: the richer
puddings had vanished: the sau-
sage, with his drapery wrapped
about him. barely fingered in a
pleasant thanatopsis with the
doomed maple.
Sarah's fingers danced like mid
gets above summer stream.
Down through the courses she
worked, giving each item it's po-
sition according to it's length with
an accurate eye.
Just above the deserts came the
last of vegetables. Carrots and
peas, asparagus on toast, the Pc
renuial tomatoes and corn and
succotash. lima beans, cabbage
and then
Sarah was crying over her bill
of fare. Tears from the depths of
some divine despair rose in her
heart and gathered to her eyes.
Down went her head on the little
typewriter stand; and the key
board ratified dry accompani-
ment to her moist sobs.
For she had received no letter
from Walter in two weeks, and the
next item on the bill of fare was
dandeiions-dsnde with some
kind OF egg-but bother the egg!
--dandelions, with whose golden
blooms Walter had crowned her
his queen of love and future bride
--dandelions. the harbingers of
spring, her sorrows crown of sor-
row-remindcr of her happiest
days.
Madam, l dare you to smile un-
til you suffer this test: Let the
Marechal Neil roses that Percy
brought you on the night you gave
him your heart be served as a
salad with French dressing before
your eyes at a Schulenberg table
d'hote. Had Juliet so seen her
love tokens dishonored the sooner
would she have sought the lethean
herbs of the good apothecary.
But what a witch Is springl In
to the great cold city of stone
and iron a message had to be sent
There was none to convey 1t bu,
the little hardy courier of the
fields with his rough green Goa,
and modest air. He is a true sol.
dier of fortune, this dent lion
this lions tooth. as the French
chefs call him. Flowered, he will
assiet at love-making, wreathee
in I my lady's nut-brown hair
yoLng and callow and unblos
soined, he goes into the boiling
pot and delivers the word of hi.
sSvereign mistress.