Every evening, Wilmington daily commercial., 1920-05-25
THE GIRL WHO
SMILED THROUGH
By Marion kubtcam-
ooovr4eht, Georxe Matthew Adams.
PATIENT WAITING.

SnapteT A1li.
Az the weeks went by, the old ready
smile came back to Ahces face AGAIN
Altar that one afternoon, she said moth
ing about Lois or David, and Clara, after
having read the letter and commented
upon Il, also refrained from talking upon
II. A little warmth came into the AIR,
hint of springtimc. But this tantsliflng
hint would be followed by slect and wlnd
and days of gray, ugly skies.
Alice seemed unusually eager for the
sound of the postman in the morning
and in the late afternoon, she usually
managed to walk around by way OF the
post Office, to see whether letter had
como on the afternoon train. But ex-
cept for the faithful Christine and her
long, gossipy news letters, there was
nothing for her. :,
'sThis is a curious situation she SAID
one dav to Clara. eve did not even
get personal letter about the death of
Lois. ! should think someone would
have notified us, since we were reia-
tives. That is always done, isn't lt?',
''Sometimes," Clara answered. but
If David had charge of sending the no.
tificAtions, he might omit your name:
He would know that you and Lois did
not want to see each other In life. why,
then, should you want TO see her in DEATH
'"Yes, of course, that's where common
sense and conventions clash, Alice unused.
She sat back IN the little living room rock
er, relaxed and tired from her day at the
Settlement House. She was undressing
Berenice as she talked, preparatory to
putting that active small person to bed.
II was task that interfered with serious
conversation, for Berenice could always
find so many things to do whom bedtime
approached, and sometimes she was
difficult TO manage. But it was a delight
full ceremony to Alice. one she looked for
ward to all day long.
II wonder whether | should write
him letter of condolenceP she went on
after time "That' 5 another case where
the conventions and common sense clash.
What could | say? | could not tell him
was sorry TO hear it, for he knows and
know that I'm not sorry. How could
be sorry for the death of a woman who
took everything IN my life away from me.
She WIS interrupted here by the ne
cessity OF getting Berenice from her
mother's work basket. The baby had
special fondness for buttons and scis-
sors. Presently, having put her into a
blue flannel sleeping suit, which Clnra
had once embroidered in rabbits, Alice
was able to 90 on with her conversation.
81 couldn't tell him | sympathi,ed
with his sorrow over his wifes loss, for
he knows | know that he could not be
very sorry, for she was no loss at all.
''Well, ol course, IL you must stick
to the letter of the truth, Clara remarked
with slight smile, you might write and
congratulate him. Having known Lois in
the old days and knowing of her since,
/ think congratulations are more IN order.
Alice smiled little, gathering Berenlce
into her arms and holding her 40 her feet
were near the warm glow Of the stove.
"Social conventions are queer, she
said. | don't think Ill write.
81 wouldn't, if | were you. The next
move is up TO David anyway Clara
answered. coming nearer 10 the lamp.
Alice sat quietly watching her, II
was really very charming little scene
that they formed. The lamp on the centre
table threw its light over the two young
figures, each one so earnest in her work.
Clara was bent over some sewing,
q rose silk dress that had been ordered
for one of the wealthy children Of the
town. She had an assistant now for the
ordinary work, and the fine touches
she put on herself. In the lamplight she
looked as though she were posing for some
old-fashioned painting. Her smoothly
parted hair with its suggestion of wave
her clean profile, her clear skin and deli
cate color, and her pleasing little figure,
made her very attractive.
Alice, much taller, more serious, more
intellectual, was the better looking of
the two. She had not let herself slump
into carelessnoss again-she had learned
Ter lesson too well. She always looked
well groomed nowadays. She was staring
at the fire, her fine gray eyes slightly
troubled in expression. In her arms cud-
died the dark haired little child whom she
had rescued from a life of poverty and
misery, perhaps from death, and who was
now the picture Of health and sleepy con-
tentnent.
Beyond the open door leading into
the kitchen, the figure of Mrs. Fairbanks
went back and forth. There was sound
of cups and spoons, and the delightful
odor OF something good baking In the
oven.
.'Berenice is asleep. Better carry her
up. supper Is soon ready, Clara remarked.
Alice stood up, the child deliciously
heavy bundle IN her arms. She walked
up stairs slowly with her.
Tomorrow Again.