Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1921-04-07
CHECKERBE BERRIES
BY RUBY DOUGLAS.

Olive MacFarland had succeeded in
eluding the other members of the
party with whom she had motored up
the Mohawk trail and into the old
Vermont town in which they had de-
cided to spend a few days. She had
stolen out Of her room early in the
morning, begged the old cook In the
kitchen Of the tea-house in which they
were staying, cup Of coffee and a
sandwich, an extra bite to take
in her pocket, and had escaped across
the river alone, ON foot, into New
Hampshire.
She was so tired of the small talk
of the others. She wanted to be alone
to enjoy the wonders and the beauty
Of the Vermont and New Hampshire
hills.
Enjoying every moment Of the
morning, she had climbed up, up the
marrow trail and not encountered a
human soul. She had sung aloud, she
had gathered blueberrfes, she had sat
down on the soft, tufted soil of pine
needles. Her every nerve was alive !;
she was happy-almost.
At last she sat down beneath three
friendly white birch trees and I'M
wrapped her meager lunch. How Of
ten, back in her school days, she had
sat beneath birch trees and eaten her
midday meal together with the girls
In her botany class and--the teacher.
George Darling had taught botany,
among other branches, In the prepare
tory school In the Middle West to
which Olive had been sent before en-
tering college. Every girl In the class
bad fancied herself N love with the
big, handsome, kindly professor, but
he treated them all alike, as little
girls, and was interested In teaching
them of all the growing things.
Olive had always been student Of
nature, and perhaps in her George
Darling found particularly COM
panionable mind. At least, Olive felt
that he liked her, though she dared
not believe that he thought of her in
any way save as pupil among the
others.
Today, as she sat dreaming Of him
for in perspective he had grown
more truly to be her ideal man-her
eye caught leaf growing near by
that seemed to recall memories Of
him. She reached out to pick the lit
tie cluster Of shiny green leaves and
found the white berries, once so ia
miliar to her, growing on the stem.
"Checkerberries !" she cried aloud.
II have not gathered any for years."
II wonder if he would remember
me if-if / should send him speci-
men and ask him for description Of
tt?' she soliloquized.
She stopped at the postoffice on
her way back to join the others that
night and when her friends scolded
her roundly for having taken the lone
iy trail alone, she did not seem to
mind.
ut was wonderful" she told them.
''You are mad" they said.
sand perhaps am" she admitted,
ambiguousIy.
1t took only time for a return post
to reach her before Olive had let
ter in hand once. familiar to her.
Dear Olive" 1t ran, II taste not
only the wintergreens as / bite into
the little cluster of leaves you have
sent me from your mountains. sense
our romance, dear, in their fragrance.
I have been wondering, day after day,
II you would ever recall me. When
you were In school, dared not let
you know loved you; it would not
have been fair to you. / wanted you
to see the world, know other men, be-
fore asking you to join your beautiful
young life to- my old, moth-eaten, cob
webby existence. But--this little clus-
ter Of leaves brings you back so poig-
uantly TO my life that must tell you
of my love. Have you remembered?
Do you carer May come and tell
your"
There was more, but Olive could
read 1t with diffieulty. Her heart was
full to Overlooking.
When she wrote to him again, 1t
was to tell him where he might find
her on her return to town.
She wore little cluster of checker
berries on her coat and he pulled a
pressed leaf from his pocket when
they met.
"Such little thing on which to
hang our romance, DEAR" he said.
'Little-yes, George, but the fra
GRANGE of 1t will permeate the whole
sweet distance into which you and
are to walk together. VIII 1t notT