The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1921-11-01
(Continued from Ylesterday.)

money" he toio her. And if ever you need it-df it is a question Of a long trip. or of more operaAions-ar 1 there is any chance
 ''I shall remember that have big | brother!'' she said.
 The room was scented by the sweet, | damp flowers, and by the good odor Of lazily burning logs; yet to Peter | there was chill and desolateness in | the air. Cherry took up the glass | bowl in both careful hands. and went away in the direction of the study. but he stood at the window for a long time staring duly out at the battered chrysanthemums and the swishing branches. and the steadily falling rain.
 A few days later, on a day of un- certain sunshine and flowers. Peter | left them. To Cherry, Peters going was relief: it burned one more | bridge behind her. It confirmed her | in the path she had chosen; 1t was to | her spirit like the cap that marks the accepted student nurse, or like the | black coif that replaces the postu- | Iant's white veil of probation. He had been in the downstairs bed room, talking with Martin, for per- haps an hour; he had drawn them rough sketch of the little addition to ] the house thaa Cherry meant some | day to build next to the study, and he | and Martin had been discussing the | details. Cherry was sweeping the wet, dun-colored leaves from the old porch when sudden step in the doorway behind her made her look up.
 Peter had come out of the house, with Buck beside him. He wore his old coduroy clothes and his shabby cap, but there was something in his | aspect that made her ask: | Not going?"
 1 She rested her broom against the thick trunk of the old banksia, and rubbed her two hands together, and l came to the top of the steps to say good-by. And standing there, under inc rose tree, she linked her arm about it. looking up through the branches, where the shabby foliage of last year fingered.
 How fast it's grown since that ter rifle pruning we gave it all that long time agoi' she said
 | Little more than six years ago, Cherry!" he reminded her. | Only six years" She was obvi- ously amazed. 'It doesn't seem pos- sible that all this has happened in six yearS!'' she exclaimed.
 l He did not answer. He had her hand now for farewells. and perhaps with the thought of those shore six years had come also the thought that this slender figure in the housewifely blue linen, this exquisite little head, so trim and demure despite all its rebel tendrils of gold, this lovely face. still the face of child. with child's s trusting, trust & uPhfted & eyes. might have
 
 been their home, and perhaps-who knows, there might have been a new Cherry and a new Peter beginning to look eagerly out at life through the screen of the old rose vine! I Too late now. A single instant ot those lost years might have brought him all this. but there was no going back. He put his arm about her, and kissed her forehead, and said: God bless you, Cherry!
 | God bless you, dear!" she an- swered gravely She watched the with the dog leaping and circhns about it in ecstasy, until the redwoods closed around him. Then she took thoughtfully crossed the old porch and shut the door.
 Potter, walking with long strides and with a furrowed brow and absent eyes, crossed the village, and climbed once more the old trail that led up to the cabin.
 It was dusted. orderly, complete; he and AliX might have left it yes- terday. Kow had seen him coming
 he thought, and had had time to light up to the chimney's great throat. He sad down, staring at the flames.
 Buck pushed open the swinging door between the pantry and the sit ting room, and came in, question ir his bright eyes, his great plumy tai } beating the floor as he lay down al Peters side. Presently the dog laid his nose on Peters knee and poured forth a faint sound that was not quite restlessly, and went to the closed dool : had ruled the cabin with a splendid
 side Peter, the tall, eager, vital wom. . an who had been at home here. who a whine, not quite a sigh, and rose witnesses to her busy and happy life the whole woman seemed to stand be , Not here, old fe1lowi'' Peter said
 stroking the silky head under hi: , hand.
 He had not been in this room sine, the day of her death It struck hin as strangely changed, strangely an< heartrendingly familiar. The win
 had them closed, winter or summer rain or sunshine. Her books stoo, in their old order. her student, hoods books, Little Women,' an, Q Uncle Max" In the closet. whicl l eXhaled a damp and woody smell
 inW hats he had so often seen he
 crush carelessly on her dark hail and the big be1ted coat that was a plain as his own. and the big boot | poultry yard. still spattetred wit s pale, dry mud. Her fathers wor
 little Bible lay on the table. and be
 side it another book. Duck Raisin | for the Market" with the marks c
 muddy and mealy hands still finger ' ing on it's cover.
 Suddenly, evoked by these sileT 'prous7IQls Q1 ol eso \ of Alix's room, and paved it. his cage
 and vital personality. He seemed t J feel her near him again, to see tn
 interested eyes. the high cheek-bone ! touched With scarlet, the w.sp of hal ! that would fall across her face some
 times when she was deep in bakins | or preserving. or poultry farming an | that she would brush away with tn | back of an impatient hand, only t | have it Sip loose again.
 One ot her kitchen aprons, caugt i in the current of air from the opene \ door, blew about on its hook. H | remembered her, on many a wintr ! day, buttoned into just such a cris | apron, radiantly busy and brisk 1 \ her kitchen, stirring and chopin,