Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1921-11-15


household when man could no sooner
appear than some girl began to talk
of marriage? Stupefed, Allx watched
the affair progress.
II don't imagine it's serious" her
father said on an April walk. Peter,
tramping beside them, was interested
but silent.
"My dear father" the girl protested.
"Have you listened to them? They've
been contending for weeks that they
were just remarkably good friends
that's why she calls him Frenzy"
"Ah-I see p the doctor said mildly,
as Peters wild laugh burst forth.
"But now," Allx pursued, shes told
him that as she cannot be what he
wishes, they had better not meet"
poor Amer the old doctor COM
mepted.
"Poor, nothing! She's having the
time Of her life," her cousin said un-
feelingly. "She told me today that
she was afraid that she had checked
one of the most brilliant careers at
the bar"
81 had no idea Of all thisp the doc
tor confessed, amazed. "Tve seen the
young man-noticed him about. Well
-well-well! Anne, too"
In June came the blissful hour In
4, which Anne, all bushes and smiles,
could come to her uncle with q duti-
full message from the respectfully
adoring Justin. Their friendship, said
Anne, had ripened into something
deeper.
Justin wants to have a frank talk
with you, uncle" Anne said, land
Of course I'm not to go until you are
sure you can spare me and unless you
feel that you can trust him utterly!"
Anne's engagement cups were
ranged on the table where Cherry's
had stood, and where Cherry had
talked of a coffee-colOred rajah silk
Anne discussed the merits Of smart
but handsome blue tailormade."
The wedding was to be In Septem-
Der, not quite year after Cherry's
wedding. Alix wrote her sister pages
about it, always ending with the en-
phatic declaration that Cherry must
come down for the wedding.
Cherry was homesick. She dreamed
continually Of the cool, high valley,
the scented aisles of the deep forest,
the mountain rearing its rough sum-
nit TO the pale blue Of summer skies.
June passed; July passed; it was
hot ut the Emmy Younger" August
came In on a furnace breath; Cherry
felt headachy, languid and half sick
all the time. Martin had said that
he could not possibly get away, even
for the week Of Anne's wedding, but
Cherry began to wonder II he would
let her go alone.
'If he doesn't, 1 shall be sick!" she
fretted to herself, in certain burn
ing noontime, toward the middle of
August. Martin, who had been play
ing poker the night before, was sleep
Ing late this morning. Coming home
at three O'Clock dazed with close air
and cigar smoke, he had awakened
his wife to tell her that he would be
dead" In the morning, and Cherry
had accordingly crept about her dress
ing noiselessly, had darkened the bed
room and eaten her own breakfast
without the clattcr Of a dish. Now
she was sitting by the window, pant
ing H. the noon heat She was think
ing, as it CHANGED, of the big forest
VI home and OF certain day-just
one Of their happy days only year
ago, when she had lain for a dreamy
hour on the soft forest floor, staring
up idly through the laced fanllke
branches, and she thought of her ia
ther, with his mild voice and ready
smile; and some emotion, almost like
fear, came over her. For the first time
she asked herself. in honest bewilder-
ment, why she had married.
The heat deepened anG strengthened
and increased rs the burning day
wore on. Martin walked I'D, hot and
headachy, and having further dis.
treSsed himself with strong coffee and
eggs, departed into the dusty, motion
less furnace out-of-dOOrs. The far
brown hills shimmered and swan, the
Emmy Younger" looked its barest,
its ugliest, its least attractive self.
There was a shadow in the door
way; she looked up surprised. For q
minute. the tall figure in striped linen
and the smiling face under the flow
cry hat seemed those Of stranger.
Then Cherry cried out and laughed,
and in another instant was crying in
Alix's arms.
Alix cried, too, but it was with a
great rush Of pity and tenderness for
Cherry. AliX had not young love and
novelty to soften the outlines Of the
Emmy Younger" and she felt, as she
frankly wrote later to her father, "at
last convinced that there is hell y
The heat and baroness and uglineSs
of the mine might have been over
looked. but this poor little house of
Cherry's, this wood stove draining
white ashes, this tin sink with its
numn. and the bathroom with neither