The Wolf Point herald. (Wolf Point, Mont.) 1913-1940, 1921-11-17

the day of her DEATH 1t struck MN
as strangely changed, strangely n
h~eartrendingly familiar. The windows
were closed, as AliY had never had
them closed, winter or summer, rain
or sunshine. Her books stood in their
old order, her students Shakespeare,
and some of her ~girlhood's books,
Little Women" and "Uncle Max" In
the closet, which exhaled a damp and
woody smell, were one or two of the
boyish-looking hats he had so often
seen her crush carelessly on her dark
hair, and the big belted coat that was
as plain as his own, and the big boots
she wore when she 1tramped about the
poultry yard, still spattered with pale,
dry mud. Her fathers worn little b.
BILE lay on the table, and beside it an
other book, Duck Raising for the
Market" with the marks Of muddy
and mealy hands still lingering on its
cover.
Suddenly, evoked by these silent
witnesses to her busy and happy life,
the whole woman seemed to stand be-
side Peter, the tall, eager, vital woman
who had been at home here, who had
ruled the cabin with a splendid and
vital personality. He seemed to feel
her near him again, to see the inter-
ested eyes, the high cheek-bones
touched with scarlet. the wisp OF hair
thai would fall across her face
times when she was deep in baking,
or preserving, or poultry-farming, and
thai she would brush away with the
back of an impatient hand, only to
have 1t slip loose again.
One of her kitchen aprons, caught In
the current of air from the opened
door, blew about on its hook. He re-
membered her, on many a wintry day,
buttoned into just such a crisp apron,
radiantly busy and brisk In her kitch-
en-, stirring and chopping, moving con-
stantly between stove and table. With
strong hands still showing traces Of
flour she would come to sit beside him
at the piano, to play a duet with her
characteristic dash and finish, only to
jump up in sudden conjunction, with
an exclamation: "Oh, my ducks-Td
forgotten them Oh, the poor little
wretchesi !"
And she would be gone, leaving a
streak of wet, fresh air through the
warm house from the open door, and
he would perhaps glance from q win
dow TO see her, roughly coated and
booted, %ploughing about her duck yard,
delving into barrels of grain, turning
on faucets, welding a stubby old
broom.
She loved her life, he unused, with
q bitter heartache. as he stood here
in her empty room. Sometimes he had
marveled at the complete and unques-
tioning Joy she had brought to 1t. Pc
ter reminded himself that lever in
their years together had he heard her
complain about anything, or seem to
feel bored or at a loss.
We've always thought of Cherry as
the child !" he thought. "But II was
she, Alix, who was the real child. She
never grew up She neve entered into
the time Of moods and self-anaIysis
and ~jealousies and desires She would
have played and picnicked all her
life
His heart pressed like a dull pain
in his chest. Duly. quietly, he went
to the fire again. and DULY and
quietly moved through the day. Her
books and music might stand as they
were. her potted ferns and her scat
tered small possessions-the sewing
basket that she always handled with
a boys a~wkwardness, and the camera
she used so well-should keep their
places. But he went to her desk.
to destroy various papers that she
might wish destroyed before the cabin
was deserted. And s.ere he found her
letter.
He found ii only after he had some
what explored the diigerent small
and ~plge0nhoies Of the desk,
and ~pigeonholes which were.
o his surprise, all in astonishing oS-
.er for Alix. Everything was marked.
led, %pocketed; her accounts were bal
need, and if she had anywhere left
papers, they were at least no
There to be found.
Seeing In all this a dread contrma-
ion of his first suspicion of her death.
'eter nevertheless experienced q shock
yhen he found her letter.
1t had been placed in an empty
rawer, face up, and was sealed, and
ddressed simply with his name.
He sat holding it in his hand, and
loments passed before he could open
SO it had been true, then, the fear
lat he had tried all these weeks TO
rush? He had been weighing, meas
ring, remembering, until his very
)ul was sick with the uncertainty.
lis mind had been a confused web OF
lemories, of this casual word and
lat look, Of what she had possibly
card, had probably seen, had suspect
Now he would know. He tore opel
le envelope, and the dozen written
mes were before his eyes. The let
r was dated, a most unusua thing ,
,r AliI to do, and Saturday, one
was written under the date. /,