Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1921-08-10
TEARS, IDLE TEARS
BY ISABELLE ENGLAND.
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On her small, shingingly immaculate
back porch. almost completely screened
by morning-glOry vines, sat Miss Will
lis, red-nosed, red-eyed, and smiling
dismally. Even had she been seen, no
one who knew her would have been
surprised, for weeping was quite as
much habit with Miss Willis as
cOmbing her Scanty hair in a tight,
undressing pug on the very top Of
her sedate, uninteresting head. One
never would have guessed that
smiling Lalia" Gas the younger, less
respectful citizens of Blue Hill had
chrlsieneu her, with delicious thrill
OF rs ..,i.,.hess) had ever been pretty
and--'n iove. Yet such is the case.
IL, perhaps, you ever chance to visit
the Shall insignificant town Of Blue
Rock and catch a glimpse of poor Miss
Willis, with unappreciated salty tears
dripping in a forlorn way from her
long, vermilion nose, you will not
smother a care-free smoker, as others
wv D0l AiStCou LCCl q III VI real ply.
l suppose you can judge better if
you know the facts. Anyhow this is
her story as she told it to me, amid
tears and tea, on cold wintry after
noon:
Once, many years ago, long, long
before you came on earth to turn the
heads of tickle, unlovely males, 1" with
modest blush that caused her to re-
semble nothing so much as an over
ripe tomato) 'was young and pretty,
just like you, Molly, dear" q quivered
with mortitication.) II was blue-eyed
and rosy-cheeked, with a few bleached-
looking freckleS scattered around and
upon my nose, but not as disfiguring
as yours. To look at me now, you
never would think l was the belle of
the town, but l was, and John
was my best beau, for we all had 'em
then.
John was handsome boy Molly,
and l guess led him twisted trail.
When John was 10 his parents decided
to send him off into the wiles of the
city for an education that he didn't
need, for John was clever, too. At
first, while my blue eyes remained in
his memory, he wrote-and such lovely
letters l have 'em all done up in a
box, scented with lavender, on the
top shelf of my pickle and preserve
closet But gradually he remembered
only the squash-tinted freckles, so he
stopped writing.
II loved John, and because l was
young and silly I imagined he still
cared for me. AS the years passed by,
l guess l must have faded for when
he at last came home" (she paused
dramatically while I held my breath)
"handsomer than ever, looking like
he'd just stepped out of bandbox. he
didn't seem to see me, but sort of
looked right through me. l was glad
he could not, really. because I'd eaten
cheese for dinner, and John never
could tolerate cheese, especially home
made.
'I'd have run up to him, in spite of
his January stare, but a slim, scantily-
clad young woman, with hitching-pOst
heels and yellow hair was holding my
Johns arm as If it were her own. They
all kissed each other, John, his pa and
ma and that clinging-vine female.
began to feel kind Of small and insig-
nificant, not to mention injured, in
spite of my new lowered muslin. I
didn't see John again, while he was
home, but few weeks later I read
an account of his wedding-his wife
wore white satin and carried yellow
roses. 1 went to bed with an ice-pack
on my head.
For four years l had faithfully
waited for Johns return. l had
disdainfully refused three suitors, all
we'll Off young farmers-and one had
offered me a washing machine for a
wedding present! I've always pined
for one. My home town soon became
unbearable. Johns wife and her high
flung city friends monopolized the
whole town, so I just packed up and
came here; and here I've been for 20
years Of oldmaidhood feeding the cats
and sweeping the back porch and
crying"
ventured: YES"
: "Crying." she repeated, with an
extra sniff Eyes. Some day John will
realize his mistake, when it's too late
Won't you have some more tea, be-
fore you centure out, Molly? Well.
goodnight"
My eyes were little damp, possibly
because could almost picture the
tears running off her no@e into her tea,
and the lavender-scentt relics In the
preserve and pickle closet.