The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1921-10-12

| The effect of these plays was to
 make Cherry long vaguely for the stage: she really did not enjoy them
 for themselves. But they helped her | to visualize Eastern cities, lighted
 streets, restaurants full of lights and
 music, beautiful women ftly gowned l After one of these performances she 1 would not leave her fiat for several days, but would sit dreaming over the thought of herself in the heroine's role.
 One day she had a. letter from Alix; it gave her a heartache, she hardly her own home. of the warm, sweet little valley whose breezes were like wine, of Tamalpais wreathed fin fog. and of the ridges where buttercups and poppies powdered a childss shoes with gold and silver dust. She began to hunger for home, Nothing that Red Creek could offer shook her yearning for the remembered sweet ness and beauty of the redwoods, and the great shade of the mountain She wanted to spend a. whole summer with A1ix.
 She was attirst for home, for old tionS! She had only to hint to Aiix tR receive a love letter containing a fervent invitation. So 1t was settled
 With a, sort of feverish brevity Cherry completed her arrangements; Martin
 was to use his own judgment in the matter of boarding or keeping the fiat. Some of their household goods were stored; Cherry told him that she would come down in September and
 manage all the details of settling afresh, but she knew that her secret hope was that she might never see Red Creek again.
 San Francisco on soft May morn ing. She was an oddly developed
 Alix, trim and tall, prettiiy gowned
 and yelled, laughing and crying with inzy at Peter
 had explained between kisses,
 had to go to Los Angeles three days
 ago, had been expected home last
 night, and was not even aware yet
 that Cherry was definitely arriving. "Of course, he knew that you were coming, but not exactly when,' Aiix said, as she guided the newcomer
 along the familiar ferry place on to the big bay steamer for Mill Valley. Cherry drew back to exclaim, to mar vel, to exult, at all the we1f-remem- bered sights and sounds and smells "Oh, AHx-Market street!' she ex-
 claim ed. And that smell of leather tanning, and that smell of bay water
 and of coffee! And iook-that's a "we'Il come over to San Francisco
 soon, and you'll see the new hotels" :"
 Alix promised when they were seated
 on the upper deck, with the blue wa ters of the bay moving softly past
 them. Ci.erry's happy eyes followed a wheeling gull; she felt as if the
 world was suddenly sunshiny and simple and glorious again. But now,
 you home,'' Alix went on, and get
 you rested.'
 'I can't get used to the idea of you +''We're well used to it," Alix de | clared, smiling, too. But a little sigh
 stabbed through the smile second i later. Cherrys exquisite eyes grew
 sympathetic; she suspected from the | letter Alix had written that there
 would be no nursery needed in the
 mountain cabin for a while, and she | knew that to baby-loving Aiix this
 would be bitter cross.
 Sausalito, fragrant with acacia and
 rose blooms, rose steepiy into the ! bright sunshine beyond the marshes Cherry's eager eyes missed nothing: and when they left the train at Mill Valley, and the mountain air envel- oped them in a rush of its clear soft
 ness and purity she was in ecstacies. 1 Sra gave an exclamation of delight
 when they reached the cabin. It was
 a picture of peaceful beauty in the
 summer noon There were still but
 tercups and peoples in the fields, and 1 in the garden thousands of roses were
 growing riotously, hinging their long
 arms up against the slope of the low
 brown roof, and hanging in feStoons
 from the low branches of the oaks Beyond the house the mountain rose; | from the perch Cherry could look 1 down upon the 1aInlIiaT Vd1eS- dIIu | the rivers winding like S-ripe. of blue
 ribbon through the marshes. and the
 far bay. and San Francisco beyond. i Inside were shady rooms, bowls of i flowers plain little white curtains
 stirring in the summer breeze, peace 1 and simplicity everywhere. Cherry
 smiled a the immacu1ately clad Chi
 nese stirring something in yellow l bowl in a Spotless kitchen whose l windows showed manzanita and wild l lilac and madrone trees; smiled at the big, smoked fireplace where sun | chimney's great mouth; smiled as Sh Q 1 chimney's great mouh; smiled as she
 went to and fro on journeys of inves- | tigation. But the smile quivered into | tears when she came to. her own room. just such a room a little Charity Strickland had had. only a | few years ago. with white hangings | and unpainted wood fresh air streaming through it, and redwoods l outside.
 | Cherry stumbled into the airy,
 dark, sweet little bedroom, and some | how undressed and crept between the l cool sheets of the bed that stood near Alix's on the wide sleeping porch
 Her last thoughts was for the heaven ! ly redwoodS so close to her she slept, | indeed, for almost twelve unbroken | hours.
 "Oh, Sis, I do feel so deliciously
 lazy and happy and rested and-and | everything," said Cherry. as she set
 tied herself at the porch table where
 service for one was spread.
 | Cherry, you're prettier than ever!"
 A1ix said. eyeing the white hands so
 busy with blue china. and the bright head dappled with shade and sun
 shine coming through the green rose
 vine.
 "Am F" Cherry said. pleased. "I | thought myself that looked nice this
 morning." she added innocently. "But | it is really because the air of this | place agrees with me. it makes my | skin feel right and my eyes feel right; | it makes me feel normal and | smoothed out Somehowf"
 | "Oh, there's no place in the world 1 like it.'' Alix agreed. rubbing some dried mud from the back of her hand with the trowel. "If Martin con | tinues to migrate every little while, l wish you could have little house