Omaha daily bee., 1921-05-29

"Yes, I liked the song" said Jms mother.
"I want to ask you question:" she went on. l
felt, and imagine her husband felt, that mat
ters had been taken out of our hands.
did you-do you know my son?"
The girl looked puzzled. She turned to me,
who translated. Miss Sunshine gave a light
laugh. She shrugged her shoulders.
'Eow should l know" she asked. I saw 80
many, knew many"
"He sang that song" began the older woman.
ut his song,' she went on. using the pathetic
broken English which we all suppose makes the
matter easier for foreigners And to my aston
ishment she began and sang softly with queer
old voice the first line: q
II love my love-
But she could not go Slowly she opened
a netted bag OF black and drew out picture.
1t was in small silver frame, and the faithful
American flag in cheapish enamel was draped at
the top Jim looked at us cheerfuly. Miss Sum-
shine stared at him. What she felt could not
have said, but felt something icy clutching at
my own heart
I'll etait votre hls?" asked the girl slowly. She
sounded calm, even hard-or brave, was 1t? l
saw her hands tighten on the tables edge She
started to rise, then changed her mind. Some
thing new swept over her face, over which so
many emotions had already surged.
''Votre fils," she repeated, almost angrily now.
"He is i'll America, je suppose"
"In America" Jin's mother made a funny
helpless little gesture with both hands, II to
indicate the black she wore.
I'll est mort" found myself saying and then.
quite preposterously, as if needed to translate
it, "He is dead.''
The blonde girl caught the photograph again
and stared at it half dazed for second and
then suddenly bent over it ON the table and
broke into a fierce tempest of sobs. 1t not
opportune for Monsieur Tic-Toc, who was at
that moment recounting in song the adventures
Of partie carre bourgeoise who had taken a
trip from Paris to Dieppe He hesitated and
then finished his couplet and StOpped-We were
to know to what point the liveliness of
Madame Broiche led her. For instant there
was an embarrassed silence in the salle Then
the crosse Mathilde got up--she not so bad
after all-and put her hand on her fellow art
lists heaying shoulder.
what can I do for you, dear one?' she
asked. What rivalries to artists but things
to forget?
The yellow head was raised little. Is it
not odd the things remembers?-at that
moment I noted how dark her hair was at the
roots.
make the concert go on!' she appealed.
Was it not the old courage Of the theater,
of the theater's dregs? I believe il it had
been necessary to save the day--the night, to be
accurate-the stricken Sunshine would have
gamely sung herself, probably even a gay and
comic song. But the dark Mathilde took up the
burden. Her performance was, it were, a
recall OF the audience to manners. They all
knew that it was kindness to seem obvious to
sorrow, to let two continents mingle their
tears at this obscure provincial safe table. For
there were tears flowing well from Jims
mothers eyes. Yet like to remember that she
remembered what others forgot, that the
promised grog had never been ordered. Back
there in Ohio she would have made the girl a
mice cup of tea" The grog was only the near
est thing she could think Of in this strange re-
mote France, where all her life now seemed to
lie. smiled, but there were tears enough in my
eyes as well.