The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1922-02-14

WOulOn II WdIcn J!
At little after four came dusk to a
dusk-colored day; at five, night, with
the wind gone down and the rain faster
and finer, like spilling sands. The Chi
cago Limited, with the shrek of a
maniac and without pause for Spartan,
tore neck and neck with its schedule
through the town, rafting Its window
panes and the warning bell at cross
roads.
At six o'clock a medley of steam
whistles rose like rockets from the
various roofs of the Wellington-Lowney
Wire Works, and five hundred workers
Strengthened and WINGED of crick in the
back
In Annie Kineady's kitchen a lamp
burning against tin reflector and
through a brilliantly clean chimney
threw yellow patch out into the pud-
died side yard. Annie Kineady drew
that shade and placed a thick plate of
thickly cut bread in the center of the
spread table. Strong smells of the
strong foods that wage-earners, and
not coupon clippers. are strong enough
to digest, rose from the range to the
ceiling and down again, warming and
thickening the room. The smell of
coffee came through finally, and the
sound of seething, and with her bril-
liant head flung back against the rise
of steam, she pushed the overlooking
pot to the rear of the stove, raised the
stove-lid and pOked at the live Goals
their red flowing all over her.
Then she sat down In the low rocker
between the range and the indoor els
tern, but not back against it; erect in
stead, with her ears straining through
the steady sound of rain and her
hands, where they closed over the
chair, white at the finger-nails.
At seven o'clock, and in some IN
certainty, Steven Kineady turned in
at his gate; came his footsteps around
to the side entrance, placed at uneven
intervals, and the sound of mud suck
ing as the shoes withdrew
Within her chair and in a silence
that seemed to shape itself for some
thing shameful, Annie Kineady sat as
If the rivers of her blood had ceased
to flow.
Yet when Steven Kineady finally
flung open the door, letting in a fine
gust of wind and rain, he was smiling
and rubbing his great rough hands to-
gether and shaking the spray from his
six feet of great bulk. Tiny drops lay
glistening on his sand-colored mus
tache and the shiny visor of his cap.
At the sink he even paused to remove
his oilskin jacket, methodically and
out of his habit of folding 1t, removing
his high, mud-caked boots and padding
toward her In socks Of her own knit
ting.
snow, now, Annie, get up like good
girl. You think I'm a little late and /
amt all right, don't you? You
think"
"Quit!" she said, springing back
from his impending kiss. "Quit!"
He sat down Immediately and
held out his hands toward the
range. His blue eyes, edged in long
lashes which curved like a child's,
were murky In the pupils and the
whites of them were inf1amed with
little threads of blood running
through.
"Br-r-rl Coldl" he said, launching
his great shoulders and rubbing his
palms rapidly to generate warmth
between them. "Coldr'
"Ah-h-h-hw He flung out his heavy
legs, slipping down in his chair, chin
in necktie. "Ah-h-h!" The smile grew
on his face as the indoor warmth and
dryness crept on his face, and he
closed his eyes and lay back.
/ Supper, girl" he said finally.
She leaned to him, her ear tuned to
his breathing, a second of doubt flash
ing over her as he lay quiescent.
"Steve-Stevey, are-are you tired
Is that alfs the-the matter?"
Tired"
"Or-or have you been taking a
drop?"
Quit your gassin'."
Her incertitude went out like a
candle-light
Ugh" she said.
Supper first. girl, and then all the
gassin' you want"
She ran her tongue around the rim
of her dry lips.
There amt going TO be no supper
Supper, there's a good girl. '''Tup
pee he used to call it. 'Tuppee-da-
dee"
'There-there amt gong to be nc
supper
He opened his eyes, regarding her
through the blur OF their wateriness.