Middletown transcript., 1922-11-18

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The maple-bordered street was as
Still as country Sunday; so quiet
that there seemed an echo to my foot
steps. 1t was four o'clock in the morn
ing; clear October moonlight misted
through the thinning foliage to the
shadowy sidewalk and lay like trans
parent silver fog upon the house Of my
admiration, as l strobe along, return
Ing from my first nights work on the
Wainwright Morning Despatch.
j had already marked that house as
the finest Ito my taste) in Wainwright,
though hitherto, on my excursions to
this metropolis, the state capital, was
not without certain native jealousy
that Spencerville. the county-seat
where l lived, had nothing so good.
Now, however, l approached it's pur-
lieus with pleasure in it quite unal-
loyed, for I was at last myself q resi-
dent (albeit of only one days stand
ing) of Wainwright, and the house
though I had not even an idea who
lived there-part Of my possessions as
a citizen. Moreover, I might enjoy the
warmer pride of a INSTRUMENTATION
for Mrs. opportunities, where I had
taken room, was just beyond.
This was the quietest part of VAIN
wright; business stopped short Of 1t.
and the fashionable residence sec
tion" had overleaped this forgotten
backwater,' leaving it undisturbed and
unchanging, with that look about 1t
which is the quality of few urban
quarters, and eventually of none, as a
town grows to be city-the look of
still being neighborhood. This friend
liness of appearance was largely the
emanation of the homely and beauti-
ful house which so greatly pleased my
fancy.
1t might be difficult to say why
thought it the finest" house in Vain
wright, for simpler structure would
be hard to imagine: it was merely Il
big, old-fashioned brick house, painted
brown and very plain, set well away
from the street among some splendid
forest trees, with fair spread of flat
lawn. But it gave back great deal
for your glance, just rs some people
do. 1t was a large house. as | say, yet
II looked not like a mansion but like
n home; and made you wish that you
lived in it Or, driving by, of an eve
ming, you would have liked to stop
your car and go in; it spoke so sure
iy of hearty, old-fashiOned people liv-
ing there, who would welcome you
merrily.
1t looked like house where there
We're grandfather and grand
mother; where holidays were warmly
kept; where there We're boisterous
family reunions to which uncles and
aunts, who had been born there, would
return from no matter what distances
n house where big turkeys would be
on the table often; where one called
"the hired man," (and named either
Abner or Ole) would crack walnuts
upon a flatiron clutched between his
knees on the back porch; 1t looked
like a house where they played cha
rades; where there would be long
streamerS of evergreen and dozens of
wreaths of holly at Christmas time !;
where there were fearful, happy we'd
dings and great throwings of rice after
little brides, from the broad front
steps: in a word, it was the sort of a
house to make the hearts of spinsters
and bachelors very lonely and wist-
ful-and that is about as near as can
come to my reason for thinking 1t the
finest house in Wainwright.
The moon hung kindly above its
level door in the silence of that Oc-
tober morning, as l checked my gait
to loiter along the picket fence; but
suddenly the house showed a light of
its own. The squirt of match took
my eve to one Of the upper windows,
then a steadier glow of orange told
me that lamp was lighted. The win
dow was opened and man looked
out and whistled loudly.
stopped, thinking he meant to at
tract my attention; that something
might be wrong; that perhaps some
one was needed to go for doctor. My
mistake was Immediately evident, how
ever: l stood in the shadow Of the
trees bordering the sidewalk, and the
man at the window had not seen me.
"Boy! Boyw he called softly.
"Where are you. Simpledoria?"
He le.ned from the window, looking
downward. "Why, there you are!" he
exclaimed, and turned to address some
invisible person within the room. Hes
right there underneath the window.
I'll bring him up" He leaned
out again. "Wait there. Slmpledoria !''
he called. I'll be down in jiffy and
let you in."
Puzzled, I stared at the vacant lawn
before me. The clear moonlight re.
yealed 1t brightly, and It was empty OF
any living presence; there were no
bushes nor strawberries nor even
shadows-thnt could have been mis-
taken for boy, II "Simpledoria" was
q boy. There was no dog In sight
there was no cat; there was nothing
beneath the window except thick,
close-cropped grass.
A light shone In the hallway behind
the broad front door; one of these was
opened, and revealed in silhouette the
tall, thin figure of a man In a long
Old-fashioned dressing-gown.
"Simpledoria," he said, addressing
/ the night air with considerable sever.
ity, "I don't know what to make Of
you. You might have caught your
death Of cold, rowing out at such ar
hou-. But there" he continued. more
iedulgentiy; wipe your feet on the