The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1922-08-16
EUening Story
Spring Again.
BY JESSIE DOUGLAS.

Mary Martin paused q moment on
the high brownstone stoop. In the
bleak yard across the street the old
maple was sending out a blurry green:
at the end of the block a street organ
was grinding melodiously.
Spring again.
Loneliness was worse in spring, 1t
seemed to reach out and stir forgot
ten things. The things she had
dreamed a few years ago, the things
she had made herself forget.
Mary slipped her key into the lock,
pushed open the door and stood a
moment in the dimness of the hall be-
fore she mounted the narrow stairs
to her room.
Another long, empty evening await
ed her. She could see the tin of cocoa
and the saucepan behind the makes
shift curtain, the cup with the Clipped
rim, the library book on the desk I'M
der the window, the one chair with its
sagging tapestry seat. She gave a
little sound, supposedly a laugh, that
was something like a sob.
A bell shivered the silence of the
hall; it was a moment before Mary
realized it was only the telephone, and
that Mrs. Johnson was out. She lifted
the receiver mechanically and then
her heart thumped unsteadily and her
voice was almost husky as she listened.
Mrs. johnson? This is John North
rop speaking. 1 wondered if you'd let
me look at that edition."
MRS. Johnston isn't in Mary had
time to interpolate.
She knew that he thanked her; that
she said something vague and in reply
and then she was mounting the stairs
to her room. John NorthrOpi The
writer, the dark, fascinating man that
Mrs. johnson spoke of SO continuously
since first he had come to buy one OF
her husbands old books. And his
voice Mary felt herself grow warm
from head to foot as his voice stin
rang in her ears, masculine, deep,
resonant; it had quality that made
romance visible.
How avidly she read his book re-
views; how carefully she hid the
newspaper picture of him that she
had cut out one evening. He was
brilliant, impulsive. an outstanding
figure.
This evening was somehow set
apart, she had only heard mans
voice over the telephone. and yet she
could not settle down in her usual
monotonouS rut-
at won't meet him if he does come
here" she said suddenly aloud. why,
he could know anyone he wanted!
John Northrop, the reviewer! And I
L m afraid to meet him..
Suddenly she put her head down in
the circle of her arms and the hot
tears scared her eyeHds. She mad
barely time to wipe them away be-
fore the door opened and Mrs john.
leaning against the door frame.
Welt What have you been doing
tonight?'' she asked, suspiciously
shifting the cocoa-laden air. Then
smile touched her good-natured face.
IA man was asking after you. There's
no need to start so! 1t was Mr.. North
roP and he wanted to know who the
girl with the charming voice was!
why, you're right pretty when you
blush up like that" Mrs. johnson
went on. Now, I told him he could
meet you If he came here about half
mo! No, Nor Mary cried breath
lessly. 81 don't want to meet him!
can't!"
She was obdurate to all Mrs. john
sons assurances and she breathed
sigh of relief when she heard her
landlady Chamber down the steep
stairs.
He had met too many girls. pretty
girls, charming girls, girls with for
tunes and girls with names, to fall an
love at last with just little nobody
like herself.
II would fall in love with him. she
told herself land what would be the
good of that? He must be used to
having every woman he meets fasci-
mated"
She took out his picture again and
surreptitiously studied the dark thick
brows the speaking eyes, the finely
cut fact that was withal strongly mas
culine.
When half an hour later she heard
ateps mounting the stairs it only took
her half a minute to turn out her gas
to slip into her closet behind her
clothes and to stand there breathing
heavily as Mrs. Johnson opened the
door.
"She's out" Mary heard the good
woman pant on her downward way.
During the next ten days Mary led
a strangely delightful, strangely new
kind of existence. Sometimes the
telephone rang in the evenings when
again theresonance of John Northrop's
voice. She knew now his errand was
fictitious. But she was firm in her
resolve not to meet him.
John Northrop. who had always
had everything she wanted. was un-~
able to understand this strange,
elusive girl. He knew her only by
her voice-silvery. sweet with
deeper undertone; he had seen a little
picture of her on Mrs. Johnson's
mantel. Friendly eyes, a shy smile
and a piquant, pointed chin had
seemed to him the personification of
that exquisite voice: He must meet
her. He could still hear the light
flutter of her laugh on the telephone,
the question that her goodby held. He
had been pursued too long not to
know the delight of the pursuer. He
even found himself restless and dis
satisfied these last days-he decided
on one last strategy.
Mary would never meet him; she
had resolved that. She could almost
picture the look of disappointment
that would flash across his dark face,
his. strained politeness, her own
tongue-tied humiliation.
And yet in spite of that she bought
herself a charming frock, a frock with
hint of gold in it's brown depths and
a hat that bore the hallmarks OF
Paris.
She tried them on on a Saturday
afternoon, when she had come back
from the office, and turned startled