The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-12-21

make themselves useful, and nc would have been as we'll to try tC
 train woodbine to draw water or to educate cattails to write Greek
 The little boy spent all of the day
 idling; it was a curious, Oriental
 sort of idling. Callers at Heart
 holm grew disapprovingly accus-
 toned to the sight of the grotesque face and figure peering through
 the shrubberies; they shrugged their shoulders impatiently, com
 ing upon the recumbent child
 dreamily gazing at his own ref1ec-
 tion in the 1ily-pond, looking nee Iromantically out from the molten
 purple of a wind-blown beech, or standing at gaze in clump of iris
 Strang with his amused laugh tended off all protest and neigh
 borly advice.
 That's Gargoyle's special varie-
 ty of hashish. He lives in flower Iharem-in a f1ve-year-o1d Solo
 mons Song. I've often seen the
 fries kowtowing to him, and his
 attitude toward them is distincty personal and love-lfke. If that little chap could only talk there would be some fun, but what Gar goyle thinks would hardly fit itself to words-besides, then"-Strang twinkIed at the idea-'none of us would fancy having him around with those natural eyes-that un- dressed little mind"
 TT was in good-humored explana-
 tions like this that the Strangs
 managed to conceal their real interest in Gargoyle. They did not remind people of their only child, the brave boy of seven. who died before they came to Mockwood. Under the common sense that set the two instantly to work building a new home, creating new associa- tions, lay the everlasting pain of an old life, when, as parents of a son, they had seemed to tread springier soil, to breathe keener, more vital air And, though the Strangs adhered patiently to the recognized technicalities of Mack wood existence, they never lost sight of g hope, of which, against the increasing evidence of worldly logic, their human hearts still made ceaseless frantic attestation.
 Very slowly, but very construc- lively, it had become q fierce though governed passion with both to learn something of the spirit ual life coursing back of the ma teriaI universe. Equally slowly and inevitably had the two come to believe that the little change ling at the lodge held some word less clue, some unconscious knowl- edge as to that outer sphere. that surrounding, people ether, in which, under their apparent ra- tionality, the two had come to be- lieve. Yet the banker and his wife stood to Mockwooders for no speci- al cult or fad; it was only between that their guest had become a slowly developing motive.
 "Gargoyle was under the rose arbor this morning." It was ac- cording to custom that Evelyn Strang would relate the child's latest phase. "He sat there with out stirring such a long time that I was fascinated. I noticed that he never picked 9 rose, never smelled one. The early sun fell through their petals till they glowed like thin little wheels of fire. John dear, it was that scalloped fire which Gargoyle was staring at The flowers seemed to l lean toward him, vibrating color 1 and perfumes too delicate for me to hear. I only saw and smelIed the flowers; Gargoyle looked as if | he felt them! Don't laugh; you know we look at flowers because 1 when we were little, people always 1 said, See the pretty flower, smell | the pretty flower but no one said, i Listen and see if you can hear the l flower grow; be still and see if you | can catch the flower speaking.'
 CTRANG never did laugh, never
 brushed away these fantastic l
 ideas. Settling back in his l piazza chair, his big hands locked | together. he would listen, amusing l with his pet theory of Gar soyle's "undressed mind"
 By the way" he said once, l that reminds me. have you ever seen our young Solomon of the l fower-harem smile?"
 "Of course I haven't; neither | have you" Young Mrs. Strang | averred it confidently. He never 1, has smiled. poor baby, nor cried his mother told me that long ago."
 The banker kept his eyes on the | treetops; he had his finger-tips | nicely balanced before he re- with seeming irre1evance: |
 You know that nest in the tree :. we call the Siegfred tree?"
 She nodded.
 ''The other day a bird fell out of | it, one of the young ones, pushed | out by a housekeeping mother, I suppose. It killed the poor little | feathered gawk. I saw Gargoyle | run, quick as a flash, and pick it up. He pushed open the closing eyes, tried to place the bird on a hOIlyhock stalk to spread it's