The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-12-22

THUS it was, without the
 slightest realization as tC
 what it might lead, tha l Evelyn Strang one afternoon made
 some triff1ing aIlusion to Berber's
 association with the famous Doc
 tor Mach. As soon as she had ! done so, fearing from habit fOI 1 some possible disastrous result
 she tried immediately to draw
 away from the subject. But the
 forbidden spring had been touched
 "a door that had long been | closed between them swung open
 Young Berber, sorting dahlia
 bulbs into numbered boxes
 looked up; he met her eyes un-
 suspiciously.
 fI suppose" thoughtfu11y, "that 1 that is the man to whom I should
 feel more grateful than to any
 other human being"
 The mistress of Heartholm did
 not reply. Tn spite of her tranquil
 air, Evelyn Strang was gripped
 with 8 sudden apprehension. How much, how little, did Berber | knew? She glanced swiftly at him, then bent her head over her | embroidery. The colored stream | of Indian summer flowed around ] them. A late bird poured out his little cup of song.
 My mother will not answer my questions" Young Berber ex- amining two curiously formed bulbs, shook the earth from them; he stuffed them into his trousers pocket. ''But Michael got talk ing yesterday and told me-Did you know, Mrs. Strang? I was thought to be an idiot until I was twelve years Old-born deaf and dumb?"
 It was asked so naturally, with a scientific interest as impersOnal as if he were speaking of one of the malformed bulbs in his pocket, that at first his mistress felt no confusion. Her eyes and hands busying themselves with the vivid silks, she answered.
 'I remember you as little pale boy who loved flowers and did such odd, interesting things with them. MT. Strang and I were attracted to your mysterious plays. No, you never spoke, but we were not sure you could not hear-and"- drawing a swift little breath - i've were always interested in what-in what-you seemed-to seei"
 There was pause. He knelt there. busily sorting the bulbs. Suddenly to the woman sitting on the garden bench the sun-bathed October gardens seemed alive with the myriad questioning faces of the fall flowers; wheels and disks like aureoled heads leaned toward her. mystical fire in their eyes, the co1ored flames of their being blown by passionate desire of revelation. '"This is your mo- ment," the flowers seemed to say to her. Ask him now"
 But that she might not yet speak out her heart to John Der Der his mistress was sure. She was reminded of what Strang had so often said, referring to their lonely quest-that actual existence was like a forIorn ship-wreck of some other life, a mere raft upon which, like grave buffoons,e the ragged survivors went on handling one another watersoaked bread of faith. glassless binoculars of be- lief, Oblivious of what radiant coasts or awful headIands might lie beyound the enveloping mists. Soon, the wistful woman knew, she would be making some casual observations about the garden, the condition of the soil. Yet, if ever the moment had come to question him who had once been Gar goyle," that moment was come nowi D ERBER lifted on high a mass n of thickly welded bulbs cling 1
 ing to a single dahIia stalk. He met her gaze triumphantly.
 'Michael says he planted only a | few of this variety, the soft. gold l hearted lavender. See what in crease" The youth plunged supple fingers into the balmy-scented 1Oam, among the swelling tuber forms. "A beautiful kind of ueli- | ness," he unused. ''I remember I | used to think The young gar dener, as if he felt that the eyes fixed upon him were grown sud | denly too eager, broke abruptly | off.
 "Go on. John Berber. What you have to say is always interesting"
 It was said calmly. with almost l encourag cement. but the i fingers absorbed in the bright silks | fumhled and erred. Used to | think such as these fit | cred like sunlight to the hone | lying deep in Evelyn Strang's heart.
 But young Berber leaned upon | his garden fork. looking past her. | Over the youths face crept a curi- | ous expression of wrapt contem- | D a n, of super-occupation. whether induced by her words or not she could not tell. Furtively | Mrs. Strang studied him. How | soon would he drop that mystical look and turn to her with the 1 casual educated" expression. she had come to know so well?
 Suddenly, nervousness impellins her. she broke in upon his revery:
 How wonderful, with such dreams as you must have had, to be educated, How very grateful you must be to Doctor Mach"
 She heard her own words help lessly, as if in dream, and, if the of this kind of conversa- ion had impressed the mistress of before now she cOII6