The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-11-17

there. It's lonesome"
 His languid manner occasfoned an exchange of questioning glances?
 Mot sick, are you?" his father i'm quired.
 "Me? No. never felt better in my life. dad.''
 Well. you seem tired out. Bet ter go to bed and sleep up!"
 His mothers worried eyes gave him an uncomfortable sense Of being heartless.
 I'm all right, mother; just wait till I've had a bath and slept in a bed once more!'' He attempted brightening.
 ''I imagine the ground does get hard after a while.''
 He nodded. letting his eyes wander around the old dining room.
 It's familiar decorations seemed lifeless to his eyes. The big picture above the mante1 he had loved as a boy now appeared suddenly coIorless and askew. He frowned distaste- fully.
 Dinner was over. Through the double wind ows at the front of the room he watched the moon glide above a cloud and drop a widening sheet of mellow gold over the streev and yard. The flowers along the dawn and iri the bed he had been so proud of because his mother had de- signed the color schemes all dropped forlornly in the still, farm air. The grass was no longer a moonlit field where glorious dreams rose promi- ingly.
 Life was indeed a poor and squalid sham, made up of wild attempts to hide the dearths of joys beneath flow CTS, paintings, clothes and dreams.
 Jerry, why are you so sober. dear" His mother came and slipped her arm across his shoulders as he sat gazing into the silent street.
 'I don't know" He reused him self. putting on a melancholy cloak of gafety. "I didn't know was, mother mineI'
 let his head nestle against her, seek ing comfort once more where all mankind has gone to find the solace for it's wounds.
 You act so moody"
 "Motheri'
 "Yes, dear?''
 Do women who love men ever really want to leave then? %
 Just the minutest catch of her tion vouchsafed. To him she seemed undisturbed
 ''Why, son, what a question. I don't quite know how to answer"
 'Would you want to, mother?"
 She sat on the arm of his chair smiling wisely, but her eyes were touched with that shadow of dread every mother knows.
 "I never have wanted to since your father and were engaged, and I cer- tainly never want to leave you. my only boy!"
 But I mean different, you know, women who-who are different
 "Morton!" She called him by his Christian name only when her mind was upset. To her he had become Jerry as to all who knew him. ''Mor- ton don't understa nd'
 Suddenly he let his head sink in her lap and tears coursed down his cheeks. She asked no questions, only her comforting hands caressed his head while her eyes grew moist with the pain of his misunderstood revela- tfon.
 At last he stood up.
 I'm going to bed, mama''
 "All right, son; good nightG'
 She watched him go with aching heart. Already she was steeling her self against the anguish she expect ed when her boy conflded his first sad story of experience.
 But he did not go to bed. The thought of sleep repelled him. With out reason he felt himself at a crisis.
 He could not know that at that moment fate with coIdIy speculative eye and poised shears was studying the pattern of his life. Should she weave strongly into the warp ana wool the slender thread of romance