The Bingham County news. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1918-1930, 1923-11-02
SCARLETTRUMPETS
BY JANE JORDoN
o. 1928. Western Newspaper Union.)

l. DeautlIul room, IL was very NOT
outside, even where fountains played
in the garden. The room someway
was indicative of Uncle Horace, rest
full in its quiet dignity.
Alan had been mentioned as one of
Uncle Horace's heirs, the property to
be shared with certain young woman,
whose mother the elder man had loved
long ago, and had failed in winning.
Alan had recently met this young
woman and had not been especially
impressed. Cheerful and pretty, too,
it must be admitted, was Miss Nora
Barry. She was now Uncle Horace's
guest in the big house to which Alan
had come through all his school vaca-
tons to pass happy days.
Uncle Horace yelled his disappoint-
ment when Alan decided against law,
which was his own profession, but he
could but be gratif1ed In his favorite's
success in the business he had chosen.
Other young women were present at
this house party which Uncle Horace
was giving. He liked to entertain in
this great home, too often silent.
Grafton, his uncle's law partner, was
also there, dependable man among
men, attractive to women.
Preoccupied, Alan walked the
length Of the living room. Who, he
meditated, might feel entirely sure
of Lois? Today assuring him, her
dark eyes hurt by his doubting-of her
loyalty. Tomorrow laughing her mock
cry across the shoulder Of Grafton-or
across some other favored mans Shout
der-with whom the will O. the wisp
happened to be walking. Saying to
Alan later:
"Why, my dear, don't you know I'm
not to be believed?-when I can't be-
lieve in myself"
Alan paused before the empty fire.
place where in winter logs gave forth
their warmth. Now the fireplace was
filled with flowers in tall vases-scar-
let flowers ablaze in limitations Of the
fire that warmed. Scarlet trumpets,"
his uncle called them, straight, erect,
glowing Alan smiled at the fancy;
they reminded him Of the commanding
beauty Of Lois. Her voice came to
him as he sat bowling his head on his
arms crossed on a wide carved table.
Across Alan's troubled senses came
soothing perfume-reminiscent in
some pleasing Intangible way Of boy
hood days and happy memories. He
lifted his head; on the table before
him in a violet vase was bouquet Of
heliotrope bloom that his
mother had loved and worn on the sim
pie muslin dresses, Alan remembered.
The thought Of her brought tears to
his eyes. Were there women like her
still in this world? Yes, pretense,
Alan thought bitterly. Was not Lois
and her kind ever pretending?
He could see in memory his young
mothers hands on his fathers head,
soothing, encouraging Alan's father
had known reverses-struggle. Alan's
sweet mother had been the great COM
pensation. True. understanding, IN
selfish.
"You make me mad" came the
rollicking song-"YOu make me glad"
1T ended in crash Of keys and
Lois wild laughter. Tears were
creeping through Alan's fngers-how
long ono tender memory had power to
stir. Some one came into the room;
he arose hurriedly. The scent OF hell
otrope increased-the young woman
who entered wore knot Of the flower
on the breast Of her white frock.
She smiled up at him, and her voice
was softly pleasing-'You remember
met I am Nora Barry. Your uncle
asked me to bring tea to him here; he
has returned from a firing game. VIII
you Join usr' Alan was confusedly
aware that tears were visible In his
eyes. Also, he knew that Nora Barry,
in kindly sympathy, affected not to
see them. What must she think Of
him? Men do not weep over perplex-
tiles Of business.
Uncle Horace came In smiling his
enjoyment. my two favorite young
folk" he said, land tempting refresh
ment spread before US. What more
may the heart Of q lonely old man de-
sire" Later he looked across the table
to where Nora Barry sat. my DEAR"
said Uncle Horace, you grow more
like your mother every day."
Alan watched the glow that over
spread the girls sweet face; he was
seeing for the first time that long ago
sweetheart Of his uncle'e, whose loss
he had ever deplored. "She cared for /
the other man." Uncle Horace ex-
planned with a certain proudness, land
Nora Barry was too true to marry for
my money"
So, through the years Of his disap-
pointment Uncle Horace was faithful |
to his ideal. And Nora Barry grew
more and more like that mother, Uncle
Horace declared.
II will play for you" Nora offered.
Alan went and leaned over the grand
piano at the end Of the room. he
had not known that music had such |
power to soothe. Slowly he walked
to the fireplace where the scarlet
trumpet famed. ut has no perfume