Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1923-03-23
THE SCAR
BY GRACE O. ~wEATHERsBY

1t all started that beautiful summer
night IN 1916, when the little club
house was filled 20 overlooking with
merry, laughing young people whose
minds had not yet adjusted themselves
to the dark shadow of the wal that
was looming over them. The music
was %throbbing plaintively, and ii
strangely affected the tall youth lean
ing against the porch rail, putting q
cigarette. Something within him made
him long for a vague something that
he could not define. He was lonely,
very lonely, and still he had no need
to be, for with his money, position
and good looks he had a host OF
friends. But tonight he kept away
from them, strangely disturbed. Gay
figures fitted past the open door Of
the clubhouse, swaying gracefully to.
the music.
Suddenly the slouching figure of the
boy stiffened as a girl whisked by the
door ON the arm of a tall young a
Who was she? Surely he had e
seer her before. He hurried inside
the dance hall, and looked in vain for
her. She was gone. For over al hour
he searched, until at last he found
her, standing by the porch rail in the
very spot he had occupied a little
while before. Her gown was of some
soft, sheer white stuff-the skirt full
and fluffy, her white shoulders and
arms were bare, her shining brown
hair piled high. Never had he seen
longer vague.
Later he managed to dance with
her, and his heart thumped madly as
the brown eyes smiled up into his.
That same week he learned she was
an artist, and to his unspeakable de-
light she wished to make a sketch Of
his head. The afternoon was one
never to be forgotten. He was an adj
mirable model, and under her slender,
clever fingers the sketch took form
his clear-cut features, his dark, wav-
ing hair-almost unreal in its perfec-
ton.
"You have a wonderful face" she
said dreamily, when it was finished.
Don't let anything ever mar it! Keep
those eyes as clear as they are now,
that chin as firm-that mouth as
sweet ~
All the rest of that year-through
the winter, till the spring-they were
in~separable. He loved her with all
his young heart, and still he neve
told her so. How could he? He didn't
dream she cared for him There were
so many and while she was always
kind to him, still she was always kind
to everybody Then, in the midst of
their happiness came the war! The
boys young blood was hot with anger,
and he was n of he first to go. In
his trim uniform he was unspeakably
handsome, and the slim girl in white
trembled as she saw him. go. There
had been no wOrd-no promise-only
that they would write. She had kissed
his cheek very softly when he said
good-by, and that was all.
Christmas, 1921! The little club
house was gayly decorated with ever
green's and holly. Little twigs of mis-
tletoe were hung in Out-Of-the-way
places-snares for pretty, clever
maidens. High on a stepladder perched
the girl-a little older-a little wiser
-lovelier than ever. Before her on
the wall hung a picture-the boy In
his uniform, gazing s~teadfastly at her
with solemn, pleading eyes. She felt
a tightening about her heart, and her
straight shoulders sagged a little.
"Come, come, Jeanie-don't give
way now. We've far too much to dor
The girl at the foot of the s%tepladder
was very practical.
81 can't help it, Mary-he was so
perfect! Why did it have to be the
one l loved best in the world?"
But the girl at her feet wasn't lis
tening. She was busy directing the
hanging of a huge bell. Then she
hurried out. 1t was late afternoon,
and the final decorations were care
fully placed. The others were ready
to go.
"Coming, jeanne? Or are you go
ing to sit there on the ladder moon
ing over Carlos all night? Poor Carlos!
He'd give his life again to see you
thus" And they were gone. The
sun, almost set, cast a last glory of
pale sunshine through the window,
setting all the holly berries glowing.
The girl on the ladder sobbed unheeded.
Suddenly her figure stiffened. An
uncanny feeling that she was not
alone crept gel her, and she lifted
her face from her hands. There at
the foot of the ladder was a His
face bore a horrible scar across n
left cheek-a lurid crimson scar But
the eyes We're the same clear eyes
he chin as firm-the mouth as sweet.
'Jeanie! % he whispered, brokenly to
the staring girl. 81 just couldn't help
coming. They wanted to wait until
tonight, but l couldn't. I wanted to