Fitzgerald leader enterprise and press. (Fitzgerald, Ben Hill County, Ga.) 1921-1964, 1923-09-13


"The message; his message!" she
hesought. Then, as l shook my head
she continued: ut wasn't put up.
hadn't seen him or heard from him.
Not for months. Oh, it's been longw
There was heart-wrenching culver
in her voice "Then something told
me he was here. That's the way it
happened with us at the first. So
knew l couldn't go through with it
with Chester"
I surrendered. "I'll give you the
message when I come back" 1 prom
Used.
"Come soon," she whispered.
A sort of well-bred social riot fol-
lowed my return to the church, in
which the coolest figure was the bride
groom. You might know he'd take it
that way and &C off dignifiedly to ia
pan or JugO-Slavia or somewhere,
which is exactly what he did.
When what was left of wilted Me
got back to the Jermyns'. Norrie was
after me instantly.
"Where is he, Vix?"
"At the Pioneers. What are you
going to do about itT'
"Send for him."
ITO come here? The family will
love that !"
"The family aren't speaking to me
anyway. Can you blame themY
"You might at least spare them an
extra scandal. If he comes here now,
the reporters, massed outside, will
catch him and things will be worse
than before, if possible"
Norrie thought that over, not being
wholly beyond reason-yet. "Vix,
will you he very good to me?"
"Me! I'd like to beat you to a
FRAGILE"
You're DEAR" was the singular
Interpretation she put upon this. 81
want you to co and see him"
II don't even know his Internal
name"
"Calvin Sennett."
(which means nothing to me-" said
I, after considering it.
at means everything in the world
to me-"
"Oh, darn 1t, I'll go!'' 1 yielded.
Calvin Sennett received me with a
matter-of-fact air which did not soothe
my sense of injury.
"Since you had to come back" said
I, couldn't you have contrived to get
here earlier?"
"Sorry," he returned composedly,
"but I've only just landed"
"FrOm where?"
"South America. We were lost in
the wilds."
"At least you might have sent word
ahead.''
II wired yesterday Her parents
must have intercepted it."
"They would" I reflected aloud.
Well, what am here fOr?"
''The most blessedly sane thing that
ever happened" he averred "The
other would have been the lunacy,
But it couldn't have happened. Not
again" He leaned forward to me.
Have you ever heard of Scatcherds-
ville?"
"No. Minor geography isn't my
strong paint"
Being Vickert, I thought YOU
probably derived from central New
York. 1t doesn't matter; Scatcherds-
vile has dropped out of the geogra-
phies this half century and more. It
doesn't exist except for the dead
That is where Eleanor and will lie
some day."
'The devil you will !" said I, startled
by the calm assumption of the an
nOuncement.
"Yes, together. The faithful Of our
blood, hers and mine, go back there
at the last sleep. You'll see that it
must be so when you know it ALL"
And he settled back in his chair and
spoke.
The Deserted Village lies asleep be-
side singing stream. Years and long
years ago, before it had lost it's name
and faded from the activities of men.
there were busy mills there, a group
of sturdy mansions, cottages, church,
and brisk street of stores: there was
labor and ambition and love and
warm hearthstones until the newly
projected railroad turned and passed
it by. Then its life waned. The mills
crumbled the cottages yielded to the
slow encroachment of tree and ivy,
the mansions and stores stood empty
and lifeless. But the church, with its
surrounding graveyard still maintains
itself stanch against the years. for
the ancient blood that built and loved
the place comes back, by gentle ira
dition, to bury its dead there, even
unto the third and fourth generations.
Death alone gives to the Deserted VIII
lage the transtory semblance of life.
Tiger lilies of July were swaying
over the peaceful graves when the
stiffness was invaded by the stiff.
mechanistc and saturnine panoply of
modern burial. The cars in the pro-
cession had driven out from the near
est city, to bury old Mark Jermyn be-
side the others of his generation.
Through the compulsion of family
loyalty, Eleanor Jermyn, his great
niece, had been drawn most unwil-
lingly from house party several hun
dred miles away, where she had been
having a highly satisfactory time. AS
she hardly knew Uncle Mark, she was
feeling decidedly peevish over it. But
no sooner had she crossed the bound
airy line Of the stream which divides