The northwestern bulletin., 1923-11-17
She Played
absent"
BY DOROTHY r. scovILLE


In almost every little village there is
mystery. Sometimes It's person,
sometimes house. Safety Harbor was
no exception. 1t had Mrs. Semple.
After ten months of Mrs. Semple's
living in Safety Harbor, the towns
people knew Just as much about her
as when she first came, and they didn't
know anything about her then.
Bill Crosby, who had the building
contract for Mrs. Semples house, didn't
even know what she looked like. His
| orders came from her lawyers. The
house was smallish one, but cozy
and pretty; away from any neighbors,
though. Everyone remarked at the
time the lumber was hauled to the
spot, what far away place she had
taken. But 1t was pretty location
close to the beach, and nesting In a
grove Of young pines that overlooked
the harbsr and the sound.
The day the house was finished Mrs.
Senple cape. Jim DeCosta drove her
up, and he told all about her; said she
was mighty nice looking woman, but
she had sad eyes. That was the most
he had noticed about her--the sad eyes
part.
The Sunday after she arrived she ap.
peared In church.. She was dressed In
quiet, dark clothes, but they were nice
things She evidently had money.
Everyone welcomed her, and she
seemed friendly kind; but the funny
part about her was that although she
smiled with her mouth, her eyes were
not smiling bit. They were sad, just
as Jim DeCosta had said.
OF course that started folks talking,
and wondering why her eyes were sad,
but no one had the courage to pry into
her affairs.
As winter came on the women's clubs
and societies began to have their
meetings Then there was the hospital
work and the church work. Mrs.
Semple was invited to everything. She
was a willing worker, and a generous
contributor to the funds. But somehow
she didn't seem to enter heart and soul
into things. She seemed to be trying
to forget something-no one could find
out what. She never spoke Of her per-
sonal affairs. After quite bit Of hint
ing, they did find out that her husband
had died a few years back, Of tropical
fever In South America He had been
in some kind of government work
there. Outside Of that, they found out
nothing.
Then Christmas week came. All the
societies were busy with baskets for
the new little hospital, and for the
Mariners hospital, and with comfort
bags for the Seamen's Bethel, Safety
Harbor being quite a place for ships
to come In out Of the storms that
rampage outside. Safety Harbor, In
its younger days, was quite a whaling
port, anyway, but now most Of the old
houses of the whaling shippers belong
to summer people.
Mrs. Semple contributed lot Of
money toward the work the societies
were doing, but she seemed to do more
for the Mariners hospital and the
Seamen's Bethel than anything else.
The funny part of 1t was that she
would never go near either place.
Sometimes the clubwomen would 90
over to the Bethel, when there were
some boats In, and would give little
entertainments for the boys. Mrs.
Semple would never do anything like
that. She always had headache when
the time came.
Christmas eve the Patriotic club had
planned to go to the Bethel. There
were a lot of boats In that had been
held up by the storms The club
women all debated whether they
should ask Mrs. Semple to go or not.
"Well," said Martha Greene, "she
never goes when we ask her, and I
don't believe in wasting my breath"
Then some one said she might feel
hurt If she didn't get asked.
~ think we should ask her." spoke
up May Alden. May was>the youngest
member of the club, and there wasn't
Mrs. Semple liked May, too, and they
knew that If May couldn't get her to
go, no one could. So May went over
to ask Mrs. Semple. When she came
back she seemed quieter than usual,
but she said Mrs. Semple would go,
and would be glad to play her cello
for the boys.
Every one was surprised, of course,
but glad she would help out. No one
knew she could play cello.
Christmas eve came, sparkly clear
and frosty. The stars looked as though
they had Just been shined, and the
little covering Of snow glistened like
diamond dust. On the way to the
Bethel every one was laughing and
talking so that no one noticed how
quiet Mrs. Semple was. She and May
were talking together.
At the door Of the Bethel, a little,
vine-covered cottage, down by the
wharf, Mr.. Ward, the chaplain, was