Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1923-01-18

| ~
Of having swallowed. a crab-apple
and got it only PARKWAY down, pro-
truded above his low collar.
Heaven and earth" sang the bass,
Mr.. Edward Goodno of the meat
market and the Boy Scouts.
Heaven and earth are full"
Are full, are full" sang the So
prano, Clare Rossiter, of the colonial
house on the Ridgely read. She sang
with her eyes turned up, and as
she reached G fat she lifted her
self on her toes, "Of the majesty
Of Thy glory"
Ready barked the choir master.
Full now. and all together"
The choir room in the parish
house resounded to the twenty
voices of the choir. The choir
master. at the piano, kept time with
his head,
Elizabeth Wheeler liked choir
practice. She liked the way in
which, after the different parts had
been run through, the voices finally
blended into harmony and beauty.
She liked the small sense of achieve
Iment it gave her, and of being a
part, on Sundays, of the service.
She liked the feeling, when she put
on her black cassock and the white
Isurplice, and the small round collar,
of having placed in her locker the
things of. this world, such as a rose
colored hat and a blue Georgette
frOcll, and being stripped as it were,
for aspirations.
At such times she had vague
dreams of the remuneration. She
would go home from church, how
ever, clad in the rose-colored hat
and the blue Georgette frock, and
eat a hearty Sunday luncheon, and
by o'clock in the afternoon, when
they family slept, and Jim had gone
to the country club, her dreams
were quite likely to be entirely diff
ferent. Generally speaking, they
had to do with love. Romantic, I'M
clouded young love, dramatic only
because it was love, and very happy.
Sometime, perhaps, some one
would come and tell her that he
| loved her; some one who would
crystalline all her vague dreams.
That was all. That was at once the
beginning and the end. Her dreams
led up to that, and stopped. Not
by so much as a handclasp did they
ever go beyond that wall.
So she sat in the choir room and
joined in.
"Of the majesty, of the majesty,
of the majesty of Thy glo-Ory," sang
Elizabeth, in a sweet frail voice.
And was at once a nun and a prin-
lcipal in a sentimental dream of two.
What appeared to the eye was a
small and rather ethereal girl in a
lplain wooden chair, a girl who had
sleek brown hair and wistful eyes;
nice eyes, Of no particular color.
Pretty with the beauty Of youth,
sensitive and thoughtful, Infinitely
loyal and capable of suffering. and
not otherwise extraordinary was
Elizabeth Wheeler in her plain
wooden chair. A figure suggestive OF
no dramas with that alternate hope
and fear which is youth at twenty,
when all of life lies ahead, and
every tomorrow may hold some
great and glorious adventure.
Clare Rossiter walked home that
might with Elizabeth; a tall blonde
girl. 1.-THE and graceful and with
calculated coquetry in her clothes.
"Do YOU mind going around the
block?" she asked by Station
street," There was something fur
tive and yet candid in her voice,
land Elizabeth glanced at her.
''All right. But it's out of your
way, isn't it?'
Eyes. You're so funny, Eliza
beth. It's hard to talk to you. But
I've got to tell somebody. L go
around by Station street every
chance I get"
"Bv Station street? Why?"
81 should think you could guess
why"
h She saw that Clare wanted to be
questioned, and at the same time
she felt a great distaste for the
threatened confidence. She loathed
arn1-in- arm condolences, the in
decency of dragging up and expos.
ing in whispers, things that should
have been buried deep in reticence'
She hesitated, and Clare slipped an
arm through hers.
You don't know then, do you?
Sometimes I think every one must
know. And I don't care. We
reached that point"
Her confession, naive and shame
less, and yet somehow not without
certain dignity, flowed on. She was
mad about DR.. Dick Livingstone
Goodness knew why, for he never
looked at her.
Elizabeth saw herself, unWillingly
forced to peer into the sentimental
windows of Clare's soul, and there
TO see DR.. Dick Livingstone, an un
conscious occupant. But she had a
certain fugitive sense Of guilt, also
Formless as her dreams had been
vague and shy, they had neVerthe
less centered about some one who
should be tall, like Dick Living
stone. and alternately grave, winch
was his professional manner, ano
CAV, which was his manner when
one turned out to- have only cold
and he could take a few minutes tc
be himself Generally speaking
about someone who resembled DICK
Livingstone, but who did not con
| slider one solely as either child OF
a patient, and was wont, When II
turned out to be only a cold, tc
pretend that he had once dandlec
one on his knee.
no OMETIMES think he
positively avoids me,
~ Clare walled. There's the
house, Elizabeth. Do you mine
stopping a minute? He must be II
his office now. The lights burning;
II wish you wouldn't, Clare. He't
hate it if he knew"
She moved on and Clare slowly
followed. The Rossiter girls flow
of talk had suddenly stopped. She
was thoughtful and impulsivelJ
suspicious.
Look here, Elizabeth I believ+
you care for him yourself"
, 81? What is the matter with vol
: tonight, Clare?"
) I'm just thinking. Your voice
was so queer
They walked on in silence. The
flow of Clare's condolences haC
ceased, and her eyes were calculat
ing and a trif1e hard.
There's a good bit Of talk abou
q him - she ierked out finally. :"