The Oakley herald. [volume] (Oakley, Idaho) 1908-1961, 1924-08-22
CHAPTER iii

Inc morning came with glorious VIM
ter sunlight, and Ellen Latimer. turn
ing lu%xuriously under her warm soft
blankets, stared blankly at a clock
that was rapidly moving toward nine
o'clock. They must all have had
breakfast by this time-evidently no
body cared whether she was alive or
dead.
Ellen had had a white night, one of
the few In her experience. For long
hours she had lain awake. thinking
soberly about the events of the past
two days, and. quite unconsciously, as
similating their bitter lessor.
These girls were not better than she,
not wiser, not really happier. But
their circumstances were utterly differ
ent, and it was Ellen who was to
blame, not they. for trying to bridge
the gulf between their lives. She still
had her good home, her own admiring
and affectionate group, her books to
read by the fire, her garden to dream
over in he spring, and the swimming
and boating and tennis that absorbed
all youthful Port Washington from
June TO October. Lucia and Doris were
not real, and Ellen's life dealt only
with what was practical and sane. One
might sigh for the prettiness, the gay
ETY.. the responsibility, of Lucia's life,
ones face might burn because this
pretty butterfly could be so triumphant
ly rude. and so self-centered, but 1t
was wiser TO forget it all, or remem-
bering. remember, too, that the dainty
superfluities were a mere accident of
income. Ellen Latimer would have
something that Lucia Torrey might
envy some day, n through 10 acct
dent of birth.
The breakfast room was deserted.
Ellen was the first of all the house
hold TO appear. She smiled over her
carefully served courses. and presently
was hanging absorbed over a jig-saw
puzzle that had been scattered upon
of the library tables the day be
fore. Her train went at half-past
eleven, 1t was not yet ten o'clock.
AS the young people struggled down
stairs she looked up to nod at them
.composedly. She presently went quiet
y upstairs to pack. and pinned on the
'ur-trimmed hat. and fastened a little
lump of fresh ~violets. from a vase,
the sober little suit. 1t was
,nly goodby now. and the whole ex-
was over.
1.-THE limousine's coming round,
lear" Mrs. Rose said. They stepped
to the stone veranda that Ellen
crossed with such high hopes two
lays ago, and looked down upon a
of scattered homes and gar
lens powdered with the light snow and
with brilliant sunshine; stone
ences. brick fences, clean-swept drive
everything shining and prosper
us in a bath of Sunday peace.
Ellen began her thanks and good
Us. Don't say n word, dearie,"
kindly Mrs. Rose. I'm only sorry
have to 60" Her eyes suddenly
ere fixed upon the gate, and Ellen.
too, saw a low-hung, power
llly built roadster turn In. and come
uickly up the drive. "Now, who's
wondered the older woman, dis
Dntentedly cycling the two furred men
no occupied the car. Il never sit
to a game of-why. it's Ward
IS my husband and Gibbs Josselynr |"
he turned agitatedly TO Ellen. For
sake, what shall l do?" F.;
Ellen. aware of IN emergency, had |
II not at all grasped the situation
hen the two men came laughing up
steps. and greeted her hostess.
RS. Rose dazedly kissed the small. '
'ay-haired man who was her husband. {
Id dazedly introduced Ellen
Ward. this is Nellie Buckley's girl a
heard me talk about, and Miss c
atimer-Mr. Josselyn." she said. =