The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-09-10
'TEe Magic Bubble

AHc NAaStc DuDDlo
 HER breakfast dishes washed and her .litttle house in spotless or
 der at half-past eight by the kitchen clock, Miss Ellen Tracy, came out into the garden, trowel, shears and ball of string in eager hands.
 The whole morning was hers to dig and clip and twine in.
 She had always loved the spring, even in those shut-in years when she could take only hurried little snatches at it. .b5
 But now for the first time since her mother had become bedridden ten years ago came spring that she could sit down and play with. r
 @ Added to the care of sickness had been the anxiety of it's expenses. Now the entire burden had been lifted. Death had freed her mother from pain and the captivity that she had so fiercely rebelled against. The income inadequate before was more than enough for her present simple needs. As she stopped to the border along the fence that ran between her neighbor's and her own back yeards, Miss Ellen felt as care-free and lght-hearted as the soft spring air beating against her face like the goSsamer touch of butter fly wings.
 But when. with joyous alacrity of trowel she began to tArn up the moist, rich earth, through. her prevailing sense of well-being shot feeling of could be possible that she was glad her mother was dead.
 In her heart she knew it was merely the inorbidness of the sick room cling ing. to her--her present lonesome lack of companipnship, but when such a thought cast its shadow upon her mind all the brightness of the spring went out of life.
 There's no use," she sighed hope lessly. T can never be happy again ]"
 And the zest of gardening gone, the trowel sagged inactive in her hand and Miss Ellen was more than half tempted to go back into the house.
 f Then suddenly her loss of interest, her spiritual lassitude, fell from her and with Q very alive little cry she darted up the garden walk to her pet rose, her most beautiful and costly treasure, her magnificent gold of Ophir.
 Its crown of glory, the great swell. ing bud. unfolding into bloom which she had left just one more day before cutting, hung broken, its golden beauty limp and wilted.
 And it was not an accident of wind or weather. It was just intentional vandalism. It was that outrageous next-do0r neighbor's little boy.
 For deep imbedded in the broken roses's stem Miss Ellen discovered a bent pin attached to a long string loop- ing over the top of the high fence be- tween the two yards.
 In the short two weeks that her new neighbOrs had been living in the house next door this youngster had driven Miss Ellen distracted by his noise and bawling, for he was a. great crybaby. But she had not dreamed he would do a thing like this. Was it pure mali ciousness, or the little wretch's futile attempt to steal her flowers? How he dared v'
 She tugged savagely at the string on her side of the fence. It broke in .her hand. Instantaheously howl went up on the other. :.
 A wall, which, growing in volume, streaked the length of the yard into the next-door house.
 Mother! Mother! I was fishing, and somebody broke my fishing line. The end with the hook on it for the fish to bite. Oooooooo!"
 Miss Ellen stood appalled,. However much" nuisance the neighbor's smaR boy might be, this time he had meant no harm. It was just child's inno- cent make-believe. And there came a rush of memories of her own childhood days in country when she had praneed about riding stick for horse: had sailed the seas upon a three-decked cherry tree ship had climbed hay mound for the Alps.
 In haste to make amends, she hur- ried to her neighbours front door. A woman with frowzy hair, wearing a florid and none too clean wrapper, an- swered the ring, ,F
 Her manner was anything but gra- cious, and the bawling of the child now drowned Miss Ellen's low voice.
 Eddie, you shut up!" yelled his mother, 'or Pn lick you good and plentyw 9s
 The screaming ceased as abruptly as