The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1925-06-10
GO ON WITH THE STORY
Rv Gilmore Meherin

Her speech was out Of harmony
She said with a note of warmth, al
mos: ingratiating: Mrs. Clayton?
Come in. dearie. Did you have a
nice trip? Too hot, isn't it? Now
you just come right donw to lunch.
You can dress afterwards. You'll
excuse me, dearie? This is my busy
time. Your room is ready. At the
top Of the stairs. It's the only one.
You'll like it"
She gazed at Chickie's face and
at her dress. She patted Chickie's
hand and seemed flushed with
triumph as she said: I'm SO glad
you decided to come. Gets lone
some here" as@l&
Chickie was pleased but discon-
certed. She had pictured Agnes
Robbins as plump, motherly sort,
with a large, rudy face and blond
hair turning gray-a woman who
had reached the calm Of life; not one
with fires smouldering.
Now she was little afraid, She
wondered If this was the place
If she might really rest here, secure.
@1 HE room at the top of the
stairs was long and narrow
- with many little windows
and these were hung with
lowered dimity. The roof was
peaked. irregular. roughly beamed,
There was a cool brightness, like
peace, in the place.
There were but two men on the
farm now. Chickie's place was set
at the end of the table. The two
men ate and didn't speak. Once the
wiry fellow, who had driven her out
and whose name was Billy, said con-
Miss, If you don't get too lonesome.
City folks like the noise"
She answered: II like the quiet"
But she felt so strange and so
quiet within herself-lke person
she didn't at all know-that she
couldn't eat. She wanted to get back
to that room, sit at the little
window and lock out to the nearby
hills. Plan and think.
She did this. She sat there all
the afternoon. her hands folded in
her lap. Agnes Robbins brought her
a glass Of lemonade. She said to
her: DO you mean to stay long,
Mrs Clayton?"
Perhaps month-maybe two or
three-Im not quite sure Then
Chickie told the story she had pre-
pared. her husband was a mining
engineer. He was In South America
now and would be there for quite
a while. She had come up here to
rest
you look a little tired"
Chickie stared. But she couldn't
bring herself to go on-wait while
--tomorrw--some other time would
do.
But I'm not so sure that I'll be
here myself three months from now.
We have the place up for sale. You
see, my husband and I were not
farmers by calling. We came here
five years ago. never lived in
the country before. 1t drove me
half crazy In the beginning. 1 rather
like 1t now"
Agnes Robbins told. in a vivid
sketchy way of her early life. She
had been on the stage as girl. She
had Travelled all over the country
Other little incidents pierced her
There was that trif1e about BERTHE
Groom. This was a thin, white
faced boy of seven or eight and he
was always hanging around the
farm. Agnes Robbins gave him
cookies; she nagged at him and
petted him. One DAY he got under
her feet somehow as she was reach
ing over the stove. She brought
herself erect with a jerk She
reached down and grabbed the boy
and struck him violently in the
face.
Chickie saw that from the porch
She turned away sickened. A few
moments later the little fellow was
going down the road. Chickie fol
lowed. She reached down and put
her arm on his shoulder, ready to
cry that such a mite should suffer
so. She said: Don't you care,
BERTHE"
He shook off her arm: "Shucks-
Don't hurt me none! ! like her"
He kept gulping. "She don't mean
nothing. She's good to me most
times She just gave me these" He
showed Chickie bag of nuts and
raisins.
And Agnes was overcome with re-
morse. She justified herself: oh
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