Evening star., 1927-05-29

W telling the truth. Not-a
her mother so Cften said
that she had a dishonest bon'
in her body. Never in Massachusetts
had there grown up more honorable
almost painfully honorable--child
Niargery. in similar circumstances
would undoubtedly have gone the
Father of his Country one better ano
confessed to having chopped down al
the cherry trees. And the mere fact
that the other trees still stood would
not have disturbed her in the least.
"Margery is incurably romantic.
Mrs Blake had sighed, on more than
one occasion.
Romantic. They had different
name for it when / was boy Mr.
Blake would respond: and. like pair
of baff1ed FrankensteinS. her parents
would contemplate their only child
and tacitly admit themselves defeated
From the age of 3, when Alan Blake
found her in a police station, solemnly
explaining to three overcome officers
of the law that the rats had driven
her from her home. until she reached
the mature age {, strong solutions
of yellow soap were periodically ap-
piled to the inside of that pink little
mouth. through which such success.
sion of phantasies emerged. And with
what success? She was when, in.
cited by the vividness of her descrip-
ton. the men of the neighborhood
armed themselves and secured the
woods behind the Blake barn for that
imaginary leopard which must have
escaped from a ZOO somewhere" Tn
til she entered her teens, SpankingS
were in order, spankingS which liter
ally brought more suffering to her
father than to her.
'She's incurably romantic" Mrs.
Blake reiterated.
From the piazza of the house, her
parents watched her. one afternoon.
standing in the middle of the lawn,
gazing into space, unaware of them.
The wind seized a sheet of the Sun
day Journal which lay at Alan
Blakes feet, and bore it, whirling
tumultuously. across the grass. Marg.
ery's arms extended outward in an
arc; her mouth curved into one OF
those lovely, misty smiles of hers.
"Lo!' she cried, in a rapturous,
the knight-disguised as a piece of
paper"
And when. that evening at supper,
flushing prertily, eyes downcast, she
confessed TO them that she had, that
afternoon, seen her ideal man. both
Mr.. and Mrs. Blake understood that
they. too; had witnessed this epochai
meeting. Disguised as a piece Of
paper.
What was the use?
"Of course, she doesn't really do
any harm by it," Mrs. Blake said
anXiously. during one of the innumer-
able discussions with her husband.
But I'm afraid that some day she's
going to hurt herself frightfully,
Alan. She--she actually believes
these things
GO, in the middle of her nineteenth
Summer, when Margery returned
from house party, starry-eyed and
given to bushes and sighs, the Blake
family added the usual cupful of salt.
to her raptured descriptions of Him.
His names Oliver Marshall. moth
er, and he's coming up over the next
week end. He's like-oh, like
young Greek god, sort of lazy,
sleepy-eyed one. His hair"
Where does he come from. Mar
gery?' re sro:taglp ere1aca q
Margers's breast rose and fell in
tremendous sigh. "He's a Southern.
er. mother, darling-such manners as
you never saw in your life! And he
can dance
What's his business, dear?"
Dark lashes lifted. and limpid,
dreamy blue eyes focused on the ma
ternal face. "Oh, don't know
lies just through college. Mother. he
Is the handsomest-"
The amazing part of it was that he
proved to be all that she said.
well, Alan?"
Margery and Oliver Marshall were
disappearing into the twilight. Mar
gery's parents sat on the veranda,
watching them go.
He's nice boy" pronounced Alan
Flake, but he blinked as the nice boy
end his daughter disappeared from
sight.
What did he say this afternoon"
Mrs. Blake was trying to make her
voice sound casual, but, in response
10 the quaver of it, her husbands
hand descended upon hers.
He asked me if he could marry
Margery-if she was willing
They sat, not speaking. yet not
quite in silence. The wind ratified the
leaves of the elms which edged the
lawn, and occasionally there was the
sound of Alan Blake clearing his
throat and of his wife, not signing eX-
sctly, certainly not sobbing-
He was graduated from Harvard
last june" said Alan Blake. Going
in the real estate business with his
uncle, down in Florida. where he's al
ways lived. He doesn't drink
doesn't seem to have any bad habits.
lie" A sound escaped Mrs. Blake's
lips. and his fingers frightened upon
her hand: Lucy, if that puppy hurts
her. Ill kill him.
Lucy Blake's other hand joined his
and her laugh rang out. How absurd
we are, Alan. l think divers dear
and we ought TO thank our stars that
Ntargely is sensible enough to fall in
love with such a nice boy. Suppose
it had been Ed Lewis or Warren Bur.
TOM" She rose abruptly. patting his
hand.
Her husband smiled, but, after she
reached the door, his smile faded and
he stared out miserably over the
darkening lawn. Lucy Blakes hum
ming ceased abruptly as she entered
the house.
MARGERY sat with her face buried
i'm the flat bowl of blue and vel.
low pinguicula, her left hand. with
divers diamond upon it's third finger,
resting protectingly over his letter.
Just think Of it.' she whispered.
Think Of ii. Fields and fields Of these
lovely things stretching out to the
lorizon-palms and hanging moss and
ugchids.''
AZ her feet Law the box in which
Give. had sent he flowers.
Mrs. Blake smiled. but her fingers
Hil not cease in their incessant push
ing back and forth of shining needle
in the frothy pink stuff which was
being transformed into Margery's
trousSeau.
"Oliver's well?' she asked, expertly
swapping off fresh length of thread
and inserting il into the needle.
Margery nodded. He's awfully
busy. He says he isn't having any