Evening star., 1927-10-10
Travelling Home.

IN IDNEY RUSHTON felt very
much out of place and there
fore very much annoyed. Moth
~ ing more disagreeable could
have happened, she thought.
than that she should have missed the
express at Haverleigh and been OBJ
| liged to take the tedious old local with
| it's jolting bumpers, uncomfortable
seats and dingy lights. But there
was no other train before midnight
and she was anxious to reach home as
quickly as possible. Even a few
hours might make a great change In
her fathers condition.
In the smudgy panel mirror beside
her seat she saw herself slender, fash
ionable, haughtily self-conscious, sit
ting erect, lest she soil her expensive
coat by contact with the worn plush.
The little mirror framed the one pleas
ant thing there was for her to see,
because it was already too dark for
any appearance outside the window.
And the swaying, creaking old coach
held barely a dozen persons, stupid
looking people, in whom Sidney could
take no interest.
Twenty years before Sidney Marsh
had married Scott Rushton and
slipped out of the old environment, as
she believed, forever. But one thing
prevented her doing so-her father in
sisted on staying in Hillville. Even
though Sidney was able to keep him
with her for weeks at a time, he al
ways went back to the old place.
Latterly he had stayed there more
than ever, and now he had fallen sick
there. For the first time, Sidney was
compelled to go back to the old home
town, for which she had developed a
strong distaste as her husbands for
tunes lifted her into an important
new sphere.
She was resolved now to renew no
acquaintances, connect no broken
threads. If her father died, she would
be done with Hillville, anyway, and
If he grew better she meant to take
him home with her and not allow him
to escape again back to his old haunt.
1t was ridiculous the way he hung to
the old place. with it's coarse stupid
ity and behind-handness. Certainly
there was nothing in it for her.
At this point in her reflections she
was conscious of step beside her, OF
a hand land on the back of her seat,
and she looked up into a plain, kindly
face that recalled old memories.
"I've been trying to make out if it
was you ever since we left Haver-
Leigh" the woman said. holding out
her hand in gray cotton glove. "How
do you do, Sidney? I'm glad to see
you are going home to look after
your father. He certainly needs you."
Sidney, with flush, had accepted
the cotton gloved hand, trying to muir
mur something inconsequential but
appropriate. She was further annoyed
when the woman, without by your
leave, slipped into the seat beside her.
you haven't changed much in 20
years, Sidney" she went on coolly.
But you've grown to look more like
your father as you get older. He is a
splendid man. We are all going to
miss him if anything happens to him.
But Mrs. Cotton has been wonderful
to him."
Sidney bit her lip. She didn't react
favorably to this frank familiarity.
Why in the world was it that she could
not have entered Hillville without run
ming across Mary Andrews?
II suppose you are still teaching?"
she commented.
YES" Mary laughed a little
Eyes. I've been teaching all these 20
years you have been away and mar
ried. And I like it yet. I'm in the
Haverleigh High School: have been for
four years. / go home Friday night
call Mrs. Cotton's home. I teach
civics and mathematics and chemistry.
suppose they sound stupid, but they
are lively enough subjects. can tell
you. when they are mixed up with
human nature"
So she lived at Mrs. Cotton's. There
was no getting away from her, then.
Sidney became silent.
Your children must be about the
age OF my high school boys and
girls?" pursued Mary.
Roland is 10 and in Harvard; Julia,
who is II, is at q finishing school on
the Hudson - =