The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1927-06-20

low,
Seeing this, Roen hung back.
She swallowed and wanted to run
away. She was pushed into Bobby
dads room.
He was sitting up, propped with
pillows. She could have painted
the wonderful, kind, wistful look
in his eyes when he saw her. AS
long as she lived she could hear
hia hoarse, gasping voice. Yet he
was smiling.
He said: 'Ronnie.lass, your
dads got to go away. There, las
sic, don't cry-please. Promise me,
viii you, look after Dearie. No
one but you to watch them. Think
you can grow up quickly? Take
care Of Dearie and your brother?"
Her Promise
She looked down at him and
twisted her hand, trying nightly
to swallow all the tears. She kept
nodding her head up and down.
But suddenly she buried her face
against his shoulder, pleading,
''Bobby-dad, don't die! Oh please,
you won't dier'
1t happened that she looked full
In his face just then full
in his eyes, All their gray, teas.
ing laughter was gone. They
darted about like little animals ter
ribly scared.
This drenched her with pity.
She forgot her own fright. She
H., ~
you? Don't be frightened. I'm
here. Bobby.dad. / won't run
away. III stay right here. You
see me-you do see me-
She began to play with all her
might, hiding her head in his pill
lows. She thought God heard be-
cause after a while her father
slept.
But that was the last time
Bobby-dad spoke. In the morning
he was dead the gay,
adored father gone, leaving his
great shining trust to her-to a
little girl, just thirteen.
Five years she kept it. They
were years of struggle and isola.
ton. But she had his joyous spirit
and took stoutlN without noting
them, blows that would make
adults weep.
She couldn't fail, of course. Be.
cause those two he had left were
the very breath of her life. She
could no more separate them from
the thought of herself than she
could be freed from her own pulse.
Yet these nighs-young sum-
mer nights. sitting here lost in the
dreaming dark, she felt uneasy
and restless as though a voice she
was awaiting called. As though a
hand were pulling.
She stood now and leaned
against the tree. Notes of distant
music fluttered down the stream.
There stole over her a sweet, per.
vading sadness yearning to lose
herself in the beauty she felt so
poignantly about her.
A moon Of tawny gold swept up.
ward and was tangled in the red.
woods. 1t put a lambence ON the
water, a soft, undulant fire such
as she had never seen before.
She reached out her hands and
murmured softly, "Ohw She wiped
AAOiA4 ICI CyCSs
And turning suddenly came
face to face with the 'blue-eyed
youth she had peeked upon in
the dance hall.
On the first glimpse when the
blue, bonny eyes met hers, he
seemed a being conjured from
the music of the soft summer
night-young, sweet, laughing.
More winning even than when
she peeked upon him these seven
nights through the knot.hoIe.
Now she was abashed, knowing
he had seen her tears. AS he
stood there blocking the narrow
path, she said hurriedly: "Oh,
did you see the moon come up
that way?"
Meets Michael
"Why, yes" he answered, sur.
prised and pleased that she spoke.
He noted the dark eyes, the beau.
tiful eagerness Of her strong,
sweet mouth. He always looked
first in a girls eyes, then at her
lips. If he liked these, he looked
a long while. For he was a
blithe young troubadour. 81 saw
the moon. Did you think it
finer than other nights?"
She nodded dreamily: "It
seemed blooming in the trees.
never saw it so big and bur.
nished before. You see," she added,
giving frank, singing laugh,
i've never been in the country
before. I've not seen a river
till now
Never saw a RIVER! Good
Lord, you don't happen to be
Miranda, do you?"
She chuckled saily: why, no!
I just have travelled where rivers
don't flow
The breeze caught her flying
chestnut hair. She passed with
a Ginning "Well-good night"
Under the chuckling laugh he
stared after her, fascinated.
What manner Of woodland god.
dess was this who never saw q
river before, yet wept because Of
poignant splendor in the moon
shining through trees?
He was deeply touched, for he
was Michael Scott-Celt and poet,
melancholy and gay by turns,
quick to laugh and weep. "Ah,"
he thought, poor darling"'~ And
remembered the girl had won
drous eyes.
Roen went quickly, a little
breathlessly and excited, to the
porch where she and Jackie slept.
Through the tall. spired trees
she watched the stars stand far
off on the highest peak gauzy
sapling etching itself with deli
cate ardor on the pale breast Of
the sky. All about her in the
rhythmic dark pulsed the still,
deep joy Of the night.
How uVnndrn1Is RI H. harA-a