Plentywood herald., 1928-12-27
CHICAGO Tribune Syndieats)

any other reason than because her
mother liked it's sound and her faith
er liked whatever her mother did.
"Anemone," said Mrs Gale softly across
her babys head. "Anemone You
know. Dorm, there is something strange
and lovely in the sound Of that name. +"
And: "Anemone. repeated her hus-
band. adoring. Flowers of the wind
I wonder will she be like that"
She was Almost startlingly so. At six
it was suggested. At ten 1t was quite ap-
parent. And at fourteen 1t was evident
for all time.
Slim, she was, with head like flow
er. bright hued and graceful. And sug-
gesting nothing more than the wind in
the way she moved the way she walked
quality reiterated in her temperament:
changeful, fitful, sometimes soft, oftimes
swift and sharp but never uninteresting,
never disappointing.
Anemone's mother lived just long
enough to realize her child was destined
to create disquiet where men were con-
cerned. She died not little worried over
Anemone's future.
On the day they had brought her in
from the hunting field with a fractured
skull and rueful smile, she had said to
her husband with the same wry little
smile. TOO bad, Dorm. Hate TO start
anything and not finish it. But you'll
take care of my end too. won't you,
dearest? Anemone isn't a horse. but the
same tactics will handle her. Give her
her head but keep firm grip on the
relns-and remember she has a tender
mouth. That requires a gentle hand,
Dorm. but a swift and sure one. No
abrupt pulls or jerks-just lead will
do it :"
And so on, until Dorm Gale walked
out OF the dim, quiet chamber man
older by ten years than when he had
entered it.
Anemone was ten then Dorm sent
her of to schooln desiring in grief utter
solitude of spirit But one morning a
fortnight later. she Unexpectedly walked
in on him, saying, Dorm, I've come
home. And I'll not so back to school,
hate It,"
He said that was absurd, and that Of
course she must go back, and why did
she hate it?
Because it's silly" said Anemone fat
ly. Il went to chapel and learned God
made the world in six days and on the
seventh He rested. Then l went to gem
raj science class and learned that the
world was formed from a ball of fire
which revolVed in space for billions m
billions of years til finally it cooled
She took of her hat and violently famed
herself with it, II don't care which
learn and believe" said she, looking at
her father very gravely, only 1 shan't
be made to learn BOTH
She did not go back to school.
Instead, that winter Dorm took her
abroad. And for three years Anemone
and he travelled together the highways
and byways of Europe They motored
through quaint French villages, they
logged across the Pyrenees on the backs
of patient Basque donkeys, they
tramped the hot, dusty roads of Italy,
and they sat- silent and absorbed, hour
after hour gazing down from the fat
roof of their Turkish dwelling into the
beautiful waters of the blue Bosphorus.
And this was the only education she
ever received. But she spoke English
with slight accent. SO complete were
her French and Italian; she knew the
great masters by heart; she could tell to
year almost each piece OF carved mar
BILE; she could spin long tales OF medieval
history: she could play any stringed in
strument and sing every folksong from
Calais to Palermo; and she was lovely
enough not to have needed any of these
accomplishments.
In her fourteenth year, Dorm took her
home. Even after four years, he did not
want to go back the rambling old house,
built by slave labor and set within CEN
tury old Virginia oaks, still promised too
many bitter reminders, too many harm
ful memories But because of her who
inspired them, he accepted them and
promised himself and Anemone that now
she should forget their vagabond ways
and learn to become a young lady.
What for?" she wanted to know.
Dorm considered.
I'm not quite certain about the rea-
son." said he finally only / do believe
/ it is customary"
II don't believe in custom" decided
Anemone. Its stupid. Besides, I'm en-
tlrely too busy learning to ride standing
up, circus fashion, TO be bothered about
learning how well bred young lady sits
down"
And so the question would have stood
settled, but for Giles Keeling.
She was barely fifteen when she frs
saw and met him. Her father called tC
her one afternoon in late autumn as she
was passing through the hall on her wal
to the kennels, "Anemone, there is some
one here / wish you to meet"
She came in then to the library where
her father and a strange man stood, {
man not very young, but tall and rathe
cruel looking. But his eyes were kind a!
he smiled and said, so this is Anemone
Anemone said nothing.
Her father thought her unusually rud'
suddenly, terribly in love?
Have you no word OF welcome for MI
Keeling2" demanded Dorm.
Anemone's eyes never left the darl
face above her own.
Il bid you welcome" said she duti
fully in her quaint English, then sud
denly, abruptly, she held out her hand.
keeling's closed over 1t and held
more tightly than he knew
Another moment and she was gont
, swiftly, wordlessly. They did not see he
again that night. The next morning sh
was ruder and more gauche than ever.
But fortnight later, when she agai
: stood before Keeling, this time to bi
. him good-by, she was as poised and q
sure of herself as Lilith.
You will come again?" said Anemon
and her cool. young gaze never left h
face.
He smiled down at her.
6 Rather" he told her.
. "Soon?"
= "Soon." he nodded still smiling.
= But it was five years before he sa
her again.
AS the train pulled into the small sti
tion of Fox Ridge, Giles Keeling rose in
patiently, already regretting the impuli
that had moved him. but two weeks r.
turned from cruise around the worl
to accept Dorm Gales invitation ar
that cool, young note written in COG
lyoung hand. For Keeling remembered
r9extain cool, young gaze. He ha
thought at the time, IF she were fl
years older l should find myself rid
culously in love" Those requisite fl
years were now gone. This was the ia
that rendered him not a little impatiel