Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-04-20

hES cheeTtuI rOtU OF conversation.
way home about the report she was to give
of 1t at q club meeting, and she had said
somewhat cleverly), TITS so mellow, Jack.
Mellow with Hfe!'
And Jack had given a great snort: I'm say
it's mellow! It's so mellow it's rotten; that's
what's wrong with It'll"
And as to people! He called that handsome
Mr.. Whitney who almost ran the Country Club.
"a wind-jammer." And MIR. Carson who had
played at the Lynn's musicale! Jack had been
positively rude about him. He initiated him
when they got home. He whirled invisible
waxed moustache delicately with his big fingers,
and smirked: "Oh, sweet sassafraS! Where did
leave my crocheting?"
He was like that about people who mattered
She kept recalling. during the day, these and
other instances of their real incompatibility,
wondering duly what would be the outcome of
it all, and sinking into an abyss of fear at
what she had allowed her mind to admit as the
truth.
When Jack came home she tried to meet him
as usual. He came bounding into the hall, at
tempting to hide long bundle behind him.
SCOT a surprise for you," he chuckled when
he had at last satisfied himself with kisses
Guess what?"
Nancy suddenly forgot she was tied to an un-
congenial mate. Her lovely face flushed de-
hghtedly
"Oh, Jack! did you get the roSes?"
''You bet did. Blew myself! Two dozen Of
the very -notchers All guaranteed to bloom
this Summer Say, let's plant them now!'
Nancy flew for her apron and gloves. Dinner
could wait There was indeed point upon
which they did agree perfectly she and Jack
That was the garden. It was not large but 1t
was as fair as careful planning and hard work
could make it. The little vegetable plot Dor
dered by -currant bushes, the banks of iris and
peonies, the long beds of old-fashioned peren-
mails, and now-the rose ploti Everything was
young yet, but growing prodigiously. And every
shoot, every promise or fulfillment of a blossom
was watched over and discussed with loving
pride They rushed out in the morning before
breakfast to see what miracle had transpired
during the darkness. And every moonlight
night they walked along the paths before they
went to bed, planning new beauties and breath
ing in its peace.
or course. Jack made wicked paraphrases on
all her quotations, his favorite being: "a
garden is lot of work, God wot!" But some
times in the moonlight he listened respectfully
to what the poets had to say about gardens.
'Darned if that's not the TRUTH" he would
remark.
Now she could hear him rafting his spades
and rakes in the cellar and singing joyousy:
my grandfathers wfiskers were too large for
his face,
So they grew round the rim of his hail"
She tried to put the absurd words from her
mind and think only of the roses.
1t is barely possible that in the united joy
of the planting and in the thrill of particu-
larry important bridge luncheon invitation that
reached her that night, Nancy might have sue
cesSfully covered up her angry, unhappy con-
fusion of thoughts if the letter had not arrived
the next day. In pale gray, innocent seeming
envelope came the match that was to light the
slumbering fuse. It was message from Grace,
who had been Nancy's great friend in college
and who had later married a bankerl bank
PRESIDENT Frederick Sloane. Nancy had not
seen her since, although they wrote each other
their news regularly, but she had feasted her
soul on lofty thoughts of what Grace's life must
be- The letter asked her TO visit them at their