Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-03-02

o
the old books in the store all of those on the
shilling shelf and at least half of those on the
sixpenny shelf. There was lot of things she
wanted to see and do. She wanted nice clothes
She wanted to see the country trees hills, fresh
green grass. A girl she knew had once spent
week end in the country and she said it was
wonderful, so big and glorious after the pave
ments, the smoke, the cabs and horses the
sailors docks and ships. But Emma doubted if
she could ever go. She had to watch the store
all the time and on Sunday afternoons, when
they closed, she had to stay with her aunt
The sailor told her how he had no recollection
OF his mother or father at all; how it seemed he
had Just grown up in a half dozen homes
among many women whom he had called aunt
or mother Unfortunately He had been a
street urchin, earning few pennies by turning
somersaultS and walking his hands outside
the dock gates where the sailors would watch
him. Then he had joined a gang of young
toughs terrorizing merchants and finally. when
he was IA, he had gone away on a ship bound
for India. Like fairy tale it was to Emma
and she would listen starry-eyed and forget to
pluck at her blue apron.
ONE Sunday, a week before he was to sail
again, he met Emma's aunt The old lady
had beer growing more and more curious and
disturbed over the regular visitor to the store
and her sharp, querulous voice had more than
once called Emma when the sailor and she
were silent for too long, looking at each other
in one of those sudden and mysterious pauses
in their talk. 1t was a nervous time when they
were called in together to see the aunt Emma
leading the way and her hand locked in his to
encourage him.
The old lady sat by the window that over
looked the drab brick wall of the next building
She stared at the sailor for long moments while
he stood, flushed and awkward, inside the door
th0 cIpn told 60
would make him some tea and then she asked
him about himself, about his ship, and If he
ever drank, and was it true there was talk of
a sailors strike? He answered nervously
hddling with his cap until she told him he
could light cigarette and then he felt better
and regained something Of his eternal smile
AT the last after he had drunk Emma's tea
and told with his eyes how wonderful it was
he summoned the courage to ask If he nightnt
take Emma out that afternoon when the store
was closed. Emma stood stiI, her eyes upon
her aunt who. in spite of Emmas expectations.
seemed to take the question very coolly
She thought then it would be all right but
Emma must be home before dark, and where
did they intend to go? Emma could wear the
skirt and blouse she had made over for her from
her own last good dress, and she already had
new hat contrived. only the last week. out of
some pieces and old frame It would be
well, too, to ask Mrs. AnSell, the neighbor next
door, to drop in every hour or so and see If she
was all right
They left the store very self-conscious. and
they walked stifhy and quite far apart to the
corner, where they caught the bus They rode
in dead silence for a long time and then Emma
said it was very nice of him to take her into
the country. He held her hand then and they
sat without speaking again until it was time to
get on that bus and catch another
They were out Of the houses at last and
running wiz hath
hedges. And there was a hint of blue hills in,
the distance and beyond the trees there were
miles OF clear green grass. Emma sat en-
thralled and the sailor stared for long minutes
10 nan turn at intervals and steal side glances
at her rapt expression.
Far outside the city, where the bus line
ended, they got off and went through a hedge
TO wander along a footpath meandering across
the fields. They picked flowers, little spots of
color sprinkling the green Emma laughed at
the antics Of a squirrel and murmured awe
struck like EXPLANATIONS when she found a
tiny nest with two little blue eggs inside it.
So they wandered and wandered until they
came to dusty highroad and found a sleepy
old inn with white haired, red-cheeked little
man smoking short clay pipe by table out
side the door.
They drank two glasses of milk each and sat
on a bench against the inn wall and stared
half sleepy now, at the fields over which they
had come, with the dark green hedges criss-
crossing everywhere and the footpath like a
thin brown snake wrigglng toward them. They
sat thus a long time, their hands locked the
lazy Summer sun warm upon them through the
tree shadows, the birds singing and the butter
flies dancing across the fields.
Emma picked some sweet peas before she
went The little man said she could take all
she could carry, so she filled her arms. She
loved sweet peas, she said. She had always
loved them. Many, many times in the Summer
when the 11owergirls had passed along by the
store she had taken pennies from her little
stock and bought a spray to cherish and watch
And the sailor nodded, because in his heart
there had grown a warm understanding of this
girl the rneunorv of whose owes and Inns had