The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1930-05-09
CHAPTER II-Continued

a.
But she did not see him the next
day, although she waited at their
rendezvous for an hour past the time.
Nor the next day. By the third day
she was filled with deep dismay and
fear. All sorts of questions whirled
through her mind. Perhaps he had
tired of her. 1t might be that the
affair had run out for him, that he
had never intended to make more than
a sweetheart out of her.
But she had only to think of his
bright honorable face to know that
there was some other reason behind
his attitude. She had only to think
of his eager kisses to know that he
cared. She called him on the tele-
phone at his home, at ten o'clock. His
mother answered and said, in a low
voice, that he was sleeping.
would you waken him. It's i'm
portant," she said, and stood shaking
in the telephone booth, until she heard
his voice, husky with sleep.
"This is Ernestine," she said, trem-
bling.
At once there was an electric ST.
lence, and then he said, in a voice
now thoroughly awake:
"Well?"
She could have cried. "What's the
matter, Will? Aren't you going to see
me again?"
"Where are you?"
SIN at the drug store, at Wilson
and Sheridan"
"I'll be there within an hour" he
told her.
He had not had breakfast, he said,
shaking hands with her formally when
they met. They went into a little
white tiled coffee shop, and he ordered
his breakfast and sat opposite her in
silent waiting. He looked terrible. His
face, often white, was ravaged, and
his eyes burned. But he was calm.
He had reached some decision, and
Ernestine knew that the initiative
rested on her.
whats the matter, WHIP" she
asked him, trembling again, and hat
ing herself for it. It was awful to
be such a slave.
"Your mother phoned me yester-
day."
"Mamma!"
''Sure-she asked me to come there
to tea this afternoon. told her had
to work. Didn't you know she was
going to ask me? I thought perhaps
you told her to invite me-" said Will.
A little light dawned in Ernestine's
mind.
SIS that the trouble?" she asked.
t'Do you think I ought to have in
vited you to my homer"
WELL" he said slowly, "why
shouldn't you = unless you were
ashamed Of me?"
How could she explain without
wounding him?
''But you see, Wilt has nothing
to do with being ashamed. My first
thought was to tell the folks, but then,
it seemed they might disapprove of
our friendship, and / want to keep it.
And then"
"But don't you see, Ernestine, I
Z can't meet you any more, like this
out on the street, and in the library,
and in restaurants and tearooms? /
can't do that to your parents. If they
don't want you to go with me, can't
coax you to do it-clandestinely.
'Your mothers been telling you all
this"
"Yes," he said 81 confided in her.
She showed me how 1t looks"
swell, then, that's all there is to it.
You aren't willing to make the effort
to be friends that am. You don't
understand how they'd be. They'd be
so nice and so reasonable-and they'd
separate us. Just as sure as fate.
You don't know them as I do. 1t
wouldn't be your character they'd OBJ
ject to, or your folks. 1t would be
your position and your lack of money
and such things Anyhow, it seems to
be a little late Toto" she faltered
into silence.
Will looked at her with agitation.
"What do you mean-it's late,
Ernestine?" he demanded.
LUZ ShS SouA0 OhAy HUM at ulLu.
ne did not understand, she could MOI
explain.
"You mean-you carer" he asked
little breathlessly, and she smiled
TREMENDOUSLY.
"What did you think?" she asked
him.
II didn't think, guess" he said.
II never meant to make you love me
it was so natural. I shouldn't have
touched you"
'But you did, WILL"
Lets 60" he said, and paid the
bill.
They walked out, swept now into a
unity which had been increased, not
broken, by their talk. They walked
half mile or so and cama RI a ID