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

sometimes thought it wasn't very proper but
then they were both young and life was a long
and dreary thing and Emma was grown up.
Emma was always laughing these days,
laughing and singing She had quite talent
for singing and even without piano she could
go quite list of songs, especially those
songs she heard at the shows where her sailor
always taking her. He seemed to be pos
SeSSed of some devil where money was con-
cerned for he spent it without thought. This
worried Emma sometimes, but he would only
laugh and kiss her and for while then she
would forget about it. Her bought her new
coat proof against the rains and winds of
Winter; he bought her a new dress and a hat;
and a tiny chain of gold with a small locket
for her throat. Sometimes Emma thought she
would die from too much happiness
THE little old aunt was happy, too, and
laughed to herself a great deal, especially
on those evenings when Emma and her sailor
stayed home. She would insist going to
bed early then and she could, by straining her
duh ears, hear from the other side of her red
plush curtain soft whisperngs and softer
laughter. And every one glad and no
one minded the rain and the wind all bluStery
in the chimneys outside. They were married
a week before he sailed again. When he said
good-by, Emma wept. She was so afraid so
very much afraid. And then his voice was
low and strong and soothing, and his arm
frightened her 10 him. and he kissed her wet
eyes and her trembling lips. Nothing to be
afraid of, sweetheart. Nothing at all.
Only four months this time to be away
from her short voyage to Naples and Mar
settles, to Malta and Oporto. And then when
he came home, he would go to the navigation
school and take his ticket. It would be Sum-
mer when he returned, and the skies would
be blue and the trees in leaf and they would
have glorious days in the country until the
time came when he must go. He would be
an officer then. earning more, better able to
keep her. They would buy a tiny cottage on
the cliffs some day, not too far from the city,
and she would be able to watch the ships pass
up and down and perhaps, when he was a
captain, see his flag dipped in salute to her.
All this he told her, and all this they saw
against the darkness, and the dream was good
and lay warmly on the heart. But still she
cried and whispered in his ear. She was so
terrified. How could he leave her now? Four
months Only four months! But four months
was an age
They parted at last and Emma stood fixing
her hair, her eyes wet but smiling. He must
go, she knew, and she would not have him re-
member her any way but happy. There was
a tightness in her breast and a mysterious
little chill beneath her heart but her voice
was gay when she spoke to him again He
took her cheeks between his palms and kissed
her. He squeezed her little chin smoothed
back her cloud of dark hair, and if there was
tightness inside his own breast his laugh
did not betray it, though nothing could keep
the shadow from his blue and friendly eyes.
Only four months. Why, nothing could hap
pen in that time
And one last gift, very special gift be-
cause he was going away. He placed between
her wondering hands the little spray of sweet
peas he had searched the city for and her eyes
brimmed over He had remembered then how
she had loved them, remembered that day,
so long ago it seemed when she had walked
with him through the fields, her arms filled
with flowers from the old country inn. But
here was the rain and the chill wind outside
and sweetpeas didn't bloom until Summer. Did
they now? They never bloomed until Summer.
He must forgive her for crying now, but it
was so good of him. She knew how hard it
had been to find them and they must have
cost him so much Sweetpeas in Winter!
They stood locked for long minutes in the
doorway. the windy rain blowing unheeded over
them and the cart wheels slurring by in the
mud outside. And then she alone, and
there was a moving shadow down the street,
and she was holding the flowers to her mouth
with one hand while the other fiuttered in the
night and the rain beat upon her. 1t was so
very lovely of him, because they didn't really
bloom until the Summer. Did they now?
Sweetpeas in the Winter She whispered
to herself long after the shadow had gone from
the street and her hand still fiuttered
'Cood-by, sailor Good-by -
The months went ON. She heard from him
from Naples, and that letter went to join those
others in the sandalwood box on the table of
special treasures. She heard from him again
from Malta, and she knew then he would soon
be home. She dreamed for long hours, shiny
eyed, her hand pressed beneath her heart, and
the little old lady in the chair nodded to her
self and dreamed, too. and a strange golden
shadow seemed to hover above the house
But the months went on and on, the wind
grew warm again, the trees budded and leafed,
the sweetpeas climbed over the trellis near the
little inn on that dusty road across the fields.
Slowly the golden shadow lifted from the house
And Emma could not understand, not even
when they told her his ship had gone down or
FiniSterre and that he had been taken to South
Africa the uassoI tLat Id