The Coolidge examiner., 1932-05-13


classes, teams, committees-the
whole fabric of a life that had been
hers going on with her torn out of
lt-had hurt her unbearably. The
thing for her to do was to make up
her own mind while solitude still
gave her the chance. Already it
was half made up. She knew what
she wasn't going to do. She wasn't
going to high school. They couldn't
make her.
She noted with reluctant satisfac-
ton that mother had cleared and
reset the dining room table for her
solitary meal, with the electric
toaster beside her place ready to
do its duty. She went into the
Kitchen and lighted the flame under
the coffee pot; then came back and
started the toast.
The doorbell rang just as she'd
turned on the current In the toast
er. 1t was rather dark in the hall,
and when she opened the door the
glare of the sunlit snow on the
lawn half blinded her, and she
blinked, bewildered, at the visitor.
Hello, Edith" he said cheerfully.
1t was Roger Morgan.
She said, Good morning" and
automatically stepped back from the
pitiless betrayal of that glare of
light. 1t was too late to do any
good, of course. One glance would
have been enough to show him how
perfectly horrible she looked. Her
eyes swollen with last nights cry
ing; her hair mess; and then that
beastly old serge skirt with spots
all over it! 1t was almost too hor-
rible to be true. And she'd only
made matters worse by retreating
into the hall, for he'd taken that,
naturally, as an invitation to come
in. He had followed her and shut
the door behind him.
"Tm-Pm awfully sorry" she
said. but Ed isn't home. He got
up early this morning, for once, and
went out"
"Oh, I'm sorry | missed him."
Roger said, "but 1t doesn't matter.
You can say good-by to him for me.
Mother and l decided at breakfast
this morning that we'd go TO New
York for two or three days before
college opens, so we're leaving on
the afternoon train. But I'm aw-
fully glad | found you. | thought
I'd see you at Martha's party last
night. | asked Ed why you weren't
there. and he told me you weren't
feeling well. | hope you're better
this morning"
"Oh, I'm fine" she said. st was
just a headache"
well then" he said, "if you're
not busy, won't you let me come in
for a few minutes? I've been want
ing chance to talk with you ever
since the night of the play. Really,
you know" He broke off short
and shifted. His look fixed itself
over her shoulder. upon the door
into the dining room. isn't some
thing burning?" he asked.
In the same instant she smelled
Ii too. "The toast |" she cried. and
fed. He came along, too, of course,
anxious to help, though there wasn't
a thing he could do. The room was
full of smoke and the toast was
charred black and stuck to the
wires.
She was busy for a minute remOv-
ing the debris. and when she next
looked up at him, he was in the act
Of disappearing into the kitchen.
Shed caught her breath TO ask him
what he was doing that for, when
the smell of gas answered the ques-
tion for her. The coffee pot must
have boiled over and put out the
flame. She got to the kitchen door
in time to see him at the stove turn
ing off the gas. II seemed to her
just then that a coffee pot which
has boiled over was the most dis
gusting sight in the world.
1t was one calamity too many;
more than she could stand. She
started to say "Oh. never mind.
Let it alone" but her voice wouldn't
work. She felt the tears coming
up into her eyes. She reached for
her handkerchief and found she
hadn't any. Flight was the only
thing. She bolted through the din
ing room, down the hall, and up
stairs TO her room. She didn't
know whether the Excuse me"
she'd flung back to him had been
audible or not. She didn't care.
She slipped into the plain little
house dress and fortified herself
with a handkerchief and with an
other look in the mirror. Anger over
the revolving series of petty disas-
ters had dried her tears and re-
stored her color. He had gone OF
course. He must have by this time.
Anyhow, she'd go down and see.
He was in the dining room. The