The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1932-01-01

pitiless betrayal Of that glare Of light.
It 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 crying; her hair a
mess; and then that beastly old serge
skirt with spots all over It'll 1t was
almost too horrible to be true. And
she'd only made matters worse by re-
treating 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.
"I'm-Tm 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 it doesn't matter. You can
say good-by to him for me. Mother
and l decided at breakfast this MORN
ing 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 awfully glad l 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. I hope you're
better this morning"
ooh, I'm fine," she said. at was
just a headache"
"Well them" he said, "if you're not
busy, won't you let me come in for a
few minutes? I've been wanting a
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 something burning?" he
asked.
In the same instant she smelled it
too. 'The toast!" she cried and fled.
He came along, too, of course, anx-
ious 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 minute remov-
ing the debris, and when she next
looked up at him, he was in the act Of
disappearing into the kitchen. She'd
caught her breath to ask him what
he was doing that for, when the
smell of gas answered the question
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 turning off the
gas. It seemed to her just then that
a coffee pot which has boiled over
was the most disgusting 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
dining 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 stripped off the beastly blouse
and skirt. She'd go back to bed,
that's what she'd do. She was listen
ing for the opening and shutting Of
the front door that should tell her
he'd gone. Why didn't he go? She
stood staring at her tear-stained face
in the mirror. Mechanically, with
about three swift movements, she re-
arranged her hair. She went into the
bathroom and washed her face in
cold water. He hadn't gone yet. Or
had he, after all, without her having
heard him?
She slipped into plain little house
dress and fortified herself with
handkerchief and with another look
in the mirror. Anger over the re-
voting series Of petty disasters had
dried her tears and restored 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
smoke and the smell Of gas were gone.
The coffee pot, wiped clean, stood on
it's tile upon the table.
"Just on the minute" he said with