Evening star., 1933-02-05
INSTALLMENT Xxx.


"HEN Carroll wondered where she
was going. 1t was, her predica-
ment, little like many pre-
i dicaments, OF Alice IN her
wonderland. Dear Mike how
kind he had been to her, and she had
hurt him-and he had never again gone
And because her mind was not her
own, it spun a story: "'Where am I
going?' said Carroll to the Duchess.
Who knows?' said the Duchess, where
any of us are going? And in reality few
Of us ever do and she paused to sneeze
violently" 1t was just as If Mike were
reading again to her.
Carroll decided, considering this with
a slowed mind, that she was thinking
in an odd sort of way, but it would be
we'll to L-low where she was going. Peo-
pie usually did know at least that much
when some sort Of power took them
through space.
Suddenly she remembered Arch; it
had been MichaeIs face that rose be-
fore from deep fold of mind, but now
she saw Arch, and clearly. Arch would
come for her, of course, she reasoned,
and how silly she had been not to real
iZe that. Now that her need was so
mother of their engagement, heart or
no heart And he would come for her
to replace her uncertainty with his pro-
lection. When she knew where she
would be, she could write him. and then
everything would be as right as it could
be ever, now.
And as she wondered anew, with
Where am I going?" the fat man
was kind again. 1T won't be long
now, Monma," he shouted across the
bus.
What do you mean, it won't be long
now, Poppa" she replied in equally
we'll carrying tone.
"York's next" he answered.
"York's neXt?" she queried.
''Yeh, York's next" he shouted, nod
ding ardently, Works next"
The somewhat Greek-tragedy for
nation of chat let Carroll relax lit
tie. 1t was obvious that York was next
going geographically. Houses were
thickening; This Is East York" said
yellow letters on blue sign. And this
was followed by another blue sign and
the yellow letters on this spelled York,
Named for York, England"
At the square in York, Carroll got off
and stood on the pavement, bag and box
at feet. staring around her. Some one
hurrying to catch the Princess street
car brushed her elbow and she swayed.
Now, where am I going?" she
thought. And the duchess sneezed.
Stir like hell and save the sugar; sugar
what made me think Of suglr? Am
going-crazy?"
merely that her mind, stunned by
shock. had lost its way to remember
ing connections and was casting from
the depths what it would.
Then. turning, she saw upon a near
by stand a crowded coating of daily
papers and, blaring from one Of actively
pink cast, was bold, crude portrait Of
her mother.
The solid buildings surrounding the
square quivered, writhed, swan sicken-
ingly for Carroll. When the earthquake
was over and some of the sweep of sick
ness had passed. Carroll thought. as
have too many blinded, cropping hu-
man things, "Ive got to face this; I
must learn to bear it,!
Forcing her on was the instinct that
makes the very i'll cling to life. Later,
Carroll, at certain extremely black mo-
ments, was sure that de2th would be
far preferable to facing it and learn
ing to bear it. But people do live on,
with heart for it, or not One sees that
any day, by following a public street.
And living on makes dates mount on
calendar.
Thus one day. Michael in the south
of France realized it was December 90.
The fact was brought home by his
penning date at the head of let
ter he UGs writing to Miss CaSSandra
Winthrop Wister Of Boston. He wrote
his aunt faithfully ami at lecg h
thet VS. tedious to hiCl and b" cause
sllo v7s G ting on anI he didn't pre-
sumo she had too much left in life to
interest her, and because she loved him
and he loved her.
He wrote her now that Joyce was
really much better; that a terrifcally
attrs ctive chap was wild about Joyce;
a Dctroi. banker named George Moore
(but not the one who urose b1Cks) and
that they were gong to PRS for
Christmas because both Joyce and he
disliked the syn he.ic g,yety that would
infuse resort holidays. He also told his
aunt that her letters would be among
careful to say among the first; he
knew that If letter from Carroll waited
him in Paris with others that he had
ordered held, hers would be the first he
would read.
He paused, thinking there really
might be letter from Carroll waiting
him and, pausing, he drew a long
whiskered kitten on his blotter; years
back he had drawn the ancestors Of
that kitten for Carroll. She had "just
loved and adored pictures of little kit
tens" The fervency of his hope for
news of her frightened him. 1t had
been months since he had had any word
of her. Really, any news, he decided
and he was to remember this later
would be, oh, so welcome!
Joyce entered to ask what he was
doing. He replied, trifle petulantly,
that when he sat before desk he was
always writing his aunt. Joyce mur-
INJURED a contrite, Il will write her next
week" And because she had been say
ing that ever since they landed, Michael
grunted. Then he said, discouraged
eyes on the only half-filled page, that
he didn't know what to write now.
What have you said" she asked.
Nothing! Quite nothing" Michael
answered hurriedly and with a gesture
which seemed casual, he turned over
the page
you might tell her" said Joyce, as
she dropped to deep chair. that I
may say "Yes," when the Mr.. Moore, of