The Washington times., 1936-01-07
NOW READ ON

uncle did not get that job. so
got a break, and here am back
at the gas pump, and miss you
already. 49,,
NOW. Christie, I want a letter
from you and want to know how
YOU are, and If you still remember
me Cha, haD.
Well Christie, am not much
of a letter writer, I would rather
see you, but will do my best to
let YOU know how I am from time
to time and until I can see you.
The reason I did not say good
bye was because I left the same
night I got home and I did not
care to 60 to Platts to see you.
You know why.
I am looking for a better open
ing here and have hopes: You
know what I mean. Will now
close, with love from
Yours sincerely,
GENE r. DUBOIS,
Gen, Del, Sacramento"
As she read the tears rolled
steadily down her cheeks, blister
ING the paper. She did not know
that she was weeping. She only
kne that the words she neeoeo
weren there. 80,
And then, tucked away IN the
envelope, she found four lines
clipped out Of a newspaper: e.
an the grey summer garden I
shall find you, ,.
With daybreak and the morning
hills behind you.
There will be rain-wet roses; sur
of wings;
wakes and sings"
And scrubbed on the margin, IN
Genes writing, This is q thing
called Idyll. It is by a poet named
Siegfried SaSSoon."
The words blurred under her
eyes.
These were the thoughts that
were in his heart for her. This
was the verse that he himself
would write some day. Dear Gene
he just couldn't write that
kind of q letter :. =,
She wept again, because she had
misjudged him.
That night AdolphuS Cooper ate
bacon and eggs and fried bread
with more than his usual guSto.
He drank two cups Of coffee from
the flower-bordered pint-size cup
that he used only when Aunt Net
tie was away.
"Your aunt and the girls'u be
getting back Saturday" he said,
glancing at Christie without any
change Of expression. Seems they
caught a boat earlier than they
expected to. I guess they run out
Of money, or got too much pol
and ukele. IT any rate, I gotta
20 meet 'em. I don't S'pose you
care to come along?"
ooh, I dol" she cried so eagerly
that she surprised, and vaguely
frightened herself. 81 do want to
60. I won't be left home alone
again-ever!"
And so Aunt Nettie and the
girls came back, and soon they
were all settled again in the house
at Spanish Pass.
Settled. No, that wasn't the
word. Aunt Nettie had never set
tied in the old brown house that
Adolphus and Christie loved. She
was q permanent guest. A gentle,
tactful guest, who wouldn't say q
word against the place, if it killed
her.
Short, stout, always handsomely
gowned in pale silks that never
muSSed, never seemed to grow
dusty nor dingy no matter how
high the thermometer climbed, she
moved about the big, rambling
house on feet that seemed too
small for her heavy body, and
shoes that must have been too
small for her pump, high arched
feet. Her white, ringed hands
picked up glasses and spilled pipe
tobacco, newspapers, dusty sofa
cushions, even bones that the dogs
dragged in. IT can't ask the Serv-
ants to do things like that" she
said. "It'S hard enough to find
any that will stay at all, in a place
like this"
The frequent wrangling between
the girls she settled in her low,
carefully modulated voice. She
never spoke sharply to Christie,
she never criticized AdolpnuS for
tucking his napkin in his vest, or
Smacking his lips over the soup.
She Just sighed, softly.
(TO BE COntinued)
Downright, 1895, King Features
u 4 Gyndi0At0. 1nG)