The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1937-04-15

"And what q heaven this place
would be for me-" the girl had an.
swered, serious for the moment.
there's no place In the world to
me like this one. When you bring
me here to our garden, and our
Scotty and our sea, some sort OF
mood comes over me-simple and
happy and-and good, Joe. You're
so darned good, Joe. Did you ever
do anything rotten or mean OF
small in your whole life2"
i've done plenty, my girl"
II imagine. It's SO extraordinary,
being twenty-eight, and loving you
So"
Scrubbing new potatoes at the
sink, she had turned at these
words to look at him over her
shoulder. Joe, seated at the table
busily stemming strawberries, had
looked up with his round fair face
completely devoid of expression.
Yes, ! know just how you love
me. But then everyone wants you,
Tony; don't blame you for tax.
ing your time"
Everyone doesn't want me, Joe.
And 1t isn't that. You know" Tony
had said. her cheeks suddenly scar.
let. you know that It isn't that"
And 1t was then, after a long
pause, that he said: "Have you
heard from Larry?"
no." the girl said, rubbing the
little pink and brown potatoes In
q bowl.
"What d'you expect. Tony?"
"Well. nothing and everything
I SUPPOSED" Tony answered, laugh
ing c0nfusedly, after q moment
She came over to the table and sat
down, her brown hands busy as
his were with the big firm berries.
"Him. for one. thing" she said In
genu0usly, with q smile.
Him, Of course. My grandmoth-
er may go of In her sleep any
night"
ANY time now. At least, from
what Caroline wrote. They all
reached Baltimore ten days ago,
you said?"
"That was the last I heard. Car
dimes wire said that Gran had not
minded the trip at all and was COM
Portable, and that the end might
be at any time But there's poor
Aunt Ruth's estate to settle. you
know. 1t was q remarkable will.
She left more than a dozen lega-
cies."
"A beautiful thing to do" Tony
said. Ruth had sOme-some quail
ity; don't know what to call It.
Dignity, bigness; one didn't see it
in the little things But in big
things" She looked at a ring
on her brown finger; two great
pearls flanking deep green emer-
aid. ITO send me that" she said
slowly.
"That was my grandmother's. So,
If you ever liked me, Tony, 1t could
be handed on to our little Bertha
Beatrice!'
"Her name wouldn't be Bertha
Beatricel"
"Her name would be Ant0inette."
Tony, looking at him, bit into a
great berry. She said nothing.
Suppose Larry was out Of 1t,
would l have a chance?"
"Joe. dear, even with Larry in It,
you'd always have a chance!
You're one Of the finest men I ever
knew; you're the sweetest-tempered.
l didn't know there was such q
thing as sweet-tempered man I'M
til / knew you. My father was very
excitable and exacting, sometimes,
and SOS Cliff. And Larry's-well,
he's not even-tempered."
But still it's no one but Larry?"
mo one but Larry"
He was silent for a while. Pres
emily he said:
well, you've never fooled me.
You've never let me think there
was any chance"
I'm going to put all these papers
into the box; they'll have read the
papers!" Tony called. from the ad-
Joining sitting room. "What did you
say, Joe7 I didn't hear you"
Nothing" he said, opening the
kitchen door to take great drafts
Of the delicious wet air and watch
the little trees swaying In the rain.
They had scrambled eggs. Irish
bacon, jelly, and toast for lunch,
and then Tony belted herself into
an old coat Of Joe's and pulled .
knitted cap tightly down over her
dark hair, and they went down to
the beach.
The rain curled her hair, and the
wind drove q bright color into her
cheeks. Tony shouted like q child
to be heard above the waves that
came In on a shallow level rush,
tumbled into foam on the rocks,
slid away again. Joe steadied her.
She laughed as she stumbled help
lessly against him, or when q pur-
suing wave drove them into a Wild
huddle of escape together; the wet
h,o~ .x.oud, of hop hair almost