The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1938-11-11

she tries to talk, answer her; get
her to confide in you. / could come
myself; but she has been afraid OF
me, afraid of being cured. It had
better be one Of you, whom she
trusts"
"You think she'll be all right"
"Try," the doctor repeated, and
drove away.
Phil did not at once return in
doors. He stood under the porte
cochere for a moment, thinking OF
Barbara; and then he realized that
even without an overcoat, he was
comfortably warm. The sun shone,
there was no wind, and the air
had promise in it. He walked at
random down the drive to the street,
noticing without emotion how the
shrubbery was broken where curl
Gus children or adults like ghouls
had broken off souvenirs; and old
Eli had neatly clipped the ragged
ends and touched them with paint
to protect them against decay. Here
and there he saw buds swelling;
and returning by the other side Of
the drive he noticed in a sunny cor
ner crocuses just bursting through
the sod. March was well begun.
Four months till July. In less than
four months, the week of July /
would have come-and gone.
The week of July /! The Judges
phrase slid like a snake through the
dulled channels of his mind. He
walked out toward the garage, of
which the doors stood open, and
saw the cars there. The old limou-
sine which was Eli's pet and pride.
The depot wagon which he and Bar
bara were apt to use. The road
ster which his father had driven that
night. The limousine and the road
ster had low number plates, three
digits in the one, four in the other;
one of the mild forms of ostenta-
ton in which he knew his mother
took secret pride.
He went in to look at the road
ster; and he stared at it with a root
ed physical distaste. He made
sudden decision to be rid of it. Eli
came in from the garden, and Phil
started to speak to him and then
remembered that he would have to
shout, because Eli was deaf; and
if he shouted, his mother, even in
the house, might hear. Instead, he
took an envelope from his pocket
and wrote on it orders for the old
man to drive the roadster into the
country, find a dealer somewhere
who would buy it at any price, then
surrender the number plates, give
them up for good and all. He real
lied as he wrote that the plates had
been renewed since his father last
drove the car; but the number was
the same, had been the same each
year since before he himself was
born. Get rid of them!
Eli read the instructions, and he
nodded his assent, silent as always.
Phil took the registration, endorsed
the report of transfer Of ownership
in blank, scrubbed note giving Eli
authority to sell the car. He brushed
his hands together in a deep relief
and turned away, and it did not &C.
cur to him till years afterward, look
ing backward on these months, that
the moment was a milestone. It
was the first time in his life that
he had ever made a concrete de-
cision involving definite action on
an adult plane and carried the ac-
ton through. He thought in later
years that his own maturity dated
from that moment when, almost
without consideration, he assumed
the headship of the family.
He left Eli and went out past the
tennis court, Uttered with last years
dead leaves, the remains of a drift
of snow still persisting in one cor
ner; and he stood in the little sum-
merhouse above the muddy stream
on which stained and rotten ice still
persisted, and looked down where
his father that night had thrown the
gun.
(TO BE CONTINUED