The Key West citizen. [volume] (Key West, Fla.) 1879-current, 1939-03-08

again?
| Maisie Mason lay and watched
the dawn break through the green
venetian blinds of her bedroom
AFTER the n ght, cometh the
morning" she thought. and twist
ed her thin wracked body in flu.
tile effort to escape from a pain
from which there was 20 escape.
The night had seemed endless, but
now. increasingly every minute, il
was morning. Birds were singing
outside in the cold gray twilight.
The scent of that garden. in which
she would never work again, was
borne to her on a wave of chill air
through her open window. She
wishedkthe maid had not let the
blind right down. She had meant
to ask Petrol to pull it up, half
way. before she said good night to
her.
But she knew the view from this
window so we'll, that she could
content herself with imagining it.
The tree tops. which looked like
brown green waves of the sea,
would be Redeemed. The distant
ribbon of the wet road, out of
Balltield. would catch the light,
shine like silver river. Maisie
Mason wanted to see the dawn,
but not urgently. There was time
yet: DR.. Harris had Sid she might
live for months. even ferea year.
That was why she had forbidden
him to tell Petrol 6 the ftruth. II
would Sadden their last days to-
gether. if the girl knew that she
was watching her die. She would
cease going out with her friends,
singing about the house. sitting on
the edge of her bed. chattering to
her. laughing, as she read Peters
latest mad letter from Germany.
All Petrol knew was that her
"old internal trouble" had become
acute. That the specialist in Har-
ley Street had ordered rest. That
an operation might be advisable.
II she did not respond to treat
ment.
The Headlines
IN ORDER that Fetrel should not
know. the blessing of DR.. Harris
visits, with their subsequent lull
OF pain. came as rarely as Maisie
could bear. Even then, she had
seen Petrol looking at her, curl.
ously. She had spoken quickly to
disarm suspicion.
Our good doctor seems to drop
in very often. A nice bill | shall
have, for the luxury of being ILL.,"
Hes such an Did friend, Auntie.
He is concerned at your being in
bed at all He can't get used to the
thought of anyone SO energetic be-
ing ill"
Sweet Petrol! She should 90
back to work as soon as Rowdon's
job materialized, Maisie deter
mined: She had given up the Tri-
light Insurance Company, to be
with her. 1t was no use, and sheer
SelfiShneSS. to keep her indefinite
ly at home. But her spirit ached
for her continued companionship.
The days would seem very long,
alone. But Petrol had her trou-
bles, too. and staying here gave
her too much time to think about
them. This love affdir-that young
man. Lance. who put himself and
his career first! How would it end?
With James Randall? You could
not tell. Patience was unnatural
to youth. A little thing. an ulti-
matum from James. for instance,
might cause her to break her allie
glance to Tony Lance. And vet
Il never broke mine." thought
Maisie.
At eight o'clock, the maid. Ger.
trude, brought Maisie Mason her
tea, her letters, and the morning
paper. The letters were bills and
notes of kindly inquiry from her
friends. She smiled. grimly. It was
mail day. She was dying, but Pat
had not troubled to write by re-
turn. That should be warning to
his daughter, not to lay her love
at the feet of man who did not
want it. But. 81 did not have a face
and body like hers, and her way of
moving, to help me-" she thought.
Perhaps Tony Lance. inshiS, casual
modern way. did love gPetronella?
Raising herself paipfullpon her
pillow, Maisie Mason opened the
Daily NetDS at the center page. She
saw the PHOTOGRAPH of Peter in a
cricket shirt, laughing up at her.
Trembling, she read the report
right through before she called.
towards the sound of running wa
ter in the bathroom.
"Petrell Petrel!"
eyes, Auntie-what is it?" She
came, running in in her blue dress
ing-gown. Her hair was shiningly
neat, she was rosy with sleep.
Peter is in the headlines of the
NetDS. He seems to have made a
complete fool of himself. They've
"Prisoni What for?" Petre
seized the paper and stared at it.
"His photograph" she breathed.
British journalist shot and i'm
prisoned in Berlin!"
"They suspect him Of spying. He
attended a secret meeting he had I
no business to attend. on Some-s
body else's ticket, and gave him,
self away by speaking German"
slow awful What will happen
to him?" rs = ~.
"The paper disciaims RESPONSE
bility. They say he was. on, lpaca-ye
ton, and not acting in any official
capacity. They suggest, my, dear.
that he's harmless but over jealous
in the interests of his journalistic
career. and that since he speaks
German very indifferently, he
can't possibly have understood
much that was said at the meet
ing"
(Copnrinht. 1889. Grnca Elliott Tnufnrl