The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1940-01-04

lap. At a sound from the hall, she
turned and saw her father standing
in the doorway, his cigar in his
fingers, his eyes fixed upon her with
an unwonted tenderness.
= What was that you were playing,
Autumn" he asked after a mo-
ment.
That was Grondahls 'Serenade,'
d." she told him.
"I've heard you play it before
and I've asked the name of it," he
said, "but I can never seem to re-
member. Play it again. / like it."
He came into the room and went
to a large chair that stood to one
side of the French windows where
he sat gazing out into the fitful light
of the garden as Autumn played.
When she came TO the end at last,
he did not speak, and Autumn got up
and moved to the console where the
roses stood. She caressed an opu-
lent, full-blown, yellow bloom with
thoughtful fingers.
No more music?" Jarvis en-
quired at last, wistful note in his
voice that hurt the bruised part of
her being
"Perhaps-later," she said quiet
ly.
AYE" he said, "T suppose one
must be in the mood for it. But
that bit, now-the one you just
played-means something. 1t brings
a light to one when he hears it."
Old Saint Pat ambled into the
room and settled himself on a rug
at his masters feet. Autumn left
the roses and walked to q chair
near her fathers.
"Da," she said gently, "what
would you say to my going back to
Aunt FLOP"
The Laird turned slowly in his
chair and looked at her across his
shoulder. She glanced at him in
souciantly, almost without interest
in how he should respond to her
question. She had really not meant
| it for a question so much as an an
nouncement.
But the helpless, almost childlike
look of detection that appeared
| promptly in his eyes gave her a
moments disquietude.
He bent forward and clasped his
hands. "You wish to go, Autumn"
he asked, his voice grown wistful.
| "Da," she replied, zone can't al
| ways do just what one would like to
do. I came here because / wanted
to-and I've managed to make a
mess of everything since I've come.
Jarvis sighed heavily. "I'm sor-
ry, my dear. It hasn't been your
fault, either"
'It's the fu1t of no one in particu-
lar" Autumn said. "It was just in
the cards."
AYE. I know. You're still think
ing Of Geoffrey's son. Isn't that
it?"
I'm thinking-of everything" she
responded. "I can't go on living
herewith things as they are. I've
done my best, Da-or my worst,
perhaps, you would saw. 1t will be
easier for everyone concerned if
get back to the other side of the
world"
She got up again and went to
stand before the window. There fol-
lowed long silence burdened with
the impasse to which their emotions
had come. She heard her father
clear his throat with deep rumble,
and then she knew that he had risen
and was coming slowly toward her
His hand lay for moment gen.
tly upon her shoulder, but she did
not turn to look at him.
I'm sorry, my girl he NUT
tered. II cannot tell you how sor-
ry / am. / had hoped-somehow-
that you might be happy hereafter
a time-in spite of everything ]
had hoped for too much, it seems"
ST had, too" Autumn replied.
"But it wasn't to be-"
At shall miss you more now than
ever" Jarvis said, and then, after
long silence: "But you must not
stay because of that, Autumn"
"You are making it easy for me to
CO." Autumn said, somewhat
abruptly in spite of herself.
The old man went back to his
chair. Autumn" he said at last
"don't be impatient with me tonight
I'm tired--and your music"
81 didn't mean that, d." she said
quickly and went to him at once.
The Lairds head sank forward
his eyes staring out upon the gar.
den. "I'd be just as glad if coult
make it easy for you to stay III
said. Sometimes think you"
His voice stopped and he swep
his eyes with his hand. Autumn
threw her arms around him ant
pressed him close to her in silence
Presently he freed himself genti.
from her embrace.
"You think of your father as
coward, Autumn" he said stoutly
81 may have more courage thai
/ you know. Yesterday-when the bo.
, came to see mel thought | Nigh
tell him-tell him all that ! toll
; you one night upstairs there. hav
) my senses still, and | can see thing
still-with my own eyes. ALI you
: silly carrying-on this summer wit
: that mad crowd of Elliot PARIS
t didn't blind me to the truth. "
: known from the first what was be
hind it. I've spent days and night
r thinking about it. And wren tn
r boy came-before he came to me,
e thought thought-the rtgAt thin
J., | ~ do xxyr,,ld ha tn tell hirn-So thS