Glacier County chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1931-1940, 1940-03-29
II. Honorable Uncle lancv
By ETHEL HUSTON

freshly laundered the hall curtains
showed four doors. three standing
invitingly open, one closed. Aunt
Olympia took one look at the closed
door and turned quickly away. dab
bling furiously at her eyes.
"You are to have my room, Aunt
Olympia, at the end Of the hall, |"
Helen said gently. IT moved in here
with Adele That's Limpy's
room; it's so tiny there's hardly
room even for one."
There was no need for her to say
they could not-not yet-bear to put
anybody, not even Aunt Olympia, in
that room behind the closed door.
"Their room," it had been, their
fathers and mothers. Mothers
room," they had always called it,
though shared by both.
On the day of the funeral Aunt
Olympia was strangely quiet. Her
voice, when she did speak, was soft,
almost tremulous. Her oddly keen,
pale blue eyes were gentle. Though
she watched everything that went
on about her, she made no COM
ment. She objected to nothing. She
broadcast no scathing whispers. For
the most part, she watched the girls,
all Of them together and each of
them separately, Limpy in particu-
lar. She noticed their mannerisms,
their movements; not even the in
tonation of their voices escaped her.
She scrutinized their clothes and the
cordial and sisterly understanding
between them and did not overlook
the very apparent affection shown
them by everyone who came to
their door, whether on errand Of
business or sympathy.
The church was packed for the
funeral. It was their fathers own
church, the biggest church in town,
and both the minister and his wife
had been warmly loved. The sud-
denness, the tragic shockingness of
the manner of their passing, the
double bereavement, even the dou-
BILE casket and the double interment
first in the history Of the town
attracted the morbid interest even
of strangers. The district superin-
tendent conducted the service. They
would have had the Bishop, but he
was away with his secretary, max
ing a tour of the Holy Land, gath
ering material for a report on the
state of the Armenians. Their own
church choir sang.
Even in their sadness, the girls.
in somber black, felt satisfaction
that Aunt Olympia, the Senator's
wife, was with them, she also in
respectable but more expensive
black. As they passed down the
aisle they could hear among the
stified sobs of their friends, among
the tender murmurs, chose poor
dear children" "sweet girls"
''the darlings," other words
that gave them a sad pleasure:
"the Senator's wife" ''their
aunt" flew out from WASH
ington."
Aunt Olympia displayed a proper,
customary sorrow during the serv-
ices, frequently patting her eyes un-
der her veil with a very fine, per-
fumed handkerchief. When Limpy
shivered suddenly and was seized
with a spasm of nervous trembling,
Aunt Olympia put her arm around
her and stroked the slim, black-clad
knee with tender sympathy until
the tremor had passed.
The parsonage was in quiet readi-
ness for their sad return. Sister
Alhard and Mrs. Cox, family
friends, had remained away from
the funeral in order to attend to
those final domestic rites. The ex-
ira chairs, borrowed from neighbor-
ing houses for the influx of visitors,
had been returned to their owners.
Pieces Of furniture had been re-
stored to their original position in
the room. A cheerful fire had been
set blazing in the crate and bowl
of roses frightened the low table in
the living room. Food had been pre-
pared, and the table laid for their
evening meal.
When they had finished their din
ner and sat, distraught and i'll at
ease, the four Of them, before the
fire Helen had freshly stirred to
life, Aunt Olympia said with some
abruptness:
"How about the future? Have you
got any ideas-made any plans
worked anything out in your minds
about what you want to do-from