Askov American. [volume] (Askov, Pine County, Minn.) 1914-current, 1942-09-24
Call My Name
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By AMY CAMPBELL
Mcclure Syndicate-WNU Service.)
. HEN they met at dance they
w were still young and obviously
Mcclure syndicate-wNU service.)

were still young and obviously
very much meant for each other.
He thought how much she was like
newly unsheathed lily. She was
wearing something lovely Of apricot
satin. The sense of unfolding came
from the frothy gold of her scarf
from which her red careless hair
rose like slim, tawny flame.
After moment or two of perfect
rhythm he said:
You're being streamline. Don't.
You were meant to be windblown.
Either" she informed promptly
with wandering eyes, "are resist
ant"
eyes," he admitted slowly. "And
sturdy. There is something too frail
about you for either" He could
not resist an absent touch of stray
ing fingers on her scarf.
"You don't understand, she pur-
sued, 81 shall always say Thank
you, no to the usual in life"
81 am very usual. Your words
somehow make me feel actually
mere"
"Why make personal applica-
tion?" she wondered.
After that they were silent, drift
ing effortlessly as milkweed sails in
a gentle wind. People were think
ing, as they watched them, that it
was infinite poetry they were
weaving. This compelling thought
seemed to reach them both just as
the music brought its usual terrible
parting with discordant crash, for
something eager left their eyes.
Another, and another" he
begged instantly.
She smiled without a word but
gave him a second glance over her
new partners shoulder as she
moved away. He answered it with
all his heart, thinking how foolish
he was. Then because it was in
tolerable to watch her in another
mans arms he went into the gar
den. It actually happened that he
had chosen an unsought vantage
place at exactly the right time. He
recognized her voice later. It
reused him from a discouraged
mood She was speaking to some
one with her on the other side Of a
bank of low cherry bloom.
Like a country lane" the man
was saying.
"And if it were, would you know
what to do with it?" there was bore
dom in her voice.
Certainly. I've been to the pic
lures"
"Yes-then WHAT"
YOU'D have a parasol to keep
your hair from fading"
Moonlight can fade" she unused.
"And after long, long time," the
male voice continued, "I'd kiss you
while we hid behind your parasol-"
'No man was as sure as that in
the days of parasols-"
"You know" and there was a
keen urgency in the tone, 81 never
can make out what you want, wom-
an. You might tell me just once"
81 might" she said, her tone
dulcet and lovely to the man shame
lessly overhearing, 81 might admit
it just once for the love of hearing
myself, that I love gradual proc
esses of friendship and, well, love.
I mean, picking violets in spring
wood and pressing them when they
faded in book because must keep
the memory of one who gave them
without a word. Wondering, tor
mented to know if it meant anything
that he did. Going for walks on
chance of meeting someone. Not a
bit sure of doing so or of what to
do if it happened" She broke
from words to hum a current song.
"Call my name and I'll come"
cts just the throwback of some
stuffy ancestor" he sympathized.
cts nice. You 60 way. I want
to think about it,
The man had the audacity to
laugh, but with annoyance. "Well
when you make it a request-of
course. But I'll be back in five min
utes for the rest of the evening""
On the other side of the hedge,
Just as the listener was wondering
IL lie hight IOt IOSS ONSA q SPAo y VI
cherry bloom, he heard a sigh, a
sob, his name and little WALTZ
can't bear it! l can't! I can't"
He blessed the low growth of the
little blooming trees. He was so
near her he could have touched her
through a forced opening.
He stepped around the barrier.
"Our dance!" he said jubilantly.
"The voice is familiar" but she
did not look up.
"That's devastatingly flattering, "
he said very tenderly, leaning closer
to her. "You remember my voice. "
He dwelt with savoring infection on
the words.
81 remember" she Knocked his
elaboration, Everything about you.
And always will" Then with a
sweet little impulsive rush of words:
divorce is the b-bunk!" He
watched her abandoned weeping.
dearest, do you mean"
81 mean-streamline or wind.
blown-I'm too frail, just as you
said. I must have one make, one
-I-,1z o-J c<ick ~ IL Then it's q