The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1945-09-13

eager habit to look af the table
where the colored maid always put
the mail. Arthur wrote her often.
but the ships from France were not
regular; sometimes she would 90
weeks without letter and then get
pile of them at once. Wonderful
letters he wrote, mirthful even in
the blood and dirt of the trenches.
telling her very little about the aw-
fulness of the war but describing
every amusing incident he had OBJ
served and only now and then chang
ing to wistfulness when he told her
how much he missed her. Only once.
when she wrote to him saying the
war could not be only what he told
her, he answered: please. Eliza
beth. don't ask me to write about
what I've seen. When I write TO
you I can forget for awhile that I've
seen it. Let me keep it like that.
love YOU SO. Haven't YOU got any
new pictures of yourself?" She sent
the pictures, but never suggested
again that he write her anything but
what he wanted to.
There were no letters on the table
today, nothing but the telegram. She
picked 1t UP and slit it open, won-
dering vaguely who could have any
thing to say to her important enough
to be sent by wire, and then she
saw that 1t came from the War De-
partment. The message was merci-
tuIly brief. 1t merely told her that
Arthur was dead. She did not know
then that he had died of wounds re-
ceived at Chateau-Thierry. They told
her that later, in a letter from the
Red Cross.
She did not understand even the
little they had told her. She stood
stu, staring at the sheet of paper
In her hand, all her instincts of self
protection rising up to prevent her
understanding what it said.
(Wasn't it enough to have lived
through this once, twice, ten times?
Elizabeth tried to think of something
else, tried so hard that the palms of
her hands were damp with the eff
fort. But she lived through it again,
helplessly.)
She folded up the telegram and
put it into her purse. She picked
up vase of flowers on the table and
Strengthened the cloth under il,
looked at the picture on the cover of
a magazine lying near by, brushed
speck of dust from a chair, picked
up her mitting-bag and went up
stairs to the bedroom she had shared
with Arthur before he Joined the
army. The windows were open to
the afternoon sun. Arthur had said,
Lets find house that has the bed
room on the west side. There's no
sense In inviting the sun to come in
and wake US up at four or five
o'clock all summer long. ANY time
we have to get up at dawn we can
use an alarm clock, so why not let
ourselves sleep late when we have
a chance?" Elizabeth had never
thought about it, but once he called
her attention to ii she wondered why
everybody didn't make allowance for
such an obvious fact. It was odd,
she had thought at first, that Arthur
should be so much interested in
dwellings, for he knew nothing about
architecture; he was a research
chemist employed by one of the oil
companies. But Arthur was inter-
ested in everything. He had never
been bored in his life, and never
understood how anybody could be,
with perpetually fascinating world
to be enjoyed and the longest life
time too short to enjoy all of it.
Even in his ordinary little house
he had arranged their room perfect
ly-the bookshelves within reach of
the bed, the light excellently placed
for reading, her dressing-table be-
tween the windows, the long mirror
SO she could see herself from hat
to shoes when she got dressed.
You have such fine ankles" he said
to her, imagine your having to
dress in room where you haven't
a chance to see whether or not your
stockings are on straight" He had
planned everything for her. She had
let him do it, without realizing that
since they could not afford every
AAC WOAA10 SSb WAidb SIG IGGQEA
and take what was left. So she had
not noticed until later that his shav-
ing-glass did not turn properly and
he had to stretch his neck to get at
those hairs around the angle of his
chin. She was saving part of her
army allowance now to buy him a
new mirror when he came back,
and better light for his writing
table, though she was going to let
him pick out the latter for himself.
Arthur was not, thank heaven, a sem
timental goose. He might have worn
a hideous necktie If she had given
him one, but if she should give him
an inadequate gadget for his work
he would not use it any longer than
it took to buy better one. So she
was going to give him the money
she had saved for the lamp and let
him select it, as soon as he came
back and got to work again.
A hundred hammers started to
beat on her head. She dropped her
knitting-bag in the middle of the
floor and grabbed at the catch of
her purse to get out that thing in
side, which she seemed to remen-
ber had said what it could not pos
sibly say. But it did say just what
she recalled. 1t told her Arthur was
dead.