The Wilmington morning star., 1947-03-15

common, seems to me. Lex got
ted up on city life and .chucked
it permanently. At least, he tells
me it's permanent"
1T is" Lex said. His glance
and Steve's met in a look of un-
Outstanding. 81 you think FOR a
minute I'd get back into that rat
race again. after knowing fhis sort
of living"
Aunt Pen called in the authorita-
tive tone OF a good cook who does
rot expect to be kept waiting.
Get washed up now, all of you,
Dinners ready and you can't let
chicken fricassee COOL"
Who wants to-" Steve grinned.
ESPECIALLY Aunt Pens fricas.
see" Sherry added.
The three Of them moved away
from the fire toward the doorway
Steve in the middle. a hand on
each Of the others shoulders.
And Sherry thought: There
something strange about their at
titude toward each other. Lex
seems more a guest here than 6
farm hand. Jed Porter's been with
Steve for years, but he doesn't cal
with the family. He and his wife
have their own cottage and you
hardly ever see Jed except in the
fields, or around the barns. Blu.
Lex is different. he's perfectly al
home here. And he and Steve are
friends. Anyone can see that. Bu
Lex said he was Steve's hireo
man -. Oh, we'll, I'll find out al
about it from Steve.
She decided that she would ask
Steve about Lex at the very frs
opportunity.
Dinner was delicious, as al
Aunt Pens meals were. Tit
chicken tender in it's own rich
gravy, the vegetables seasoned
just right. the tiny hot biscuits SC
good you could not stop eatins
them. And it was not the fooe
alone that made dinners at thu
farm so perfect. There was {
warm good : fellowship. a friendly
lack of Formally, that made fol-
easiness and hearty enjoyment. tt
Sherry the big round table with
its snowy cloth, the thin old Havi
land and polished silver that hae
belonged to Steve's grandmother
seemed but another facet of that
linking of past and present tina.
gave the farm such a large mea
sure of its charm.
Afterwards they returned to tins
parlor and Steve and Lex pulled
deep chairs around to face thu
smouldering fire. Aunt Pen settlee
herself in her favorite rocker neal
the hearth, with her inevitable
knitting. And Sherry curled up or
the floor at her knee, kicking of
her high-heeled pumps and tuck
ing her feet under her. Kippy
stretched out beside his mistress
his chin On his forepaws.
Talk was desuluory, as firesidt
talk usually is, but the silence'
stretching between were compan
ionable silences with nothing o
strain in them. Curiosity concern
ing Lex continued to nibble a
Sherry. There was something odd
something she could not yet grasp
about his status in the household
But she found her self liking him
just as Steve and Aunt Pen OBJ
viously liked him. And an aware
ness grew in her that she and lie,
Morell might some day be friends
A sense of the future seemed Il
hang between them like an I'm
struck bell. She wondered if lie,
felt that, too.
Outside the wind hoWled
thwarted, around the solid corner
of the house. There was a note o
eerie GRIEF in its futility.
Steve must have felt the sad
ness of the sound, too, for ne said
Shall we turn on the radio? Like
some music?"
Sherry suggested quickly, look
ing up at Aunt Pen, you play in
stead, won't you? Old son2s?'
They'll be DID," Aunt Per
c%huckled, eff I know 'em."
But when Steve and Lex sec
onded Sherry's request, she pu
aside her knitting and got up
Crossing to the old square piano
Of rosewood, she ran her fingers
melodically acros the yellowe,
keys. Then she began playing The
spiritual, deep River" The
haunting tune spilled out into tho
quiet and Sherry's throat achee
with it's simple beauty, its poign
ance. The notes seemed to probe
into her soul, stirring and uplift
ing her. Or perhaps it was partly
that the song seemed an extension
Of her mood, of the 1ormless urge