Missy

pail of sand, a broken lead-pencil and several bits of twig, the baby had concocted an engrossing game. Melissa smiled indulgently at hi

back across a chasm so wide her thoughts rarely tried to bridge it. Besides, her thoughts were kept too busy with the present. Every day the world was presenting itself as a more bewitching place

mith, her Algebra teacher, received a letter every day from an army officer. An army officer!-and a letter every day! And she knew Miss

ous little tremors of anticipation. What an experience that would be! For father and mother and grandpa and grandma and all the other family grown-ups admitted that Uncle Charlie's marriage to Aunt Isabel was romantic. Uncle Charl

nes seemed to be like that. The reflection saddened Missy. Her own eyes were grey

the beauteous lady was a heroine in all languages, and her name was spelled Iseult, and Yseult, and Isolde, and other queer ways; but in "The Romance of King Arthur" it was spelled La Beale Isoud. "The Romance of King A

he summerhouse. Already she knew by heart its "deep" and complicated story, and, now, she was re-reading the part whi

purvey a fair vessel, well victualled," and sent him to Ireland to be healed. There the Irish King's daughter, La Beal

the whole narrative fascinated Missy; even when you could hardly understand it, it was-inspiring. Yes, that was the word. In inspiring! That was because it was the true la

to the tale of

nd he ordered poor Sir Tristram personally to escort her from Ireland. And Isoud's mother entrusted to two servants a magical drink which

ound that love-drink! Breathing qu

r ye drunk, that Dame Braguaine, your maiden, and Gouvernail, my servant, have kept for themselves.' Then they laughed (laughed-think of it!) and made good cheer, and either drank to other freely. And they thoug

ers, violet eyes half-closed, and an "antique"-looking metal goblet clasped in her two slim hands; and Sir Tristram so imperiously dark and handsome in his crimson, fur-trimmed doublet, his two h

traitor to true love. Of course, he WAS Isoud's husband; and Missy lived in Cherryvale, where conventions were not complicated and were strictly adhered to; else scandal was the result. But she told hersel

Missy remorsefully hurried over and kissed his hurt. As if healed thereby, the baby abruptly ceased crying; even sent her a little wavering smile. Missy gazed at him an

l sat out on the porch and chatted. It was very beautiful out on the porch,-greying

d to Missy's i

you'll get homesi

erryvale, she had seen how for some reason, a visiting girl seems to excite more attention than does a mere home girl. Missy realized that, of course, she wasn't so "fashionable" as w

abel. She's so pretty and wears such pretty clothes-remember

ing, even her wrappers," said grandma r

lothes," commented grandpa. Grandpa often said "deep"

nder Charlie's mone

n mother in her gentle way. "He's as ple

ther thing: Isabel's always been used to so much att

that Uncle Charlie wasn't poor at all; he owned the biggest "general store"

bsorbed in her own trend of thoughts. At Uncle Charlie's she was sure of encounterin

ring old dresses to keep her good ones clean, and, finally, packing. It was all so exciting that only at

hear that. For she had liked Uncle Charlie even before he had become Romantic. He was big and silent lik

glass windows at church; the unquenchable blaze of her nasturtium bed under a blanket of grey mist; the corner street-lamp reflecting on the wet sidewalk; the smell of clean, sweet linen sheets; the soun

ned softly pensive in a second; and a sweet high voice now vivacious and now falling into hushed cadences; and d

. Naturally such a person as Aunt Isabel would make her home a beautiful place. It was a "bungalow." Missy had often regretted that her own home had been built before the vogue of the bungalow. And

irs with deep cushions-all very bright and cosy and beautiful. In the living-room were some Chinese embroideries which Missy liked, especially when the sun came in and shone upon their soft, rich colours; she had never before seen Chinese embroideries and, thus, encountered a brand-new love. Then

ized admirably with sweet peas, late roses, nasturtiums, or what-not. And all the furnitu

barrel of mixed-pickles in the grocery department of his store, and the barrel had fallen full-weight upon his foot and broken his big toe. Missy realized that, of course, a tournament with a sword-thrus

ts locale. Indeed, he could hardly have concealed the latter, as his whole foot w

was held on the Congregational church lawn that first night. Aunt Isabel was a Congregationalist; and, as moth

ment. The church lawn looked very picturesque with red, blue and yellow lanterns-truly a fair lawn and "well victualled" with its ice-cream tables in the open. Large numbers of people strolled about, and ate, and chatted and laugh

." And, though none but her suspected it, the little white-covered tables became long, rough-hewn boards, and the Congregational ladies' loaned china became antique-looking pewter, and the tumblers of water were golden

Isabel had on a billowy pale-blue organdy, and she looked more like an angel than ever. An ethereally radiant, laughing, vivacious angel. And whenever she moved near you, you caught a ghostly whiff of that delicious perfume. (Missy now knows Aunt Isabel got it from little sachet bags, tuck

dvancing years, she addressed him as "Mr. Peters," in her mind she preferred to think of him as "Raleigh." Raleigh, she learned (from himself), was the only son of a widowed mother and, though but little older than Missy, had already started making his own way by clerking in Uncle Charlie's store. He clerked in the grocery department, the prosperity of which, she gathered, was larg

ly handsome young man went along, too. His name was Mr. Saunders, and Missy had now learned he was a "travelling man" who came to P

ing in a minute to see how Uncle Charlie was. Howeve

y," said Aunt Isabel. "It's he

ed Mr. Saunders. "Wax late!"-What q

help shake off the atmosphere of the fe

nother way! Missy had supposed, at the festival, that

," Aunt Isabel went on. "You le

sabel went in the house for the ukelele. It was heavenly when Mr. Saunders began to play and sing. The others had seated themselves in porch chairs, but he chose a place on the top step, his head thrown

of the blue, dear, Gave them

urely was a "harper passing all other!" Mr. Saunders looked something like a knight, too-all but his costum

om her porch chair, left the shadows, and s

" she said. "Show

wed her how to place her fingers-thei

t Isabel-how beautiful there in the white moonlight! So fair and slight, the scarf-thing around her shoulders like a shroud of mist, hair like unto gold, eyes like the stars of heaven. Her eye

names w

aunders, now smiling straight at Aunt Isab

of the blue, dear, Gave th

utiful but those things belonged in ancient times. You wouldn't want things like that

witching; she even forgot to listen to what Raleigh w

n't gone to sl

, blinked, and loo

murmured. "I guess I

verhearing, gla

" he asked. And, though he smiled, she d

talked that way! But Missy, just now, was doubtful as t

she had told Aunt Isabel good night, Missy went up to the little white-painte

d to one another; the round silver moon, up there at some enigmatic distance yet able to transfigure the whole world with fairy-whiteness-turning the dew on the grass into pearls, the leaves on the trees i

nd. She had often wished that, by some magic, the world might be enabled to spin out its whole time in such a gossamer, irradia

sing each other love songs "with expression." To be sure, she had formerly considered this very tendency an elysian feature of such nights; but that was when she thought that love always was right for its own sake, that true love

hreatens to leave the Middle Ages, pop right in on you when you are visiting in Pleasanton; and when the lawful husband is yo

tears sometimes came so unexpectedly nowada

ay on moonlit nights; found a certain pleasant poignancy of exaltation in the feeling. But there are di

where the sun and Poppy, her cat, vied to waken her; or perhaps because it had turned intensely hot and

Charlie in his "den" with the papers. He said Aunt Isabel was staying in bed with a headache; and he himself hobbled into

in the dining room it was very, very sweet. The sun filtered through the gently swaying curtains, touching vividly the sweet peas on the breakfast-table. The sweet peas were arranged to stand upright in a round, shallow bowl, just as if they were growing up out of a little pool-a marvellously artistic effect. T

d the too handsome harper. But Uncle Charlie, unsuspecting, talked on in that cheerful strain. He was

wholesale!" he bantered. "Else I'

t serve to keep him jolly a little while longer. Perhaps he didn't even

e matter with Aunt I

tell you she

as if there was something strange about this mala

irt; little beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead, and on his head where it was just beginning to get bald. Somehow, the fact that he looked so hot had the effect of making her feel even

ught us home is awfully handsome. Sort

then shook his finger a

! You've f

witting revelation! But she tried not to g

ther peop

ll for Saunders,"

tated, the

Isabel

unconcerned. "Aunt Isabel likes to have him

ike Mr. Saunders t

, too," she sa

?" enquired

that thing

spite of that he's a good fellow." (What did "in spite

ometimes goes on fi

araderie. So Uncle Charlie didn't suspect. He was harbouring the serpent in his ver

o herself the dreadful truths which would hurt him if he knew, hurried to his side, took away his cane, and put her own arm in its place for him to le

dear chi

ere on the wall beyond the piano, so that she could see them while she played. Uncle Charlie wasn't in her range of vision unless she turned her head; but she could

Sabbath morning, all seemed to intermingle and pierce to her very soul. She was glad to play the piano. When deeply moved she loved to play, to pour out her feelings in d

ghtly-sad in those strains of loveliness; she could almost hear the soft flutter of angelic wings, almost see the silvery sheen of them astir. And, oddly,

Sweetly Solemn Thought," with variations. She played them all with extra "expression," putting all her loving sympathy for Uncle Charlie into her fing

n you enjoyed talking with, about deep, unusual things. They talked about music, and the meani

from the table beside him. Heavens! how tactless of her to have brought it down this

" she

it fell open at the illustration of th

favourite leg

s to utter anything

istram and La Beale

gazed at the picture she knew

ur favourite?

s so romantic, I guess. A

You have a feeling for the class

over this malaprop theme, she couldn't resist t

ifferent languages, you know. And she was the

Charlie. "More beautifu

ngerous ground. "Why, I guess they're the same type, don't yo

nd of smile; no, he didn't suspect any tragic undercurrent

l flattered-but I hope

h

" breathed Missy

rlie at last c

olde," he said, as if

e Charlie felt sorry for the ill-

nd her blue eyes were just like the Blessed Damozel's, "deeper than the depth of waters stilled at even." Yet, pale and quiet like this, she seem

s sleepy, but, desiring to be alone with her bewildered thoughts, she went upstairs and lay down. The better to think things over, she closed her

-head! It's near

th gentle fingers (Oh, hard not to love Aunt

toward Uncle Charlie that Missy felt her gathering suspicions had something of the unreal quality of a nightmare. Aunt Isabel was reading aloud to Uncle Charlie out of the Sunday paper. Beautiful! The sunset was carrying away its gold like some bold knight with his captured, streami

is, almost idyllic-till, s

unders coming

Saunders have to come

them, laughing and joking, now and then directing one of his quaint, romantic-sounding phrases at Missy. And

ly he e

t! My kingdom for a lon

le Char

et one? The drug store's just

r. Saunders. He turned to Au

" she answered.

unders look

u, fair

a cool soda wo

arble counter, and quaffed heavenly cold soda from high glasses in silver-

take hi

o that, but the drug store ma

again, Aunt Isabel carrying

out half-way, that Aunt

drink another soda? I feel hotte

it, then?" aske

said Aun

. "We can go back

take a taste

nd took a long draught. Then Mr. Saunders, laughin

even while she stared at them, at Aunt Isabel in pink organdie and Mr. Saunders in blue serge

and an "antique"-looking flasket clasped in her two slim hands; and Sir Tristram so imperiously dark and handsome in his crimson, fur-trimmed doublet, his two hands stretched ou

ld in the flesh. But when she opened them again, Aunt Isabel wa

a for Uncle Charlie. And poor Uncle Cha

le Ages; and that the silver flasket contained everyday ice-cream soda. And she wasn't sure she knew exactly what the word "symbol" meant, but she felt that somehow th

gloomy meditations when

sted Uncle Charlie-dear, ki

h the ten-thirty-five

d risen, too, and now put her hand on Mr. Saunders's sleeve; her face looked

ke hold of her hand openly. "But I've got to be i

ming down from Maco

der for me," begged Mr. Sau

tulantly drew

! And Charlie l

read his hands in

of the road-here to-day, gone to-morrow, ne

breath; how incau

h chair, very quiet. Missy couldn't keep her eyes off of that lov

again?" asked Uncle

sabel

wouldn't let her attend to the shutting-up "chores," but, accompanied by

d to grow thicker and thicker; it rested heavily on her hot eyelids, pressed suffocatingly against her throat

se were falling down. Then the room, the whole world, turned suddenly a glaring, ghostly white-then a shar

her face in her pillow. Nothing in the w

ened. She had left her door open for air and, now, she was sure she heard Uncle Charlie's deep voice. She couldn't hear what he was saying. Then she heard Aunt Isabel's voice, n

d out?-That he was accusing Aunt Isabel and making her cry? But surely they w

e door. An unmistakable moan issued from Aunt Isabel's room. And then she saw Uncle Charlie, in b

Missy?" he asked her. "

oice those other horrible fe

ly. "Run back to bed. Your aunt's sick again-I've

ick?" asked Mi

Charlie. "But there's nothing

was almost sorry, now, that the whirlwind of frantic elements had subsided; that

tormy night, strange, horrible fancies overruled the sane convictions of daytime. It was fearfully significant, Aunt Isabel's sickening so quickly, so mysteriously. And immediately after Mr. Saunders's departure. That was exactly what La Beale Isoud always

! o

ivering little body; the hot eyelids closed; the

. The new-washed air was cool and sparkling as a tonic. Missy's physical being felt more refreshed than she

rlie had breakfasted and was about to go down town. H

. "Her stomach was already upset from all that ice-crea

t. One phrase had caught her ear: "Her

e latter reiterated that unromantic diagnosis. But p

eerful now, though wan. And not so lovely as she gen

soon." She strove for sympathetic tone, but felt in

Isabel laughed-laughed!-a

, Missy? Oh, th

onishment, bewilderment, c

ntinued that d

t-breaker-but I didn't realize he

Missy perhaps made her tone

"didn't he capture

rious shade creeping into her eyes, reached out for one

r Uncle Charlie has that

-dream she'd been having. La Beale Aunt Isabel wasn't in love with Mr. Saunders after all! She was in love with Uncle Charlie. There had been no romantic undermeaning in all

d, Missy with

ried away to her own room. But, oblivious of the bed, she s

d died out in t

ng to take her to the dance that night. She accepted, but without enthusiasm. Where were the thrills she had ex

d died out in t

ase as she hung