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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, September 12, 1914, LAST EDITION, Image 20',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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The boy was in his room and it
was morning. He leaned over the
window sill. Underneath a lilac tree
was beginning to blossom and the
scent came up to him.. The world was
very fair that soft springs morning.
Why was his heart aching so?
In the next house, but shut off as
by a thousand leagues, ' was Ida.
Sometimes she would lean from her
window and wave a good morning to
him, and he looked for her today.
But there was no sign of her.
"She's still mad at me," he thought,
and the old sense of resentment be
gan to stir in him again.
Suddenly he heard a sound of sob
bing. It came from the next house.
He heard it through the chimney, and
put his mouth to the stovepipe.
"Ida!" he called. "Ida! Ida!"
There was no answer, and he went
downstairs. He stood beneath the
lilac tree. The beauty of nature
seeme suddenly to have become ac
cursed and dreary. He leaned against
the trunk and idly plucked a spray
of lilac. Then he saw a girl coming
along the piazza and went toward
her, a little sheepishly, not yet de
cided in what spirit to approach her.
But he saw the tears in her eyes, and
his heart leaped with remorse. And
in her hand she was carrying some
thing. She held it out indignantly.
It was three little dead birds
chimney swifts, which had been kill
ed by the fire he had let his mother
"Aw, say, Ida! I didn't know. I
thought they were mice," he pro
tested. "You have killed them for wan
tonness, just like a boy!" she said
Her eyes were wet. She stroked
the limp little wings, and then sud
denly burst into passionate tears.
Frank stood by helplessly. He was
sure now that she would never speak
to him again.
"I'm sorry, Ida honest, I am," he
She raised her eves to his, but there
was not anger in them any more.
There was something he had never
seen there. It was not love; it was
more like humility that which is
born of sudden understanding. Some
thing of the tragedy of life had grip
ped them both, and the seriousness
of it when one puts aside childish
"You didn't know did you,
Frank!" she said. And she slipped
her arm through his, and in that mo
ment the new life lay before them,
though they only dimly realized what
was happening in their souls. For
when the butterfly emerges from the
cocoon it at once forgets and only
rejoices in its new happiness.
From her window Mrs. Norris look
ed down at the pair, strolling under
the trees, and called her husband:"
There was the shadow of a smile up
on her face.
"I don't know maybe they're not
too young, Jim," she said.
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
"Your husband seemed to be pro
foundly moved by my sermon yes
terday." "Yes, indeed he woke up twice