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 A WINTER ROMANCE IN POPPY LAND
 
 'You ain't gittin' a bone fellun, is you, Miss June?"
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 UNA NIXSON HOPKINS 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 IQII
 
 Copyright, 1910, by Richard G. Badger 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS, BOSTON, U. S. A.
 
 PS 
 3 fi 
 1411 
 
 TO 
 
 M. H. A. 
 'FAMILY" 
 
 G. J. H.
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 ''You ain't gittin a bone fellun is you, Miss 
 
 June?" Frontispiece 
 
 To face page 
 'There was the rush of eager horses" 48 
 
 'With an eye of affection the Major looked back 
 toward the snow covered heights" 76 
 
 'Stepping toward them he said confusedly, 'Have 
 I the honor of guests?' " 98 
 
 'It's a good story William" 152 
 
 'Some day Miss June's a-goin' to be left 'lone in 
 this big worf " 194 
 
 The illustrations are from photographs by 
 F. W. Martin, Harold A. Parker, and Ferd- 
 inand Ellerman. 
 
 The decorations are by Warren Rockwell.
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE IN POPPY LAND
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 THE Overland Limited was several 
 hours late when it thundered into 
 Pasadena. It sent a shiver through 
 the palms and precipitated a show- 
 er of rose-petals from the vine-covered lattices 
 flanking the station. With that keen sense of 
 relief, which is bred of the fatigue of a long 
 journey, the passengers poured out into the 
 fresh air, and the station platform was soon de- 
 ii
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 luged with the various paraphernalia of travel. 
 
 During the last hours of the way, the scenery 
 had changed with dramatic swiftness. As the 
 train crossed the San Bernardino Range, a snow- 
 storm was raging, in comparison with which, an 
 ordinary Eastern blizzard would have seemed 
 a mere tempest in a teapot. When the engine 
 finally poked its nose out of the snow-drifts, and 
 the train descended the steep grade, the trans- 
 formation of scene was as sudden as though ef- 
 fected by pressing an electric button. 
 
 Like a carpet, deftly unrolled by a stage- 
 hand, a vivid green spread out over the valley. 
 The gray, murky sky that had threatened the 
 mountain-tops, was now replaced by one of a 
 Pacific blue. Instead of sleet and snow and 
 raging wind, glorious sunshine. It flooded the 
 range-groves; it melted the snow on the line of 
 cars and sent little rivulets down the window- 
 glass. The orange-trees, with their compact, 
 dark green foliage, appeared as if wearing vel- 
 vet hoods, to protect them from the snow, which 
 might fall upon them from the peaks above. Lit- 
 12
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 tie villages, nestled among groves of live-oaks, 
 gave a human interest to the bright landscape. At 
 the foot of the Sierra Madres lay Pasadena, 
 "Crown of the Valley;" like a fragrant garden, 
 with its sweet-scented hedges ; shaded by broad- 
 leaved fig-trees and feathery palms. 
 
 Among the descending passengers there were 
 tourists of differing degrees, bearing various hall- 
 marks of travel. Some were there, who, at the 
 first flurry of snow in their Eastern homes, al- 
 most involuntarily had turned the key in the door 
 and set their faces toward California. Others, 
 at one time or another, had been members of 
 flying excursion parties to the Western coast. In 
 consequence they were now prepared to misin- 
 form their fellow travellers with regard to 
 everything in sight. There too was the genuine 
 "tenderfoot," who, for the first time was ex- 
 periencing the charm of passing from snow to 
 roses within a few days. The majority were on 
 pleasure bent. A few were in search of health. 
 
 Noticeable among those leaving the train was 
 a woman, whom Nature had borne across the 
 13
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 half-century line, without making the fact too 
 apparent. She was accompanied by a pretty girl 
 about nineteen, evidently her daughter. The 
 mother was aristocratic in bearing. The lines 
 of her mouth ended in little asterisks, probably 
 caused by her habit of accentuating her opinions 
 with compressed lips. Her somewhat haughty 
 expression had no doubt been emphasized by 
 looking out upon the world through the violet- 
 tinted window-panes of her Beacon Street resi- 
 dence. 
 
 The face of the girl was unusually interest- 
 ing. She impressed you Well, as being just 
 the kind of girl one would like to know. Her 
 paleness, as well as her mother's solicitude sug- 
 gested the truth ; they had come because of her 
 health. That she was not ill, to the extent of 
 having lost interest in life, was indicated by her 
 well-groomed appearance. She wore a natty tail- 
 ored suit of brown, topped with a fetching toque. 
 This was set on her golden-brown hair at an 
 indefinable angle which added a somewhat 
 whimsical charm. 
 
 14
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 The hotel to which they were going was only 
 a stone's throw from the station a woman 
 throwing the stone. Bougainvillea covered the 
 walls and hung perilously from the roof top. 
 Roses and carnations bordered the garden paths, 
 as if it were June instead of November. Wom- 
 en, whose summery gowns matched the flow- 
 ers, chatted gaily in the shade of palms or ex- 
 changed confidences among the magnolias and 
 myrtles. 
 
 The scarcity of men appeared to bear out to 
 some degree the description of California given 
 by Cortez in the sixteenth century: "A land 
 entirely inhabited by women." That there were 
 men among the hotel guests, the saints bear wit- 
 ness ! At this hour, however they were either 
 golfing, riding, or motoring. But, the whole 
 truth told, the proportion of femininity was 
 more than double that of the real Garden of 
 Eden. 
 
 The mother left to the daughter the respon- 
 sibility of registering. In a hand, which indi- 
 cated character, the girl wrote
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop 
 
 Boston 
 June Winthrop 
 
 This done, she turned back and ran her eye 
 over several pages of the big book, in the hope 
 of finding the name of a friend. She discovered 
 none. The majority of the names, though, were 
 surprisingly familiar. This familiarity she soon 
 realized, arose through her having so often seen 
 them in the advertising pages of the popular 
 magazines. There were inventors of every 
 thing from mouse-traps to threshing-machines. 
 Makers of tooth powder and back combs had 
 written their names in democratic proximity to 
 those of doctors, lawyers, merchants and the 
 jingle complete a thief with apologies to 
 modern phraseology a "grafter." 
 
 The name set down just above their own at- 
 tracted the young girl's attention. It was writ- 
 ten in broad, inky strokes. 
 
 George Oliver Bond Indiana 
 16
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 Both the name and the handwriting looked 
 familiar, but she could place neither.
 
 ^ 
 
 II 
 
 ON entering their apartments Mrs. 
 Winthrop and her daughter were 
 greatly surprised to find huge bou- 
 quets of Duchesse roses, to which 
 were appended the cards of Major and Mrs. 
 Knowles. The Major had been an army com- 
 rade of the late General Winthrop, although 
 for years Mrs. Winthrop had known nothing of 
 his whereabouts. The Major, however, had 
 learned of the expected arrival of the Win- 
 18
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 throps. The week before, the hotel clerk with 
 their telegram in his hand, had inquired wheth- 
 er the Major happened to know this particular 
 family from his own corner of the world. The 
 Winthrops' trunks had just come up, when Ma- 
 jor and Mrs. Knowles appeared in person. Gen- 
 eral Winthrop's widow had never liked Mrs. 
 Knowles. Years before she had lost all patience 
 with the Major for his unfaltering following of 
 his wife's "wandering foot." But Mrs. Win- 
 throp was now in a strange country with an in- 
 valid daughter, and her affectionate greeting of 
 Mrs. Knowles was sincere, for she was truly 
 glad to see an old acquaintance. 
 
 The Major was still a rather fine-looking man, 
 though he had a somewhat washed-out appear- 
 ance, with a suggestion of green in his counten- 
 ance, like a faded portrait of Reynolds. Indeed, 
 in the Major's case, life's pigments had grown 
 rather dull. His once elegant and dignified 
 manner had gradually given place to an irrita- 
 ble, nervous air. So many domestic breezes had 
 blown the Major's way, he had come to have the 
 19
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 constant appearance of looking about him for a 
 draft. The Major was a good man, however, 
 with no end of common sense, which, for the 
 sake of peace, he was forced to keep carefully 
 concealed from his wife. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles was of the dowager type. She 
 was hopelessly addicted to the playing of Bridge 
 and the crocheting of shawls. This she occa- 
 sionally offset by the reading of up-to-date, semi- 
 religious literature. She talked "New Thought" 
 and thought u new dress." The former served 
 her as a patent medicine, which she administered 
 to her soul ad lib. without knowing or caring 
 what constituted its ingredients. The latter, 
 through her ardent efforts to keep up with the 
 ever changing fashions, afforded her a species 
 of mental gymnastics. 
 
 Most of his wife's hobbies, particularly that 
 for travel, the Major humored. It was the easier 
 way. From their travels, however, Mrs. 
 Knowles gained but little. Her mental attic was 
 not equal to storing up its benefits. 
 
 When the door closed upon the Major and 
 20
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 his wife, Mrs. Winthrop and June began to 
 dress for dinner. June had not seen them since 
 she was a child. "So that's Major Knowles!" 
 she said. "Well, he's terribly limp. That's all 
 I've got to say about him. I thought in my heart 
 I'd broken him, when we shook hands. His arm 
 went down like that old pump-handle, when the 
 well on the farm went dry." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop looked out of the window 
 dreamily, recalling the past. "The truth is, 
 daughter, I'm afraid almost any one would be 
 limp, after having lived with Maria Knowles 
 for thirty years." 
 
 June laughed. "She reminds me so far of a 
 character study in a story, that, even if you don't 
 exactly admire, makes good spicy reading." 
 
 When Mrs. Winthrop and June went down to 
 dinner, they found a table arranged for them 
 next to that of the Knowles' . What per- 
 plexed them was, that not only these friends, but 
 others about them were smiling. 
 
 The looks exchanged signified that they were 
 themselves the occasion of these amused smiles. 
 21
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 Neither the mother nor the daughter could solve 
 the mystery. Mrs. Knowles put out an arrest- 
 ing hand as they passed her chair. "My dears, 
 we can't help being amused at your roses." Not 
 only June, but her mother as well, wore corsage 
 bouquets of their Duchesse roses. "You know," 
 Mrs. Knowles continued patronizingly, "Cali- 
 fornians never wear flowers, and you've branded 
 yourselves as 'tourists unlimited.' " 
 
 June let her flowers fall into her lap as she 
 sat down, but her mother made hers even more 
 conspicuous and sat stiff as a Tudor rose. 
 
 There was silence between them for a mo- 
 ment, then June said "I feel just like a corner 
 mantel my face to every one and my back fast 
 against the wall." 
 
 Her mother coldly surveyed their fellow- 
 diners. 
 
 "Never mind, mumsie dear, we don't care if 
 we do serve them a 'tourist menu.' What if we 
 don't know everything ! Then we've got some- 
 thing to look forward to. I wonder who all 
 these people are !" She looked around the room 
 22
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 with cheerful interest. "Isn't it funny that most 
 all the men have white hair? They don't look so 
 very old either !" 
 
 Still continuing the calm survey of the tables, 
 Mrs. Winthrop replied : "I suppose it has come 
 from their working so hard to make money." 
 
 Then indulging herself in a pet weakness, she 
 quoted : 
 
 "The Sire of gods and men, with hard decrees, 
 Forbids our plenty to be bought with ease." 
 
 To this June assented by taking a salted al- 
 mond. 
 
 In the middle of the night it began to rain. 
 The sky emptied itself in bucketfuls, rather than 
 drops. The late arrivals from "back east" could 
 only console themselves by remembering that the 
 second destruction of the world is not predicted 
 to come by flood. 
 
 June's sleep was broken by the storm. 
 Through her sub-consciousness ran the name 
 George Oliver. She seemed to see it on a large, 
 23
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 buff envelope, which she handed to her brother 
 who was lying, very weak and pale, on a bed. 
 
 In the morning she woke with a start. The 
 sunshine was streaming into her room, just as 
 if there had been no storm. Suddenly she re- 
 membered distinctly, that when her brother Jack 
 came home ill from college three years before, 
 he had spoken often of a George Oliver, and 
 that during Jack's illness he received several let- 
 ters from Oliver. June had frequently carried 
 her brother's mail upstairs. Now she understood 
 why his handwriting in the hotel register had 
 seemed so familiar. 
 
 Having established the identity of the name 
 which had been puzzling her, June, all excite- 
 ment, tapped on her mother's door and told her 
 of the incident. 
 
 The prospect of seeing a friend of Jack's 
 aroused even Mrs. Winthrop from her usual 
 calm, and after breakfast she asked Major 
 Knowles to look up Mr. Oliver. 
 
 "I wonder whether he's a millionaire or an 
 invalid," was the Major's observation. "They 
 24
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 are the only kind of young men you ever find 
 about these hotels." 
 
 June and her mother with Mrs. Knowles, 
 waited in the Moorish tea room. They were 
 looking over the morning paper when Major 
 Knowles returned, triumphantly, with young 
 Oliver. 
 
 As the Major pushed aside the oriental hang- 
 ings at the door, and Oliver stepped into the 
 room, he made a striking picture. 
 
 He was tall and broad with the manner of a 
 man who is sure of himself. 
 
 "Jack's friend, Mr. Oliver," the Major an- 
 nounced jocularly. 
 
 "A sufficient recommendation for any one, 
 Mr. Oliver." Mrs. Winthrop held out her hand 
 cordially. Mrs. Knowles was effusive as usual. 
 But June, greatly impressed with Oliver's ap- 
 pearance, in an attempt to hide it, greeted him 
 with a slight air of hauteur which only made 
 her bewitching. 
 
 Oliver seemed likable and attractive, but there 
 was no memoranda of his life in his face to in- 
 25
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 dicate his character. There was, however, a 
 force about him, which made one feel that he 
 was capable of being either a blessed saint or a 
 powerful sinner. 
 
 In the course of the talk that followed Oliver's 
 introduction, it came out that he possessed a 
 guarantee to popularity otherwise a touring 
 car. And before he left the little company, he 
 had invited them all to go motoring that after- 
 noon. 
 
 26
 
 Ill 
 
 NOVEMBER had passed and Christ- 
 mas was at hand. 
 The hotel was crowded. Every 
 evening the great corridors and 
 dancing room presented scenes which for bril- 
 liancy could not have been surpassed in any part 
 of the ultra fashionable world. The women were 
 wonderfully gowned. The gems displayed were 
 worth a ransom. 
 
 June had been forbidden to dance, but she and 
 27
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 her mother looked on a little while every even- 
 ing. Occasionally June joined the young set in 
 a game of cards. 
 
 George Oliver was seldom seen below stairs 
 after nine o'clock. He gave no reasons but 
 simply excused himself at that hour and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 "You go to bed with the chickens, Oliver," 
 the Major said one evening. 
 
 Oliver smiled and replied: "I'm so high up 
 it's necessary for me to start early in order to 
 reach my room before morning." 
 
 "It's odd," Major Knowles remarked to his 
 wife, as he looked after Oliver, "that a fellow 
 with his money can be satisfied in a back room at 
 the top of the house." 
 
 "Do you think he has so much money?" Mrs. 
 Knowles' tone was incredulous. 
 
 "Of course," the Major was emphatic. 
 "Oliver spends a small fortune every week on 
 that auto alone." 
 
 "What do you really think of him, dear?" 
 Mrs. Knowles called the Major "dear" when- 
 28
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 ever she wished to gain his confidence. 
 
 "Bully chap" was the prompt reply. "But I 
 can't just see what he's doing around here so 
 long. A healthy man of his age ought to be 
 attending to business somewhere." 
 
 "Do you think it's June?" Mrs. Knowles 
 moved her chair closer to the Major. 
 
 "I can't say," he spoke doubtfully. "It cer- 
 tainly wasn't June that brought him here in the 
 first place. I like Oliver," the Major conclud- 
 ed, "but he's a man who never gives his confi- 
 dence to any one." 
 
 George Oliver seemingly had given his four 
 new friends sufficient opportunity to become ac- 
 quainted with him. Almost every day he took 
 Mrs. Winthrop and June motoring. Frequently 
 the Major and Mrs. Knowles were included in 
 all day trips to neighboring towns. 
 
 In spite of all the learned discourses on the 
 beauty of conduct, external attributes usually do 
 their work in the little love dreams of life before 
 conduct is in sight. 
 
 June had reckoned with herself after the first 
 29
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 few meetings with George Oliver. Alone in 
 her room one morning she stood before the mir- 
 ror and eyed herself critically. "June Win- 
 throp," she said aloud, u are you going to be a 
 fool or not? It's a question I want answered at 
 once." 
 
 "Are you or are you not going to fall head 
 over heels in love with that man Oliver " her 
 tone was scornful. "You have common sense, 
 now exercise it. If you can't have a good time 
 and yet hold on to your heart strings, you'll have 
 to give up motoring and all the rest of the fun. 
 Promise to be good?" 
 
 The face in the mirror nodded. "Cross your 
 heart?" Another nod. "Hope to die if you 
 don't keep your promise?" Still another nod. 
 Then apparently from the mirror laughter 
 laughter that ended in tears. 
 
 June wiped them away hastily, and tiptoed 
 closer to the mirror and whispered "I loved him 
 the moment I set eyes on him. You know I did, 
 Face, but nobody else shall know I'll die first. 
 I'm going to be just as independent and saucy as 
 30
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 a girl can be from now on. And whenever 
 I see George Oliver coming my way, I promise 
 you I'll devote myself to that lonesome looking 
 invalid man, who seems always to be waiting for 
 me at the tea room door. Now that we have 
 had it out, life will be easier, for there are things 
 difficult to say even to one's own face." 
 
 The weeks had gone by and June kept her 
 promise. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles had invited the Winthrops and 
 Oliver for mid-day dinner, Christmas. One of 
 the hotel's private dining rooms had been set 
 aside for her use elaborately decorated with 
 California holly and Christmas greens. 
 
 In the afternoon the plan was to run over to 
 Los Angeles for the Christmas celebration at the 
 old plaza church, to which Oliver had received 
 an invitation for himself and friends from one 
 of the Padres with whom he had become ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 The dinner was a highly artistic affair all 
 that Mrs. Knowles could have wished even in 
 her most ambitious moments. The Major was 
 31
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 talkative and in a state of felicity. The little 
 gay dining room and family board were to him 
 a semblance of home a thing he had not known 
 for twenty years. The entire dinner, of course, 
 had been ordered beforehand, but between 
 courses, the Major was seen to feel about the 
 table cloth for his menu card. His wife rallied 
 him, and explained to the guests that her hus- 
 band was never cut out for a domestic man. 
 
 Everybody was happy, or pretended to be. 
 Mrs. Winthrop, who in her heart was homesick 
 for Jack, found comfort in talking to Oliver. 
 June was charming in a dark red gown which 
 toned with the red of the holly and set off her 
 coloring to advantage. Oliver, handsome and 
 debonair, sent admiring glances across the table 
 to her without the least attempt at dissimulation. 
 She, however, followed the promptings of her 
 head, rather than her heart, and returned his 
 glances with obvious dignity. Capricious and 
 daring in her talk when she addressed Oliver, 
 June never for one moment fanned his vanity. 
 
 The dinner was a great success. And alto- 
 32
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 gather the conversation was as well spiced as the 
 pudding. 
 
 It was a delightful nine-mile ride to Los An- 
 geles. The beautiful landscape served as a text 
 for converse to begin with, but "no human being 
 ever spoke of scenery for above two minutes at 
 a time," and every member of the party lapsed 
 into silence and gave themselves up to the enjoy- 
 ment of the ride. 
 
 On reaching the city they went first through 
 the old part of the town, where picturesque, 
 crumbling adobes contested the ground with as- 
 piring commercial blocks. 
 
 Soon they arrived at the Plaza Church. Its 
 yellowish-gray facade, patched and seamed with 
 age, stood out against the bluest of skies. In 
 front of the church was the old public square 
 or plaza where a medley lot of people lounged 
 in the sunshine. Beyond the plaza lay China- 
 town, its gaily painted buildings showing 
 through the trees. 
 
 Oliver's car came to a stop. Already the 
 courtyard connected with the church, was full 
 33
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 of Spanish merrymakers. The Padre whom 
 Oliver knew came forward and extended his 
 patte de velours as he welcomed his guests. 
 
 The Patio was vivid with color. Three 
 Christmas trees stood in the center. They were 
 bright with tinsel and thickly hung with 
 gifts. The parishioners were scattered about 
 in happy groups. Gay senoritas flirted with 
 their cavaliers under the palms and set 
 their elders gossiping. Black-eyed youngsters 
 cast longing glances at the glittering trees. In 
 their moist hands they held bright red tickets, 
 which entitled them to gifts, for which they 
 waited patiently, reared as they were in the land 
 of Manana. 
 
 In a mellow voice one of the Padres started : 
 "My country 'tis of Thee" He wished to 
 show that his people were good patriots. The 
 Major and Oliver bared their heads. But their 
 hats were soon replaced. The limited amount 
 of their English made even the singing of one 
 verse a sore tax on the parishioners. 
 
 La Jota, an old Spanish dance, was tripped 
 34
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 to Spanish music by the merry feet of old and 
 young. 
 
 Then there was more singing mostly hymns 
 rendered in soft Spanish cadences. Finally 
 came the distribution of gifts, which took a long 
 time afterward dancing again. 
 
 During the program June and Oliver shared 
 one of the rear wooden benches with a row of 
 olive skinned, fun-poking boys and girls. The 
 older members of the party were given seats of 
 honor in front. 
 
 "How lovely it has been!" June had taken 
 on something of the coquettish air of the pretty 
 senoritas around her. Oliver himself looked no 
 less a cavalier, than those enjoying the dance, as 
 he said: 
 
 "I assure you that it has been lovely for me, 
 Miss Winthrop." Oliver bent forward and 
 looked into June's face, as he added "Any 
 place on earth would be lovely to me if you 
 were only there." 
 
 June, crimson and confused, was trying to 
 frame an answer when her mother with the Ma- 
 35
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 jor and Mrs. Knowles came up. 
 
 "We might easily imagine ourselves back in 
 another century," Oliver said nonchalantly, as 
 he and June rose and they all stood at one 
 side, enjoying the picture "if it were not for 
 my car there in the foreground." 
 
 "Its been a fine trip, Oliver," the Major 
 said, as he put his foot on the step. "I don't 
 know when I've enjoyed myself so much !" 
 
 As they turned homeward, all the glories of 
 the setting sun were reflected from the distant 
 snow capped peaks.
 
 IV 
 
 THE week following Christmas was 
 a gala one in the hotel, and besides 
 elaborate preparations went on for 
 the annual Tournament of Roses 
 New Year's Day. 
 
 June took part in most of the festivities, but 
 Oliver was conspicuous by his absence. June 
 was piqued. She found some consolation in the 
 fact that Oliver had invited them all to see the 
 tournament procession from his car New Year's 
 37
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 morning, lunch al fresco, and witness the chariot 
 race in the afternoon. 
 
 "If we were the weatherman's old uncle, and 
 about to die and leave him a fortune, he couldn't 
 have given us a better day!" George Oliver 
 said as he handed his guests into his car. As 
 this was a holiday, he was to be his own chauf- 
 feur. June was given the seat at his side. 
 
 For the first morning of the New Year, na- 
 ture had summoned all her charms. The sun 
 rose clear in a cloudless sky, as if it would be 
 early at the fete. The snow on the mountains 
 sent a chill through the air but everywhere, 
 there was the breath of flowers the thousands 
 of flowers that had been gathered to adorn the 
 festival. 
 
 The car sped down the avenue, gay with bunt- 
 ing and tournament flags. Clear bugle notes 
 reached their ears. A Happy New Year was 
 on every tongue. The whole country around 
 had come to welcome the New Year. 
 
 "I think I know some lines that just describe 
 this day," June said to Oliver, and she repeated 
 38
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 gaily: 
 
 "The morn is full of holiday; loud bells 
 With rival clamors ring from every spire ; 
 Cunningly-station'd music dies and swells 
 In echoing places ; when the winds respire, 
 Light flags stream out like gauzy tongues of 
 
 fire; 
 
 A metropolitan murmur, lifeful, warm, 
 Comes from the northern suburbs; rich attire 
 Freckles with red and gold the moving swarm ; 
 While here and there clear trumpets 
 blow blow, oh dear ! I've forgotten the 
 
 rest of it. I never tried to be brilliant in my life 
 
 that I didn't come to grief." 
 
 "You did very well," Oliver was consoling. 
 
 "Mother usually says the verses at our house, 
 I thought I'd get ahead of her this time !" June 
 looked over her shoulder at her mother who 
 was sandwiched so tight between the Major 
 and Mrs. Knowles that ordinary speech even 
 would seem impossible. 
 39
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 The pageant was forming. Oliver drove his 
 car into a side street, to get a position in the 
 shade. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles had been very quiet. She 
 turned to Mrs. Winthrop and said in an un- 
 dertone. "I wish the Major would buy a car. 
 You know you can make so many people under 
 obligations to you" 
 
 The procession was coming near. The mar- 
 shals came into view, riding gaily caparisoned 
 horses. Their bridles were of wrought silver 
 relics of the old Spanish days. Bands of mu- 
 sic followed. Then came the great floats, solid- 
 ly banked with flowers. The devices were va- 
 rious. An airship, made entirely of sweet peas, 
 floated above the crowds. A calla-lily boat 
 sailed gracefully by. It was followed by Babes- 
 in-the- Woods, peering out from dim-eyed vio- 
 lets, massed in pony-carts. Grave city officials 
 looked conscious, when the crowds cheered their 
 tally-ho, decked with vivid poinsettias. China- 
 men bore a great dragon, some ninety feet long, 
 writhing in its tinsel and gold. It frightened 
 40
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 the small children and made them cling crying, 
 to their mothers' petticoats. Behind it walked 
 solemn celestials in gorgeous robes, with float- 
 ing banners. Still more bands of music I more 
 floats ! more flowers ! Then the Queen of the 
 Tournament ! She was throned under a canopy 
 of cream-white roses and surrounded by her 
 Maids of Honor. Her white satin robe and the 
 jewels in her diadem gleamed against the flow- 
 ery background. 
 
 When the Queen and her court had passed, 
 the crowds began to separate. The majority 
 of the people followed to the park, where prizes 
 for the best displays were to be awarded, and the 
 races would take place. 
 
 Oliver's car quickly wove its way in and out 
 among the crowd. He wished to arrive in sea- 
 son to witness the grand entrance into the park. 
 June was wild with excitement, and exclaimed 
 over everything that passed. For Oliver, ap- 
 parently it was enough just to be near June. 
 Mrs. Winthrop's face was flushed with pleas- 
 ure. The Major and Mrs. Knowles had seen
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 other New Year's pageants. The Major de- 
 clared this was better than any. His wife, 
 wearied from a half dozen Bridge parties dur- 
 ing the last week, was hopelessly bored. 
 
 Oliver had brought with him a delicious 
 luncheon from the caterer's, and all enjoyed lend- 
 ing a hand in setting it out. 
 
 "My dear, you are looking a thousand times 
 better!" said Mrs. Knowles to June. Rosy and 
 smiling, the girl was passing the plates of salad. 
 
 "It's the California air," Oliver suggested. 
 
 "I've my own opinions about health," the 
 Major broke in, as he sat down the ripe olives. 
 "There's nothing for it like a good time and 
 freedom." 
 
 "Freedom !" repeated his wife, as she almost 
 choked the Major with her look, "who hasn't 
 their freedom, Major Knowles? June, I am 
 sure, has never been caged." 
 
 "The truth is, Maria," the Major was in- 
 terrupted by the passing of the jelly "the truth 
 is, there's more than one kind of a cage. It 
 isn't necessary to be behind bars, to be caged." 
 42
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 He spoke with feeling. 
 
 Oliver, fearing the whole party was about to 
 be precipitated into a domestic war, opened a 
 long pasteboard box, filled with pretty baskets 
 of strawberries, and passed them hurriedly. The 
 talk turned directly upon the novelty of eating 
 strawberries out of doors on New Year's Day. 
 
 43
 
 THE scene at the park was strikingly 
 beautiful. In the background the 
 mountains their summits whitened 
 with the newly fallen snow were 
 outlined against an azure sky. As the eye fol- 
 lowed down the mountain-sides, groves of live 
 oaks came into view. In the near foreground 
 were the brilliant flower-bedecked equipages 
 lined up against the wall of the circular track. 
 In the boxes and on the grand stand, a mass
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 of happy, laughing, chattering spectators. 
 
 The Queen of the Tournament, seated under 
 her royal canopy, was surrounded by the ladies 
 and gentlemen of her court. 
 
 The chariots came within the inclosure. They 
 were of Roman pattern. The drivers wore the 
 light costume of the Roman charioteer. 
 
 Garcia, a handsome Spaniard in a white tu- 
 nic, entered the arena first. His chariot was of 
 ivory and gold, drawn by four milk-white 
 horses. Following him came Winters in red 
 silk tunic. He drove four big bays attached 
 to a chariot of flaming red, decorated in gold. 
 Wolf, who made the third entry, came all in 
 black horses chariot and tunic. Arturo, the 
 fourth entry, in tunic of green, drove sorrel 
 horses harnessed to a great chariot. 
 
 After finishing their luncheon, Oliver and his 
 guests had gone to the other side of the park 
 to witness the barbecue. Hundreds were being 
 fed with the steaming meat, taken from the pit 
 in the ground, in which it had been roasted. 
 
 "I feel just as if I were in a play," said June, 
 45
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 as they walked back across the green to take 
 seats in their box. "Doesn't the scene make you 
 think of those highly colored old prints, with 
 titles in two or three languages 
 
 'L'ete et L'hiver 
 
 der Sommer und der Winter 
 
 Summer and Winter' " 
 
 "It certainly is great," said Oliver. 
 
 June's eyes followed the chariots "I'm for 
 that handsome Spaniard with the white horses. 
 I can tell by the way they hold their heads that 
 they'll win. But those bays," she added rather 
 scornfully, "look to me like plow horses !" 
 
 "You think so?" They were walking slowly 
 now. The others were far ahead. "The bays 
 do look a trifle awkward." Oliver walked still 
 more slowly. He was silent for a few moments. 
 "I'd like to wager on the bays." Oliver looked 
 straight into June's eyes as he spoke. 
 
 "What will you wager?" June asked eager- 
 ly. "I'm sure of my white horses." 
 46
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "I'll wager my life." The dense crowd sep- 
 arated them for a moment. Oliver reached 
 June's side again. The Major was beckoning 
 to them to hurry. 
 
 "We must be quick!" June spoke excitedly, 
 "they'll close the wicket." But Oliver was in no 
 haste to join the others. Coming very close 
 to June, he said in a low voice: "You are the 
 stake, Miss Winthrop June! I determined to 
 win you the first time I saw you. That morn- 
 ing in the tea room." 
 
 Again they were parted by the eager crowds. 
 When Oliver caught up to June, she laughed 
 mockingly "Oh, you don't even know me yet!" 
 
 "Know you ! why I've known you a thousand 
 years!" 
 
 A man at June's elbow leaned forward. He 
 looked wonderingly into the face of the girl, 
 whom some one had known a thousand years. 
 
 "Tell me, tell me quick, June, may I stake my 
 life everything on the bays?" 
 
 The sights and sounds about her filled June 
 with a romantic ardor. Her dark eyes flashed. 
 47
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "I'll take the wager!" she said "but" she 
 added, and there was challenge in her voice 
 "Garcia will win !" 
 
 They had reached their box. Oliver hand- 
 ed her in. The others had already taken their 
 seats. Oliver began to explain the race-schedule 
 to the ladies. "The first race is to be run be- 
 tween Garcia and Winters. The second between 
 Wolf and Arturo. The third will be run by 
 the losers of the first and second. The winners 
 of the first and second races will run the fourth." 
 Again and again a false start was made. The 
 charioteers were called back to their places by 
 the ringing of the bell. 
 
 The horses were so excited, it was almost im- 
 possible to bring their eight heads to anything 
 like a line . At last, the signal to go was 
 given ! 
 
 There was the rush of eager horses flashes 
 of color were seen in a whirlwind of dust. The 
 white horses appeared as one line. The bays, 
 as they ran, straggled out into an awkward an- 
 gle. 
 
 48
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 Garcia has the pole! soon he is in the lead! 
 A blur as if two red and white clouds had 
 come together the two chariots have barely 
 escaped locking wheels! They are in such a 
 maze of dust, it is almost impossible to see them. 
 From this they emerge, as they come nearer. 
 The horses of the two chariots are neck and 
 neck. Garcia is fast gaining. On and on 
 faster and faster he comes ! until his horses 
 plunging and foaming, and several lengths ahead 
 pass under the wire. 
 
 A deafening shout went up from the crowd, 
 as if from one voice. June gave Oliver an ex- 
 ultant look. He returned it with placid confi- 
 dence. "This is only a half-mile track!" he 
 said. "The heat is not ended. They must go 
 round once more." 
 
 Winters had not spoken to his bays, until 
 Garcia passed under the wire. Then, he loos- 
 ened his lines, which he had held taut. He 
 leaned over and spoke one word to his animals. 
 
 At the sound of his voice, his horses swept 
 forward like a hurricane crossed Garcia's path 
 49
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 and took the pole. 
 
 A second time Winters leaned forward and 
 spoke to his horses. A second time they leaped 
 ahead with fresh impetus. 
 
 Now he is so far in advance of Garcia, he 
 dares to look back. He sees his rival far in the 
 rear. 
 
 Once more, Winters speaks to his bays ! once 
 more they plunge forward! Easily they pass 
 under the wire. 
 
 Oliver jumped up and down in his seat. He 
 waved his hat and shouted like a mad man. 
 For once the Major forgot Maria Knowles. 
 He yelled like a boy. June's face was scarlet. 
 With spirit she said. "It's only the first race!" 
 
 "But I've won!" cried Oliver 
 
 The intermission of twenty minutes was giv- 
 en over to the Vaqueros, who displayed their 
 fancy riding. There was opportunity for small 
 talk about the races and the women's gowns. 
 The latter subject set Mrs. Knowles to talking. 
 The costumes were elaborate quite up to horse 
 show standards. 
 
 50
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 After the intermission, came the race between 
 Wolf and Arturo. It was known that Wolf's 
 horses were blooded. From the first it was the 
 expectation that he would win. The crowd was 
 hardly prepared however for the spectacular fin- 
 ish. 
 
 They had made the first half of the race and 
 were at the finish of the second. As they passed 
 under the wire, Wolf's horses became frightened 
 and entirely unmanageable. 
 
 Worked up to the highest pitch of excitement, 
 the spectators shouted and shrieked. Amidst 
 the din, only those very near could know that 
 Wolf was crying for help. 
 
 Mounted police attempted to stop the mad- 
 dened animals but without avail they could 
 not overtake them. The Vaqueros, on their 
 fiery bronchos, followed in wild pursuit. With 
 their thread-like lariats they finally succeeded 
 in entangling the foaming horses. 
 
 Compared with this scene the race itself had 
 been mild sport! 
 
 The third race between Garcia, June's
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 handsome Spaniard, and Arturo did not cause 
 great interest. It was run for the third prize, 
 and was won by Garcia. 
 
 Then followed the great, deciding race be- 
 tween the winners in the first and second : Wint- 
 ers, upon whom Oliver had staked his happiness, 
 and Wolf with his runaways. The majority of 
 the spectators were for Wolf. Oliver undeni- 
 ably nervous ordered lemonade of every boy 
 that came his way. June frayed her program. 
 
 When the horses were led out, one of Wint- 
 er's bays limped. Oliver, looking over June's 
 head, said to Mrs. Winthrop, that he felt sure 
 they could easily win, because Wolf's blacks 
 were done up by their runaway. "Wolf's blacks 
 ran away once, probably they can again !" was 
 June's optimistic retort. 
 
 The start was accomplished in less time than 
 usual. 
 
 The chariots had reached Oliver's box. 
 Winters was ahead. Oliver stood up. He 
 waved his hat frantically and shouted with all 
 his might "Go! Go!" 
 
 52
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "Sit down there! Sit down there!" people 
 cried from every side. 
 
 Terrified at this pandemonium, Winter's ani- 
 mals leap forward. Their hoofs lick up the 
 line of track as a prairie fire licks up the dry 
 grass. The dust burns their nostrils and blinds 
 their eyes. Under a rain of lashes they plunge 
 madly onward. Well they know, their master 
 never wields a whip except in a crisis. But in 
 spite of their frantic speed, Wolf's blacks are 
 rapidly gaining on them. They have reached 
 the point in the course furthest from the judge's 
 box. 
 
 Suddenly there is a terrific crash. Charioteers 
 maddened horses and their chariots are 
 seen only as a struggling mass in a cloud of 
 dust. 
 
 A moan goes up from the horrified spectators. 
 Consternation reigns on all sides. Again the 
 police and Vaqueros come to the rescue. 
 
 Breathlessly the crowd waited to know what 
 the outcome would be. 
 
 In a few moments the two rivals were seen 
 53
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 coming down the track each pale as death 
 an angry, red cut gleamed on Wolf's temple. 
 They halted before the Queen's throne and made 
 her a humble obeisance, then passed on slowly 
 to the judge's stand. 
 
 Bleeding and limping the eight horses were 
 led up. The judges ordered the broken char- 
 iots to be brought. From their condition they 
 hoped to be able to decide where the blame of 
 the collision lay. 
 
 The crowds were silent while the judges gave 
 hearing to both sides. At last the bugle 
 sounded. 
 
 The decision was announced. 
 The race was a foul. The deciding race would 
 be run at the next Year's Tournament. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop was the dinner hostess that 
 evening at her regular table in the large dining 
 room. June was perceptibly nervous. The ex- 
 tent of her folly was dawning upon her. She 
 was asking herself whether the wager had been 
 merely a holiday joke or had George Oliver 
 been in earnest 
 
 54
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 They had reached the salad course, when the 
 talk took the turn June had dreaded. 
 
 "The chariot race was magnificent, wasn't 
 it?" Mrs. Knowles appealed directly to Oliver. 
 Without waiting for his reply, she went on: 
 "The outcome certainly was surprising. Why I 
 would have wagered almost anything on those 
 white horses the driver was so handsome !" 
 
 "I wonder why they didn't decide the race?" 
 Mrs. Winthrop said. 
 
 June avoided Oliver's eyes between the roses 
 "Perhaps it was Fate or " 
 
 Mrs. Knowles did not wait for June to finish. 
 "Who knows what really happened in that 
 smash-up?" 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 "The bays were the only horses that had any- 
 thing of a chance from the beginning," said Oli- 
 ver decidedly. "I heard it everywhere last 
 week. Winters, they say, is half horse him- 
 self. He's had those bays in training for years 
 they understand him as if they were human. 
 Then, too, I talked with the man himself. He 
 55
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 told me that if the crowd kept perfectly quiet 
 the other man would have a show. But the 
 moment there was shouting and confusion, his 
 horses were off and to win !" 
 
 "So you sent up the requisite shout, Oliver, 
 didn't you? Perhaps you had a big wager at 
 stake?" The Major's tone showed that he 
 wished he had been in the sport. 
 
 "I did have," said Oliver. 
 
 June was intently studying the pattern of the 
 table cloth. 
 
 "Its a pity they declared a foul !" the Major 
 said, "you'd have got a good wad, wouldn't 
 you?" The Major seldom laughed, but now he 
 did so very heartily. 
 
 "Something much better than a wad!" Oliver 
 averred with spirit. It was his turn to study the 
 table cloth pattern. 
 
 "Explain, Oliver explain," the Major in- 
 sisted. 
 
 Looking up Oliver said with a laugh, "I'll 
 tell you on the Ides of March."
 
 VI 
 
 LIFE is a game of London Bridge. 
 There is no telling at what moment 
 the arms of Fate may descend upon 
 us. 
 
 June and her mother, with Major and Mrs. 
 Knowles were sitting in a retired corner of the 
 hotel veranda. It was the evening following 
 the tournament. Mrs. Knowles was repeating 
 some tiresome gossip about how a very rich 
 family in the house had come by their money. 
 57
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 June, tired of the talk, fled, and left her moth- 
 er and the Major to play audience. She took 
 refuge in the garden, where she sat down on a 
 rustic seat. It was just within the shadow of the 
 broad, extending arms of a huge date-palm. She 
 listened to the call of the mocking-birds. She 
 watched the shadows of the swaying palm leaves, 
 patterned on the lawn by the electric lights. 
 
 Two men came from the opposite direction. 
 They, too, seated themselves within the tree's 
 shadow, but quite on the other side. As soon 
 as they were seated, they began to talk. The 
 night air carried their voices over to June. 
 
 "Of course," she heard distinctly, "both men 
 are madly in love with the girl. So far she fa- 
 vors them equally. Now if Bernardo could only 
 damage Thompson's character he might be able 
 to carry off the prize." 
 
 There was silence. June saw the gleam of a 
 cigar stump, which was thrown down on the 
 path. 
 
 "Hang it ! I don't know what to advise you." 
 
 June's first impulse was to fly. She half rose. 
 58
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 Her slipper made a little grating sound on the 
 gravel. The two men did not notice it. They 
 were absorbed in their conversation. 
 
 June could not risk the mortification of being 
 discovered in the act of leaving. She dropped 
 back into her seat. 
 
 The same man spoke again. "She has fine 
 jewels, hasn't she? Heirlooms?" 
 
 "Yes, her ancestors brought them over from 
 Spain in the early days." It was George Oliver 
 speaking. 
 
 "Well then," said the other, "why can't you 
 steal those heirlooms and somehow fix the blame 
 on Thompson? In that way you could be rid 
 of him. Then you could put Bernardo in pos- 
 session of his old Tia Juana Rancho and' the 
 girl." 
 
 The scratch of a match! He was lighting 
 another cigar! 
 
 "There may be other ways," he continued. 
 "I don't just see them, Oliver." 
 
 June was faint. The cigar smoke was blown 
 across into her face. She stuffed her handkerchief 
 59
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 into her mouth to keep from coughing. 
 
 "I believe your suggestion is the only alter- 
 native, Dodge," Oliver spoke hesitatingly. 
 
 "You're the doctor!" the man whom he ad- 
 dressed as Dodge, rejoined. 
 
 "Yes, and a devilish poor one!" Oliver's 
 tone was desperate. 
 
 A pair of lovers sauntered by. 
 
 The two men rose quickly and walked away. 
 
 June slipped out of the shadow, and ran to 
 the veranda. 
 
 Her mother was still sitting there with the 
 Major and his wife. June took a seat at one 
 side. She must steady herself before she spoke 
 to them. Pleading fatigue, she soon went to 
 her room, making her way through the great 
 halls unsteadily, as one completely dazed. 
 
 "Oliver!" she repeated on her way "Oliv- 
 er!" as if the name had a strange fascinating 
 sound. So this was George Oliver Jack's 
 friend and hers. 
 
 Before she retired, Mrs. Winthrop looked in 
 upon her daughter. The room was dark and 
 60
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 June seemed deep in slumber. 
 
 She was not asleep. She lay awake all night. 
 Should she tell her mother the whole story? If 
 she did, her mother would appeal to the Major 
 and his wife for advice. What Mrs. Knowles 
 knew, the world knew. 
 
 June shivered at the thought of the notoriety 
 this would bring her. Over and over in her 
 mind the same sentences ran "If only there 
 could be some mistake ! If only I had not heard 
 aright! If only it were not Oliver!" At dawn 
 she dropped to sleep. 
 
 61
 
 VII 
 
 MRS. WINTHROP sat by the win- 
 dow reading, waiting for June 
 to waken. 
 
 Suddenly there was a loud 
 knock at the door. It startled Mrs. Winthrop 
 into dropping her book, and made June sit up 
 in bed, before her eyes were really open. 
 
 There was no time to answer. Mrs. Knowles 
 burst into the room. She precipitated her one 
 hundred and seventy pounds of solid flesh upon 
 62
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 the foot of June's bed. 
 
 "My dears !" She stopped to get her breath. 
 "An awful thing has happened!" 
 
 June was already under the impression that 
 something had happened to her. Mrs. Winthrop 
 moved her chair up to the bed, prepared for the 
 worst. 
 
 Still breathless, Mrs. Knowles went on. "You 
 know the Mansfields, who have a suite across 
 the hall from you !" 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop and June nodded. 
 
 "Well, they were robbed last night right in 
 this very house of thousands of dollars worth 
 of jewels. My dears, the burglars must have 
 passed your very doors 1" 
 
 She waited dramatically for her words to take 
 effect. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop looked anxiously at June. 
 
 The girl was deathly pale. Again she was 
 sitting under the palm tree. Again she was hear- 
 ing the man Dodge say, "Why can't you steal 
 those heirlooms and somehow fix the blame on 
 Thompson?" 
 
 63
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 Mrs. Knowles' voice brought her back. "It 
 does seem as if everybody in good social stand- 
 ing was being robbed." Mrs. Knowles drew 
 a deep sigh, as if she thought her own round of 
 the social ladder was not sufficiently high to pre- 
 cipitate her into such calamities. 
 
 June lay back on the pillow trembling. Then 
 as if roused by a sudden idea, she started up like 
 a frightened doe Must she tell what she 
 knew. She rested her face on her hand No, 
 she must have time to think it all out. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles, who always ran away from 
 any unpleasantness, slipped quietly from the 
 room. Mrs. Winthrop crossed to the other side 
 and opened wide a window to let in the air. 
 
 "I'm better now, mother," June summoned 
 all of her will power to say, as Mrs. Winthrop 
 came back to the bed. 
 
 "Maria Knowles had no right to break into 
 your room as she did," Mrs. Winthrop spoke 
 angrily. "If you had been awake this burglar 
 story wouldn't have shocked you but," she 
 added with an attempt at cheerfulness, "try to 
 64
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 dismiss it from your mind, daughter it means 
 nothing to us." 
 
 To this June made no reply, but a deep 
 shadow passed over her face and she said, "You 
 will go on the tally-ho drive without me this 
 morning, won't you? I did not sleep well last 
 night and. I must rest." 
 
 "If you really wish me to do so," Mrs. Win- 
 throp agreed reluctantly. 
 
 After her mother had gone, June got up and 
 dressed, without tasting of the breakfast which 
 had been ordered for her. 
 
 A train of awful thoughts oppressed her as 
 she walked up and down in her room. She was 
 calm, but the brightness had gone out of her 
 eyes. She was suddenly grown old. She mas- 
 tered her thoughts and reviewed the situation 
 from the day of her first meeting with Oliver. 
 
 He was so handsome and fine, everything in 
 fact that her girlish fancy could have pictured 
 a lover. Humiliated to the last degree she dwelt 
 on the past few days. She recalled Oliver's 
 look, his voice, the things that he had said. And 
 65
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 to think all this time she had been the mere 
 plaything of a man who was a common thief ! 
 She clenched her hands and the nails cut her 
 flesh. If she could tell Jack! Yes, that was it! 
 She would write Jack and ask him what she 
 should do. 
 
 June had never given her mother her confi- 
 dences. The two women were no more alike 
 than a crusty tart is like the toothsome filling. 
 
 She went to the drawer and took out Jack's 
 last letter, dated London where he had been 
 for several months. In it he said that he ex- 
 pected to be back in New York the first week of 
 January. He would doubtless arrive about the 
 time her letter did. 
 
 She wrote the whole affair to him at length. 
 How she had first seen Oliver's name on the 
 register How they had met him and gone 
 about with him What she had heard in the 
 garden And then how the robbery had been 
 committed the night before. And if Jack could 
 read between the lines she unconsciously told 
 him other things. 
 
 66
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 As she finished the letter there was a knock 
 at the door. She opened it, and a bell-boy hand- 
 ed her a magnificent bunch of roses with Oliver's 
 card. To June they were like a message from 
 the dead. She steadied herself against the door 
 and stared at the flowers as if they were evil 
 things. Then she handed them back and said, 
 "wait I wish to write a note." The note 
 ran: 
 
 "Mr. Oliver: I have just one thing to say to 
 you. Never in any way address me again. You 
 will understand why I do not sign my name." 
 
 She slipped a silver piece into the messenger's 
 hand. "Take the note and the flowers back " 
 She could not bring herself to speak his name 
 "back to the man," she said, and her voice 
 sounded unnatural even to herself. She closed 
 the door, and for the first time gave way to an 
 agony of tears. 
 
 Shortly there was another knock and when 
 she did not answer it, a note was thrust under 
 the door. She read it
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "My dear Miss Winthrop: I can not imag- 
 ine why you should have written me such a 
 note. There evidently is a misunderstanding ! 
 May I not see you for a few moments? In God's 
 name if I have done anything to offend you let 
 me make it right. Yours, 
 
 GEORGE OLIVER." 
 
 June opened the door The messenger stood 
 against the wall with his hands in his pockets, 
 whistling softly. "Tell the one who sent you 
 that there is no answer." 
 
 In the afternoon June watched the clock ner- 
 vously. For when her mother returned she must 
 give some explanation of the rupture between 
 herself and Oliver an excuse that would at 
 least suffice until she could hear from Jack. 
 
 The four walls of her room seemed longer 
 unbearable. She put on her hat and walked out 
 into the fresh air. As she passed through the ho- 
 tel every one she met was talking about the 
 burglary. She heard some one say: "The man- 
 agement is certain that the work was done by a 
 68
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 professional, but there is absolutely no clue." 
 
 June chose a quiet street and walked rapidly, 
 for a long distance. When she had thought of 
 a plausible story to tell her mother, she returned 
 to the hotel. 
 
 There were a great many people on the ve- 
 randa. Suddenly, at one end, she saw George 
 Oliver. He walked hurriedly toward her and 
 scanned her face as he came. On the top step 
 of the broad flight leading to the veranda they 
 met face to face. Oliver's look was appealing 
 "Miss Winthrop " 
 
 June did not allow him to finish. Now mas- 
 ter of herself she looked him full in the face 
 "Let me pass, sir" she said.
 
 VIII 
 
 DURING the night there had been a 
 snow-storm in the mountains. 
 The Major declared he wanted to 
 have the experience promised by 
 the guide books to go from roses to snow and 
 back again in a day. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles dreaded the cold and objected. 
 The Major insisted. 
 
 "Maria!" he stormed, "after three seasons, 
 all you know of this country, is the hotel veran- 
 70
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 das!" 
 
 June was so terribly depressed, she had little 
 heart for the expedition But she finally de- 
 cided it was better to go with the others. 
 
 They took the electric cars. After leaving the 
 town, the road ran through olive groves and 
 small ranches. It skirted the base of the moun- 
 tains, climbed higher and higher, and wound 
 around into a beautiful, wooded canon. 
 
 Here the car was waiting to carry them 
 straight up the mountain side. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop expressed timidity, as she 
 looked up at the slender, ladder-like road. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles, on the contrary, had all at 
 once become enthusiastic. She had heard the 
 talk in the car on the way up. She began to en- 
 lighten the Major about it all. This was one 
 of the great engineering feats of the world. The 
 incline was some per cent, steeper than that of 
 the great Swiss Mt. Pilatus. They really ought 
 to have the experience. It would be something 
 to refer to, when they went to Switzerland the 
 next summer. 
 
 71
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 June had brightened perceptibly. The cool 
 morning air had served as a tonic. 
 
 As the white car began the ascent, she asked, 
 "Where would we go if this cable should 
 break?" 
 
 "That depends, Miss June," the Major re- 
 plied, "on how well we have kept the command- 
 ments." 
 
 At the top of the incline, they found a foot of 
 snow on the level. 
 
 "Here we are!" cried the Major. "Here's 
 'the heart of winter' you read about!" 
 
 They were now transferred to an electric line 
 that would carry them on up to the tavern. 
 
 The road before them as they caught 
 glimpses of it looked as if some gigantic pen 
 had traced black scratches on the mountain side. 
 
 The air was very keen. Mrs. Knowles 
 shrank farther into her sealskin coat. She looked 
 like a bird in winter its feathers all ruffled. She 
 had changed her mind slightly, as to the joy of 
 the trip. "Major Knowles, whatever made you 
 bring me to this dangerous place?" 
 72
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 The Major sat by himself and said never a 
 word. Mrs. Winthrop held fast to June. 
 
 All was silent except for the creak of the 
 car, as it made its perilous way around the 
 curves. They doubled and crossed canons. Now 
 they went through a snow-flurry. Now they 
 were out in full sunshine. All the time they were 
 slowly ascending. 
 
 Suddenly between peaks that seemed to part 
 of themselves, to open a way for a scene of 
 splendor far, far down in the distance the 
 gleaming Pacific! 
 
 Before them lay the fertile San Gabriel Val- 
 ley. Pasadena appeared as a faint pattern traced 
 in the green. They saw it all through an atmos- 
 phere of translucent blue. 
 
 Soon they were at the mountain tavern, which 
 nestled among the trees. Within they found 
 welcome and good cheer. They warmed them- 
 selves before the great, crackling hearth-fire, and 
 the Major ordered luncheon. It was snowing 
 hard. 
 
 During the afternoon the storm became so 
 73
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 furious, Major Knowles suggested that they re- 
 main all night. 
 
 After dinner they sat before the cheerful fire 
 in the big hall with several other guests. The 
 telephone rang. And above the hum of voices, 
 June heard the clerk say "Well, I'm glad 
 they've got him." 
 
 He hung up the phone in a moment and ad- 
 dressed the Major over the top of his desk, 
 which was at one side "Perhaps you'll be 
 interested to know that they've caught the fel- 
 low who committed the burglary down at your 
 hotel the phone buzzed so I didn't get his 
 name but I guess that's no matter." 
 
 Everything in the room swayed before June's 
 eyes. She did not even hear what Major Knowles 
 said in answer. 
 
 Soon, she turned to her mother "I'm go- 
 ing to my room if you don't mind to finish 
 my book." 
 
 Outside, the wind howled ceaselessly. The 
 long limbs of huge pines, with their burden of 
 ice and snow, dragged heavily on the roof and 
 74
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 made weird creaking sounds. To June the storm 
 was symbolical ! 
 
 When the wind rose yet higher, shrieking and 
 moaning, a terrible fear seized her not fear for 
 herself, but for George Oliver. She forgot her- 
 self, her humiliation, everything, but him. In 
 her imagination she saw him shackled led 
 away. If a test of her love for him had come 
 at that moment she would have gladly given her 
 life to save him. Nature asserted itself and 
 June fell asleep. 
 
 In the morning when she awoke, she looked out 
 upon a still, magic white world. And imme- 
 diately after breakfast the Major announced the 
 return car. 
 
 Before long they were again in the midst of 
 green groves, breathing sweet odors. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles broke out. "Well, that's done ! 
 There's one thing less on the Major's list!" 
 
 With an eye of affection the Major looked 
 back toward the snow-covered heights from 
 which they had come. "Maria, I'm glad I'm 
 not you I" 
 
 75
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 The suffering June had endured the past two 
 days culminated in the agony she felt on return- 
 ing to the hotel. Her feet almost refused to car- 
 ry her across the threshold as with the others of 
 the party she entered the door. 
 
 The very first person they met told them the 
 news Dick, the bell-boy, had been arrested for 
 the burglary. 
 
 But to June there was deep significance in the 
 fact that Dick was the boy who came and went 
 at Oliver's call. It was he who had brought her 
 Oliver's flowers.
 
 : 
 
 M 
 
 IX 
 
 Y dear I've something to tell you, 
 the Major and I have about 
 decided to take a furnished 
 house." Mrs. Knowles spoke 
 with her usual urbanity. Mrs. Winthrop was 
 seated on the veranda, and Mrs. Knowles stood 
 behind her. Every morning after breakfast she 
 stood an hour to reduce her flesh. She was cro- 
 cheting vigorously. "Now why don't you take a 
 house, too? It certainly would be good for 
 June." Without waiting for a reply to her sug- 
 gestion, she rambled on. "I have discovered af- 
 77
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 ter three seasons at the hotel, that there are so- 
 cial advantages in having a house. The trouble 
 is if you have a fine house it's more expensive." 
 Mrs. Knowles sighed. She greatly desired to be 
 in the social whirl, but knew that though the 
 Major wanted a home, he objected to an ex- 
 travagant establishment. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop was taken with the new idea. 
 Mrs. Knowles was counting stitches preparatory 
 to turning a corner and Mrs. Winthrop seized 
 the opportunity. In rapid succession she put 
 question after question about houses and their 
 furnishing, so it took Mrs. Knowles a good long 
 time to answer. The house question was about 
 talked out when the Major joined them. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop was just speaking. "Before 
 I make any definite plans, I want to know what 
 June would like to do. She will be down a little 
 later." Mrs. Winthrop looked anxious "June 
 hasn't been nearly so well of late in fact I feel 
 very much troubled about her." 
 
 "I've noticed it," the Major said, gravely. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles stopped crocheting as if some- 
 78
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 thing had occurred to her and spoke, as from a 
 clear sky. "I haven't seen Mr. Oliver, except 
 in the dining-room, for several days." 
 
 The Major scowled. But Mrs. Winthrop 
 seemed relieved that Oliver's name had been 
 mentioned. "I must tell you," she said she 
 hesitated "that Mr. Oliver and June are no 
 longer friends." 
 
 "Why, my dear, what is the matter?" Mrs. 
 Knowles forgot that her hour was not up and 
 dropped into one of the porch chairs. 
 
 "I can't say, but June is not even willing that 
 I should recognize him. She says she will ex- 
 plain everything soon," and Mrs. Winthrop 
 changed the subject. 
 
 "I feel that June should see a physician. Can 
 you recommend one?" Mrs. Winthrop includ- 
 ed the Major and Mrs. Knowles in her glance. 
 
 A smile crossed the Major's face. There are 
 several in Pasadena. We " 
 
 "It all depends" the Major's wife cut him 
 short "on what sort of advice you want." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop's expression grew puzzled. 
 79
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "Now there's Dr. Goodman, who invariably 
 says you need a change of climate." 
 
 Here the Major rose irritably and strode to 
 the farther end of the veranda. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles lowered her voice. "I consult- 
 ed him last spring, when I wanted to go to New 
 York and the Major was slow about moving." 
 She unknotted a new skein of wool and con- 
 tinued. "Then there's Dr. Lantana. He's pret- 
 ty certain to advise European travel. He has a 
 large clientele among the ladies in the hotel." 
 
 The Major returned to his seat, unfolded his 
 newspaper and straightened it out with a great 
 rustling. He apparently became engrossed in 
 his reading. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles went on : "Of course for any 
 one affecting nervous prostration, there isn't any- 
 body like Dr. Goodman. He's so dear and sym- 
 pathetic ! Every one just adores him. You can 
 depend on him to make the sweetest sugges- 
 tions." 
 
 The Major could no longer remain in pa- 
 renthesis. He laid his paper across his knee. 
 80
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "Maria, Maria, don't be a fool!" he thun- 
 dered. Sternly he turned to Mrs. Winthrop, 
 took out his watch and looked at the time. As if 
 the gentle lady had been a whole army, he said in 
 a commanding voice, "You will find Dr. Brown 
 at his office here in ten minutes. He is a good 
 physician and a sensible man. He will advise 
 you intelligently in regard to Miss June." 
 
 "What time shall we go to look at houses?" 
 The Major's wife spoke in an abused tone. 
 
 "Wait and see what Dr. Brown says, Maria. 
 If Mrs. Winthrop decides to go with you, then 
 I'll order a carriage directly." 
 
 Just then June came out. There was hope- 
 lessness in her face. Since the arrest of the bell- 
 boy she realized that it was only a very short 
 time until she must speak. 
 
 When her mother told her of the plan to take 
 a house, she seized upon the idea, eagerly. Here 
 was a means of escape from the hotel before the 
 climax came. 
 
 Dr. Brown encouraged Mrs. Winthrop with 
 regard to her daughter. The girl was suffering 
 81
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 from a nervous breakdown. He advised the 
 mother by all means to take a house one with 
 a garden, so that her daughter could work 
 among the flowers. She ought to live out of 
 doors. 
 
 It was settled. The carriage was brought 
 around. June seated herself in front with the 
 driver, while her mother and Mrs. Knowles 
 were taking their places. 
 
 "Our driver is a Harvard graduate out here 
 for his health." Mrs. Knowles said this in a 
 penetrating whisper, that everybody could hear, 
 then aloud : "You know, my dears, one's in a 
 chronic state of good society in Pasadena. You 
 can't get away from it, even if you try to." 
 
 June cast a glance at the frail looking young 
 man beside her, and to relieve his evident em- 
 barrassment began asking questions 
 
 "What are those queer looking trees?" 
 
 The driver was not permitted to answer. Mrs. 
 Knowles spoke in a high voice. "Now please 
 don't ask me " 
 
 "As if anybody had " June thought 
 82
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "I don't know the name of every shrub and 
 tree we see. I've had so many otherwise pleas- 
 ant drives ruined by just such questions, that I 
 make it a practice never to answer them. But, 
 my dears, be thankful for one thing. There 
 are no picture galleries or monuments to rave 
 over out here." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop had spent her life in the 
 shadow of Bunker Hill. Words failed her. 
 June glanced from under her long, black lashes 
 at the driver. He was trying to suppress a 
 smile. 
 
 The carriage drew up in front of a real 
 estate office. The Major had telephoned that 
 they were coming. A young man came out and 
 handed them a map of the city with two lists 
 of furnished houses; villas, for Mrs. Knowles; 
 bungalows, for Mrs. Winthrop. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop held to the old tradition that 
 houses for rent are usually short on paint and 
 long on Nottingham curtains. But as they drove 
 down the famous boulevard, where millionaires 
 are strung together with pepper-trees and palms, 
 83
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 she was met with one surprise after another. 
 Even here there were people willing to empty 
 their closets and bureau drawers for a price to 
 bare the soul of their houses for a consideration. 
 
 The driver spoke for the first time "This 
 avenue began as a path through orange groves, 
 later it widened into a road and now is one of 
 the most famous boulevards in the world." 
 
 His voice was hollow and suggested a weak 
 chest. June looked at him sharply. There was 
 something strangely familiar about the man. No, 
 she had never seen him before, but how did she 
 come by this impression!
 
 IT had been agreed that Mrs. Knowles 
 should make her choice of a house first. 
 They drove the entire length of the 
 boulevard and back again comparing the 
 house numbers with their list. Then began the 
 examination at closer range. 
 
 Important butlers opened doors that were in 
 no need of paint, in houses where the curtains 
 were not Nottingham. Grand dames swept down 
 imposing stairways in response to the request of 
 strangers. In a villa, showing Italian influ- 
 ence, a society butterfly flitted from room to 
 
 85
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 room, expatiating on the advantages of her par- 
 ticular chrysalis; she was leaving for a winter's 
 stay on the continent. One handsome house was 
 at their disposal because the family had left for 
 a year in Japan. It seemed to them that they 
 had the refusal of the whole boulevard. 
 
 The majority of the houses were held at a 
 rental sufficiently high to satisfy Mrs. Knowles, 
 who always judged the show by the price of the 
 ticket. She found it difficult, however, to arrive 
 at a decision. "I noticed that the piano legs 
 were not dusted," she confided to Mrs. Win- 
 throp, as they left one house. "Now people 
 who don't dust their piano legs, can't be trusted 
 to leave the house in good order for a tenant." 
 
 A little farther on Mrs. Knowles spied a vil- 
 la that looked very much like a birthday cake in 
 a cheap confectionery shop It was so arti- 
 ficial, 'twas little wonder that it pleased her. 
 But it was off the boulevard ! How could she 
 live there ! 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop and June had no difficulty 
 in foreseeing what her decision would be. 
 86
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 The fire-places in this villa were still in their 
 virgin freshness. The owner requested tenants 
 not to build fires in them. It would smoke them ! 
 The ornate candlesticks in the drawing-room 
 held candles, to be sure. But unlike Little Nan- 
 cy Etticoat, they did not grow shorter by the 
 conflagration of their noses they had never 
 known flame. 
 
 It was altogether an environment into which 
 Mrs. Knowles fitted as if it had been made for 
 her. She pinched the mattresses, to see if they 
 were soft. She felt the china, to see if it was 
 hard. In spite of all her minute inspection, she 
 forgot to look into the coffee pot and she did not 
 count the cooking forks. At length she an- 
 nounced her decision to take the villa. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop had been dragged up attic 
 and down cellar stairs till she was weak with fa- 
 tigue. As they went through a dark passage- 
 way, she quoted to June 
 
 "How steep his path 
 Who treadeth up and down another's stairs."
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "Lean on me, Mother," June said affection- 
 ately, though she herself looked like a frail 
 lily. 
 
 When they were in the carriage again they 
 turned into a quiet street almost like a lane 
 between orchards. It was the Winthrops' turn 
 to search for a house. At first their experiences 
 were much like those of the three bears. The 
 houses were either too small or too large. 
 
 At last they came upon one which June called 
 "a perfect dear!" It was low and rambling, 
 partly hidden by orange trees, and built about a 
 patio, which also connected with the garden by a 
 rose-covered pergola. Sun-loving heliotrope 
 covered the walls and specked them with a faint 
 purple. It blended its fragrance with that of 
 the starry jasmine which festooned the arches 
 of the courtyard. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles knew about this place. The 
 woman who built the house had gone East in a 
 fit of homesickness, and left it in the charge of 
 the gardener. 
 
 A front door is a tell-tale thing! The carc- 
 88
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 taker lifted the huge latch a hand-made affair 
 of Mexican workmanship. The living room, in- 
 to which the door opened directly, proved in no 
 way a disappointment. It ran the whole width 
 of the bungalow and opened into the patio by 
 glass doors. The ceiling was beamed. The fur- 
 nishings were antique. 
 
 "Why, mother," said June, as she stepped in- 
 side, "do see all the pretty little casement win- 
 dows and the quaint curtains that just go with 
 the wall! One two three why, there are 
 seventeen of them I" 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop surveyed the room with satis- 
 faction, as she sank down upon an inviting Da- 
 venport. "I feel at home for the first time since 
 I left Boston." 
 
 Mrs. Knowles looked about critically! "But, 
 my dears," she exclaimed, "there's not a single 
 thing that's new 1" 
 
 "I sincerely hope not." Mrs. Winthrop spoke 
 with some asperity. 
 
 June was enthusiastic over the great fire- 
 place. Logs were laid, all ready to blaze out at 
 89
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 the scratch of a match. Two little prayer chairs 
 brought from an old English cathedral stood 
 on either side the chimney. A "Sleepy Hollow" 
 was placed at a tempting distance. The colonial 
 desk at the end of the room no doubt already 
 knew many secrets. It stood open as if ready to 
 receive more. A grandfather's clock in the cor- 
 ner ticked in most friendly fashion. It robbed 
 the place of that deserted air which vacant 
 houses so often have. 
 
 "This must be the dining-room!" June said, 
 as she opened a door. "Why, no ! its the but- 
 ler's pantry. But where's the dining-room?" 
 She appealed to the care-taker. 
 
 "Folks always eats in this end o' th' big 
 room. I dunno no bettah place for a beautifu' 
 young lady an' her han'some mother to eat their 
 three meals a day in." The caretaker looked 
 about the room as if he were seeing it for the 
 first time. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop was shocked at his familiarity. 
 She gasped. "What is your name?" as if its 
 disclosure might throw some light on the situa- 
 90
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 tion. 
 
 "Michael William." He bowed politely. 
 
 "Of what nationality are you?" 
 
 * 'T all depen's on how you look at it!" the 
 man answered with an infectious chuckle. "I'as 
 a Spannich frien' an he #//ways calls a hat a sum- 
 brello an' he gets mad when I calls hit a hat. 
 'Sacre!' sezee, 'why don't you call a sumbrello 
 a sumbrello?' Now my father wuz Irish an' 
 my mother wuz cullud, but I'm a plain man an' 
 I tries to be a Christyun an' hits no mattah ef 
 you calls me Mike, ez spoke by th' ole man, or 
 William, ez I wuz allways noted by my mother. 
 I wore raised in Georgy an' my wife she wore 
 bawn in Allabammah. I jus' reckin' I'm what 
 you calls a Suth'ner." 
 
 A smile played on the faces of the three wom- 
 en. Mrs. Winthrop noticed that the man did 
 not speak of his mother as "the old woman," 
 and straightway believed in him. She said quiet- 
 ly "I shall call you William." 
 
 Having such opposite strains to contend with 
 in William's creation, Nature had apparently 
 91
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 compromised by giving him characteristics of 
 each. Through the coppery skin of his keen in- 
 telligent face shining freckles appeared. They 
 seemed to have rusted through from the inside. 
 His hair was inky black, but straight and brist- 
 ling. His eyes were blue as the sky above him. 
 His thin, mobile lips and well set chin gave no 
 hint of his negro blood. His rather slender 
 frame sagged unevenly into an amplitude of 
 shoes. This gave him the appearance of being 
 out of drawing. 
 
 "Its plain to see," June spoke in an aside to 
 Mrs. Knowles, "that the man's negro blood runs 
 by the way of Cork." 
 
 As they crossed the patio Mrs. Knowles re- 
 marked upon the beauty of the day. The weath- 
 er was as favorite a topic with her, as was the 
 fox with the old fabulists. 
 
 No one replied. Then William spoke up. 
 ' 'Tis a fine day, to be sho'. Th' good Lord's 
 freezin' all th' folks back East so they'll be 
 'bliged to come out heah." 
 
 With a deferential bow William opened a 
 92
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 door. 
 
 "If I should rent this bungalow, William, 
 would you work for us?" 
 
 "I reck'n so." Then, as if seized with a sud- 
 den fear, he quickly asked, "You-all ain't frum 
 Noo Englan', is you?" 
 
 "To be sure we are." Mrs. Winthrop spoke 
 with emphasis. 
 
 "Whales!" William exclaimed, "I wuk'd 
 onct for Noo Englan' folks. My Lord, but they 
 wore teejus I" 
 
 Mrs. Knowles laughed out gaily. This seemed 
 to give William courage. 
 
 "But you-all do seem right plesunt I'm will- 
 in' to give you a trial." 
 
 "Very well," said Mrs. Winthrop a little stiff- 
 ly. "You'll try us and we'll try you. I forgot 
 to inquire what wages you want. Perhaps we 
 can't afford to have you." 
 
 "Forty dollar a month an' find myself," Will- 
 iam answered promptly. 
 
 "That is satisfactory, you may come." 
 
 "What shall we do about laundry?" 
 93
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 said June, who had a turn for details. "There 
 seem to be no tubs." 
 
 "I reck'n my wife might 'commodate you," 
 said William. "I don't say it for sho'. You-all 
 jus' bettah call roun' an see. My wife she's purty 
 pertickler who she wuks for. She nevah kin 
 for'git ez her folks wore slaves to one o' th' 
 best famblys o' th' South. Ef you do goes, 
 don't tell 'er ez I eggvised you to go. Jus' say 
 I thot ez how hit wore doubtfu' an' I reckon 
 she'll do't.' 
 
 William's tone was reassuring. 
 
 "Very well, William, now do you know of a 
 cook?" 
 
 Mrs. Knowles answered the question put to 
 William. "There's no trouble about a cook, 
 all you need to do is to go to a Japanese 
 agency." 
 
 "Then I think everything is settled," Mrs. 
 Winthrop appealed to June: "Do you think 
 we could be ready to move by day after tomor- 
 row?" 
 
 June nodded. Her mind for the moment was 
 94
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 busy trying to place the driver. 
 
 When they got out of the carriage at the ho- 
 tel the driver handed Mrs. Knowles a card 
 "Here is my phone number and address," he 
 said, "perhaps you will let me drive you again." 
 
 June started. This time she felt certain she 
 knew where she had heard the voice. 
 
 "What is that man's name?" she asked Mrs. 
 Knowles, as they turned to go up the walk. 
 
 "Dodge, "Mrs. Knowles answered. She looked 
 down at the card in her hand "Franklin G. 
 Dodge." 
 
 95
 
 S3 
 
 XI 
 
 AT least one dark cloud which hung 
 over June, was dissipated. Dick, 
 the bell-boy, was discharged almost 
 as soon as he was arrested. His 
 arrest had been a precautionary measure. A 
 slight suspicion fell on him because he had gone 
 to the Mansfield room late, the night of the 
 burglary, with ice water, just as Mrs. Mansfield 
 was putting away some of the gems. 
 
 There is no antidote in the world for trouble 
 96
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 equal to that of packing trunks. One may be 
 love sick or financially embarrassed, the truth re- 
 mains : a certain number of things must be put in 
 a given space, and to do it demands one's whole 
 mind. 
 
 June had just finished packing two as the clock 
 struck eleven in the morning. It was the hour 
 set for moving into the new home. Handbags 
 and paper boxes were piled up on the seats of 
 the two carriages. In one, Mrs. Winthrop and 
 June were visible in patches. In the other, occa- 
 sional glimpses were to be had of the Major and 
 Mrs. Knowles. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles was greatly disturbed. June 
 insisted that Dodge, "the Harvard man" should 
 not drive either family. She would give no rea- 
 son and Mrs. Knowles was allowed to put her 
 own interpretation upon the matter. 
 
 When the Winthrops opened the door of their 
 bungalow, they were greeted by a bright fire on 
 the hearth and there were roses in a bowl on the 
 table. 
 
 "How thoughtful of William," said Mrs. 
 97
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 Winthrop, "I believe he will prove a treasure." 
 
 "It's all just perfect," June exclaimed. She 
 made a little tour of inspection about the room. 
 They removed their wraps and Mrs. Winthrop 
 seated herself before the fire. But she was not 
 long left to her ease. 
 
 "Come, mother dear!" June urged with 
 feigned cheerfulness. She took her hand and 
 tugged at her, as she used to do when a child. 
 "Let's explore!" 
 
 Arm in arm they walked through the French 
 doors out into the patio. 
 
 Startled at their approach, the humming-birds 
 left the pendant fuchsia blossoms. Like elfin ar- 
 rows they darted through the air. Saucy mock- 
 ing birds perched on the top of the cypress-trees 
 almost burst their little throats. They were in- 
 dignant at these intruders. Palms cast their al- 
 luring shade. The whole place breathed of re- 
 pose. 
 
 The courtyard gate clicked. A young man 
 stepped inside. Evidently he too was bent on 
 discovery. For a moment the vines hid his
 
 "Stepping toward them, he said confusedly, 'Have 
 I the honor of guest ?'"
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 face. He brushed them aside and said con- 
 fusedly, "Have I the honor of guests?" The 
 man was George Oliver. 
 
 June stood as if rooted to the spot. Her cheeks 
 flamed. 
 
 "Guests!" Mrs. Winthrop repeated in as- 
 tonishment. She did not turn to look at June, 
 "I believe the honor is ours. We have rented 
 this house." 
 
 "Then there has been some misunderstanding, 
 the color had left Oliver's face I have rent- 
 ed it too from Page and Page I came in with 
 my servant this morning." 
 
 "Oh ! we rented from Storrow and Company," 
 said Mrs. Winthrop. 
 
 "That explains it all," said Oliver. He seemed 
 relieved that the matter had been solved. "The 
 bungalow must have been listed with both firms. 
 They neglected to notify each other of the rent- 
 al. I see now why I had so much difficulty with 
 the gardener in charge. He insisted that he ex- 
 pected two ladies." As he finished speaking 
 Oliver looked at June. He was met by a freez- 
 99
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 ing glance. Very much discomforted he turned 
 to her mother. "You will remain, of course." 
 
 "But you are already in possession." 
 
 "It was simply an experiment on my part. I 
 thought I wanted to be quiet and " He 
 did not finish the sentence. "I've begun to have 
 doubts of my ability to run an establishment. 
 The place is yours. I surrender it with pleas- 
 ure," Oliver bowed. "If you will allow me, I 
 will go inside and speak to my servant' my lug- 
 gage, fortunately, has not yet arrived." 
 
 They could see the Japanese boy seated by the 
 kitchen table. He was making out a list of gro- 
 ceries in the picturesque characters of his own 
 language. 
 
 Shortly Oliver and his servant took their 
 leave. 
 
 June had not moved or spoken. 
 
 William came out of the garden. He peered 
 in through one of the arches of the patio 
 "So that gentleman did belong to you-all! 
 Whales hit's lucky I let 'im in!" 
 
 June and her mother had gone back into the 
 100
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 living room and were sitting before the fire. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop broke the silence. "I can not 
 imagine why Mr. Oliver would think of taking 
 a house. And this is such an out-of-the-way 
 place for a man." 
 
 "He said he wanted to be quiet," June con- 
 trolled her voice with difficulty. 
 
 "Daughter' the lines about Mrs. Winthrop's 
 mouth were tense. "I think I have the right to 
 know what the trouble has been between you 
 and Mr. Oliver." 
 
 Her mother's words were like the thrust of a 
 lance, which for the moment June was unable 
 to parry. 
 
 "Mother" June hesitated the fire made a 
 play of light and shade on her strained face 
 "I know it seems strange to you unnatural per- 
 haps, that I do not tell you everything. But 
 don't feel hurt, I beg of you! Wait' wait just 
 a little longer! Something dreadful has hap- 
 pened, but there are things I must know for cer- 
 tain before I speak. It is a case of life and 
 death almost, to me and to others. Trust me, 
 101
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 just a little longer until I can hear from 
 Jack." 
 
 "It must be something dreadful if you cannot 
 tell your mother." But Mrs. Winthrop's aus- 
 tere face softened as she read the pain in June's. 
 "I will wait," she said calmly "until you choose 
 to tell me." 
 
 102
 
 XII 
 
 EACH morning June was to work in the 
 garden for an hour. Those were the 
 doctor's instructions. 
 
 William was as happy as if he had 
 been given a holiday, for he was now sure of an 
 audience. "What you need, Miss June, is stim- 
 ulation." 
 
 It was the first morning June had joined him 
 in the garden. 
 
 "Now th' place to git it is out o 'th' groun'. 
 103
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 Folks ez comes out heah for their health sets in 
 th' house too much a-readin' books an' don't git 
 no 'speriences of their own. You nevah'll bow 
 up on what other folk's done in books." He 
 turned his head and looked at June intently. "I 
 reck'n a little burnt wisky ud do you good. Hit 
 #//ways helps me no matter what's the mattah." 
 
 "You ain't gittin' a bone fellun, is you, Miss 
 June?" William had just spaded up a toad. 
 
 "I hope not, William." 
 
 "Ef you is I'll save this toad an' bind it 
 on." 
 
 "Alive !" June cried in horror. 
 
 "To be sho! Onct I had a bone fellun an' 1 
 boun' on a live toad an' it tuck all th' informa- 
 tion out." 
 
 June bore down hard on the handle of her 
 small spade. She was trying to break up the 
 ground for a mignonette bed. Mrs. Knowles 
 drove past for the fourth time that morning. 
 June saw her for the first time, but she had not 
 escaped William's watchful eyes. 
 
 "Hit's a pity you' frien' ins't bin bawn a 
 104
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 postman or a mess'nger boy." 
 
 "Why? William," June stopped her spad- 
 ing. 
 
 "Cause she 'pears to like goin'Nall th' time. 
 Heaps o' folks like that out heah. They needs 
 a safety wick to tell 'em when steam's low 
 First you knows they gives out an' they blames 
 th' climate You's 'blidged to dig that little 
 deeper, Miss June." William's tone was im- 
 portant. "When you dunno jus' how to wuk 
 jus' throw you' eye my terreckshun an' you'll 
 see." 
 
 "Very well, William," June thrust her spade 
 in deeper. 
 
 "I reck'n you an' me'll git on purty well 
 gard'nin t'gether, Miss June cause you don't 
 fluster me. You see I doos heart-wuk in th' 
 flowus I loves 'em. An' I can't do nothin' 
 when I'm flustered. Thar's a big diff'runce 
 'tween heart-wuk and han-wuk. You'll find out. 
 Flowus c'n tell th' diff'runce. When you does 
 heart-wuk th' flowus gits to be you' kinfolks. 
 They's mo' reliabler'n real kinfolks tho' I nevah 
 105
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 monkeys with real kinfolks. Whales alive! 
 they'll do you sho'." 
 
 "Where did you work before you came here?" 
 June asked ; as much for an excuse to keep Will- 
 iam talking as anything else. 
 
 "Oh, I wukked for one o' th' billyonaires on 
 th' avanu' he'll die presuntly won't need no- 
 body to wuk for 'im nohow." William's tone 
 was cheerful. June looked up. "You knows, 
 Miss June, rich folks lives shorter 'n po' ones." 
 
 "No, I didn't know it, William." 
 
 "Don't you know how rich folks doos, Miss 
 June? W'y they wuks an' wurrits night an' 
 day a-gatherin' gold 'n when they gits it they 
 lets it out'n vestermunts an fine hosses an' fine 
 carrldges an' orterwozt'bils an' they wurrits an' 
 wurrits night an' day a-fearin' hit'll roll 
 clean 'way frum em. At last they gits 
 out o' breath an' falls dead. My billyonaire's 
 topplin' a'ready he'll soon be down. He hath 
 swallered down riches an' he shall vomit 'em up 
 agin that's what th' Bibul sez. He's goin' 'gin 
 natcher, Miss June. Nobody can't 'ford to do it 
 106
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 I don't care how rich he is ! Rich folks knows 
 ef they'd plant trees an' not water 'em, they'd 
 die but they nevah gives their souls a single 
 drop!" 
 
 The handle of June's spade was loose. Will- 
 iam tightened it. 
 
 "Hits a quare thing but William's lived a 
 long time I can't jus' say how long hit wore 
 writ down in th' Bibul but mother went house- 
 cleanin' an' our house bu'n'd up. Least-ways I's 
 fl//ways obswerved that folks ez looks aftah their 
 gardins looks aftah their souls. You don't nevah 
 see disrespectabul folks a-nursin' flowus. When 
 folks is weedin' their gardins, Miss June, they's 
 likely to be pluckin' envy an' discontent out of 
 their souls." 
 
 June was listening attentively. 
 
 Suddenly William changed his subject. "I met 
 you' young man down town early this mawnin' 
 a-ridin' in a fine orterwow;bil an' he smile jus' 
 ez plesunt ez ef I'd bin one o' these patent med- 
 acin' presidents. An' he slow down kinder sud- 
 dint en sezee 'How's you, William ?' An' scz I 
 107
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 'Well, thanks you, an' th' young lady's improv- 
 in', thanks you.' " 
 
 u Oh, William!" June cried in dismay. 
 "What made you mention me?" 
 
 "William knows human natcher, Miss June, 
 I knows he didn't want to know nothin' 'bout po' 
 ole William 'Any telefone up to you' house?' 
 sezee, 'I didn't stay long 'nough to find out.' 
 'Yasser,' sez I, 'I see Miss June a-telefonin'.' He 
 jus' take a little book out o' 'is pocket an' he 
 ask 'What kind a telefone.' I tole 'im hit wore 
 a mighty nice silver'd one ez sets on a table an' 
 he kin' o' laugh I didn' see nothin' funny an' 
 he want to know 'Is hit a Home-fone or a Sun- 
 set-fone?' 'My Lord!' sez I, Vy don't you 
 try th' front do'? You'll git mo' satifackshun 
 out of it.' An' he thanks me mos' polite an go 
 off. Th' oil-roads roun' heah sho' is fine, Miss 
 June. You'd jus' bettah keep kin' o' closte home 
 for a day or two, you might git Vited to 'spect 
 'cm." 
 
 "William," June tried to be very severe, 
 "don't you ever mention that man to me, or 
 108
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 speak to him again of me as long as you live." 
 
 "I don't mean no 'fence, Miss June, but you 
 sho' can't git roun' this country an' see nothin' 
 'less you's got wheels o' some kind. Ef I wore 
 you I wouldn't negleck my resources hit don't 
 pay." 
 
 There was a pleasant sound in William's 
 throat like the gurgling of water over stones. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop came into the garden, and 
 beckoned to June. When they had taken seats 
 in the summer-house she said, "What am I go- 
 ing to do with the cook Hara. I ordered a leg 
 of mutton for tomorrow. It just came. Hara 
 declares he won't cook it on Sunday. He says 
 it will keep till Monday and I must get chickens. 
 He says he won't cook anything but chickens for 
 Sunday, and he must have them right away to 
 prepare them." 
 
 "I'm sure, mother, I don't know what you can 
 do, unless you humor him." 
 
 "Or send him away! On the whole, though, 
 he's too valuable to lose. But how am I to get 
 chickens here within an hour?" 
 109
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "I'll tell you! Call up Mrs. Knowles. This 
 is her day to have a carriage. She has been past 
 several times. She may be at the house now. 
 Ask her if she won't drive you down street. 
 
 "I believe I will." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop hurried to the telephone. Yes, 
 Mrs. Knowles had just driven up She would 
 be right over. 
 
 As Mrs. Knowles and Mrs. Winthrop entered 
 the market, a ruddy-faced, white-aproned young 
 fellow stepped forward to wait upon them. 
 
 "I would like some nice chickens," Mrs. Win- 
 throp said in her usual low voice. 
 
 The boy thought she was deaf. "Local?" he 
 asked, in a loud tone. 
 
 "Local!" Mrs. Winthrop echoed faintly. 
 
 Still sure that his customer was hard of hear- 
 ing, the boy shouted, "Do you want local hens 
 madam?" 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop glanced appealingly at Mrs. 
 Knowles. With a touch of severity, Mrs. 
 Knowles said, "Will you kindly tell us what you 
 mean by local hens?" 
 
 no
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "Oh, I see ! you're toorists, ain't ye? A local 
 hen, ladies, is one raised hereabouts, not a cold 
 storage Easterner embalmed some folks call 
 'em they'er cheaper 'n locals." 
 
 Mrs. Knowles turned away with a motion of 
 disgust. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop shuddered then, swallowing 
 hard, she said "You may pick me out two 
 nice locals." She gave her address. 
 
 As they left the shop Mrs. Winthrop spied a 
 grocer's across the street. "Oh, do see those 
 nice strawberries and green peas! Let's get 
 some." 
 
 "How much are those peas a peck?" she point- 
 ed at the box with her umbrella. Though it was 
 only foggy she thought it was going to rain. 
 
 The clerk eyed the umbrella. "A tenderfoot!" 
 he said to himself. "We don't sell 'em by the 
 peck, madam, by the pound." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop was nonplused. "I'll take 
 I'll take ten pounds, please." 
 
 "Big family, hav'n't you?" the clerk laughed. 
 
 "Not at all!" said Mrs. Winthrop decidedly, 
 in
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "Ten pounds is an awful lot!" The clerk 
 began weighing them out, piling them higher and 
 higher on the scales. 
 
 "I think three pounds will do!" Mrs. Win- 
 throp finally said. Even then she was astonished 
 at the size of the package. 
 
 "How much are they?" 
 
 "Two bits!" the clerk said flippantly, as if 
 the price were not worth mentioning. 
 
 "That means twenty-five cents," Mrs. 
 Knowles explained in a patronizing tone. 
 
 "Anything else I can do for you?" the man 
 asked "butter eggs sugar oranges 
 spuds very nice today." 
 
 "I don't believe I know what kind of a fruit 
 a 'spud' is," Mrs. Winthrop acknowledged. 
 
 "Spuds" the corner of the man's mouth 
 twitched "are potatoes. We sell 'em by the 
 pound same as peas." 
 
 With the package of peas still in mind, Mrs. 
 Winthrop said; "I'll take three pounds." 
 
 The man weighed out seven potatoes. 
 
 On their way home they stopped at the hotel 
 112
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 to make a short call on some friends. There 
 they heard the latest news in regard to the burg- 
 lary: the officers had a new clue, and were now 
 on the trail of a man who had been seen in the 
 garden on the evening that the Mansfields were 
 robbed. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop casually repeated what she 
 had heard to June without the least idea that the 
 information was of any importance to her.
 
 XIII 
 
 JUNE was late in coming into the garden. 
 "Mawnin', Miss June," William look- 
 ed at her reproachfully, "you wore so late 
 I reck'n'd maybe you'd giv'n up you 
 gardenin' t'day." 
 
 "No, but I didn't sleep well," June walked 
 slowly and sank down on a garden seat. A 
 shadow passed over her face. 
 
 "I's fear'd, Miss June, you's worritin' 'bout 
 you'se'f William sees don't you do hit ! You 
 114
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 can't 'ford it. You's going to be all right." 
 William spoke with assurance. "Ef you don't git 
 well presently you's gotter climb ovah a mount'n 
 o' my prayers to keep sick." 
 
 "Do you pray for me, William?" 
 
 "Sho' I doos ! Ev'ry night William gets on 
 'is knees an' ask th' Lord to bless th' blue hen's 
 chick'n." 
 
 "Bless what, William?" 
 
 "The blue hen's chick'n," William repeated. 
 He waited a moment, then glanced up at June 
 from the geranium bed. "God an' me knows 
 who 'tis." In a confidential tone, he continued 
 "Ef you'd like to be in th' seekrit, Miss 
 June" he turned his head to one side, then to 
 the other, scrutinizing his work "hit's a very 
 plesunt young lady here 'bouts. Some folks 
 calls 'er 'Miss June' an' some folks calls 'er 'Miss 
 Winthrop'." 
 
 "But I can't imagine why you call me "the 
 blue hen's chicken, William." There was ten- 
 derness in June's voice. 
 
 "Hit's jus' th' nicest name I knows. You-all
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 don't hear nothin' in Bawston, doos you? Well 
 way down in th' south o' Georgy thar wuz 
 an ole man ez wore rais'n thousan's o' chick'ns. 
 One mawnin' he wen't out an' one wore blue. 
 Ev'ry mawnin' aftah that when he look out' 
 early, he see th' blue chick'n up a-gittin' hit's 
 breakfust an' hit growed twicet ez fast ez th' 
 yuthers an' wuz th' finest chick'n you evah see 
 an' smaht whales alive! folks come frum 
 all roun' to see that chick'n. One day the ole 
 man couldn' find 'er nowhars. Bimeby didn't 
 she come a-wakkin' in th' yhd with a duzzun 
 blue chic'ns. Folks wus jus' wild! an' they 
 want'd to buy 'em an' that ole man he mos' 
 git rich a-sellin' th' chick'ns of th' blue hen. He 
 sole em an' sole em an' they wore so smaht an' 
 han'some When folks down thar want to say 
 sump'n awful nice 'bout you, they say you wore 
 a 'blue hen's chick'n.' An' that's what I calls 
 jus' th' nicest young lady I knows!" 
 
 June's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " 'Pears like ev'rythin' got dew on it this 
 mawnin'." William put on a very innocent look. 
 116
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "Th' climates a-changin' out heah. Hit's 
 damper'n it use to be so many toorist comin' 
 all th' time they brings 'lecktric'ty an' it gits 
 into th' airs." 
 
 June laughed. "Sun's comin' out all right !" 
 William gave a furtive glance at June. 
 
 She rose and went to the tool-house for her 
 rake. "How could tourists bring electricity, 
 William?" she asked, when she came back. 
 
 "Well, they doos," William insisted, sho' they 
 doos ! An' ev'ry wintah they brings th' grip 
 whales ! in th' ole Spannich days thar nevah wuz 
 no 'flewenzah toorist brings it all!" 
 
 "Why William, you make out the tourists to 
 be dreadful people !" June put on an offended 
 air. "They bring a lot of things beside elec- 
 tricity and influenza, don't they. How about 
 money, for instance?" 
 
 "Sho', Miss June, I ain't condamm* 'em. I 
 knows th' country wouldn't be nothin' 'thout 'em 
 an' its good for we-all that they comes. 
 Couldn't nobody find nuther country like this 
 thol Hits a reg'ler 'partmcnt sto'. You kin find 
 117
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 jus' ennythin'you wants. Tender's th' sea !" Will- 
 iam pointed in its direction, "an' yonder's th' 
 mount'ns!" he reversed his spade handle. 
 "Heah's roses an' thar's snow !" He indicated 
 the garden and the mountain tops. "Ev'rythin' 
 out heah ceptin' young men, Miss June, an' 
 they's scurser'n hen's teeth ! that's w'y I didn' 
 want you to fall down on you' resours'ts. When 
 a nice Eastern genterman come along, you bet- 
 tah jus' pluck 'im!" 
 
 "I didn't come out here for a husband, Will- 
 iam," June said rather crossly. 
 
 "Sho' you didn', Miss June but ef you'd git 
 hit by a love-arrow you couldn' help you'se'f 
 nohow." 
 
 "I don't believe," June said by way of turning 
 the conversation, "that these rose-slips are going 
 to grow. The ground's too hard." 
 
 "You's right 'bout one thing, Miss June, all- 
 ways 'spect th' wust an' ef hit don't happun you's 
 jus' that much 'head. / thinks th' slips'll grow, 
 but ef they don't you jus' keep on a-tryin'. Folks 
 ez don't try for nothin' in this world ain't good 
 118
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 for nothin'. Wuk but don't wurrits 1 I nevah 
 wurrits 'bout nothin' nohow less I knows hit's 
 goin' to happun 'forehand. Jus' make a kite o' 
 care an' fly it 'bove you' head ez high ez you 
 kin." 
 
 William was spading a little strip of ground 
 just outside the courtyard. June wanted to fill 
 up a bare spot. 
 
 "S'posin' we plant a row o' callas under th' 
 arch, Miss June, they'd come in handy in case of 
 a weddinV 
 
 "Oh, mercy!" June exclaimed, "they are 
 more suggestive of funerals to me. I wouldn't 
 have one on the place for worlds." 
 
 "Now ain't that quare! My Lord! that's 
 jus' th' way I feels 'bout white shoes. Enny 
 jeckshun to my puttin' Easter lilies in thar?" 
 
 "Oh no, William." 
 
 William's thoughts went back to the callas. 
 "I ain't nevah see many dead ladies, but them ez 
 I did see <z//-ways wore white shoes But we 
 ain't goin' to have no fewnerals You's th' 
 only likely one, Miss June, an ef you keeps on 
 119
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 a-gard'nin', you'll cheat th' groun' o' yo' pres- 
 unts by a-wukkin' in it." William chuckled. 
 
 June made no reply, but gave a slight shiver. 
 
 William was quick to see that he had made a 
 mistake "You ain't sick nohow, Miss June," 
 he said diplomatically, "You's jus' mildood a lit- 
 tle. You's jus' lately bin transplant'd frum 
 Massjoosuts. Folks is like flowus transplant'n 
 'em wilts 'em. Don't 'spect too much o' nothin' 
 til hits tuck'n root. When I fust come heah 
 from Georgy this soil did'n seem to 'gree with 
 me. I had ammonya an' I had casterd oil. My 
 Lord ! I jus' thot th'd kill me but I git rooted 
 onct mo' !" 
 
 The postman whistled, down the street June 
 went quickly toward the gate. 
 
 "You ain't finished, is you, Miss June?" 
 
 "No William' her eyes were toward the 
 street, "but I want to get the mail." 
 
 June met the postman as he came round the 
 
 corner. He held a solitary letter in his hand. Of 
 
 course it would be from Jack! She took it 
 
 looked at the address turned it over scruti- 
 
 120
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 nized the back. In evident despair, she sat down 
 on a big stone at the corner of a flower-bed. 
 
 The letter which she held was her own letter 
 to Jack' but addressed to Boston instead of 
 New York City! In the upper left-hand cor- 
 ner she had written her name and the hotel ad- 
 dress. Now it had come back to her, after all 
 these days of waiting ! She covered her face with 
 her hands, and tried to think. 
 
 "I'll 'scuse you frum gard'nin enny mo' this 
 mawnin', Miss June." William called out. "You 
 jus' go in th' house an' read you' Bibul an' rest 
 a wile." 
 
 June rushed to her room, and put Jack's let- 
 ter in a new envelope this time addressed to New 
 York City. She also added a note, telling him 
 of everything that had happened since she first 
 wrote, and begging him to advise her in detail 
 just what to do. 
 
 After dinner June took up the evening paper 
 and read, in a column devoted to news of the ho- 
 tel which she and her mother had just left 
 
 121
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "A carriage driver by the name of Franklin 
 Dodge has on several occasions been seen loiter- 
 ing about the hotel gardens. He was seen there 
 on the night of the Mansfield robbery, and is no 
 doubt, the much wanted man. But so far it has 
 been impossible to locate him." 
 
 122
 
 XIV 
 
 MRS. KNOWLES had dropped in 
 early. Something was evidently 
 on her mind. She sat in the patio 
 with June and Mrs. Winthrop. 
 "I want to know," she began, "whether you both 
 saw that dreadful thing in 'The Evening News' 
 about Franklin Dodge?" 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop said "yes," and June moved 
 her head in the affirmative. 
 
 "I think it's an outrage!" Mrs. Knowles 
 123
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 took off her wraps. "The very idea ! why, he's 
 one of the nicest men I ever knew in my life. I 
 phoned down to the hotel this morning and told 
 them just what I thought of such proceedings. 
 But the clerk laughed and said he guessed 
 Dodge was the man all right, if he could be 
 found. Found indeed ! He's probably driving 
 around the corner, but when he is found, Ma- 
 jor Knowles is going to see that he has bail 
 or anything else of which he is in need." 
 
 It was time for June to go to her gardening, 
 but she still sat there. "Have you heard," she 
 asked Mrs. Knowles, "whether any one else is 
 implicated with Dodge?" 
 
 "No, I've heard nothing, only what I read in 
 the paper last night, and what the hotel clerk 
 told me this morning. That was more than I 
 wanted to hear. And such a time as I've been 
 having with help, too ! I should like," she con- 
 tinued fairly out of breath, "to have the people 
 who don't believe in a war with Japan, just go 
 through one engagement with Toki, my cook." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop looked just sympathetic 
 124
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 enough to be polite. 
 
 There was a saucy twinkle in June's eye in 
 spite of the weight on her heart as she asked. 
 "What is the trouble, Mrs. Knowles?" 
 
 "Well!" Mrs. Knowles leaned back in her 
 chair to make herself more comfortable, "you 
 know I always prefer to do my own ordering. 
 Yesterday morning Toki heard me telephoning 
 for macaroni. He made a terrible clatter, drop- 
 ing a pan he was washing, and rushed into the 
 telephone room saying, 'You get please line 
 bran!' I hadn't the slightest idea what he meant. 
 I had to ask him over several times and every 
 time he said 'line bran.' I couldn't make head 
 or tail out of it. Then of course the girl at the 
 phone got angry, because I kept her waiting so 
 long, and while she kept saying 'What is it, 
 lady?' in one ear, Toki was shouting 'line bran' 
 in the other. Finally Toki let out such a roar 
 that I dropped the receiver Then it all came 
 over me Toki was roaring like a lion, to 
 show me that it was the Lion Brand of maca- 
 roni that he wanted." Mrs. Knowles reached 
 125
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 out and broke off a sprig of heliotrope. "Then 
 of course," she took a long sniff at the flowers, 
 "I had an awful time getting the number again. 
 But that wasn't the end of it." Her face flushed. 
 "A couple of hours later I happened to be in the 
 kitchen, as the groceries were brought in. When 
 Toki saw his Lion Brand of macaroni, his face 
 beamed and he thanked me 'so many' as he al- 
 ways says it when he looked at the bill, his 
 face fell. 'You pay too high !' " Mrs. Knowles 
 tried to speak like a Japanese boy. She fanned 
 herself with her handkerchief "And then I 
 found that he was objecting to the fact that I 
 had been charged twenty cents a package 
 straight, in place of two for thirty-five, as he had 
 been in the habit of getting it. Now what do 
 you think?" Mrs. Knowles raised her voice. 
 "We expected company for luncheon and Toki 
 refused to make croquettes out of that macaroni ! 
 because it cost too much and nothing I could 
 say would budge him an inch. So there was 
 nothing for me to do, but to order a carriage 
 and go down town and take that macaroni back. 
 126
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 When I got there, the grocer said macaroni had 
 gone up, but I gave the boy that waited on me a 
 tip to mark the package 'two for thirty-five'' 
 and that carriage cost me a dollar and a half 1" 
 
 "But why," June asked, "didn't you just pre- 
 tend to Toki, that you were going down town, 
 and mark the price yourself?" 
 
 Mrs. Knowles' face fell. "My dears 1" she 
 said, looking blankly from June to her moth- 
 er, "I never once thought of it I" 
 
 After this blow Mrs. Knowles relapsed into 
 silence. She soon recovered, however. "Did I 
 tell you," she spoke as if she had something very 
 important to communicate, "that we've found 
 five holes in the coffee-pot? and we haven't but 
 one cooking fork to our name I Think of it! 
 We're paying five hundred dollars a month ! a 
 hundred dollars for every hole in that coffee 
 pot!" 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop looked at June as if to say, 
 "What can one reply to such nonsense?" 
 
 "According to your reckoning, Mrs. 
 Knowles," June interposed, "you're not paying 
 127
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 anything for the cooking fork." 
 
 "Well, I should say I am. It takes half of 
 Toki's time to wash that fork, when he's cook- 
 ing, and I pay him forty dollars a month." 
 
 "I suppose," June tantalized, "that if one 
 could only suggest to themselves that everything 
 is all right, it would help." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop shook her head reprovingly 
 at June. Mrs. Knowles took the girl seriously. 
 "It's all very well, my dears, when one's ill or 
 in disgrace but there are two things to which 
 in my belief mental science does not apply 
 rented houses and sons of Nippon. It was in- 
 tended for simply ordinary things." 
 
 Mrs. Knowles dropped her double chin, which 
 signified that the discussion was ended as far as 
 she was concerned. She rose to go. 
 
 "It's too late to go to work now, mother," 
 June picked up her garden hat, "but I'm just go- 
 ing out to talk with William a little while. He's 
 so funny he keeps me cheered up." 
 
 William had caught sight of Mrs. Knowles 
 as she crossed the patio. When June appeared, 
 128
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 he said "I's bin waitin' for you' frien' to go. 
 She look kin o' flusttud this mawnin'. I reck'n 
 she love trubbul like a priest love a parrot ! 
 Speaking 'bout trubbul, Miss June, my wife's 
 ailin' turribul," William stopped his work. 
 "She's f ailin' fast, I's fear'd co'se we ain't all- 
 ways hitch' d I worn't quite stylish 'nough for 
 'er but now she's tuck'n sick, I 'pears to jus' 
 suit 'er an' she clings to me jus' like a wiltin 1 
 vine to a ole post." 
 
 129
 
 ON the following morning William 
 did not appear at the usual time. 
 Mrs. Winthrop called Hara to lay 
 the fire in the living room and to 
 perform other small duties which belonged to 
 William. June asked him to sweep the court- 
 yard. This was the signal for open rebellion. 
 "Too much work here ! I find you strong boy I" 
 Word was brought from William that his 
 wife had died during the night. Mrs. Win- 
 130
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 throp and June were deep in conversation over 
 William's affairs. Hara saw his opportunity. 
 He dropped his work "My cousin very sick. I 
 just hear last night." He went to his room to 
 pack. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles put in an appearance inoppor- 
 tunely. She was absorbed in her own affairs. 
 "I am going to pay my social debts," she said, 
 "and I came to ask your advice." They were 
 sitting in the living room. Mrs. Knowles had 
 made herself comfortable on the Davenport with 
 a big pillow at her back. "First, who am I to 
 invite?" Like the majority of people who ask 
 advice, Mrs. Knowles really did not care for it. 
 "I believe I shall be obliged to have three par- 
 ties" she looked troubled one for my Epis- 
 copalian friends one for the Presbyterians I 
 might include the Congregationalists and Bap- 
 tists and Methodists there, possibly and one 
 for my friends well, who are more advanced 
 in religious thought." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop's New England backbone stif- 
 fened. "I never heard of such a thing in all my
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 life!" 
 
 "Well, you see, while one church is as good 
 as another, they have very different ideas about 
 entertainment. Now, I thought of having a 
 Bridge party for the Episcopalians they go in 
 more for style than the others and of course 
 Bridge is the thing now." Mrs. Knowles ad- 
 justed the pillow at her back. She was a trifle 
 disconcerted by Mrs. Winthrop's unsympathetic 
 attitude. But not for long. "The churches that 
 don't altogether approve of cards, compromise, 
 you know, by saying, 'Oh, I only play a little 
 Five Hundred !' " She tossed the last sentence 
 off with a shrug. "So I thought I'd give a Five 
 Hundred party for them" 
 
 June wore a whimsical smile and kept watch 
 of her mother. 
 
 "For my own dear progressive friends, who 
 have their minds on higher things" Mrs. 
 Knowles took on an air of superiority "I 
 thought of having a tea !" 
 
 "But, Mrs. Knowles, you play Bridge a great 
 deal yourself, don't you?" asked June, by way of 
 132
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 bringing her out of the clouds. 
 
 "Yes, I do," she hesitated, "I am sorry to say, 
 I haven't yet reached a plane where I can over- 
 come the temptation to play a good game." 
 
 There was a loud call at the kitchen door. 
 "Veg ee tubbles I" 
 
 June ran off to interview the Chinaman. As 
 she was returning to Mrs. Knowles and the con- 
 sideration of her "functions," she spied William 
 coming through the courtyard. At first, she 
 hardly recognized him. He was dressed in new 
 and shining black. 
 
 "My wife's gone, Miss June!" he said in a 
 hollow voice, as he came toward her. 
 
 "I'm sorry, William, very sorry. Can I do 
 anything for you?" 
 
 "I dunno ez you kin, Miss June, maybe you'd 
 save me some white flowus for t'morrow. She 
 'spects to be buried t'morrow. My Lord! I 
 hopes when / dies, I won't be tuck'n to th' 
 cream'ry th' groun's good 'nough for me. 
 When my wife's buried, I'd like to have ev'ry- 
 thin' ez stylish ez poss'bul. My wife #//ways laid 
 133
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 great sto' on bein' stylish." William looked 
 down at himself. "Doos you think I'm dress' 
 suitabul, Miss June?" 
 
 "Yes, perfectly so, William." 
 
 "I'd jus' hate to wear ennythin' ez would'n' 
 be my wife's tast'," William looked way off into 
 space. "I kin see now ef I'd a humor'd my wife 
 'bout things when she wuz livin' like I have 
 sence she's dead, I could a made hit a heap 
 plesunter for 'er. I'm sorry 'bout leavin my 
 wuk this mawnin'. Maybe Hara'll do hit for 
 me." 
 
 "Hara's going." 
 
 "My daddy! whar's he goin' to?" 
 
 "I don't know, I asked him to sweep the 
 courtyard, and he immediately said his cousin 
 was sick and that he had to go." 
 
 "I bet that woren't th' real reason. Ef th' 
 Lord don't hit Hara wid his trufe, he'll jus' go 
 on a-varigatin' til th' end o' time. You knows 
 little varigashuns is like th' seed of an ugly weed 
 an' ev'ry time you repeats 'em they springs up 
 hit's jus' ez ef you puts water on 'em 
 134
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 fin'lly that ole weed gits to thrivin' til you can't 
 pull it to save you' life 1 Whar is Hara?" 
 
 "He went to pack up," June answered. 
 
 "I'll find 'im." 
 
 Hara, with his suit case in hand, was in the 
 kitchen taking a drink of water. William came 
 in and closed the door. "Hara you's wicked! 
 Miss June's delicat' an' 'er mother's easy opp- 
 set. You's varigatin' 'bout you' cuzzun. What 
 you reck'n th' Lord's goin to do wid you?" 
 
 Hara edged toward the door. 
 
 "Hara, you's bound to pray wid me." He took 
 the astonished Hara by the hand and led him to 
 a chair. He knelt down. Hara hesitated, but 
 the grip on his arm was tight. He finally knelt. 
 Hara had just mopped the floor in an impres- 
 sionistic manner, preparatory to leaving, and in 
 his haste had left little puddles here and there. 
 Into one of these the knees of his best blacks set- 
 tled clammily. 
 
 William began. "Oh Lord, break up th' fol- 
 ly groun' in Hara's haht to-day. Po' out his 
 gall 'pon th' ground an' whar hit fall plant seeds 
 135
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 o' trufe an' make 'em spring up on high so ez 
 Hara'll lose his se'f in th' flowus o' trufe an' 
 nevah tell no mo' lies. Hara ain't got no sick 
 cuzzon you knows he ain't. Make 'im to stay 
 an' take care o' my ladies. William knows th' 
 ole one's teejus but I reck'n you made 'er so an' 
 she can't help it. She mean right, sh' she doos 
 an " 
 
 Hara's knees were thoroughly soaked by this 
 time and he was willing to concede anything if 
 William would only stop praying. "I stay," he 
 said meekly. 
 
 "Amen ! Praise th' Lord !" cried William. 
 
 When they were on their feet, Hara coughed 
 to make William think he had taken cold. 
 
 William produced a flask from his hip pock- 
 et. Holding it out to Hara, he said, "Take a 
 nip!" 
 
 Hara shook his head. His eyelids seemed to 
 move from below like a chicken's. u No, I Chris- 
 tian." 
 
 William knocked at the door of the living 
 room. On being answered, he thrust his head 
 
 136
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 in. "He'll stay!" 
 
 "How about the sick cousin?" Mrs. Win- 
 throp asked. 
 
 "Whales ! He ain't got no sick cuzzun." 
 then in a confidential tone "I tell you-all 
 sump'n bout Hara. I don't zactly like to call 
 'im an out'n out'n liar hit don't soun' jus' 
 Christyun" he hesitated. "but Hara doos 
 remain mostly in th' subu'bs o' trufe." 
 
 The Major called to go home with his wife. 
 He had been down town and heard the latest 
 news: "They've located poor Dodge", he said, 
 "he's sick in the hospital and unconscious. I 
 went around there, left my address, and told 
 them the moment Dodge was conscious to send 
 for me. The whole business is diabolical," the 
 Major thundered.
 
 XVI 
 
 THE Major persuaded his wife to post- 
 pone her sectarian functions in or- 
 der that they might take a trip up 
 the coast, as far as San Francisco, 
 while the country was looking its best. June 
 and Mrs. Winthrop decided to go as well. 
 
 The Major, however, did not make his plans 
 
 until after he had ascertained the exact condition 
 
 of Dodge. The hospital physician told him 
 
 there was no possibility of Dodge's recovery for 
 
 138
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 weeks. But the Major took the precaution of 
 leaving careful instructions just where to wire 
 him in the North. 
 
 "There is one thing I want to explain to you 
 ladies," the Major said when they were seated 
 in the train "I am told that in San Francisco 
 you must never refer to the earthquake, but al- 
 ways to the fire." 
 
 "It's just as well to be diplomatic. There are 
 people who pull down hornets nests on their 
 heads and then wonder why they get stung." 
 The Major's glance implicated his wife. She 
 ignored his accusing look. For her it was enough 
 to be going some place. 
 
 After a time the sea came into view on one 
 side of the train and high hills rose abruptly on 
 the other. 
 
 As they sped along June experienced a sense 
 of relief, like a frightened bird that puts dis- 
 tance between itself and the thing it shuns. 
 
 The picture without grew constantly more 
 beautiful. Now the hills were gorgeous with 
 139
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 wild flowers. There were all the hues of the 
 rainbow. Fleecy white clouds drifted in from the 
 horizon, softened the color of the sea and float- 
 ed over the hilltops. 
 
 "I don't believe there's another ride in the 
 world equal to this," the Major said enthusiast- 
 ically. The journey, of a sudden, suggested an 
 idea to him "I wonder where Oliver's gone !" 
 he looked at the Winthrops across the aisle. Ma- 
 jor Knowles had never taken the trouble between 
 June and Oliver seriously. Mrs. Knowles 
 pressed the Major's foot with her own, but he 
 continued "I went down to the hotel last night 
 to see if he would look after Dodge while I'm 
 away, but the clerk said he'd gone off on a little 
 trip." 
 
 June got up abruptly and announced that she 
 was going to the observation car. 
 
 "I told you !" Mrs. Knowles whispered in the 
 Major's ear. 
 
 "Told me! You told me nothing You 
 only stepped on my foot." 
 
 It had long been dark when they arrived at 
 140
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 San Francisco. As they drove through beauti- 
 ful, brilliantly lighted streets and stopped before 
 a magnificent hotel, Mrs. Winthrop fairly caught 
 her breath "Why, I never expected anything 
 like this!" 
 
 "You thought you were going to drive over 
 piles of debris to a makeshift hotel didn't you?" 
 the Major said as he assisted the ladies out of 
 the carriage. 
 
 "Not exactly but in spite of all that I've 
 read, I wasn't prepared for what I see." 
 
 Later, the Winthrops stood before the win- 
 dow of their room, looking out on the city and 
 the bay in the distance. Myriads of electric lights 
 in every direction including the illumination on 
 the vessels pierced the darkness and gave the 
 impression of an inverted star-lit sky. 
 
 "I've always heard," June said delighting in 
 the picture, "that this is one of the most beauti- 
 ful cities in the world by night." 
 
 The Major and his wife tapped on the Win- 
 throp's door next morning. They were all go- 
 ing down to breakfast together. 
 141
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "I hope you ladies are in fine spirit" the Ma- 
 jor's tone indicated that all was well with him. 
 "First, you must be light hearted and gay when 
 you come to San Francisco, otherwise you're a 
 blot on the landscape; next you must dine 
 here, there everywhere." 
 
 "No doubt all of the famous cafes we used to 
 hear about were destroyed in the earth in the 
 fire" June corrected herself. 
 
 "I can't say," the Major was interested, "but 
 we'll find out. I intend to give you ladies the 
 time of your life the next day or two." 
 
 After breakfast they made a tour of China- 
 town. This was a revelation. No more squalid 
 buildings here ! The "hell breath" wiped them 
 out. In their place were fine, modern commer- 
 cial blocks with the dipped roofs of pagan tem- 
 ples. And such bazaars ! One might travel the 
 world over without seeing any half so wonder- 
 ful. 
 
 "Cities are like people," the Major said as 
 they walked along. "They are influenced by 
 heredity and environment the same as we are. 
 142
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 Take this city, for instance ! It was bred in ro- 
 mance, courage and hardy adventure, with the 
 best blood of many nations. And look at its en- 
 chanting environment," he indicated the sea with 
 a sweep of his arm. "It was impossible to daunt 
 it even by a great calamity." 
 
 Mrs. Knowles interrupted her husband's 
 flight "Major Knowles suppose we go to the 
 theatre tonight." They were just passing one. 
 "Barkis is willin' ", the Major replied, "if it 
 suits the ladies." He turned to the Winthrops. 
 
 "How jolly," was June's prompt reply. Mrs. 
 Winthrop nodded and smiled assent. 
 
 The Major went in to purchase tickets. 
 
 "They're all re-built," he said, as he came 
 out beaming. 
 
 "What's rebuilt Major Knowles," there was 
 scorn in his wife's voice, "I believe this climate 
 has gone to your head." 
 
 "The old cafes, Maria, I inquired about them 
 at the box office we'll go to the Poodle Dog 
 after the theatre tonight." 
 
 143
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "Will I do?" June laughed as she noticed 
 the Major scrutinizing her costume, when they 
 were waiting for a car, later. 
 
 "Do," the Major repeated- "it's heart break- 
 ing to think you must waste a lovely frock like 
 that on an old codger like me But who 
 knows ! You may meet your Fate to-night." 
 
 They were a little late in arriving at the thea- 
 tre. The curtain was just going up when they 
 were shown their seats in the center of the house. 
 A brilliant audience awaited in breathless calm 
 the appearance of a notable actress. 
 
 Not until the end of the first act did June have 
 an opportunity to take cognizance of anything 
 about her. As the lights came on, she glanced 
 toward the boxes on her right. Involuntarily 
 she grasped the arm of the Major, who sat be- 
 side her, as if she felt herself falling into bot- 
 tomless space. He looked up, startled, under 
 the impression that June was ill. But instantly, 
 before he had time to speak, he too caught sight 
 of George Oliver in one of the boxes. He was 
 with a party of friends, apparently. There were 
 144
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 two other men and three young women in the 
 box. The girl who sat beside Oliver was very 
 beautiful. She was fashionably gowned and 
 wore handsome jewels. 
 
 Though the Major was an able tactician, 
 June's whole attitude discomfited him. He 
 cleared his throat the second time and finally 
 said indifferently, "Why there's Oliver!" 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop looked nervously toward her 
 daughter. Mrs. Knowles craned her neck in 
 the direction the Major was looking. 
 
 June quickly recovered her self-possession, at 
 least outwardly. Her thoughts went back to 
 Franklin Dodge in the hospital. She was filled 
 with rage against Oliver to think he, the guilt- 
 ier one, should have run away and left a sick 
 man in such a plight. She watched him fur- 
 tively between acts. He devoted himself assid- 
 uously to the beautiful girl. Oliver, himself, had 
 never looked handsomer. And whenever he 
 spoke June thought she detected a fine shade of 
 sympathy in the girl's face. For the hundredth 
 time June told herself that she hated George 
 145
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 Oliver, and for the hundredth time she knew 
 that it was not true. Since she first met him, she 
 had almost run the gamut of emotions, but jeal- 
 ousy was new to her. 
 
 The curtain fell. The Major hurried them 
 along. 
 
 "Now for the Poodle Dog!" he said, when 
 they were outside. 
 
 "Are we really going there?" June asked with 
 lagging interest. 
 
 "To be sure," the Major signalled a car. 
 
 "How this reminds me of dear old Paris," 
 Mrs. Knowles remarked with an air of satisfac- 
 tion, as they entered the cafe. 
 
 "And dear old San Francisco!" the Major 
 supplemented. 
 
 It was a gay French place with white paint, 
 paneled walls, and innumerable lights. On a 
 high balcony at one end were the musicians. A 
 man's strong tenor voice rose above a staccato 
 accompaniment and filled the room. Only two 
 tables were left, quite close together in a corner. 
 They took the most desirable one where the 
 146
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 musicians could be seen. 
 
 The Major had just given the order when 
 Oliver, and his friends appeared. He no doubt, 
 saw the Major's party for the first time. His 
 embarrassment was apparent. But there was no 
 alternative. He was obliged to take the remain- 
 ing table. 
 
 The Major and Mrs. Knowles nodded. Oli- 
 ver returned their nod. When he sat down June 
 could not see his face, but she could see the face 
 of the beautiful girl. A pink flush diffused her 
 cheeks from time to time. And June felt certain 
 Oliver must be paying her very pretty compli- 
 ments. "If she only knew to what kind of a 
 man she is listening," was June's patronizing 
 mental observation. 
 
 June was gay. She told her best stories, list- 
 ened appreciatively to the Major's, tactfully cov- 
 ered up one or two of Mrs. Knowles' loquacious 
 blunders, and adroitly drew her mother into the 
 talk. 
 
 Evidently Oliver made some excuse to his 
 friends, for after a short time he left with them. 
 H7
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 As he went out, he looked at June their eyes 
 met. It was all in a lightning flash. But June 
 could not hold out against his glance. She knew 
 then and there that she would follow George 
 Oliver to the end of the world, if given the 
 chance. 
 
 I 4 8
 
 XVII 
 
 WHEN June and Mrs. Winthrop ar- 
 rived at home they found Will- 
 iam greatly stirred up over some- 
 thing. 
 
 "I sho's glad to see the blue hen's chick'n an' 
 'er lovely mother. Ef you-all hadn't come home 
 tereckly I'd 'a' had a stroke o' consternation." 
 "What's the trouble?' asked June. 
 "Trubbul!" William repeated, "that Jap's 
 bin so 'portant thar wuz no livin' wid 'im. I got 
 149
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 th' rabbit-foot on Mm tho', when I tole 'im ef he 
 didn't stop bein' so bossy I'd jus' go way an' 
 leave 'im all 'lone in his kitchen lane. I's bin a 
 genterman to Hara but he's jus' like a termater 
 vine he can't stand bein' pomper'd. Ef you 
 treats termaters fine they won't do nothin', but 
 tromp on 'em an' don't water em an' the'll give 
 you fine fruit. Shof" 
 
 "I am sure everything will go better now that 
 we are here," Mrs. Winthrop reassured Will- 
 iam. 
 
 "I tole Hara, you-all wouldn't have no monk- 
 ey biz-ness. He's got my mind so monkey'd up 
 I jus' dunno what t' do. Ef he keep on a-bein' 
 so wicked, he's goin' to git his name in th' noos- 
 papah all wicked folks doos in th' end. Hit 
 knocks th' cover off'n their sins an' shows 'em in 
 a clair light." 
 
 Hara came into the living room where they 
 were talking with a tray of coffee and toast it 
 was yet early morning. He purposely ran 
 into William. Carelessly William remarked, 
 looking in the opposite direction "Folks as is 
 150
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 slough-footed needs a wide path." 
 
 "I reck'n you don't feel like workin' this 
 mawnin', doos you Miss June?" William start- 
 ed for the garden. 
 
 "Yes, I'll be there William, as soon as I finish 
 my toast." 
 
 "You kin weed th' poppy bed," William said 
 importantly, when June came out. He looked 
 at her quizzically, as he remarked innocently 
 "I ain't seen nothin' o' th' young man roun' 
 town sence you-all bin 'way." 
 
 "What young man are you talking about, 
 William?" 
 
 "Why our young man You' young man " 
 
 June spoke sharply "William I told you 
 never to mention his name again." 
 
 "I ain't mention no names Miss June Sho I 
 ain't ! These mawnin's crisps folks up !" Will- 
 iam laughed. "Hits a good sign though accor- 
 dean to my thinkin' Folks ez don't git crisp 
 onct in a while in this worl' is liabul to be an- 
 gels too soon in th' next. 'Taint human natcher 
 to have a pummammt disposishun."
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 June was working diligently. 
 
 "You'd jus' bettah be careful, Miss June, 
 them's young poppies you's pickin' out'n place 
 o' weeds." 
 
 "I'm afraid I am a little tired after my trip," 
 June admitted, as she looked at the uprooted 
 poppies in dismay. 
 
 "You's honest, Miss June. I kin 0//ways jedge 
 folks feelin's by their ambishuns. You kin no 
 mo' do good wuk when you don't feel well 'an 
 you kin put this sunshine in you' pocket. You 
 wuz right to tell William place o' pertendin' you 
 want to stay an tearin' blankets." 
 
 "Tearing blankets?" 
 
 "Ain't you nevar heah 'bout tearin' blankets?" 
 
 June shook her head. 
 
 "Well, onct thar wore an old cullud man 
 down south as lived all by hese'f. He wore a 
 a turribul cowahd an' one night aftah he'd 
 went t' bed long comes a frien' to visit. He 
 ain't see no light so he opens th' do' the latch 
 wore busted and he calls out 'Anybody t' 
 home ?' My Lord ! that old man wore so skeer'd 
 152
 
 'It's a good story, William
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 he nevah did suspishun a frien'. He didn' dare 
 answer nothin' nowhow but he jus' takes a blank- 
 et an' tears hit to let on he's thar an' ain't 
 skeer'd, but he wore. So down south folks says 
 you's tearin' blankets when you's pertendin' 
 Hit's a little" William stammered "like tell- 
 in' a lie." 
 
 June laughed. "It's a good story, William." 
 She had stopped weeding and sat on the grass 
 under a palm. 
 
 "Sho' hits a good story;" William sighed 
 many's the time my wife's said to me "You 
 ain't tearin' blankets is you ?" 
 
 "I's had a mighty sad 'sperience, Miss June, 
 an' I hopes when you marries you'll find some 
 one ez is becomin' to you' disposishum. I loved 
 my wife, but her and me t'gether wore jus' like 
 combinin' these red geranyums an' that megen- 
 tah collud vine thar ! We jus' couldn' match up 
 nohow! I wuz fear'd o' trubbul when I mar- 
 ried 'er cause she'd a bin livin' in Injanneh. Hits 
 mo' safeter t' marry folks ez comes frum 
 Georgy. Injanneh folks sho has got quare no- 
 153
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 tions." William was down on his hands and 
 knees weeding. He stood up and looked down 
 at his dirt-stained clothes. "Whales! I looks 
 ez ef I'd a come frum Injanneh myself!" 
 
 William did not notice the crimson flush on 
 June's face as she said: "Very smart people 
 come from Indiana, William." 
 
 "Whales, they's smaht all right they's too 
 smaht! They's dam yankees!" 
 
 "William, I'm shocked," June tried to look 
 so but her eyes danced with merriment. 
 
 "Oh, my Lord ! forgives me, forgives me til 
 I washes my mouf out." William hurried to- 
 ward a hydrant as fast as his clumsy shoes would 
 let him, and putting his head under the faucet, 
 turned the water into his mouth full force. Ap- 
 pearances indicated that he would have drowned 
 had not June come to the rescue. 
 
 "William William" she called between fits 
 of laughter "stop you'll strangle yourself." 
 
 William got up and wiped the water from his 
 face with his coat sleeve. "I reck'n I ain't bin 
 so wet sence I wore baptized," he said, catching 
 154
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 his breath. "Hit weren't propah to swar in you' 
 presence, Miss June, and I's goin' to let my 
 tongue rust 'n my head 'fore I evah do hit no 
 mo'." 
 
 "I'll forgive you William," June was still 
 laughing, "but I'm going in now." 
 
 She found the evening paper, of the day be- 
 fore, and dropped down on the couch to rest. 
 She glanced over the contents casually. An item 
 arrested her attention: 
 
 "Mr. George Oliver, one of the most popu- 
 lar guests of Hotel returned from the 
 
 North today. He was highly indignant when 
 he learned of the apprehension of Franklin 
 Dodge for the recent burglary. Mr. Oliver says 
 that he is well acquainted with Franklin 
 Dodge, in fact, he defends him as a friend."
 
 XVIII 
 
 IT was Sunday morning. The days had mul- 
 tiplied into a fortnight since June had 
 returned her letter to Jack. 
 
 Mrs. Knowles called with a carriage 
 to take the Winthrops to church. They were a 
 little early in starting and she directed the driver 
 to stop at the post office. 
 
 June went in for the mail. There was noth- 
 ing except a letter for herself, and that was 
 from Jack! She did not want her mother to 
 156
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 know of it. So great was her excitement, she 
 came near tearing the letter into bits, just to keep 
 it from being seen. Quickly slipping it into her 
 blouse, she returned to the carriage. "No mail 
 for you, Mrs. Knowles," she said. She felt guilty 
 enough not to mention her own letter. 
 
 "It is strange we don't hear anything from 
 Jack!" said Mrs. Winthrop, as they drove off. 
 "I do hope he isn't ill!" 
 
 "I hope not." The color mounted to June's 
 cheeks. 
 
 "This is a very pious town," Mrs. Knowles 
 said People were whizzing past in autos and 
 fine carriages, to say nothing of scores of pedes- 
 trians "Now, my dears, even on this lovely 
 day, I venture to say every one of these people 
 are going to church ! They do dress a good 
 deal," she added, as if in reply to a possible crit- 
 icism from Mrs. Winthrop, "but it isn't as 
 though they couldn't afford it." 
 
 "I never have approved of opera clothes for 
 church," Mrs. Winthrop spoke with feeling. 
 
 June took no part in the conversation. She 
 157
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 was trying to think of a way by which she could 
 manage to read Jack's letter. 
 
 The Fates were kind. In this particular 
 church many of the women removed their hats 
 during the service. June wore a creation of lace 
 and pink roses. As she was taking it off, it oc- 
 curred to her that this was her opportunity. The 
 long prayer began. June quietly slipped Jack's 
 letter out from her blouse and transferred it to 
 the crown of her hat. She pulled out a hat pin, 
 and with eyes cast demurely down, cut the 
 end of the envelope. It was a big, blue one. 
 The color showed through the lace crown of 
 her hat. "Jack would have done me a kind- 
 ness," she thought, "if he had used a white en- 
 velope." 
 
 Cautiously she drew out the letter. The 
 church was still, but for the preacher's voice. 
 The paper rattled. June waited a moment. A 
 glance at her mother showed that she was at- 
 tending strictly to her devotions. Mrs. Knowles 
 looked June's way and thought, "I didn't re- 
 member that the crown of June's hat was lined 
 158
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 with blue" then she dropped her eyes again. 
 
 At last June succeeded in unfolding and 
 spreading out the letter. Fortunately Jack wrote 
 a large, clear hand. June's heart beat like a 
 trip-hammer Probably Jack would advise her 
 to go to the authorities, and make a clean breast 
 of the whole affair Then she would have to 
 go to court and testify and her picture would 
 be in the papers ! Her hands trembled so, she 
 could scarcely hold the letter. She began to 
 read: 
 
 with everybody out there? You are right and 
 "Dearest Sis : I have just returned from a hur- 
 ried business trip to the South. I found your 
 letter waiting, inclosing the one misdirected to 
 Boston. In Heaven's name ! what's the matter 
 wrong about George Oliver. He was in my 
 class and did frequently write me during my 
 long illness" 
 
 "Dear me!" June listened "he's got down 
 to the President in his prayer ! I must hurry or 
 he'll be saying 'Amen' !" 
 159 
 
 ,
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "I knew that he was going to California. In 
 fact he was in the city shortly before he left, as 
 he told you, but his plan then was to go to San- 
 ta Barbara. Sister darlint! George Oliver is 
 trying his wings as a playwright. Because so 
 many Western plays have succeeded, he went out 
 to California for 'local color.' The conversa- 
 tion between the two men in the garden which 
 you give in your letter coincides pretty well 
 with a rough sketch Oliver outlined for me be- 
 fore he left. Now Dodge, also of our class, I 
 knew was in Pasadena ; but I said nothing about 
 him to mother and you, because he is sick and so 
 down on his luck. I thought it would only em- 
 barrass him to meet my family. His health went 
 back on him the year he graduated, and he im- 
 mediately started West. The doctors said he had 
 to be out of doors. He was all out of money 
 and he wrote me he'd got a public carriage to 
 drive. I'm mighty sorry you've made such a 
 poor beginning, but it's all over now ! So don't 
 worry, and get well, dear Sis, even if you die in 
 the attempt The burglary of course, that 
 1 60
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 was only a coincidence All well-regulated ho- 
 tels visited by rich tourists have them. Am send- 
 ing a letter on to Oliver by the same mail as 
 yours, asking him to go and see you. I hope 
 the Saints will forgive me for the tale I've told 
 him, in order to excuse your conduct. Oliver 
 is a fascinating chap. So hold on to your heart- 
 strings, Sis dear! Love to mother. 
 "Your own 
 
 "JACK." 
 
 The prayer was ended and so was the letter. 
 During the singing of the hymn, June returned 
 the letter to her blouse. 
 
 Very little she had heard of the prayer or the 
 hymn. But in her heart she gave thanks and 
 sang a song of rejoicing. Jack's letter was too 
 good to be true ! To think that after all she had 
 not given her love to one unworthy. She almost 
 laughed out in sheer delight. Her face was 
 overflowing with happiness. Mrs. Winthrop saw 
 the change to her it was unaccountable. 
 
 When they were at home June put her arms 
 161
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 about her mother's neck "Mother, I did get 
 a letter from Jack this morning." She then told 
 her everything. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop was momentarily silent. She 
 was appalled when she realized what had been 
 in June's mind for so many days. The thought 
 that gave her some comfort she expressed aloud, 
 with an inflection of relief, "But it's all over 
 now" exactly Jack's words. Mrs. Winthrop 
 was seldom demonstrative, but she kissed her 
 daughter tenderly. "The only thing you have 
 to do from now on is to get well," she said. 
 
 Bliss has never for long remained unalloyed 
 since the world began. And when June walked 
 in the garden that afternoon, a little green mon- 
 ster took sudden possession of her. It came in 
 the guise of a vision A vision of the beautiful 
 girl who had sat beside George Oliver in his box 
 at the theatre. 
 
 For the first time June failed to find sympathy 
 among the flowers. They did not respond to her 
 mood. "It is because they know naught of fear 
 and jealousy," she thought. 
 162
 
 XIX 
 
 JUNE was lying in a hammock with a book 
 in her hand. She did not turn the leaves 
 for she was watching a bird just above 
 her head, that was balancing itself on 
 the long, swinging leaf of a palm. 
 
 A pretty picture she made out there under the 
 trees. Her white linen frock was set off by the 
 red hammock. The sunbeams played hide-and- 
 go-seek in her hair. The birds fluttered to and 
 fro, in the top of the tree. 
 163
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 June was in a state of perturbation. That 
 morning a note had come from Mr. Oliver ask- 
 ing if he might call though he neglected to 
 state the time when he wished to do so. And 
 June had sent a formal but favorable reply. 
 What should she say when Mr. Oliver pre- 
 sented himself I- He might come that very af- 
 ternoon. If she only knew what Jack had said 
 to him in his letter, it would be easier. 
 
 William appeared. His rake and shovel made 
 a clatter as he walked. 
 
 June sat up in the hammock. "William 
 you've frightened my bird away!" 
 
 "My Lord ! Miss June, ef I wait ev'ry day 
 for th' birds in this gardin to git thro a-ballun- 
 sin theirse'fs 'fore I went to wuk, hit 'ud be a 
 mighty po' lookin' gardin I reck'n !" He spied 
 June's book. "Don't you know what's goin' to 
 happun to you, Miss June, ef you don't stop 
 you' readin' all th' time?" 
 
 "No, William, I don't." 
 
 "Well, I tells you. Ef you uses you' head so 
 much th' gray mattah'll come thro' an' tun you' 
 164
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 hair." 
 
 "Does the gray matter of your brain ever get 
 into your hair, William?" June involuntarily 
 put her hand to her head. 
 
 "Hit sho'ly do, Miss June, an' ef you' hair 
 tun gray, th' young men won't like you, sho' they 
 won't !" William spoke with the utmost serious- 
 ness. 
 
 "That would be unfortunate !" June laughed. 
 
 "Sho' hit would ! My Lord ! don't you git to 
 be one o' these batchelin maidens! they keeps 
 you' feelin' muss'd up all th' time a-bein' sorry 
 for 'em, 'taint human natcher to live 'lone." He 
 pulled up a plant by raking too emphatically. 
 
 Just then Hara sleek-haired and white- 
 aproned slid into the garden. He presented to 
 June a card on a tray. June looked at the name 
 "Mr. George Oliver" then down at her shoes 
 they didn't match her gown ! "Hara, where's 
 mother?" 
 
 "She go out." 
 
 June ran off to her room to change her shoes. 
 Her heart fairly stood still when she thought of
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 seeing Oliver. 
 
 William smiled as he looked after her. "I 
 reck'n th' young man's tuk'n my eggvise an' 
 tried th' front do' Whales! he's bin long 
 time 'bout it!" 
 
 June found a note pinned on the door of her 
 room. 
 
 "Lady. Please don't open window on this 
 side every day because when open window many 
 flies and the bugs come to your room. It is bad 
 for you not only so. I must pack up cause time 
 too much. 
 
 "Write by Hara." 
 
 Hara studied English diligently this was the 
 result. Evidently to him "pack up" was synony- 
 mous with "good-bye." June tucked the note in 
 her belt much amused. 
 
 The events of the past weeks were crowding 
 
 through June's mind in rapid succession. When 
 
 her hand was on the latch of the living room 
 
 door, she hesitated. Then with great force the 
 
 166
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 thought rushed upon her that if she did not 
 open the door instantly and face George Oliver, 
 she would never have the courage to do so. The 
 consequence was she appeared so suddenly in 
 the room as to give Oliver the impression that 
 she was blown in by a chance gust of wind. 
 
 "I'm glad to see you," June put out her 
 hand, nervously. 
 
 "The only reason I can really believe it, is be- 
 cause you say so," Oliver's smile was magical. 
 "And do I find your mother at home," he asked 
 with measured dignity. "Your boy made no re- 
 ply when I asked for 'the ladies'." 
 
 June explained that her mother was away. 
 And the talk continued along conventional lines. 
 June was self-conscious, and even Oliver was ob- 
 viously ill at ease. 
 
 Presently he said "There's been great ex- 
 citement in the hotel today. They caught the 
 men last night in Los Angeles who committed 
 the robbery nearly all of the Mansfield jewelry 
 was recovered." 
 
 June flushed, but she saw by Oliver's manner 
 167
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 that whatever else Jack had told Oliver he had 
 not told him the burglar story. "How is Mr. 
 Dodge," June ventured, uncertain of her 
 ground. 
 
 "No better, poor fellow, all that I'm praying 
 for is that he will get well and never know any 
 one was mean enough to insinuate that he could 
 have taken the jewelry." 
 
 June winced. 
 
 "Didn't Jack ever tell you anything about 
 Franklin Dodge?" Oliver's face was troubled. 
 
 June shook her head in several different di- 
 rections "I don't seem- 1 to remember." 
 
 "It was this way," Oliver explained "I knew 
 Dodge at college, we were good friends, but 
 when I came out here. after he had lost his 
 health and his money he would never come 
 into the hotel to see me. So we frequently vis- 
 ited in the garden, evenings. I often consulted 
 him about matters important to me. Never 
 in my life," Oliver pitched his voice higher, 
 "have I felt as I did when I came home from 
 the North and found how things stood with 
 168
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 Dodge." 
 
 June fidgeted and took another chair. 
 
 Oliver dropped his voice to a more confiden- 
 tial tone "My brother's fiancee and a party 
 of friends who have been travelling around the 
 world, were to spend a few days in San Francis- 
 co, and I ran up to show them the sights." 
 
 "Oh!" the exclamation came forth without 
 June's intending it! "She's a very beautiful 
 girl". this confusedly "and blushes prettily." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you saw her! her cheeks were like 
 red roses whenever I mentioned my brother, but 
 I didn't know that it was evident at a distance;" 
 Oliver laughed. 
 
 June looked up at the clock as it warned four. 
 
 "Were you going out?" asked Oliver. 
 
 "Not until later. I promised Mrs. Knowles 
 to go to the greenhouse and order her some flow- 
 ers." 
 
 "Good, I'll take you now, if I may; the ma- 
 chine is outside." 
 
 June went to get her hat and gloves. She was 
 so excited she jabbed the hat pins into her head 
 169
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 and tried to put both gloves on one hand. 
 
 "Where first, Mr. Oliver," the chauffeur 
 asked. 
 
 Oliver looked to June for the order. 
 
 "I have to go to the Oak Knoll florists," she 
 said, "and please don't let me forget, Mr. Oliver 
 five dozen carnations as many pink buds as 
 are to be had and plenty of greenery." 
 
 "Everything pink, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, you know Mrs. Knowles is giving a se- 
 ries of sectarian functions. The flowers, I sup- 
 pose, are meant to coincide with the religious 
 views. Tomorrow it's Bridge next Five Hun- 
 dred' and then a tea." 
 
 "Well, that's a new fad to me !" 
 
 "And to me! but Mrs. Knowles collects 
 fads." 
 
 "Do you know what that woman reminds me 
 of?" said Oliver, "a very good looking vase 
 without a flower in it." 
 
 "I'll tell you how / shall always think of her?" 
 said June, "as some one with whom I had a 
 listening acquaintance." 
 
 170
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "A listening acquaintance ! that's good." 
 They had reached the florists. June ran in 
 to see about the order. 
 
 When she came out, Oliver looked at his 
 watch. "Suppose we take a run down to old 
 San Gabriel and see the Mission!" 
 
 "I'm afraid it will take too long," June ob- 
 jected. 
 
 "Oh, no, we can easily make it in an hour." 
 June consented. She had forgotten that there 
 was any trouble in the world. And Oliver had 
 regained his usual easy, self-confident manner. 
 
 San Gabriel is a queer foreign looking little 
 town of one street where low crumbling adobe 
 houses leaned heavily upon one another. In the 
 doorways swarthy specimens of humanity were 
 idly standing a mixture of Spanish, Mexican 
 and Indian types. The loungers on the low ve- 
 randas did not change their picturesquely lazy 
 attitudes or even lift their eyes, as the car passed. 
 Intruders in "red devils" came so often now-a- 
 days ! then too, it was some trouble to look up 1 
 171
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 The old Mission stands at the end of the 
 street. It seems to hold itself in a dignified and 
 aristocratic aloofness from the town. Great 
 pepper trees shade its ancient front Im- 
 mense cacti spread their protecting arms over 
 the wall. 
 
 "Take the machine across there in the shade," 
 Oliver said to the chauffeur, "and don't leave 
 it!" 
 
 A handsome young Spanish boy came out of 
 the Parish-house to unlock the church. A piece 
 of white paper was tacked on the door. "Con- 
 fessions daily in Spanish and English," June 
 read aloud. Oliver, at her side looked not at 
 the paper but down at the girl's face. 
 
 "We'll just look around by ourselves, if you 
 please." Oliver handed the guide the admit- 
 tance fee, with the addition of a generous tip. 
 The boy looked at the money in his palm, smiled 
 his thanks and disappeared. 
 
 June was already wandering about the musty 
 old church. "See this wonderful old altar!" 
 
 "It's more effective from here," Oliver sank 
 172
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 down on a low bench. "Come and look at it 
 from here." 
 
 June came, but with evident reluctance, and 
 sat down at the further end of the bench. They 
 were both perfectly silent, and did not look at 
 each other. 
 
 Then Oliver slipped along the bench close to 
 the girl's side. "June dear," he said, "it's time 
 for confessions. Mine cannot wait any longer 
 and will be in English I love you now more 
 than I ever loved you in my life promise noth- 
 ing shall ever come between us again!" 
 
 June fumbled the leaves of an old prayer book 
 with trembling fingers but she did not answer 
 Oliver He leaned over, and took her hand. 
 She did not resist. 
 
 "How could you have believed that dreadful 
 tale some one told you about my playing you 
 against another girl, in order to win her?" 
 
 The prayer book fell from June's lap with a 
 thud on the floor. So this was Jack's excuse for 
 her conduct ! 
 
 "Some time" Oliver went on "I won't ask
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 it now you'll tell me who told you !" 
 
 "If if only you would never, never ask 
 me !" June caught her breath as if she felt her- 
 self being precipitated into deep water. 
 
 "I'll agree even to that, darling girl, much as 
 I wish to know, if you'll promise to love me." 
 
 "I'll promise anything if you'll never ask 
 who told me" June's eyes were near to 
 tragedy. 
 
 Oliver took her in his arms and kissed away 
 the suspicion of tears "Promise then, that 
 some day not too far distant you will go up 
 to the altar with me and let me declare you my 
 wife before the whole world." 
 
 "Are you very, very certain that you love me 
 enough for that?" June raised her eyes. 
 
 Oliver looked into them intently. "My answer 
 is May I ask your mother for you tonight?" 
 
 A sunbeam stole in and touched June's face 
 it was as beautiful as that of the Madonna above 
 her "Yes," she whispered. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr. Oliver, but you've left your 
 hat in the church," said the chauffeur as he stop-
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 ped the car before the church door. He looked 
 at June's flushed cheeks and smiled significantly. 
 
 175
 
 XX 
 
 WHEN June heard the chug chug- 
 ging of Oliver's machine that 
 evening, she ran into her room 
 and fastened the door. 
 
 That was the belli That was Hara flip- 
 flapping to the door in his flat shoes Now he 
 was flip-flapping back again to find her mother 
 There was the murmur of voices Where 
 were they sitting? or were they still standing? 
 Oh no, of course they couldn't be standing, it 
 176
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 was such a long time since George came in ! the 
 clock was just striking when he rang the bell! 
 She looked at her watch. He had been there 
 just four minutes! She took a book and tried 
 to read. She went over to her desk and began 
 a letter to Jack and ended by upsetting the ink. 
 She sat down by her dressing table and did her 
 hair over. She pulled a pink rose out of the 
 vase and tried its effect in different places in her 
 hair Wouldn't they ever be through talk- 
 ing. 
 
 After what seemed to her a very long time she 
 boldly unlocked the door, as much as to say, 
 "What in the world am I afraid of!" 
 
 She tiptoed across the patio and stood where 
 she could peep through the French doors into 
 the living room. 
 
 Her mother was standing. George was sit- 
 ting there, looking very sober, and seemed not 
 to notice that her mother had risen. He sud- 
 denly came to his feet. With a smile 'twas 
 a pretty sad sort of a smile her mother gave 
 Oliver her hand and left the room. 
 177
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 June quickly slipped through the door to 
 Oliver's side, questioning him with her eyes as 
 she did so. 
 
 "Your mother makes a condition, June dear," 
 he put his arm about her. 
 
 "Is it my health," her lip trembled. 
 
 "No, not your health sweetheart," he drew 
 their chairs before the open fire. "I was not go- 
 ing to tell you about a play I've written until I 
 knew whether it would succeed I should not 
 have told your mother. only she seemed un- 
 willing to give you to me because well She 
 said even if father has plenty of money, she 
 wants to be certain that I am able to do some- 
 thing myself. And now she makes her consent 
 conditional on the acceptance of my play." 
 
 Oliver was a melancholy picture as he sat 
 there looking into the fire. "If it doesn't suc- 
 ceed !" He took the poker and propped a glor- 
 ious castle of coals that was about to fall into 
 the ashes. 
 
 "It will succeed if not now another time 
 I've faith enough in you for that, love Is 
 178
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 the play finished?" 
 
 "Yes, and gone to New York, but not 
 named." 
 
 "George," June spoke his Christian name with 
 some embarrassment, "let me name your play! 
 Call it The Blue Hen's Chicken!' " 
 
 "Where on earth did you get that name?" 
 
 "Why, that's what William calls me." Then 
 she told him William's blue-hen-story. 
 
 "That settles it! The Blue Hen's Chick- 
 en' it is! I'll send the name on to New York!" 
 
 There's one question I've just been aching to 
 ask you, George Oliver ! How did it come out 
 after the jewels were stolen? Did you put the 
 blame on Thompson? wasn't his name Thomp- 
 son?" 
 
 Oliver's face assumed a blank expression, as 
 though he were deaf and couldn't make out, at 
 first what June said. It finally dawned on 
 him. 
 
 "June Winthrop," he dropped the poker and 
 the castle fell "are you a mind reader? How 
 on earth did you find out about my plot? Did 
 179
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 Dodge why, no, of course he didn't." 
 
 "Oh, you don't believe then in 'woman's in- 
 tuition'?" 
 
 The pink rose in June's hair nodded coquet- 
 tishly. "You see," she admitted, "I was sit- 
 ting" Then she told him what she heard 
 him say to Dodge under the palm tree. 
 
 "You witch! I wish I had known you were 
 there ! I'd have moved round to the other side 
 of that palm pretty quick ! But great heavens ! 
 girl" it had never occurred to Oliver before 
 "if some one who never knew me had heard 
 that talk, they might have thought / stole the 
 Mansfield jewelry." 
 
 "Yes they might have," June fidgeted un- 
 easily. 
 
 "Poor Dodge ! they suspected him just be- 
 cause some one saw him leaving the garden that 
 night. What did you think Dodge and I were 
 talking about?" Oliver was holding both of 
 June's hands and looking into her face. 
 
 "I," she laughed out merrily, "why, I thought 
 you were burglars!" 
 
 180
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "No, really, what did you think?" 
 "Why really, I thought I was the heroine of 
 a cheap melodrama, and that the villains were 
 close at hand, and there was no possible means 
 of escape." 
 
 "Anyway, it's lucky it was you, girl I" 
 "Yes, very lucky," June's conscience smote 
 her. 
 
 The grandfather's clock doled out the hour. 
 Oliver rose to go. "Please say 'good night' to 
 your mother for me, sweetheart"' 
 
 William passed along the court-yard just then. 
 Through the French doors, he saw a picture that 
 drew forth his characteristic exclamation 
 "Whales!" he said under his breath, "I weren't 
 'spectin' it quite so soon !"
 
 B 
 
 XXI 
 
 EST wishes to you, Miss Junel" 
 William took off his old straw hat 
 with a sweep as he saw June com- 
 ing into the garden. 
 
 "Don't I always have your best wishes?" 
 "Sho! but this 's a most pertick'ler mawnin', 
 ain't it!" 
 
 "Why, William?" 
 
 "I don't say jus' w'y I says, ain't it?" He 
 went on quickly. His voice grew tender. "Did 
 182
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 you evah see th' sun so bright 'fo'? Did th' 
 flowus evah look so purty? Did the birds evah 
 sing so sweet? 'Sposin' you rake heah, Miss 
 June, while I spade roun' them white lilies We 
 might be needin' em most enny day." 
 
 "What are you talking about, William?" 
 "What I'm talkin' 'bout? Ain't it what you's 
 talkin' 'bout?" William held his head on one 
 side and looked at June in his quizzical way. 
 "To be honest, Miss June, 'twore this way. Last 
 night jus' fo' I wore a-gittin to bed, I recomem- 
 bers that I's forgot to tun off th' waters 
 'twouldn' a done for 'em to be a-runnin' all night 
 on that rose bed thar woren't no yuther way 
 I wore 'bliged to come back heah to see 'bout 
 it. While I wore a-crossin' th' co't-yahd, my 
 'tention wore 'tract'd by th' 'lective lights in th' 
 livin' room an' when I looks in I sees th' mos' 
 butifulest sight! I sho' that I'd had a reveal- 
 ashun ! Thar wore a butifu' young lady a-lookin' 
 into a han'some young man's eyes an' he wore 
 a-lookin' in 'ers an' they wore a-holdin' han's 
 
 183
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "William, it wasn't a bit nice of you to be 
 looking through the door that way!" 
 
 "My daddy! th' Lord's give me eyes, Miss 
 June." 
 
 June said nothing, but went on with her 
 work. 
 
 "William ain't goin' to say nothin' to nobody. 
 I sho' doos 'gratch'late you' lovah an' I reckn's 
 you's found a good man co'se Mr. Oliveh do 
 seem young but I reck'n he'll outgrow hit." 
 June suppressed a smile. "You jus' take my 
 eggvise, Miss June. William knows mos' men 
 snaps off mighty easy ! When you gits married 
 you jus' give you' man th' easy bit. When you 
 wants 'im to do sump'n, don't you juk so hard 
 that his mouf'll bleed! You jus' swerve 'im 
 a little this way an' a little that way" William 
 held out his arms as if he were driving "En 
 first you knows you's got 'im trottin' th' gait 
 you wants. Now my wife I ain't a bein' dis- 
 respectabul to th' dead she wore a po' driver ! 
 she didn' nevah let you forgit you wore a bein' 
 drove." William began spading again. "I 
 184
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 hopes, Miss June, you won't be a-gettin' married 
 'fore these lilies bloom!" 
 
 "Why William, it isn't settled yet?" 
 
 "Ain't settled yitf" 
 
 "I mean the time." 
 
 "My Lord, I hopes hit ain't goin' to be one 
 o' these long 'gagements folks gits so tired of 
 one yuther when they waits so longl" 
 
 June laughed. "If they get tired when they 
 are engaged, how will it be when they are mar- 
 ried?" 
 
 "Oh, that's diffrunt! When you's onct mar- 
 ried you ain't 'spected to be a-smilin' and polite 
 all th' time but when you's only 'gag'd you's 
 boun' to keep up a sweet mouf !' He bent down 
 and carefully scraped the dirt from his shoes. 
 "I reck'n 'taint no 'fairs o' William's hit's 
 mighty 'portant tho' 'bout th' flowus! What's 
 to prevent a-settin' th' day? I kin hole th' lilies 
 back er I kin fo'se em!" 
 
 "Well you see" June was not quite sure that 
 she ought to confide in William "Mr. Oliver 
 writes and mother won't consent to our being 
 185
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 married until he has made a success of it." 
 
 William set his spade in the ground and sat 
 on the handle. "Ain't that quare now ! I knows 
 some mighty fine folks ez couldn' scarsely write 
 their names an' agin I knowed a man down in 
 Georgy ez cud write fine po'try an' my Lord ! 
 he jus' weren't good for nothin'. But Misteh 
 Oliveh doos seem to have plenty o' money." 
 
 "That's his father's money." 
 
 "Whales! money's money! Ef he kin have 
 all he wants to use, whats th' diffrunce?" Will- 
 iam was ready to defend Oliver's cause with 
 spirit. 
 
 "Whar's Mr. Oliveh bin livin', Miss June?" 
 
 "Indiana, William." 
 
 "My Lord! But I ain't nevah goin' to 
 mind ef he doss come from Injanneh ef you jus' 
 loves 'im. Ennyways you'se so sweet you'll 
 make up for th' short sock." 
 
 "The what, William?" 
 
 "You ain't nevah hear 'bout th' ole woman 
 ez wore knittin' a pair o' socks an' th' first one 
 she git too long an' then she make the yuther 
 186
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 too short for to balluns up. 'Cordin' to my ob- 
 swervashun when it comes to marryin' hits jus* 
 like th' socks one of 'em has to make up for 
 what th' yuther ain't Mister Oliveh doos seem 
 mighty nice co'se I don't knows 'im well, but I 
 feels I doos, cause I's allways seen his fleckshun 
 in you' eyes." 
 
 There was a twinkle in William's own eyes. 
 "There's one thing 'bout it, Miss June, Writin' 
 or no writin', I'd ruther you'd marry Mister 
 Oliveh 'an some ole man. I reck'n it's the' cli- 
 mate out heah but folks ez is young an' soota- 
 bul to one yuther nevah seems to hitch up ! My 
 Lord, ole men a marryin' young girls an' vices 
 an' verses!" William tightened up his suspend- 
 ers and laughed quietly "Money! I reck'n 
 But th' purtiest rose in this garden didn't nevah 
 bloom to be tempted by gold I mean you, 
 Miss June." 
 
 "I'm afraid I'm not exactly a rose, William, 
 but you're right about the gold." 
 
 "Ain't you a 'Merkin Bewty' rose, Miss 
 June? Sho' an' you might be a Bride rose most 
 187
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 enny day. Don't you worrits, Miss June; Will- 
 iam's goin' to pray 'at the blue hen's chick'n gets 
 'er young man I reck'n maybe he'll do some- 
 thin' 'sides pray." 
 
 188
 
 , .. - -i., . f 
 
 XXII 
 
 
 MRS. WINTHROP went about with 
 a preoccupied air. When she 
 withheld her consent to the an- 
 nouncement of the engagement, 
 she had said to herself "In making this condi- 
 tion, I shall try the young man's mettle." Be- 
 sides she was not able to adapt herself so quick- 
 ly to the sudden change of events. 
 
 June was very restless, and felt a strange chok- 
 ing in her throat, when she tried to talk with 
 189
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 her mother. 
 
 Even William seemed under a cloud, as he 
 went about his garden work. 
 
 The morning was beautiful. Oliver had tel- 
 ephoned to know whether June and her mother 
 would go for a spin. Mrs. Winthrop begged to 
 be excused, because of household duties, but June 
 accepted with a smiling nod at the telephone, as 
 if it had been Oliver himself. 
 
 William waited till June and Oliver were out 
 of sight. He went up to the house and asked 
 for his mistress. "You fine her in big room!" 
 was Hara's answer. 
 
 William tapped softly at the living room door. 
 Mrs. Winthrop opened it. William bowed very 
 respectfully. "I asks you' pahdun, Miss Win- 
 throp, but William has most 'portant mattahs to 
 speak to you 'bout ef you'd jus' step into th' 
 co'tyahd for a little while." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop knew that William had been 
 at heavy expense at the time of his wife's sick- 
 ness and death. Very likely he had gone into 
 debt and wanted to ask for a little help. 
 190
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 When she was seated in the court-yard, she 
 said kindly, "Are you in need of money, Will- 
 iam?" 
 
 "Money !" William repeated, as if he were not 
 sure he had heard right. "No, Miss Winthrop, 
 'tworen't 'bout money William wore goin' to 
 speak. I cancers all my debts ev'ry month I 
 reck'n hit'll take some time to 'splain." He 
 shifted from one foot to the other. He put his 
 hand out against the trunk of the palm, as if to 
 brace himself for the work of love he had un- 
 dertaken. "I hopes you ain't goin' to think Will- 
 iam's interferin' wid you' 'fairs, Miss Winthrop. 
 William loves you-all. William 'ud lay down 
 hislifeforyou-alll" 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop looked intently at William. 
 She could not doubt his love and loyalty. 
 
 "Hits 'bout Miss June, William, wants to 
 speak, Miss Winthrop." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop's face took on a new look of 
 
 anxiety. William saw it. "Miss June's sho' 
 
 improvin' sence she came heah 'taint 'bout 'er 
 
 health hits 'bout 'er happiness, William would 
 
 191
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 speak ef she's kep' happy, I reck'n she'll git 
 well." 
 
 A cloud settled over Mrs. Winthrop's face. 
 William felt that it promised ill for him. He 
 said to himself "I'll jus' cast out all fear! "I 
 wuz askin' Miss June," he went on, "when she 
 'spected to step off I wore oncertain whether 
 I'd bettah fo'se th' lilies or jus' let 'em come on 
 natch'ral for th' weddin'." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop gave an indignant start. 
 
 "An' Miss June" William's eye followed the 
 sunshine which was spattering the front of Mrs. 
 Winthrop's black silk "she woren't a-thinkin 
 ez she wuz talkin' to ole William she tole me 
 that 'er mother had 'er reesuns an' maybe she 
 wouldn't git married ennyways 'tall. She seem 
 dretfu' 'scourag'd an' down haht'd!" William 
 dropped his eyes. " 'Peard to me like Miss June 
 thot ez you thot ez Mistah Oliveh didn't have 
 'nough money." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop moved her lips as if she were 
 going to speak, but she still kept silent. 
 
 "William don't mean to be disrespectabul 
 192
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 Miss Winthrop But you' sho' ain't a-goin' to 
 let money stan' in th' way o' happiness ! When 
 you gits on th' Lord's scales to be weighed for 
 'ternity, you don't want to be thrown out 'count 
 o' money notions." William breathed hard. His 
 hand trembled, where it rested against the palm. 
 William don't jus' want to say hit out an' out, 
 Miss Winthrop, but you sho' is gittin' pinker 
 an' pinker ev'ry day." 
 
 "Pinker!" It was the first word Mrs. Win- 
 throp had spoken. 
 
 "Hits th' trufe, Miss Winthrop! You sees 
 them white roses out'n thar thay ain't so pow'- 
 ful ole ! but they's sho' on th' opposite side o' 
 youth! an' they's gittin' pink roun' the edges 
 an' when they onct gits started they grows pink- 
 er'n pinker, 'til bime by they jus' won't be thar 
 'tall! Hit's th' Lord's way thar ain't nothin' 
 in this worP goin' to live 0//ways. Some day 
 Miss June's a-goin' to be left 'lone in this big 
 worl'. Hit ud be a comfort to you to know 
 that a good man wore a lookin' aftah you' little 
 chic'n?" 
 
 193
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 William stood some moments with his head 
 bowed. He walked solemnly out of the court- 
 yard and closed the gate. He looked back as 
 he went down the garden path. Mrs. Win- 
 throp was still sitting there, looking off into 
 space. 
 
 Meantime June and Oliver for whom William 
 had bravely spoken, had crossed the Arroyo. On 
 the bridge they stopped to look at the stream 
 rushing noisily over its stony bed. 
 
 "It isn't an Arroyo Seco now, is it?" said 
 June. 
 
 They climbed the heights on the opposite side. 
 They followed the country road on through 
 fields, that were once part of a famous ranch. 
 The wild flowers glowed on every side. 
 
 "Well, here we are at another church 1" said 
 Oliver. 
 
 There it was nestled down among the hills 
 A little English country church! With space 
 about it grass and trees God's sunshine 
 streaming down upon it. 
 
 They left their car and as they passed through 
 194
 
 "Some day Miss June's a'goin' to be 
 in this big worl'." 
 
 left 'lone
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 the old-time stile, June said, "Listen, they're 
 reading prayers! It must be some special ser- 
 vice. Can't we step in very quietly?" 
 
 They slipped into seats at the back, circum- 
 spectly. June joined reverently in the prayers. 
 Oliver however could not resist the temptation 
 to let his eyes rove over the quaint and charm- 
 ing interior. 
 
 They had joined the worshippers who were 
 quietly leaving the portal. Oliver turned to a 
 white-haired old man at his elbow. "What 
 church is this, Sir?" 
 
 "This? Oh, this is the Church of the An- 
 gels!" 
 
 "A strange place for a church," said Oliver. 
 
 "It's a memorial," the white-haired man ex- 
 plained, "erected by the owner of this ranch to 
 the memory of his mother and father." 
 
 The people took their different ways home- 
 ward over the hills. 
 
 "What a romantic place," June looked back 
 at the pretty church, as they drove away. 
 
 "Yes and just the place for a wedding, darl- 
 195
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 ing girl. I'm afraid the church will have fallen 
 into decay before my play is accepted," Oliver 
 sighed. "I had another talk with your mother 
 yesterday while you were away and begged 
 her to let us be married at Easter. but no, dear, 
 I couldn't convert her to our way of think- 
 ing." 
 
 "The Winthrops never change their minds 
 that is, I've never known mother to." 
 
 "You think, then, there's no hope of our be- 
 ing married soon unless the play succeeds?" 
 
 "Just one dear old William promised to 
 pray for us."
 
 XXIII 
 
 WILLIAM'S words of warning had 
 their effect upon Mrs. Winthrop. 
 As the days went by they gained 
 force. "Some day Miss June's 
 a-goin' to be left 'lone, in this big worl'" ob- 
 sessed her. 
 
 It was now a little more than a fortnight be- 
 fore Easter. The lilies in William's garden were 
 as high as his head. Their bloom showed faint- 
 ly. They stood there in stately rows like tall 
 197
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 candles newly-lighted. The orange trees near 
 the bungalow bore their golden fruit. Many of 
 the branches were white with the waxen flowers. 
 The air was heavy with their fragrance. A 
 wealth of roses everywhere and everywhere 
 the songs of birds. 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop and June were reading in the 
 courtyard. They heard voices it was the Ma- 
 jor and Mrs. Knowles. June put down her book 
 to go to meet them. 
 
 Her mother put out her hand to stop her. 
 "Daughter !" Mrs. Winthrop's voice trembled. 
 "I shall" she sat up straight in her chair 
 "announce your engagement, to the Major and 
 Maria." 
 
 "Mother, mother, you blessed mother!" June 
 flung her arms round her mother's neck. 
 
 "I have decided that it is best," Mrs. Win- 
 throp's voice was broken "but you will never 
 know what it costs me until you have a daugh- 
 ter of your own. If anything should happen to 
 me" 
 
 "Nothing in this world can happen to you, 
 198
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 mother dear! I will never let anything harm 
 you I" They heard the rustle of Mrs. Knowles' 
 skirts. "Don't tell them just yet!" June whis- 
 pered. "I'm going to call up George, do let him 
 know it first!" 
 
 The Major was all out of breath. After the 
 greetings were over, Mrs. Knowles said, "I don't 
 believe this climate agrees with the Major any 
 longer." 
 
 The Major smiled rather sardonically. 
 
 "When one gets to our time of life," Mrs. 
 Knowles went on, "nothing but a change now 
 and then keeps one alive." 
 
 "Keeps you alive, you mean Maria !" 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop rung for afternoon tea. When 
 it was brought, Mrs. Knowles rambled on about 
 the relative advantages of renting a house or 
 living at a hotel. "No," she said emphatically, 
 "I can see no advantage or economy in having 
 your own home." 
 
 "To us though, Maria," said Mrs. Winthrop, 
 a home a real home means so much that 
 we are going to start a new one !" Then she 
 199
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 told them of June's engagement. 
 
 June herself appeared at the door. 
 
 "Your mother has just told us!" said Mrs. 
 Knowles, as she set down her tea cup. She put 
 her arm round June and kissed her effusively. 
 
 The Major gallantly kissed June's hand. 
 "Oliver is as fine a fellow as I ever knew!" 
 
 "Indeed he is!" Mrs. Knowles chimed in. 
 "You're in luck to get him !" 
 
 "You mean, Maria, Oliver's lucky to get 
 June." The Major spoke emphatically. "I 
 shall always like Oliver for what he's done for 
 Dodge." 
 
 "And what is that," asked Mrs. Winthrop. 
 
 "You don't know?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Why, Dodge told me himself yesterday, that 
 Oliver gave him the money to come out here 
 with that he has paid all his hospital expenses 
 and has gotten him a position as overseer on 
 a big ranch." 
 
 "It's just like him," June was excited "You'll 
 both come to the wedding?" 
 200
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 "Yes, dear if it's soon." Mrs. Knowles 
 sighed. "If it keeps on so warm, we shall have 
 to be moving on." 
 
 June glanced quickly at her mother. 
 
 "Just after Easter, we think," Mrs. Winthrbp 
 spoke as if the details had been settled months 
 ago. 
 
 The Major leaned back in his chair. He 
 looked thoughtfully at June's mother. Then he 
 said. "How well I remember your wedding- 
 day, my dear Mrs. Winthrop I" 
 
 "Yes, of course you do, you were best man." 
 
 "And how frantic the General was, when be- 
 tween us, we lost the ring at the last moment 
 what a time we had finding it!" The Major 
 laughed uproariously and slapped his lame knee 
 "I always had a suspicion, Mrs. Winthrop, 
 that it was a pretty hard struggle for your moth- 
 er to give you up." 
 
 A curious little smile trembled on June's lips. 
 
 The Major saw it. "Come here, you little 
 rogue ! I remember very well the day you were 
 born. I met the General crossing the Common. 
 201
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 He walked right past me pretending not to see 
 me ! Then he turned back. Tm not speaking 
 to ordinary mortals to-day! We have a young 
 lady up at our house. As she brought in the 
 month, we are going to call her June.' Dear old 
 fellow! wasn't he stepping high that day, 
 though!" 
 
 An impatient little tap of Mrs. Knowles' 
 foot brought the Major back from the happy 
 past. He rose. He seized June's hands 
 "And now that little baby girl has grown up 
 and she's asking us to her wedding 1 Why, I 
 wouldn't miss it for worlds. 
 
 202
 
 J. W 
 
 .-'V... >-ii!^lit\-i,Pti P - VY U 
 
 XXIV 
 
 IT was late in the afternoon. William's 
 lilies were banked in front of the altar 
 at the Church of the Angels. Long 
 sprays of white roses from the patio had 
 been twined about the chancel-rail. The wed- 
 ding was to take place the next morning. 
 
 At the bungalow all was being made ready 
 for the wedding breakfast. William was cut- 
 ting the pink roses June's favorites. June was 
 following him about with a basket on her arm. 
 203
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 "I reck'n William's done 'bout all he kin for 
 you, Miss June." William said sadly, "hit's 
 'bout th' last time he'll be goin' roun' heah wid 
 th' blue hen's chic'n." 
 
 "That reminds me, William, I haven't told 
 you that Mr. George has given his play that 
 name." 
 
 "His play! Whales! I hopes he ain't one 
 o' them playacters, Miss June 1" 
 
 "Why, don't you remember I told you he 
 was a writer?" 
 
 "William recomembers you wore sayin' ez 
 how you' mother weren't sals' fied 'bout his writ- 
 in' somehow. I didn't know ez you had that in 
 you' mind. My daddy! whar did he git that 
 name?" 
 
 "I gave it to him. I told him that's what you 
 call me." 
 
 William was pleased. "Ez long ez he's got 
 th' blue hen's chick'n, I s'pose he might ez well 
 git th' name wid 'er." 
 
 June laughed. "William, we feel dreadfully 
 to leave you behind, and I've been thinking that 
 204
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 perhaps when we get East, Mr. George's father 
 might like to have you on his estate. Would 
 you come, if I sent for you?" 
 
 William shook his head. "No, Miss June, 
 thanks you jus' th' same. I's bin heah so long 
 I's a natif! an' I wouldn't like to be goin' to a 
 new country an' bein' a toorist agin but Will' 
 iam'll keep a-hopin' ez you'll come back heah." 
 
 "I certainly shall want to. I can't bear to 
 leave you and my garden." 
 
 "Th' gardin and me '11 be mighty des'lut aftah 
 t'morrow' th' house all shet up an' th' lilies 
 gone an' no pleasunt voices round I" William 
 brushed his sleeve across his eyes, as they passed 
 under an orange tree. "Th' spidus webs is jus' 
 turribul this Spring!" he said. 
 
 Jack was coming. He would arrive in time 
 for dinner. June was giving a few final touches 
 to the big room. Mrs. Winthrop was resting in 
 an easy chair. There was a quick tap at the 
 door. Oliver came in. He walked straight 
 across the room to Mrs. Winthrop, and thrust a 
 205
 
 A WINTER ROMANCE 
 
 telegram into her hand. He bent down over her. 
 "It's accepted! Have I fairly won my prize, 
 mother?' 
 
 "My dear boy I" she said and kissed him. 
 
 June stepped into the patio to take an armful 
 of smilax from William. 
 
 "I reck'n its gittin 'bout my suppah time," 
 said William. He pulled out an old silver watch 
 by a worn leather cord. "This ole timepiece's 
 'bout all William's got left to be comp'any," he 
 said sorrowfully. "T'day I's jus' bin done out 
 wid it I Hits bin a tickin' in my pocket so fast, 
 jus' wearin' th' life out o' me cause I know'd 
 you' time heah wore a-growin' shorter'n shorter 
 An' now, Mistah George, he's a-takin' th' 
 little blue hen's chick'n way wid 'im ! But he's 
 a gentleman! an' he's got so much spirit he 
 makes plesyoor spring up wharevah he go! 
 an' Miss June you's plant'd seeds o' kin'ness 
 ev'rywhars, an' I hopes when you gits up thar," 
 he pointed upward, "I hopes you'll have jus' one 
 o' th' finest gardins they's got thar!" William 
 looked off at the crimson and gold glowing in 
 206
 
 IN POPPY LAND 
 
 the West "That sun 'pears to be slow goin* 
 down t'night. I reck'n its like me, hit wanted 
 to stay wid you ez long ez possible. Good' 
 night, Miss June. I'll see you-all in th' mawn- 
 
 207
 
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 Los Angeles 
 
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