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Show Bft 7W NEIGHBOR pL . "What am I doing with this spade .i and pick, in the hot sun?" It was a j& frowsy old woman that spoke. "You're jpf the new minister, ain't you? Well, '" it's a story that's bound to come to !$$" your ears sooner or later, and you . t might's well hear the right of it. I'm going to move the graveyard wall three , feet farther south. ia "Did you notice a white house on ,$& your left before you started up the tL . graveyard hill? And a little gray house i next to it? Well, the white house was ' John Mark's house, him lying in this 'i , grave here, and the gray one is where ' I live. John Mark's been lying here i since twenty years back. He died of l a sunstroke the month before we was " to be married. I'd a lived in that white ,v house if he'd lived. Pattersons rented IK it then, but they moved out two years If vA L ago and it stood empty a spell. K "Then one day last March a Strang- 1 y, er moved in. She was a little, "sharp- nosed woman. I went to see her the first day she came, and I couldn't make her out. I didn't stay long, and when I got up to go, I dropped my handkerchief. I stooped to pick it up, but she was too quick for me. She x snatched it up, blew her nose on it and said: 'Excuse me, but this seems to be my handkerchief!" I was too p dumfounded to speak. I went out of iVt that house kind of dazed. Not that I Mi minded so much, thought it was one of ffc. my best, but the nerve of her! Laugh Ujku if you want, but it left me feeling .& queer! $ "That was in March. We had an ' early spring last year, if you remem- '( ber, and all the fruit trees was out ' early. My white crab, right next my V neighbor's yard, was as pretty as I r ever saw it. White at first, it was, j then pinker every day. I used to lay awake at night thinking I could smell the blossoms through the window, and "v thinking how pretty it looked. Then j, one morning if I didn't see my neigh- ijjjf mor up a ladder, breaking great sprays P" - and branches off crack crack and ( tossing them onto the ground. 5jL "I called out: 'What you doing up that crabapple tree?' and she says, I $ peeking down through the leaves, and , speaking as smooth as cream: 'I thought they'd brighten up the house, , u and what's the use in letting them fade $ on the tree? Besides, I never was a J I hand to put up jell.' But she came ' down the ladder, all the same, and I 1a went Indoors too mad to speak. fcff; We didn't meet again close byT" I ( began to hate the sight of her, and ,$,'' took to using the side door, away from 1 my neighbor's place. By and by it was Decoration Day. I got up a little af- , ter daybreak to gather my white lilacs. '1 They are the finest anywheres around here. i , "Well, when I got out into the yard ' ' every lilac was gone. There wasn't , a flower left in the place. I knew well enough who had stolen them! There was nothing to do but gather every bud and leaf I could find, for I couldn't let the day go by without putting something some-thing on John Mark's grave, though never before did he have just leaves. When I got half way up the hill I could i i see somebody kneeling at this very grave. I could tell it way off by the poplars I planted here when he died. I'd come here every Decoration Day for twenty years with my white lilacs, and now somebody was here ahead of me! "When I got closer I saw it was my neighbor. I went right up to where she was kneeling and said: 'What right have you got here at this grave?' She looked at me and then got up. There was a mean look and a smart look in her eye. She said: 'My cousin on my mother's side, John Mark, lies here. I'm his next of kin, and so I come to fix things up for Decoration Day. But I must say I think this lot looks kind of bare. I think I'll plant nasturtiums and petunias here next week." "1 saw red for a minute, then I felt tears running over my face they was mad tears, but I couldn't bear to have her see me cry and know she had made me, and I rushed right across the grave, trampling the lilacs all I could, and I slashed right in her face with the branches I was carrying. Her hair streamed down over her eyes, and I could see it was grayer than mine. She turned and ran off, I following her. I chased her down the hill and every time I got close enough I slashed at her with the branches. When she turned into the lane she tripped and fell, but I whipped her up again. "The leaves were most all whipped off by this time and she ran as if the devil was after her. The sand made heavy running, and I was half choked with the dust she raised, but I kept close to her heels, lashing out, half-blind. half-blind. At last she reached her gate. I staggered up the walk, but she was too quick for me she slammed the door in my face and locked it. I sat down on her front steps to get my breath. I wondered what I would of done if she hadn't got inside. I felt satisfied as it was, and went off chuckling. chuck-ling. I'd paid her out for once. "We never met nor spoke again. She died in the fall. It was a comfort to me all winter to look over at John Mark's house and know it was empty. This spring I gardened in peace and watched my crab-tree bloom, knowing nobody would break the blossoms off, and I watched my lilacs come out, and saw they would be in their prime for Decoration Day, as usual. "I was up early to pick the flowers, and came up to the grave, the first time since last summer, And what do you think! There was not one but two graves in the lot! His grave is right up against the graveyard wall here, so there was only room for one grave beside him, antf that was where I'd always planned 10 lay. At first it gave me a turn, like I was already dead, to see that grave there! There something made me feel I was still alive. 1 roused myself to read the name on the board. It was my neighbors' neigh-bors' name. She beat me in the end. "I've talked to the sexton about it, and he says he wunt move her. She really was his next of kin, and it's against the law to dig up bodies. So I am tearing down the wall on the other side, so's to make the lot wider. It is hot weather for digging, though, ain't it?" By Marion Allen Seiffert, in Town Talk. |