OCR Text |
Show Three Umbrellas By SIDNEY M. WILDHOLT ((. 1926, Western Newspaper Union.) TT WAS raining outside: a gray day of storm. An old-fashioned umbrella stand, witli the dented tin catch-basin at the bottom, stood In a gloomy hall, holding hold-ing two specimens of mankind's chief protection against rain a black cotton cot-ton one, with a gnatrled and a curved wooden handle, and a dainty red silk one. A small, white hand reached out in the uncertain light of the dim hall, grasped the white and red handle of l lie silk umbrella, drew it stealthily from its furniture-sheath of walnut, and moved cautiously with It toward the door, which let a wisp of a girl out into the rain. She came suddenly upon her destination destina-tion a damp corner, with a young man standing impatiently on it, holding a black umbrella big enough for two. "Did you get it?" he demanded with masculine abruptness. "Yes," breathlessly. Timidly, "a bit hesitantly. "And and did you get it''" Quite obviously a very different "It" from his. He nodded. With a significant protective pro-tective gesture he took her small umbrella, um-brella, closed It, and tucking It securely se-curely under an arm, he led her away. Back in the dim hall, with its funny, old-fashioned stand, the deserted storm-stick that had seen younger and better days did not remain neglected for long. A scrawny hand, with the bone-fingered talons of age, clasped It tensely, almost angrily, and snatched It out in haste. The search through the damp-darkened streets was fruitless. Weary, the old man returned to the dim hall nnd to his favorite armchair. "She's gone," he murmured at Intervals, In-tervals, "gone." A door slammed In the carefree exuberance ex-uberance of youth. The old man sat up sternly. "Who's there?" No sound, no motion, came from the black pit beyond the door. "Who's there?" louder. A whisper of sound and then the answer, an-swer, soft and timidly hesitant : "Me, d-daddy it's me " Instead of stiffening normally, the stern form of the old man grew less I .nut. "Thyra come in come in You you came back?" Uncertainly. A brief pause. "Yes w-1 " a a vague stumble over the preposition, "came back to tell you" "Not to tell me you were going away, Thyra?" Sudden alarm quickened quick-ened the man's high-pitched voice. A longer pause. "May I have a match, d-daddy?" The fumbled scratching of a brimstone brim-stone tip, a lifted lamp chimney and there was much-needed light. Two had entered ; the other was the young man of the street corner, still holding the two umbrellas, black and red. An explanation was indisputably in order. "Tom, please." The girl held out a hand to the young man. One by one, he gave her two papers legal documents, the first "it" and second, respectively. She spread them on the table. "My birtli certificate, d-dad " she balked a little at the name. "I found it." The old man's deep-sunken eyes glittered a moment, but the gleam faded. "Then you know?" he asked, with slow distinctness. "Only that you're not my daddy," a bit coldly. The weary head fell forward weakly, weak-ly, bowing in penitent shame. "I have been harsh, Thyra forgive me." Impulsively Thyra leaned forward and kissed the wrinkled forehead, brushing away stray wisps of hair with a soothing hand. "It was in that room " the old man pointed directly overhead. "Your mother a childhood friend " be told the story In broken reminiscence. "I took her In, broken-hearted and' alone. When she " he paused, omitting the word. "She had asked me If I would take care of you like a father," the wavering voice broke, "and I I " "It's ail right d-daddy," came the soft, soothing voice. "But you you ran away?" he accused, ac-cused, remembering. She let fall her eyes with winsome embarrassment. "Yes, I I had to, j d-daddy." j The old man became aware of the third occupant of the room, who was still standing, awkwurdly holding two umbrellas. "Who " Thyra hastened to fill the breach. "The other paper our marriage -license, d-daddy." Totteringly, the shaggy figure got to his feet. Slowly the old man turned. A wan smile overspread the bewhls-kered bewhls-kered mouth. "You've come back." said the lips. He turned again to the young man. "The umbrellas, lad. reaching for them. "Let me take them." He picked up his own, by the chair. Again in the dim hall, a gaunt hand placed three umbrellas first a black, then a red. and another black In the funny old st;iod. He gazed at 'hem In the hazy ginw from lhe inner room. A pushing f;r.j.'cr mused the red and younger black 'o lean tog,.ier caressingly, caress-ingly, lie smiied d -ligl.tedly. - "Perhaps." he murmured. "later on There's mom -yet for another one a little umbrella, too," musingly "nappy. |