Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 89, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 April 1910 — NEIGHBORS. [ARTICLE]

NEIGHBORS.

«»w Think* That Wiahea ■omctlme* Come True. Mrs. Enderby let her sewing drop unheeded into her lap with a happy little airh of contentment. All the rest of the long-June morning stretched before her in lovely profusion, hers to ■pend as she chose, for Bobs was packed off to his nap, Katle-in-tbe-Kltchen was wrestling stoutly with domestic problems, and Mr. Enderby had gone to town, not to return until the midnight train. "And I can have dinner any time I like," she chanted happily to herself, not that she was dilatory by nature, or that her husband fretted unduly at delays. She was merely thankful for an unaccustomed sense of security. “Oh, my lovely, long, leisurely day!” she added, letting her eyes sweep to the distant, low-ranging mountains, purple in the morning glow. Her {Aince wandered to the large white house at her own hilltop; then the brightness of her look faded a little, and a worried frqyn crossed her foreheal. “The new people are moving in today," she said, half aloud. “Will they be anything like the Babbitts, I wonder? I hope”—she rocked restlessly—“l mean, I wish if there are fairies one would come this very minute and give me three wishes. I’d lump them all in one, and wish for a real, truly neighbor to drop right down here this minute. No, not to drop down,” she added, sinking back in her chair as she remembered Mrs. Babbitt’s wide circumference. “She’d shake the porch to pieces. But I mean a woman my own age, a friend I could ‘neighbor,’ ” she went on, half aloud, for, like Alice in Wonderland, she had a habit of selfconversation. “Mrs. Babbitt would never let me do anything for her, yet she lavished her possessions on me. She never understood that sometimes It’s blessed to receive, too.” Her cheeks flushed uncomfortably as she remembered how her simple gift of cinnamon roses had been returned by a glorious bunch of Jacqueminots, how her cake had been patronized, and ■he herself urged “not to overdo with just one servant, my dear,” and, worst of all, how Mrs. Babbitt never, never ran out of supplies and forgot to order them at the last minute. Mts. Enderby bent over her seam again, and longed for a fairy more than ever. AM at once there was a swishing of ■ilk skirts, and she looked up to see a young woman, quite out of breath and very pretty, who held out a bowl beseechingly. “Will you lend me some coffee?” ■he pleaded. “I’m Mrs. Coolidge, your new next-door neighbor, you know. We’re moving, and I forgot to order any—Mr. Coolidge says I always do—and I knew from the nice look of your house you’d let me have some. No, Til just wait here and look at your lovely view. I believe It’s better than ours.” Mrs. Enderby returned with a bowlful of coffee, a heartful of happiness, too, to find her guest bending lovingly over the old-fashioned roses. “May I cut some?” she asked, half timidly. * *<Oh, will you, really?” cried Mrs. Coolidge. "I love them so. They grew all round my home when I was a child, and now all of ours are such grand, formal flowers. When her neighbor had disappeared up the long drive, her arms full of coffee and roses, Mrs. Enderby took’up her sewing again with another happy ■lgh. “And to think there are people who don’t believe in fairies!” she said.