epilogue-第2节
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got it； and no miracle was ever more miraculous than that。
When she used to be working in the fields on her father's
Minnesota farm； she couldn't help believing that she
would some day have to do with the 〃wonderful；〃 though
her chances for it had then looked so slender。
The morning after the sociable； Tillie； curled up in bed；
was roused by the rattle of the milk cart down the street。
Then a neighbor boy came down the sidewalk outside her
window； singing 〃Casey Jones〃 as if he hadn't a care in
the world。 By this time Tillie was wide awake。 The
twin's question； and the subsequent laughter； came back
with a faint twinge。 Tillie knew she was short…sighted
about facts； but this time Why； there were her scrap…
books； full of newspaper and magazine articles about Thea；
and half…tone cuts； snap…shots of her on land and sea； and
photographs of her in all her parts。 There； in her parlor； was
the phonograph that had come from Mr。 Ottenburg last
June； on Thea's birthday； she had only to go in there and
turn it on； and let Thea speak for herself。 Tillie finished
brushing her white hair and laughed as she gave it a smart
turn and brought it into her usual French twist。 If Moon…
stone doubted； she had evidence enough： in black and
white； in figures and photographs； evidence in hair lines
on metal disks。 For one who had so often seen two and
two as making six； who had so often stretched a point；
added a touch； in the good game of trying to make the
world brighter than it is； there was positive bliss in having
such deep foundations of support。 She need never tremble
in secret lest she might sometime stretch a point in Thea's
favor。 Oh； the comfort； to a soul too zealous； of having
at last a rose so red it could not be further painted； a lily
so truly auriferous that no amount of gilding could exceed
the fact！
Tillie hurried from her bedroom； threw open the doors
and windows； and let the morning breeze blow through
her little house。
In two minutes a cob fire was roaring in her kitchen
stove； in five she had set the table。 At her household work
Tillie was always bursting out with shrill snatches of song；
and as suddenly stopping； right in the middle of a phrase；
as if she had been struck dumb。 She emerged upon the
back porch with one of these bursts； and bent down to get
her butter and cream out of the ice…box。 The cat was
purring on the bench and the morning…glories were thrust…
ing their purple trumpets in through the lattice…work in a
friendly way。 They reminded Tillie that while she was
waiting for the coffee to boil she could get some flowers
for her breakfast table。 She looked out uncertainly at a
bush of sweet…briar that grew at the edge of her yard； off
across the long grass and the tomato vines。 The front
porch； to be sure； was dripping with crimson ramblers
that ought to be cut for the good of the vines； but never
the rose in the hand for Tillie！ She caught up the kitchen
shears and off she dashed through grass and drenching dew。
Snip； snip； the short…stemmed sweet…briars； salmon…pink
and golden…hearted； with their unique and inimitable woody
perfume； fell into her apron。
After she put the eggs and toast on the table； Tillie
took last Sunday's New York paper from the rack beside
the cupboard and sat down； with it for company。 In the
Sunday paper there was always a page about singers； even
in summer； and that week the musical page began with a
sympathetic account of Madame Kronborg's first per…
formance of ISOLDE in London。 At the end of the notice；
there was a short paragraph about her having sung for the
King at Buckingham Palace and having been presented
with a jewel by His Majesty。
Singing for the King； but Goodness！ she was always
doing things like that！ Tillie tossed her head。 All through
breakfast she kept sticking her sharp nose down into the
glass of sweet…briar； with the old incredible lightness of
heart； like a child's balloon tugging at its string。 She had
always insisted； against all evidence； that life was full of
fairy tales； and it was！ She had been feeling a little down；
perhaps； and Thea had answered her； from so far。 From
a common person； now； if you were troubled； you might
get a letter。 But Thea almost never wrote letters。 She
answered every one； friends and foes alike； in one way；
her own way； her only way。 Once more Tillie has to re…
mind herself that it is all true； and is not something she has
〃made up。〃 Like all romancers； she is a little terrified at
seeing one of her wildest conceits admitted by the hard…
headed world。 If our dream comes true； we are almost
afraid to believe it； for that is the best of all good fortune；
and nothing better can happen to any of us。
When the people on Sylvester Street tire of Tillie's
stories； she goes over to the east part of town； where her
legends are always welcome。 The humbler people of
Moonstone still live there。 The same little houses sit
under the cottonwoods； the men smoke their pipes in the
front doorways； and the women do their washing in the
back yard。 The older women remember Thea； and how
she used to come kicking her express wagon along the side…
walk； steering by the tongue and holding Thor in her lap。
Not much happens in that part of town； and the people
have long memories。 A boy grew up on one of those
streets who went to Omaha and built up a great business；
and is now very rich。 Moonstone people always speak of
him and Thea together； as examples of Moonstone enter…
prise。 They do； however； talk oftener of Thea。 A voice has
even a wider appeal than a fortune。 It is the one gift that
all creatures would possess if they could。 Dreary Maggie
Evans； dead nearly twenty years； is still remembered be…
cause Thea sang at her funeral 〃after she had studied in
Chicago。〃
However much they may smile at her； the old inhabi…
tants would miss Tillie。 Her stories give them something
to talk about and to conjecture about； cut off as they are
from the restless currents of the world。 The many naked
little sandbars which lie between Venice and the main…
land； in the seemingly stagnant water of the lagoons； are
made habitable and wholesome only because； every night；
a foot and a half of tide creeps in from the sea and winds
its fresh brine up through all that network of shining water…
ways。 So； into all the little settlements of quiet people；
tidings of what their boys and girls are doing in the world
bring real refreshment； bring to the old； memories； and
to the young； dreams。
THE END
