A June morning.
The sky, this morning, is the bluest blue; the air delicious. There is
fragrance in it, of buds, new grass and flowers. Also, in the air, is
the joy of living, and the promise of even better things to come.
But Ruth Heywood, sitting upon the front door step of her father's
house, seemed oblivious to the surrounding rapture. Her thoughts were
solemn. Half an hour ago she had witnessed a marriage in her own
parlor. Her father, a clergyman, had united two lovers in the bonds
of matrimony. The ceremony had deeply impressed the youthful witness,
curled up in the big arm chair near the window. And after the departure
of the happy couple she had been still further, and yet more deeply
impressed, by her father's explanation of what the ceremony meant.
Now, sitting in the sunshine on the front steps, her youthful mind was
struggling with the marriage problem. It certainly seemed a grand idea,
this bringing together of a man and woman to love each other dearly
all the rest of their lives, with no drawback, and to make each other
supremely happy, not only in this life but in the life to come. The
more she thought and the deeper she went into this inviting subject the
better she liked it. And she wondered why anybody should delay an hour
before entering the holy state.
From this maiden dream of everlasting bliss she was gently awakened
by peculiar sounds. These sounds came from the lips of a jubilant
boy, dancing along the center of the street. If explanation were
necessary the sounds might be interpreted as a song of praise to the
Creator for producing such a perfect day in such a wondrous world.
To further emphasize the joy of living the boy's arms were swinging
above his head and his eyes were heavenward. He wore a blue and white
checkered shirt-waist, brown knickers, stockings of the same color and
copper-toed shoes. His hat, being a nuisance, had been left at home.
With him was a dog. And the dog, even more than his master, seemed
intoxicated with present conditions. The fact of being alive had
stirred him to a wild activity. At dazzling speed he was describing
circles about the size of a circus ring around the singing boy. He
traveled like a thing possessed and with a velocity somewhat faster
than a shooting star. And the eyes of Ruth Heywood, although young and
active, blinked as they tried to follow him.
She called.
"Drowsy!"
Cyrus stopped, turned about and made a sweeping bow. When he
straightened up the maiden beckoned, and said, "Come here."
As he seated himself beside her, she asked:
"Were you ever married, Cyrus?"
For an instant the boy was taken aback. As he turned and looked into
the maiden's eyes, ready to carry on the joke, he saw those eyes were
more than serious: they were almost tragic in their earnestness.
"Why, of course not! I'm too young."
"No, nobody is too young. It's a lovely, beautiful thing and everybody
ought to do it."
Cyrus was clearly surprised; but, always polite to ladies, he nodded
his appreciation of the new truth. "I didn't know. I thought only grown
folks got married."
"No; it is everybody's duty. And it's my duty and yours, too."