Life — April 2, 1914 — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“LE RSE An Easter Flirtation ARTH was asleep in the wood. It was very quiet, yet there was a dim stirring in the air, moving leaves, maybe, or the slim stems of grass bursting from the sod in delightful impressionistic greens. A baby brook burbled somewhere in the far-away and birds cooed politely, without quite twittering, for it was yet carly, and they did not wish to waken the Earth until they had their cue. i They waited for the sun to lift its glittering baton until all the dew- drops, lit up like tiny incandescents on bush and tangled vine. A frog fell from the top of a flat stone with a sudden splash, and a robin gurgled in laughter to its mate. Still the Earth slept on. Then the sun touched the trees; the bird band began, very low at first, an overture in which you could hear the dawn break. Down Center of the wood came Springtime. Each year she studies her entrance with new light effects and floral nov- elties. This year, for instance, the birds showed a decided tendency toward the new school of music. Springtime, nothing if not dramatic, stepped softly. Her arms were full of pussy-willows and blossomed apple branches. Her thin, white gown was pocketed daringly to her knees, over- flowing with daisjes, lilacs, pansies and green vines that fluttered off on either side as she stepped over the moss, smiling happily and yet a bit mischievously, as she recognized Earth engaged in the last moments of his Winter dream. Carefully selecting an especially furry pussy willow she began to tickle the sleeper caressingly in sensitive portions of the neck and the vicinity of the nose. He stirred slightly and spoke in his sleep, repellently. Then she began a laughing Her- ricky lilt with a “tra la” at the end of every line. She sang this in a hushed whisper close to Earth's ear. By this time he was secretly regard- ing her, disapprovingly, from the cor- ner of one eye, breathing deeply mean- while to convey the impression of heavy slumber. Possibly she guessed it, for with a sudden bird call to the tree branches overhead there was a scurry of leaves and wings that sent the dewdrops down in a torrent. The entire or- chestra broke into a tumult. They fairly thundered. Spring raising the apple blossoms above her head flung the drenched boughs smartly at Earth, rousing him suddenly from his apparent daze. He uttered a most unpicturesque sniffling sneeze. He sat up, picking the twigs out of his hair. Springtime laughed in his face. “Oh, it's you again, is it?” he asked. He yawned accentedly and looked up in an annoyed way at the birds as though he suspected them of the recent assault. Spring flushed somewhat and care- fully pinned some pansies behind her ear in a way that showed her arms to the best advantage. “Huh—huh!” she said; “aren't you glad?” There was a certain childlike appeal in her tone that won him to gentleness. He decided to be kind, but firm. “Well—the fact is, I thought when we parted last year, there about the middle of May, we had fully decided that this—this affair must end?” She fluttered her eyelashes and leaned over to brush a straying cater- pillar from his forehead. Then she laughed in an amused way, looking directly in his eyes for a moment. “But we always say that, Earth! We've been swearing to part forever each Maytime, and it’s always the same beautiful old lie. Now isn’t it?” “It’s not my fault,” he grumbled. “Why do you come?” “ Because I know you are here wait- ing.” “Sleeping comfortably.” “ Dreaming?" “Oh tush!” “Of me?” “What a foolish little thing you are, Springtime. You will never grow old?” Absent-mindedly he picked up one of the fuzzy willows and began to trace a pattern down her arm, follow- ing a shadow from the trees. He was visibly weakening, as a trained nurse would say. Suddenly she drew her knees into the circle of her arms and from her skirtful of flowers drew out a little nosegay. “Here's a surprise for you, Earth,” she began; “you know I always bring you the latest news? Here are some double forget-me-nots, white California violets, giant mignonette and a new thornless moss-rosebud!” He smiled for the first time. “ You gathered them——” he questioned eagerly. “T got them.” “In this wood?” “No—in a box.” He frowned terribly. “ Will that man Burbank leave us nothing to be imagined?” he sighed ; then added, see- ing her tearfully threatening, “If they would only leave things as they are, so far as J am concerned. If you don’t mind, I'd rather have one of those big golden pansies.” She took one from her hair and pre- sented it to him with an elaborate and slightly mocking curtsy. Their fin- ger-tips touched and he caught her hand clumsily in his. He regarded it steadfastly. She didn’t speak. She conveyed an impression of offended silence. He was falling into the old net again just as he had for centuries. And he knew it. It was useless to fight against it. “Do you know, Springtime,” he be- comichooks.gom