The Arkansas Farmer

Page Twelve
THE ARKANSAS FARMER
July 15, 1931

WHEN A MAN HATES

Ermen Roberts, swinging along the hot, dusty highway, took in all the familiar scenes. He knew the course and 'twas not a lonesome road. Home coming was great--for a boy who had been away two long years. Two years chucked full of hard studying, going to bed hungry at times; without means to pay for a haircut, and some of the college boys referring to him as "Wooly". Oh, it took patience--the winning, but Ermen was nearing home now and another year would look brighter--after talking things over with dad. Dad couldn't hand out cash to him, but he knew how to help him get it.

Ermen stopped alongside of Mr. Corley's orchard to gather a few plums. There were June apples too, but they would have apples for him at home. Big, juicy June apples right from the orchard. He would sit on the cool front porch and eat; and talk to mother, dad and all the children; Buster would even bring him a drink from the old cedar bucket. Why, mother had had that old bucket for years ever since he was a little boy. And, surely that had been a long time ago, for he was a man now. Only two more years and he would be ready to land a job. That would mean after all debts were paid, he and Nona would be married--Nona so sweet. They had been sweethearts for so long. Somehow the blackberries hanging in clusters reminded him of her. They had picked them by the buckets full many times--together. Too bad they were in different schools. But, her parents, in fear of a hasty marriage, sent her to a different place. It really had been a task--putting her off. She had pleaded with him to marry and both shoulder the load--toward building a home. But no he must be financially able to give her the best

He was passing Pappy and Mammy Cowen's place now. Wonder if they would know him?

"Hello, Pappy?" Ermen called out boyishly. Pappy craned forward.
"Why, bless me, Mammy if it ain't Ermen Roberts" Pappy said, toddling out to the road. "Seems like a man of your standin' ought to be ridin'" he said; teasing.

"Should be Pappy. But a man of my standing barely makes ends meet," holding to Pappy's hand in a long, friendly grasp.

"Goin' on to the top, eh, Ermen? Always counted on you making a mark in the world. You never did belong to this set o' boys around here."

"Yeah. You're a fine boy, Ermen," patting him on the back, "not one of these kind college makes a fool of."

Then Mammy came out all fresh and crisp in her black and white checked gingham and greeted Ermen as if he were her own. Ermen found it hard to get away from the old couple. But off at a distance he could see a little white house snuggled closely among shady maples. That was home! Ermen's heart reached out more and more for it and the people there who were so good.

"Hello, Mr. Taft," Ermen threw up a hand in friendly salutation as he passed another one of the neighbors.

"Why, hello, Ermen," Mr. Taft answered back. "Come by for awhile. Get yourself a cool drink."

"Thanks. Like to, but I'll have to be going on to see the folks. 'Sorta homesick to see all of them again."

"Yes, yes, I know, but do come by to see us Ermen 'fore you go back to school. Always thought bout as much of you as I did my own Harry."

"Sure, Mr. Taft. I'll be around."

Gee! This was great. Everyone glad to see him back. Now, when Nona arrived everything would be complete. Ermen's face was flushed. His eyes had a 'sort of twinkle in them as he turned off the highway into the narrow, cool lane leading up to the house. There it stood, just above the meadow -the little house that had sheltered him through happy childhood. He was crossing the stream now. He had caught minnows out of it many a day. This was the orchard. Trees bending low with apples, peaches, and everything good! He could almost smell mother's plum pudding cooking now. A lump began rising in Ermen's throat. It didn't seem to get any easier as he drew nearer. There was mother out among her flowers. She hadn't seen him yet. Ermen walked softly. How dear she looked; but how aged. Her hair was white. How it matched with the daisies that were white as the fresh fallen snow.

Ermen made a quaint little noise. He smiled as he watched her. She raised up slowly, looking this way and that. Then--.

"My boy, she cried, "my little tousled head boy!" Swinging the old yard gate wide open, she ran, arms outstretched to meet him.

Ermen felt tears. Mother's tears trickling down his neck as she held him in her brown sunburned arms. Ermen would have to wait awhile before he could talk. Somehow, later he managed to say, "Mother. Sweet little mother."

"Say it again Ermen," she whispered, "for it is my little baby boy I hear talking. He used to say those very words every time he came in from play."

'Twas great fun as mother hid Ermen in the front bed room to surprise the family. He could see them coming in from work as he peeped out the window. Dad was in the lead. Ermen felt strangely sad as he gazed upon the stooped, bent figure. There were locks of gray peeping from under the straw hat. How Ermen longed to give that old dad a grip of the hand, look square into his eyes and tell him it wouldn't be long now 'till he could repay him--just a little. Give him a few comforts before---before dad had to go. Ermen swallowed hard. Then came Buster, leading old Dolly up to the trough, and grinning to mother who stood in the doorway. Ermen grinned too. Buster was only a kid, but he would make a fine man someday. Rosemary, dark and slim, but growing prettier each day. Gee! He'd spend all kinds of money, giving her an education. Nona had already said she must live with them. There came Jo, Betty and Herb, bringing up the rear. All of the kiddies were helping dad shoulder the load. How he'd like to squeeze their necks. Every one of them. But mother kept coming to the door, laughing gleefully over the trick and commanding him to keep still.

At last they were all seated at the round massive dining table. Ermen could hear the bustle, the chatter. It all breathed of home. He could scent the new baked bread.

"Why the extra plate, mother?" he heard Buster ask.

"Oh, I've had a hunch that Ermen might come home tonight."

They were all laughing at mother when Ermen walked in.

"Hully gee!"

"Big brother!"

"Ermen!"

Then dad stood up. He held out a rough, brown hand to his boy. Dad tried awfully hard to smile, but Ermen saw a wrinkle in his forehead: he couldn't risk his voice, and there was a tender, far-away look in dad's eyes. Dad was glad. Told him he was glad after they all began eating.

"Mother, these eats. No one like you in the world." Ermen ate like a starving man. Jo told the family, afterward. When supper was over they all sat, just as Ermen had dreamed, out on the long front porch. Vines were clinging fast to one end of the porch. The old lilac bush nearby. The soft song of a bird made the evening more homelike.

They talked of the farm. The children's schooling --the incomes and the work Ermen would take up after finishing school. As Buster passed the peaches around he looked at Ermen and grinned.

"When is Nona coming home?" he asked.

"Almost any day," was Ermen's grave reply. At that moment Mother Roberts announced that all beds were ready. A low goodnight was spoken, and half dreaming ere he knew it, Ermen was in his own bed at home.

Oh, the days that followed were fun. Ermen busied himself in the fields--about the place with mother. When Nona arrived--well things would be grand. But why did Nona not come? She had told him all along that she would spend the summer at home. Her folks were expecting her; They had told him so the day before. Ermen wondered what kept her as he tramped in from the hay field one day.

"There's a letter for you in your room, son," Mrs. Roberts called from the kitchen.

Ermen bounded through the doorway of his room, whirled his hat into one corner and seized the letter. His heart was pounding--his eyes sparkling. Nona would be here soon! What if she were coming tonight? He would borrow Pete's car and meet her at the station. He and Pete were chums years ago. Pete wouldn't refuse him at such an important time.

But --oh! A feeling of nausea passed over him as he read. His hands were trembling, the room seemed to grow dark. .. No! This couldn't be--from--Nona. He sat still for a few moments, then went back to the first of the letter. It read:

"Dear Friend Ermen:

"I'm married. Please do not let this wreck you. I'm really sorry to do you this way, but haven't I given you years? Waiting-waiting for you to attain the desired amount of money to begin our home.

"At last I've found a Mr. Z. T. Ward, who like myself, believes in starting married life on love . . . making the money afterward.

"Sincerely,

"(Mrs.) Nona Ward."

Ermen sat, pallid, desolate, staring into space. The very outside world was rocking. School seemed to be a dim recollection a reflection of mockery--even his dreams that had been so high, were fading-dying. The letter dropped to the floor. There it lay so cold, satirical-the words. Across the room, on the old-time dresser was her folder-laughing at him in his weakness. The other picture by her side--a Christ-like face of purity and love that never faileth--mother. Ermen felt surge of blinding tears. How natural it would seem to go to mother in this hour of trouble: lay his head in her lap and pour out to her his anguish. He had done this many times when a little boy--but now --not even mother could help him. He read the letter again and again, until a fire of hate burned in his soul. So this is what a woman can do--and Ermen laughed. A bitter laugh, full of hatred along with an irresistible desire to get revenge, somehow, sometime he would get it. The boy went out of Ermen. A man took his place as he arose with a slow measured step and picked up the letter. He tore it into shreds-to be burned later. Even home looked desolate as he crossed the threshold. He must tell mother--in some way she could understand without questioning. He could count on mother always.

She was making one of those good butter-rolls. His favorite dish. How dear she looked bending over the flour board rolling the dough in even strokes. Her face was flushed. She looked up smiling.

"Son, I suppose Nona will make more up-to-date dishes than rolls--when she becomes your cook."

"Nona will never be my cook, mother. Guess I'm yours forever," trying hard to smile, as he spoke.

"Then-- she isn't coming?"

"No. She is married to another" Ermen found it hard to say, even to mother.

"Then you are lucky, son, to find out her weakness beforehand. Why, a girl so fickle would, perhaps stray off with almost any man that came along.

"Rather you wouldn't say anything about this 'til I'm gone, mother. You see it would make things rather embarrassing for me."

"But you're not going away?"

"Yes, for awhile. Must find something to do. You understand mother."

"Yes, dear. I understand and know it is your problem to solve without even my advice. I hope though, you will settle it right, son."

Ermen saw in his mother's eyes--courage bravery--trials of her own. equally as hard that had been settled right. And mother wasn't wavering now. Not one bit. She was still smiling.

Ermen had fought hard --the remaining days he had spent at home, and now brushed a tear away hurriedly as he walked down the lane that led from home. The orchards looked lonely. The songs of the birds had lost their sweetness. The shade trees seemed to reach out their limbs in pity to him, as they swayed back and forth. Down at the stream he stopped. The stream where he had spent so many happy hours in boyhood. For one moment his mind left Nona--the cruel world. Across on the opposite bank sat Pete, Dave, Raymond and all others of his gang. They were all ready to wade in when ...a cigarette stub fell carelessly to the ground. Those stabbing words, "I'm married," blotted out the scene. Ermen picked up his valise, looked back. There it sat--only the tip top of the little white house he could see. But, the friendly, shady maples were protecting it--covering it--and even they were waving him a farewell; just as mother and the kiddies had done--he must hurry on--on out into the hot, dusty highway--away from home, and

(Continued on Next Page)
When A Man Hates
By Ruth Fitzpatrick
(Continued From Preceding Page)

familiar, tender scenes. Away from everything good—into a land where men could forget. Where evil reigned and hate held sway to a place where revenge was available.

Five long years winged by before the stern man Ermen Roberts, had courage to enter school again. After years of hard work, accumulating money and a presage of life without his degree, he settled down to books once more. He still hated—still sought revenge, and would get it, if he ever came in contact with Nona. During the years in school there came, at times, memories, tender, unforgettable ones. Trampling down the old feeling and in a frantic way. Ermen longed for the girl who had shown so much incivility. Just to meet her—know and love her—his Nona. Then, coming to himself. Ermen would hate again and sometime he would find her. When he did ah. Nona—if she but knew his plot

At last Ermen left school with honors. Back into a busy world to work and hate. and live alone. As the years glided by. Ermen found himself just a little more kind to his evil thoughts, and to people in general— less sarcastic He counted his bless- ings and realized he was the wealth- iest man in town. Had the most mag- nificent home there and well—after all. Nona hadn't wrecked his life com- pletely, he mused one day. as he rush- ed into a cafe for lunch.

He had been seated .only a few minutes when he discovered a man and—Nona! Ermen felt weak. sick. 'After all these years, searching, scan- ning this town and that. he had step- ped in unaware of her in his home town. She talked. Yes. it was Nona's voice, only hard and meaningless—the tone. She looked old and tired. Her eyes had lost the old-time sparkle, when she laughed —her laugh was a mockery. So this was Nona. She must not recognize him not yet. He picked up a paper; also pretended to eat his food. In a leering way. he watched her and the man. Surely, her husband -they were affectionate -very.

Ermen saw the man take both her hands in his—hold them for a mo- ment —raised them to his lips, slowly. kissed them tenderly. Ermen. felt a hazardous feeling coming over him, as he saw more. A doubt in his mind —very doubtful now that this man was her husband: So she was break- ing more than one man's heart. For one mad moment Ermen lived over the days when he loved her. When she threw him aside, as if he were only a child. He could see. that letter she had written, The letter which had torn his heart out. The old desire to hold her in his arms left as he saw her light a cigarette. A greater desire being born to get' revenge,. and he would get it. She 'had never seen him, and it was best. She would be back and he would .be more ·calm— more at himself

One long.. heart-rendering week passed before Ermen and -Nona, hap- pened by chance, to meet again. Er- men sat waiting: in a casual manner at the same table -when he looked up slyly, to see her coming toward him with.a different man- "So she shows all of them a good time," he mumbled. glancing over a paper and hating more deeply. She passed by him, leaving a cloud of perfume in the air. This time she sat across from him, facing him. As yet she hadn't recognized him. He would wait—ad- vance slowly—then throw his net. He could tell whether any of the old love for him was there yet. If there was-. he would forgive her. take her' back into his heart and life—with words— then, when he got her. to the right place he would drop her—let her fall.

Hate burned deep -deeper as he watched their maneuvers. Another couple came in and sat down at their table. Some more of their crowd..

men Nona belonged to. She tried to fall into the arms of both. A happy foursome. Wait—Ermen called to the waitress, that "she" might hear his voice. With a side glance he saw her head turn toward him. Ermen smiled. He felt her eyes burning him with their long. steady gaze. Then—he heard in an unnatural voice, as she asked them to excuse her.She thought she had found an old friend. He heard her coming Nona—after years of si- lence.

Something strangely peculiar enter- ed Ermen as she spoke.

"Mv- God!- Ermen!--is it you?" she asked in a coarse voice. her eyes staring wide.

"Why, how do you do—er, er-."

"It's Nona. Nona," she said. "can it be that you do not know me?"

"Oh," Ermen exclaimed lightly.

"Well, do have a seat."

"And does-our meeting mean no more to you than this, Ermen," sink- ing into a chair.

"I'm very glad to see you. ah-- Nona. And is that your charming hus- band over there?" with a slight ges- ture of his head toward the noisy three.

"Why -no. My husband and I are separated. Have been for years. Strange that you hadn't heard." A cold hard look came into her eyes.

"I've hardly heard your name call- ed—since you saw me last—and had never thought to ask anyone about you."

"But, Ermen, and you took it so light. I'm here begging for mercy, and for you to forgive." Her voice was low. but pleading—and as Ermen listened he noted something of the old tone the old look coming into her eyes -he braved on.

"Certainly I forgive you, Non a. What-."

"And you love me, and will take me back?" eagerly.

"Am afraid not" with a scornful glance toward her crowd.

"I see," she said sadly. "but Ermen won't you listen =I never loved him. My life was wrecked It all led to what you see.

"Yes," Ermen said in a casual man- ner.

"Sweetheart," she went on implor- ingly, "is thëre nothing more I can do? I've atoned for my wrong a thousand times. I =.""

"I understand," gravely, taking his watch out. glancing at the time. "But I must be going. Am due at home this minute."

She held out her hand. He took it as he would a friend's. Then he passed out into the night. Out into & friendly world—for Ermen was happy. Hap- pier than he had been for years. He had met with her. He didn't get the revenge he had planned for years, but he had settled it right. His morals had not been lowered by her.

He opened the door to his ho me softly, and found a dark-haired dark- eyed girk waiting for him, in tears.

"Why, what's wrong Olga?" Ermen asked in a stunned manner.

"I've just been wondering Ermen, why you married me, you are not happy—you do not love me," with tears in her eves and voice.

"I am happy." he laughed, "and I love you better than you can ever know."

"Say it again, sweetheart," she whispered, "I know you' do now for that is the first time you ever spoke those words to me."

"I love you." He slipped one strong arm around her waist and kissed her long.

THE END.