THE GOOD SAMARITAN
453
The day on which I chose to visit Miss Hotch was one of sunny
warmth. Bright immeasurable light came from everywhere in the
sky. It was like· the beginning of Spring.
As I walked into Miss Hotch's front yard, which was girded
on all sides by a small white fence, a quick breath of frail warm
air tugged at my ankles and I did all but swoon in the pleasant
and comfortable sight of a little white and green house which stood
in front of me. A fluttery red chicken galloped across my path,
giving a happy cluck as it went.
As·I had been bumping about the world a bit (impoverished,
the novelists call it) I experienced a feeling of relief upon viewing
this house, the yard and the chicken. Such things have immortal
effect on one's character-under the proper circumstances. It was
thus then.
Even as I stepped into the yard I seemed to view the world
from a different point of view, to take courage, to forget the woes
of War, Hate, Fame and what have you-all those things which
are continually getting in one's way, particularly if ·one has been
spiritually, emotionally or economically unfortunate.
The doorbell was the old-fashioned kind, a round brass knob
on which one pulled gently and was instantly rewarded by a
solemn tinkle somewhere in the back of ·the house. As I waited, I
noticed six gaudy red geraniums sitting in the narrow porch-box
beside me. They looked well-nourished and happy waving in the
Spring breeze. Their hitter tantalizing odor pervaded the whole
atmosphere. I stood joyfully clutching my two moth-eaten skirts
under my arm.
At that moment the door was opened. There stood a little old
lady with silvery white hair.
"Yes?" she said in a silvery white voice.
"I have," I said briskly, " some skirts here that I thought you
might be interested in altering. That is-if you are Miss Hotch."
"I
am
Miss Hotch, my dear," she beckoned gently, ''Come in."
And I followed. . .
Inside, the rooms were filled with soft comfortable furniture.
A large and amber cat sniffed lazily at me and softly slid down
behind a footstool. A clock with gold-lettered numbers sat in the
far comer of the room. The wall-paper was spattered with faded
pink flowers which hung about the walls in fanciful braids. In
