Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/34

 Cried Helen, coming with a tray, and cup, Of tender toast and fragrant, smoking tea. “You naughty girl! you should have stayed in bed Until you ate your breakfast, and were better; I’ve something hidden for you here—a letter. But drink your tea before you read it, dear! ’Tis from some distant cousin, auntie said, And so you need not hurry. Now be good, And mind your Helen.”

So, in passive mood, I laid the still unopened letter near, And loitered at my breakfast more to please My nurse, than any hunger to appease. Then listlessly I broke the seal and read The few lines written in a bold free hand: “New London, Canada. Dear Coz. Maurine! (In spite of generations stretched between Our natural right to that most handy claim Of cousinship, we’ll use it all the same) I’m coming to see you! honestly, in truth! I’ve threatened often—now I mean to act; You’ll find my coming is a stubborn fact. Keep quiet, though, and do not tell Aunt Ruth. I wonder if she’ll know her petted boy In spite of changes? Look for me until You see me coming. As of old I’m still Your faithful friend, and loving cousin, Roy.”

So Roy was coming! He and I had played As boy and girl, and later, youth and maid, Full half our lives together. He had been, Like me, an orphan; and the roof of kin Gave both kind shelter. Swift years sped away Ere change was felt: and then one summer day A long-lost uncle sailed from India’s shore— Made Roy his heir, and he was ours no more.

“He’d write us daily, and we’d see his face Once every year.” Such was his promise given The morn he left. But now the years were seven Since last he looked upon the olden place. He’d been through college, travelled in all lands, Sailed over seas, and trod the desert sands. Would write and plan a visit, then, ere long, Would write again from Egypt, or Hong Kong—