THE SILVER DOVE Donna Conroy It was morning. The sun hadn't yet reached the top of the sky. Billie sat on the porch swing, noiselessly pushing herself back and forth with her feet. Not far from where she was sitting, a gull swooped down and gracefully flew back and over the house out of sight. "Pretty gull, I wish I were you," she murmured without knowing why. Just then, Spence burst out the door with a hearty "Hi, Billie." "Hi, Spence. I see you didn't forget the funny paper," said Billie, popping off the swing and down the steps onto the lawn where Spence flopped on his stomach. She sat down beside him. There was nothing Spence and Billie liked more than reading the funnies together. Spreading the paper out before them, they prepared to read when Spence said, "Guess what, Billie? Mother says that maybe I won't have to go to Texas with my Aunt if I don't want to. I've been still lately and I'm not so weak as I used to be. I have you to thank for that, Billie. You like to sit around and keep me company, and none of the other kids in the neighborhood ever wanted to. Mother and I sure like you, Billie." She said nothing, for she knew that Spence would have to go with his Aunt whether he wanted to or not. She didn't want him to go away, but she knew he was going to. She didn't like to even think about it. She pulled the funnies closer to her and started reading. Spence looked at her curiously for a moment and then decided she wasn't going to answer him, so he started reading. They were still for a very long time, when suddenly Spence whispered very quietly, "Look." Billie looked up and saw the same gull she had seen a few minutes earlier, walking proudly over the lawn, close to where they were. "Don't move," he breathed. Both of the children lay breathlessly watching the beautiful white gull walk here and there, always coming a little nearer. Finally he came so close that Billie could have reached out and touched him. Instead, though, she edged away, so that the bird might come still closer. Her movements frightened the bird. He stopped moving, listened, made a funny noise, then lifted his wings and flew away. "Billie! Oh, Billie!" wailed Spence, sitting upright "Why did you move? I asked you not to. Don't you know that that was probably the Silver Dove? Don't you know he is magic?" He didn't wait for an answer, but jumped up and ran to the porch. Billie knew that Spence was angry at her, so she didn't move. She sat there, gazing up in the sky where she had last seen the gull flying. She wished he would come back, but she knew he wouldn't. After she had sat there for a long time, she finally got up and walked to the porch and sat down on the step beside Spence. "That was only a white gull, Spence, not the Silver Dove." "That was probably the magic Silver Dove," he insisted. "If you make a wish, and the Silver Dove comes, he will make it come true." "Do you think he was going to make yours come true, Spence?" she asked, bewildered. "Yes," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I know he would have, if you hadn't frightened him away." "I'm so sorry," said Billie helplessly. "It's all right. I'm gofng in now; I'll see you later." And he was gone. Billie sat puzzled for a while, then got up and went home. About a week later, Billie went over to see Spence again. He was sitting on the lawn. He didn't greet her in the cheery way he used to. He merely said, "Guess what." "I don't know," said Billie; "did the Silver Dove come back?" "No, if it had, I wouldn't be going to Texas, but I am. Tonight." Billie could hardly believe that she had heard right. She had expected these words, but not so soon. She sank down beside him. She fingered the grass, and finally looked up at him. At first, her eyes were filled with question, but suddenly she cast them down, filled with shame and anger at herself. She knew now that had she not frightened the Silver Dove away, Spence could have remained. The Silver Dove would have made his wish to stay home come true. "You are lucky to be going away," she said after a long time. He didn't answer her, just looked at her. Again there was a long silence. Finally Billie got up and said, "I guess I'lJLnot see you again until you come back." "I guess not." "I'll probably see you before you go tonight. So long." "So long, Billie." * * * It was morning. The sun hadn't yet reached the top of the sky. Billie sat on the porch swing, noiselessly pushing herself back and forth with her feet. Not far from where she was sitting, a gull swooped down and gracefully flew back over the house and out of sight. "Pretty gull, I wish I were you," she murmured eighteen CRUELTY Cluster Nilsson The woman that looked like Harlow followed every move of the big man with the red curling hair, the silent lips, and the gentle eyes. She toyed nervously with the sapphire-set wedding ring and the carat diamond on the third finger of her left hand. "God," she thought, "if he'd only let me know what's going on inside him, so I could get out of this! Just a hint, that's all I'd need just one excuse." Once more her glance swept disgustedly over the simply furnished interior of the penthouse that this man of "more than a million dollars" had chosen for home. "A quiet life!" She wished she might expectorate the phrase at his unheeding back. The man's movements were methodical and leisurely, as if he had at least 365 days in which to do a complete job of whatever he was doing. He reached into his pocket, sorted out a small key, and unlocked a spinnet desk in the corner of the room. Then he reached in among the papers lying there. He picked one up, hefted it, and then slapped the desk briskly with it. At the sound on the polished surface, the woman jerked robot-like. The big man replaced the paper but did not close the desk. Instead he walked cat-like across to a highboy and sorted through its drawers. In the third one he found a large screen fly swatter. "I was wondering where you'd put this," he remarked as if to himself. He strode out into the kitchenette, but first he closed and locked the desk. Before the sink, as she could see through the open door, he dropped on his heels and opened the doors and probed in its dark interior with the swatter. The woman that looked like Harlow rose and leaned against the door jamb. Her blue eyes darkened with spiritual storm. "Why, under high heaven, didn't he explain his antics?" Then venomously she added another thought: "It was like him not to." She plucked again at the rings. "I've got one," the man said as if in answer to her question. She shrugged her slender shoulders, for she knew that it was not to her that he had spoken. He examined the contents of the swatter, then shook it onto the drain board. The animated blot scurried across the white of the tile. But at the very moment the insect reached the edge, the swatter picked at it and turned it back. Once more the swatter barred its way, and again and again picked at the tiny creature as it darted futilely this way and that. As the woman watched and toyed with her rings, the storm in her eyes lowered and spread across her face. At last there was a light tap from the swatter and the insect halted. It did not move again. Twice more the man dallied with insects, headed them, tried vainly to tip them on their backs, and at last after what seemed to the observer an interminable period, killed them with a dainty, scientific pat. The expression on the woman's lovely face had cleared miraculously and was not decisive. Cupped in her right palm were the carat diamond and the sapphire-set wedding ring. "John," she said, "you don't know it but I have been watching you for a purpose ever since that day last June when we were married. You didn't talk much, but I could have stood that, John, if I hadn't suspected you, hadn't wondered what kind of a man you really were. Your torturing these harmless creatures" she waved toward the three spots of jet on the drain board "has shown me." The big man turned and was gazing at her, slack-jawed. He tried to speak. She silenced him with a lifted hand. "It's no use. Nothing you can say will change me. Dramatic as it may sound, I'm through. Please let's be graceful and leave it at that." She dropped the two rings on a sideboard, then whirled on her heel and left. In a few seconds he heard the front door slam. His lips were parted as they had been in that first quick amaze. But there was the hint of a quiver to them now. In his eyes was the look of a beef that had just been struck heavily with a sledge. He turned back to the sink and picked aimlessly at one of the bugs. He flipped it belly up. There on its stomach in the neat shape of an hour-glass was the red identification mark of the black widow spider. SPRING Dean Jessop While war And death And hate prevail And free men cannot sing, How far Can breath Their crimes curtail? And yet there comes a spring. nineteen