--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Anderson, Nephi collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 20 number: 12 published: 1917-10 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Nephi Anderson, "Tendrilla," *Improvement Era* 20, no. 12 (October 1917): 1069–1074.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera20012unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera20012unse start_page: 1069 end_page: 1074 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1917-10) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera20012unse publication_year: 1917 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1917, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Tendrilla Tendrilla By Nephi Anderson (Concluded from p. 1012, September number) Before the month was up, Stephen had attended his fare- well party in the ward meetinghouse, and with goodbys said, was on the train for the city. He had nearly a week to spend there. One day would be occupied in the temple, another would be taken up in getting his ticket, receiving instructions, and being set apart. Then he would have a few days in which to visit with friends. He had not yet decided whether Tendrilla Brown would be among those on whom he should call. He had not been in the city for seven years, and he noted the wonderful addition in new streets and tall buildings. An uncle met him at the station and took him home. The next day lie spent in the temple, and that was an experience which pre- cluded any other thoughts than the work directly in hand. Then the next day he was set apart, and all arrangements for trans- pcrtation were made. There was a "bunch of fellows" very much like himself going on missions, some to Europe, and some to the states. At the end of the second day, while eating supper at his Uncle's house, he pulled from his vest pocket the card which Tendrilla Brown had given him. He read aloud the number and name of the street, and asked in what part of town that number was. "Oh, that's up among the wealthy residents," said his uncle. "Why?" — Stephen's heart fell. "0 nothing, I was just wondering do }Ou know a Mr. Brown *vho lives there?" "Well, I know whom you mean, but I'm not personally ac- quainted. You see, I don't move in his circle." "I didn't think there were any 'circles' in our Church." "In a sense, there isn't. Mr. Brown is a very good man, I understand, and I suppose that in the ward where he lives, they all associate together. Is that his card?" The young man would have put it back in his pocket could he have gracefully done so. Instead, he handed it to his uncle, who read it aloud. "Well, well!" exclaimed the uncle, "do you know that young lady?" Stephen explained. 1070 IMPROVEMENT ERA "And so you're going to call on her." Stephen said he had thought of it, "Why not?'* "Why, no reason in the world. I understand she's a fine girl. Are you going this evening?" "No; I'm going to stay here with you." The next forenoon, Stephen spent about town. Just to look at the shop windows and the crowds of people was of interest to the young man from the country. He rode on the street cars out as far as they would go, then back again. About noon, he found himself in the "swell" part of the city in which Tendrilla Brown lived. He located the street and walked along until he found the number. He came to it so suddenly that he imme- diately cut across the street to the opposite side. She might have seen him ! The house was a large two-story structure, with wide porches at the sides and in front. The windows and doors were open to the summer air, and he heard the sounds of a piano from within. The young man stopped at the corner and gazed hack at the house. He never could enter that house on such an errand as he contemplated. He moved on, fearful that someone might see him thus spying out the land. After passing on a block or two, he walked back again on the opposite side of the street, passed it safely and on into town. All the afternoon, he debated with himself whether or not he should call. He called himself a crazy fool for not being able to control his feelings for this girl. If he could only force himself into the house and meet her and her people, the cure would be swifter than the long ab- sence across the ocean. Well, he would do it this evening, when it became dark. The summer days were long now, and darkness did not come until late. With all the courage he could muster, he at last walked up the path to the front door. It was open, and he could see into the hall with the big carpeted stairs leading to the second floor. He knocked on the screen door. He heard a number of children playing in the rear, but no one answered. He knocked again. Presently a door in the farther end of the hall opened and a young boy came to the front door. "Good evening," said Stephen, "is Miss Tendrilla Brown in?" "Yes, she's in. Do you want to see her?" "Yes." "Well, come in." The boy led the visitor into the parlor, where they both seated themselves. "Sis is busy just now, getting ready for the party; but 'twill be an hour yet 'fore Tom comes for her. He knows the ways of girls, you bet." Stephen was speechless. What could he say? He let the boy chatter on. TENDRILLA 1071 "An' say, what's your name? Sis will want to know when I tell her you're here?" Stephen told him. "Where're you from? Out in the country, somewhere, ain't ye?" asked the cruelly truthful boy. "I live at Polepatch." "Polepatch," repeated the boy. "I never heard of that place. Is it out in Nevada?" "Not quite that far." "Do you like it out there?" "Yes." "Well, I don't think the country is what it's cracked up to be. Sis likes it, an' sometimes she stays out on dad's ranch all summer." Stephen could stand it no longer. He arose, hat in hand. "Well," he said, "I guess I'll be going. I'm going on a mission, you see, and I thought I'd just look in a minute. You see — "Gee, wait a minute. I'll tell sis." Away the boy ran, up the stairs two steps at a time. He pounded vigorously on a door above as he nearly shouted: "Sis, there's a fellow down stairs who wants to see you." The door opened. "Who is it?" asked Tendrilla. Stephen heard distinctly. "Oh, I've forgotten his name. It's some country fellow from out near Nevada." "Country fellow? What do you mean?" "Well, if ye don't believe come down and see. He's come to see you." The boy laughed at what he thought was a good joke on his sister. Stephen Hall had stood near the open parlor door. Softly and quietly he stepped through the hall and out. He tiptoed down the porch steps into the street. There he quickened his steps until he reached the corner, then he almost ran. Never once did he look back. He boarded the first street car, neither knowing nor caring where it would take him. It would take him away from Miss Tendrilla Brown and her brother: that was enough to know. There were nearly three more days for Stephen to wait in the city. How could he endure it? He hated the noisy crowds, the rattle of cars and wagons, the heat from the pavements. If he could only get out again to Polepatch, if just for a day, to get a breath of fresh air. He was stifling! * * * Perhaps he could take an earlier train. Happy thought. He would call at the President's Office and see. When he stepped into the office the next day the clerk looked at him for a moment then asked: "Are you Elder Hall?" 1072 IMPROVEMENT ERA Elder? Oh, yes, now he remembered he was a missionary. "That is my name," replied Stephen. "Then here is a message for you." Stephen sat down and opened the letter. It bore no stamp, «o it must have been delivered. He read: — "Dear Brother Hall I want to see you before you leave for your mission. Give me a chance to make right the wrong my little brother did to you. I shall be at home all day. My phone number is Uintah 622- J. Call me up immediately you receive this, please. "Sincerely yours, "Tendrilla Brown." "Can I do anything more for you?" asked the clerk. "No, thank you," replied Stephen as he walked out. Stephen did not telephone. He was not used to telephon- ing, and he was afraid he would make a bungle of it. It was somewhat late in the afternoon before he made his second ven- ture to call on Miss Brown. He thought he could do this now in a purely brotherly manner. As she had a young man who took her to parties, his own love dream would have to vanish. Well — he set his teeth for the ordeal! She met him at the door before he had time to knock. She was a vision of loveliness in her plain white dress. "Come in," she said as she took his hand. "I am so glad you came." She placed him a chair by the table where she had been working; then she sat down near him. She was the same simple girl, thought Stephen, old enough to have a lot of common sense, young enough to be full of life and beauty. In a quiet, adroit way she apologized for the ac- tions of her young brother, and Stephen felt so at ease that he could readily forgive any such trespass against him. Tendrilla asked him about his mission, about the folks at Polepatch. "You'll stay to supper," she urged. "Papa is away, but I want you to meet my mother; and I'll see that young rascal of a brother behaves himself." "Don't mention that again, please. I ought not to have noticed it." Tendrilla picked up her work, something of lace and fine goods, on which she was sewing; but she did not busy herself. She looked her visitor calmly in the face as she said "I don't think of you at all in the spirit of being 'a country fellow.' I hope I have sense enough to see the man, no matter how he is dressed or from what section of the country he comes; but that will be a fine experience for you, your mission, I mean. Are you warm?" Stephen was fanning his face with his straw hat. "Let's go out into the garden." TENDRILLA 1073 She led the way out at a back door. There was a large space at the rear, with lawn and trees, and a grape arbor. They found places on a rustic seat. They talked of many things, and ere he was aware, the bashful country youth was telling this city girl all about himself, his thoughts and ideas; and the girl seemed to be pleased to cease her own chatter and to listen. She could look at him steadily as he talked, and the finely moulded head, crowned with the nut-brown hair did not escape her no- tice. After a time, the mother called from the doorway, and they went in. Stephen was introduced, and the mother welcomed him warmly. The supper and the rest of the evening went very well to Stephen's notion, and as he departed, he walked on air. — He was to return the next day Tendrilla made him prom- ise that — he should come early, in the afternoon, not wait until dark. Would she play for him, and sing? She would try, she would do her best, which wasn't much. Then they might read — but anyway, he was to come early. And so he came early the next day. Stephen turned the music for her while she sang. In one or two of the pieces he could join with her. She served ice-cream and cake, both home made, she assured him. Then they talked again, and again they went out into the rear garden. Honeysuckle perfumed the air, and a bird trilled softly somewhere in the foliage of the arbor. This time Tendrilla told him about herself, very freely, it seemed to him. Why did she do this? It was all very strange to him. Was she just leading him on to get him deeper than ever into a tangle? She didn't appear that kind of girl. "Did you have a good time at the party the other evening? he asked. "No; I was too miserable thinking of how shabbily we had treated you." "Who is Tom?" the heavens would fall! "Tom? Oh, he's another brother." "I thought he was your beau." "I've never had such a luxury," she laughted, but in a way which implied that it was the sober truth. They were seated in the shadow of the arbor. Stephen dared not look at her for fear she would see the joy in his soul shining boldly through his face. But the girl looked at him as the paling light profiled his fine face against the green foliage; and as she gazed, there came again that something into her heart which had time and again come to her since that first visit to — Polepatch something which she had unguardedly wel- — comed then rebuffed, then welcomed again something which had subtilely crept deep down into her heart, and had persisted in staying there, glowing warmly like the soft light of the 1074 IMPROVEMENT ERA spring sun. Acutely conscious of what was in her heart, the girl now became as quiet as he who sat beside her. It seemed to both of them a long time before either spoke. "When does your train leave tomorrow?" she asked. "At 2:30." down to see you off, and I'll bring you a luncheon." "I'll be "Thank you, thank you very much." "Let me hear from you. I like to read about missionary experiences." "And will you write to me?" "I always reply to correspondence." Shortly he arose to leave, and, although it was not late, she did not urge him to stay. She was at the station the next day with her basket. As he took her hand to bid her goodby, they looked into each other's faces as if they saw something there they had never seen before. They said only the common farewell greetings, and gave only a warm pressure of the hands. But that was enough. Offerings How oft within the leafy dell A mellow song doth sink or swell. With fond delay, It fain would stay, Yet dies away. And fair, amid the garden bowers, Doth sile the silken, snowy flowers. With nectar dew, So pure and true, They perish too! How oft within the heart doth swell A glowing thought our lips would tell, But voiceful name, To blend with same, We cannot frame. And so we learn, with tender pain, That sweetest tokens oft remain Not lost nor dead, In hidden bed, But still unsaid. Minnie Iverson Hodapp.