Now the Special English program American Stories. Today’s story is called the Lost Phoebe. It was written by Theodore Dricer. Here is Sharp O’Neal to tell you the story.
Old Henry Wright sighter? and his wife Phoebe loved one another the way people do who have lived together a long long time. They were simple farm people. Their world was their fruit trees, corn field and backyard with its pigs and chickens. The rest of their world was faraway like stars in the sky.
Sometimes Henry worried about death. During his worries, he would raise his old voice and say “Phoebe, where is my corn pipe? You are always taking things that belong to me”. “Now you hush, Henry,” his wife would say, “If you keep talking my bad, I will go away. And then what would you do? There is nobody to look after you. You can’t find it on the table where you put it.” Old Henry knew his wife would never leave him. The only leaving he felt was death. He often wondered how he could live without Phoebe. In the evening, when he went to the door to see that there was safely shut-in, it warmed his heart to know Phoebe was there with him. When Henry moved during the night, she always spoke to him “Now, Henry, be quiet. You are as jumpy as a chicken.” “Well, I cannot sleep, Phoebe”. “If you stop rolling around so much, you will sleep. Then I can get some rest too.” Knowing she was there, beside him in the dark made Henry quiet again.
When she wanted him to get a pillow or water, Henry liked to say “Do this, do that.Always asking me to do something. Women are never satisfied”. Phoebe would smile. She could see the inner happiness shining in his eyes. Henry talked sharply, but he never forgot to get water and wood for the fire. In this way, they lived happily in their simple world.
One day, in the early spring, Phoebe became sick and died. Old Henry watched them put her body in the earth. Neighbors asked Henry to come and live with them. But he would not live. He wanted to be near the place where his Phoebe lay in the earth. He tried to work around the farm, but it was difficult to return to an empty house at night. At night he read the newspaper, but most of the time, he just sat, looking at the floor, wondering where Phoebe was and how soon he would die.
For five months, he lived like this. Then there was a change. It happened one night after he had gone to bed. There was a bright moon in the sky, its silver light fell on the old chair and table in the bedroom. The moonlight on the chair and the half open door made a shadow, the shadow looked like Phoebe. She was sitting by the table, the way she had done so many times before.
“Phoebe,” he called in a weak voice, “have you come back?” The shadow in the chair did not move. Henry got up and slowly walked toward it. When he came near the table, he saw that there was nothing on the chair but his old coat. Another night, he thought he saw her again. He felt a soft wind blow in the room. When the wind blew away, the shadow of Phoebe went away too. A third night, when he was sleeping, she came to the bed and put her hand on his head. “Oh, my Henry,” she said gently, “I am sorry you are alone”. He awoke and was sure he saw her leave the room. Phoebe had come back.
Night after night he waited. Then one morning he awoke with a surpring new thought. Perhaps she was not dead, perhaps Phoebe had just gone away. They had argued about the corn in wild and she had left the house. Yes, that was it. She was always making jokes about leaving him. This time she had really gone.
That morning, he started to walk to the nearest neighbors. “Why, hello, Henry,” said farmer Dodge, he was taking grain to market. “Where are you going this morning?” “Have you seen Phoebe?” asked Henry. “Phoebe who?” Farmer Dodge knew Henry’s Phoebe was dead.
“My Phoebe”, Henry said “Whom do you think I mean?”
“You must be joking”, said farmer Dodge. “You cannot be talking about your Phoebe. She is dead.”
“Dead? Not my Phoebe. She left me this morning while I was sleeping. We argued about my corn ?fight last night, and that is why she left. But I can find her. She went over to Martild Rayce’s farm. Yes, that is where she is.” Henry started to walk fast down the road.
“The poor old man is sick in his mind”, Dodge said to himself. “He has been leaving alone too long”. Henry met no one until he reached Martild’s farm. His Phoebe and Martihild Rayce had been good friends. Phoebe must be here. He opened the gate and walked to the house. Martild opened the door. “Why, Henry,?? . What a surprise!”
“Is Phoebe here?”, Henry asked.
“Phoebe? Which Phoebe?”
“Why, my Phoebe of course.” Henry smiled a little. “You do not have to keep it a secret. She is here, isn’t she?” he looked inside the house.
“Well,” Martild Rayce said “You poor old man, come in and sit down. I like to get you some coffee and food. I will take you to Phoebe. I know where she is. While Martild was working in the kitchen, she talked to Henry. But he was not listening. He was thinking about Phoebe. He decided she was not there. “I will go now”, he said, getting up, “I think she went over to the Mary Farm”. Then he was out on the road again.
It was like this for many weeks. Every night he returned to his house to see if Phoebe had come back, soon everyone in the area knew old Henry and answered his questions. “I have not seeing her”, they would say, or “No, Henry, she has not been here today.”
For several years Henry walked in the sun and rain, looking for Phoebe. His white hair grew longer and longer. His black hat was the brown color of the earth and his clothes were dusty and torn.
It was in the seventh year of looking when Henry came to ??? . It was late at night and he was tired and sleepy. Years of walking and very little food had made him thin. Each passing year seemed to bring him closer to Phoebe. Tonight he felt that Phoebe was nearer than she had ever been before. After a while, he fell asleep with his head resting on his knees. When he awoke, it was still dark. The moon shone brightly through the trees. Henry saw a light move across the road, it danced through the woods. Was it Phoebe? He jumped up, he was sure he could see her in that light. Yes, there she was, the young Phoebe he had known many years ago. Suddenly he remembered her young beauty, her warm friendly smile, the blue dress she had worn the day he first met her.
“Phoebe”, he called “have you really come? Have you really answered me?” He began to feel young and strong again. He went to follow the moving light. Then a soft wind blew through the leaves and she was gone. “Phoebe”, he cried, “Do not leave me, please, please stay with me!” He went as fast as his old legs would go. When he came to the top of the hill, he looked down into the valley of shadows below. Tears of happiness came into his eyes when he saw Phoebe again. Yes, there she was, down in the valley, smiling up at him. She was in the same blue dress. She waved her hand and seemed to say “Come, come with me.”
Henry felt the strong pull of the new world where he and Phoebe were always be-together, he gave a happy cry “Wait, Phoebe, wait. I am coming”.
The next day, some farmer boys found Henry at the bottom of the hill. His body was broken. There was a soft happy smile on his face, the same smile he had known when Phoebe was alive.
You have just heard the Lost Phoebe written by Theodore Dricer. It was published by World Publishing Company in 1947 in the book Best Short Stories of Theodore Dricer. Your story teller was Sharp O’Neal. This story is copyrighted. All rights reserved for VOA Special English. This is Shirelly Greefeik.