BY MARY R. S. ANDREWS
JOY IN THE MORNING
THE ETERNAL FEMININE
AUGUST FIRST
THE ETERNAL MASCULINE
THE MILITANTS
BOB AND THE GUIDES
CROSSES OF WAR (Poems)
YELLOW BUTTERFLIES
HIS SOUL GOES MARCHING ON
HER COUNTRY
OLD GLORY
THE COUNSEL ASSIGNED
THE COURAGE OF THE COMMONPLACE
THE LIFTED BANDAGE
THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
YELLOW BUTTERFLIES
BY
Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
“An Unknown American who
gave his life in the World War.”
NEW YORK
Charles Scribner’s Sons
1922
Copyright, 1922, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
Copyright, 1922, by THE CURTIS PUBLISHING CO.
Printed in the United States of America
Published December, 1922
THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO
THOSE AMERICANS WHO GAVE
IN THE GREAT WAR EVEN MORE
THAN LIFE—TO THE BLINDED
NOTE
Throughout this story there are sentencesand paragraphs quoted, takenbodily from a press account of the comingof the American Unknown Soldier.If other sentences or phrases occur forwhich proper credit has not been given,it is because the story-teller’s mind wasso saturated with the beauty of this accountthat its wording seemed the inevitableform.
For such borrowed grace the writeroffers grateful acknowledgment to theyoung reporter who, given what is surelythe most thrilling episode in all historyto write about, has made what hasbeen well-called “the finest bit of newspaperwork ever done.” Acknowledgmentand thanks to Mr. Kirk Simpson.
Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews.
YELLOW BUTTERFLIES
Out from the door of the houseburst the laughing, shoutinglittle lad. He raced across thegrass and halted by the tulip-bed;there, with yet more shouts of full-throatedbaby laughter, he turned tolook back at his young mother, racingafter him, standing now in thedoorway. His head was yellow as aflower, almost as yellow as the tulips,and the spun-silk, glittering hair offive years old curled tight in a mannerof aureole. As the girl gazed athim, glorying in him, suddenly thesun came brilliantly from under acloud, and, as if at a signal, out of theclover-patch at the edge of the lawnstormed a myriad of butterflies andfloated about the golden head.
“Oh, the butterflies take you for aflower, Dicky,” cried the girl.
The little chap stood quite still,smiling and blinking through thewinged sunshine, and then, behold,three or four of the lovely thingsfluttered down on his head. Th