to observe. This day, Clive sat and
watched Helen pass by. He thought she had to be the most beautiful
person in the world. Surely a prettier girl could not exist. He watched
her intently, as he had done for the past six years. She walked by and
did not look his way, as usual. She always knew he was there. She had
sneaked a peak at him once and was so repulsed that she could not bring
herself to look again. Yet she knew how he felt about her. She could
feel it as she walked by. At first she felt afraid passing by. She even
tried taking a different route to the station. But after a while she
felt silly. So she passed his house with her head held high and her eyes
straight ahead.

As the years passed, she found out about the "cripple" who sat on his
porch all day. It was a sad story: Apparently, the father couldn't cope
with a deformed baby, so he deserted the family. The mother was a simple
country-girl. She was forced to take in wash and to clean other people's
houses. But she managed to support herself and her deformed child. She
was a quiet woman who minded her own business. She rarely spoke. But she
could polish silver and furniture like no other person and so she had
plenty of work. In time, she was able to afford her own house. They had
lived in that house on Mulberry Street for twenty years. It was always
clean and neat. On rare occasions, Helen saw the mother shopping. The
mother was so thin and gaunt. How did she manage to lift that son of
hers?

As Helen passed the house that bright fall morning, she wondered if the
man could stand up or walk. "Helen! Helen! You look so pretty today!"
The young woman stopped dead in her tracks. Who spoke? She looked around
her. No one that she could see was there--except the person on the
porch. Was it him? No ... It couldn't be. She had heard that he knew how
to speak, but that he was very difficult to understand. But this voice
was pleasant and articulate. Very masculine, too. _Is someone hiding
behind a bush? No. I'm being silly_, she thought. _I must have imagined
it._ She looked around one more time, yet carefully avoiding looking at
the figure on the porch.

"Helen, why do you always ignore me?"

Again she stopped. This time she did not look around. She knew. "Yes.
You are right. It is me. I have finally gotten up enough courage to talk
to you. It has taken me years. Can't you turn around just this once and
smile at me? It won't hurt you. You are so lovely, more love