From a Bench in Our Square

Stories told from a park bench in a square in New York in the early 1900's.

# A Patroness of Art
o Young rich girl takes on an artist as a patron.
o She thinks he is poor and is sure only she can make a success of him.
o He is rich and famous under a name she does not know.
o Circumstances continue to enforce the girl's beliefs and make it harder for him.

# The House of Silvery Voices
o Story of an old clock maker and his dog.
o The old man is waiting to join his departed wife.
o His rather unusual dog, is also waiting to join his mistress.
o The people in the square are trying to put up with the too random Silvery voices of his clocks.

# Home-Seekers' Goal
o A young girl is looking for a house.
o A young man is looking for a house.
o They pool their efforts, but only one can have the house they might find.
o An ill-thought pact, gets worse.

# The Guardian of God's Acre
o You must contend with the Church Sextant for the burial of the woman you loved. {o] He is against her burial in God's Acre, on moral grounds.
o He asks for a sign, you give him one.

# For Mayme, Read Mary
o A girl from the slums.
o A boy from the right side of the tracks.
o The girl went off for her health and found fame.
o The boy went off to war and found himself.

# Barbran
o A woman wants to start a coffee shop in the town.
o The town and especially one young man tries to help.
o Misconceived strategies makes things worse.

# Plooie of Our Square
o A strange name, a strange man, or maybe a misunderstood man.
o WW I, comes to the square and every man is judged by his allegiance to his country.
o As young men enlist in the armed forces, some bask in the glory of uniform and pomp, while others make an effort and hide there disappointment and shame privately.

# Triumph
o A man must face a slow, but too soon, death.
o He has money but no time.
o A young, misused girl is looking for death.
o She has time, but no money.
o What a time for love to be revealed.
o A tragedy, no a triumph, for the dying and the living.
o From the story:
'Ah, long-delayed to-morrow! Hearts that beat Measure the length of every moment gone. Ever the suns rise tardily or fleet And light the letters on a churchyard stone.-- And still I say, 'To-morrow we shall meet!'
May Probyn,