Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 251, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 October 1912 — ON THE BOARDWALK [ARTICLE]

ON THE BOARDWALK

Anita’s Pink Dress Was Mighty Becoming. By ELLA RANDALL PEARCE. By a strange coincidence, just as the clock was striking 8 that balmy summer night, Miss Anita Wallace started out for a solitary stroll from the north end of the boardwalk* while at the south end, Mr. Franklin Sholes, having shaken off his gay friends at his betel, lighted a cigar and sauntered moodily northward. The strangeness of it lay in the fact that only forty-eight . hours before these two young people had quarreled and parted—forever, as, each one passionately affirmed. "I shall go to the Canadian forests and you may never hear of me again," was Sholes’ parting shot “I’m going abroad with the MacPhersons!” called out Anita, mockingly. “Goodby.” Each one believed in the other’s intention, but after a day spent in miserable reflection decided that a broken heart could bpst be mended nearer home, so,, doubtless actuated by similar reasons* both the dejected "lovers once, but strangers now” had migrated to the popular shore resort where a year ago their courtship had begun and run happily through a wonderful bummer season.

~ Anita’s thoughts were traveling backward as she slowly pursued her way with her pensive face turned toward the sea. What was the shifting throng of pleasure seekers to her? What did she have in common with’ the festive world, where in every direction that her glances turned she saw couples arm in arm, fond-eyed and smiling? Franklin Sholes was on his way to Canada and she was alone! "After all, I was foolish to come here of all places,*’ reflected Anita. “I don’t want to care for him any more. I want to forget, and there’s nothing like stirring up old memories to make folks remember. And those were happy times! But he has changed—and I hate a stingy man!'* Some distance ahead a solitary figure leaned over the narrow railing and tossed a half-finished cigar into' the waves. Z "Tastes like a stogie,” muttered . young Sholes. "Well? I suppose Miss Anita Wallace Is on the high seas to-, night. The sight of the ocean gives me the blues —what did I come down here for, anyway? Brings back the old days when Anita was so dear and sweet. Society’s spoiled her—and I hate a. frivolous, extravagant woman! Besides, my Income would not support her. Glad I found It out in time.” Then, as he leaned over the dark, lapping water, his meditations keyed to their melancholy music, he recalled Anita as he had seen her last —a dazzling figure in pale pink, with delicate hand-embroideries of deeper rose shades flecked with crystal beads —a beautiful gown, but quite inconsistently worn by a young woman of modest means-.

There had been other times when his practical mind had revolved around the perplexing subject of his sweetheart's attractive —and, as it seemed to him, extravagant—wearing apparel. It was Sholes’ frank crltlcism that had started the quarrel that ended so disastrously. How defiant, how tantalizing Anita had been, and how harshly she had forced him ter. speak. ! "Oh, well, she’d be no wife for a poor man. Vanity and extravagances have broken up many a home. But perhaps I might have expressed myself more diplomatically. Anita’s j young and has been flattered a lot And that pink dress was mighty* be-1 coming.” ’’ Then he continued his way. Mean-# while Anita, hoping to find diversion for her jaded mind, had turned in at one of the little Japanese bazars that bordered the boardwalk, where the regular evening auction sale was in progress. The place was thronged, but she found a single front seat at one side where the glib auctioneer’s interesting prattle came plainly to her, H« was disposing of some fine linens; a‘ small Oriental rug followed, and after that the nimble assistant brought out some gay flat boxes that dis; bursed soft folds of radiant color. "Little silk scarf, made in Japan,< all hand embroider,” chanted the auctioneer. "Here’s a beauty—what you call that color? jYes. ’Merican "Beauty. It is most suitable for ’Merican beauty—yes, it will make lovely the lady who wear it How much you offer? Anything to start—how mnch

for this ’Merican Beauty scarf? Fire dollar, thank you—all dat? It is hand embroider, noV machine, you understand? Ten dollar, thank you. Do I hear more?" Because of her bitter, restive mood, 1 Anita became suddenly possessed of a desire to possess that lovely, silken thing, flaunting at her its rosy pink | sheen and delicate embroideries. Two’ nights ago she had worn an embroidered rose pink gown. • Twelve,” called somebody on the other side of the baser. “Thirteen,*' stammered Anita, close at the auc tloneer’s side, and, when the word was repeated, two or three higher bids were made. The auctioneer nodded his bead toward the far corner. **Do I bear more? Eighteen, thank you. Eighteen is bid, eight—” • • “Twenty,” said Anita, her pulses b thrilling with the spirit of the contest. b "Twenty—do I hear more? Twenty 1 twos '

The auctioneer's look of inquiry was answered by a nodlrom her dlstant opponent, and, when his glance swung around again, Anita snapped her eyes affirmatively. So they silently bid against each other, she and the unknown in the far corner, while the pattering talk went on. ; “Twenty-eight,” agreed AniQ, at last, with an uncomfortable feeling of getting beyond her depths. "Thirty,”, nodded the. unknown. Anita sank back with a little gasp of mingled disappointment and relief. No, she would not bid again, but oh! how she wanted that lovely rose-leaf scarf from old Japan. She looked curiously at the last bidder as she slipped out to the boardwalk agairr. Box In hand, he faced her. -■ ’ ' “You!” gasped Anita. The hot color swept over-her face and her slim figure stiffened. “Oh! Then you—you—great Scot, Anita, how could I know?” Then Franklin Sholes began to laugh uproariously. “Hush! Everybody’s looking at us. They’ll all understand if —if —” Anita suddenly sped away as If on wings and Sholes rapidly followed until, in the shadows* he overtook her. "Why, listen to me, Anita. I’m sorry, but—say, are you laughing or crying?” “Both! I never knew of anything so ridiculous In all my life. You were going to Canada —” “And you to Europe—”

“And we both came here and bid against each other on a foolish little thing—a pink—embroidered—article!” Anita slowly emphasized each descriptive word, and then there was an expressive silence. Involuntarily they drew nearer each other with wistful, searching glances and their hands reached out to clasp, fervently. “Forgive me!” said Franklin, huskily. “That other, too, was a foolish thing—to quarrel about. And just to show you how I felt about it tonight, Anita, I bought this scarf to send to you!” The girl’s dark eyes were misty with tears as she folded the gift to her bosom. How unjust she had been when she called him “stingy!” Surely he deserved a full confession. “Franklin, I want you to know — tpnight Is the first time In my life I was ever really extravagant. I always help with my dresses, and, Franklin, I can make my own hats! I can copy a Paris model so you wouldn’t know the difference —and I just glory in being economical! Oh, I’ve often been amused to see you wondering at my little fineries. But the idea of your paying thirty dollars for that Japanese trifle when we might have had it for fifteen!” “Who cares?” cried Sholes, recklessly. "It’s for my ’Merlcan beauty.”