Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 116, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 May 1914 — THOSE POTATO BUGS [ARTICLE]

THOSE POTATO BUGS

By LOUISE OLIVER.

Victoria had abandoned the little car In disgust when the gasoline gave out. She was only half way home from the post office and had the prospect of walking two miles to the Emersons, where she was staying. She tucked the letters into her blouse and trudged along, the hot sun beating down on her bare head. Collar turned In and sleeves rolled up, Sol was having a pretty good chance to spoil the milky whiteness of her skin. All at once she saw some cows. And no fence to restrain them, for they were out in the road and coming toward her. Three of them! one red, one black and white, and a Jersey. ' If there was a thing in the world tha| Victoria was afraid of, it was a cow. She stopped suddenly in dismay. What in the world should she do? On We side were some grass, a few bushes, and a fence. She couldn’t hide under a bush. She would be sure to be trampled on. Where could she go? The fence was high. She had never climbed a fence. But the cows were coming! Anyone can climb a tree If a bear Is after him. So Victoria got over the fence. That is, she climbed 61 the top and fell the rest of the way.' And she knocked a pan out of a man’s hand on her way down. . Before she could scramble to her feet she caught sight of the contents of the pan, now scattered in all directions, and she started to scream and shiver, and cover her eyes with her hands. About a hundred or two squirming, crawling potato bugs was the sight she was trying to shut out. And then the man took her firmly by the shoulders. “Sfiut up,” he snapped. “For the love of Mike, don’t have hysterics here. What’s the matter with yon?” Victoria was Impulsive and generous by nature. She held out her hand. “I am very sorry. But I was scared to death at the cows. If you have another stick, maybe I could help get them back in again. I mean the bugs.” He laughed. “No, thank you. It will only take a few minutes, Miss — Miss

"Harmon. I am Victoria Harmon, and am staying over at the Emerson farm. My car broke down and I’m walking.” "But it’s two miles.” “I know.” “And it’s a beastly hot day." "Yes, it is.” "Well, won’t you let ipe hitch up and drive you home?” Victoria, accustomed to offers of homage and also accustomed to accepting them, said simply, “Yes, thank you>l believe I will.” So she waited In the shade of a chestnut tree while the man went to the bam and got the runabout ready. She was thinking that, dressed up, he would be very fine looking, and he certainly had a eonunapdlng manner. He was so different from the men whom she knew at home. He was big and brown and hearty and she was sure he had never an unwholesome thought in his Ufa. So he drove her to the house. Then he towed her car home a little later.* And Victoria kindly consented to drive over to Hanging Hocks with him on Sunday to see the falls. It was as she had thought. He did look well dressed up, and he seemed to know how to dress. His clothes were well made and made for him! She began to be puzzled. Once he spoke of Naples as though he had been there. The Emersons knew nothing of him except that he had recently bought the Brown farm. ■ - There were several rides and many walks before the time came for Vlotorla to go home. She both hoped and feared something, but when the day came her young farmer friend said only a polite "good-by” at the Btatlon. Victoria went home to the city with a vague longing in her heart One day her mother said to her, “Victoria, I wish you would be nice to Mr. Thurston whom your father is bringing' home to dinner tonight. He is very desirable, good famUy and all that—and very rich. He has been away and has just come to town. He has the reputation of being ecoentrio and people say he is crazy about farming. I don't know much about that part of it but I know he is very, very well off.” "Yes, and I suppose he is ss ugly as satan and as rich as Croesus and he’s looking for a young wife and I’m it” Victoria stormed and ran out of the room. She was getting very Irritable. The whole scheme of society nauseated her. ,' T . j Dinner was at eight She was dressed by seven, fear she wanted an hour in the cool darkness of the little

garden back of the noiise. She walked restlessly up and.down beside the hedge of althea and finally dropped dispiritedly onto a bench. “Donald,” she almost sobbed aloud. “Donald, Donald, Donald! It is so lonely without you,” she moaned into the darkness. And out of the night, yet close to her, he answered: “Victoria, dear; surely you can’t mean me. If yon do I am the luckiest dog iu the world.” Then it all flashed across her brain. Her young farmer of the potato hugs was Donald Thurston. No wonder people thought him eccentric.