Evening Republican, Volume 59, Number 76, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 April 1917 — Red Roses [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Red Roses

By MARY PARRISH

(Copyright, by W. G. Chapman.) Undoubtedly Ruth was too sensitive. She could never get away from the fact that she was the “poor relation.” No one in the family seemed to make this apparent; they were all kind and considerate; but to some natures the position of being dependent is especially galling, and some times embittering. Ruth lived iu a small country town, and wishing to study designing at an institute in the city, her uncle Vane lmd offered her a home with his famwhile she attended the school, as her parents could not afford the expense of keeping her there. - Margie Vane, the only daughter, ■was a year or two older than Ruth, sind had been “presented” in society the year before Ruth’s coming. There were parties, dinners, and luncheons In plenty for Miss Vane to attend, hut Ruth felt she must make the best of .her time with her studies, so seldom mixed in the gaities; besides she had not the wardrobe to appear at these functions. Of course when people were invited to the house for dinners or evenings, she was always present. On one of these occasions she met Glenn Beecham. He was a goodlooking type of the young American, and was rapidly becoming a successful architect. Ruth noticed that he was much attracted to her cousin Margie, and proceeded to efface herself as far as possible. But there was something going on in the region of her heart which she did not find quite so easy to efface. The mysterious attraction which draws us to some individual soul has never yet been very satisfactorily explained by scientists. Ruth Bassett was not the sort of young woman to be fascinated by the first good-looking man who came along, she was rather too serious-minded for that, and she had been brought in contact with quite a good many in the Vane society ; but Glenn Beecham seemed to her “different.” The one we really love is always “different.” One evening she happened to be in the reception room when he called. She was bending over a vase of red roses, enjoying their fragrance, and caressingly arranging the stems as he entered.

“You love flowers?” he said. “Oh, yes, but especially red roses. They are so splendid, royal, full of life!” Their" conversation drifted on totheir work, architecture, and' design* Ing. The two arts had something in common, a, kindred interest, and they became engrossed Ip the topic, - - “I want always to do beautiful things,” she said. “I dm building a beautiful house.” he added. “Now if you could only put your beautiful ideas into the interior decoration —” At that instant Margie entered, and Ruth caught an expression that seemed to warn her to leave as soon as possible. Clearly she was an interloper, poaching on her cousin’s preserves, and it must not happen again. She excused herself on the plea of study, and left the room. Ruth was not left long in doubt as to the state of affairs between young Beecham and her cousin. Margie did not conceal the fact that she cared for him, and for the other girl began "the slow torture of seeing the love which was more to her than life withheld and given to another. So it was that Ruth absented herself from the rooih when Glenn Beecham called, or onceln a while, when the temptation grew too stropg lingered a few minutes if only to see his lace or hear the sound of his voice.

After even these slight glimpses of him she found it harder each time tp concentrate her mind on her work, and she prayed that she might be able to put him out of her life. There was to be a little dinner dance at the Vanes, and flowers for the decorations were coming in. Ruth saw the maid taking a long white box to Margie’s room. “They are from him.” she thought. 4 ‘l wonder what they are.” _v She was not left long in doubt for Margie called her in to see. “Look!" she cried. “Aren’t they beautiful?” -- 5™— ——' “Very,” said Ruth faintly. Her heart thumped so hard, and then seemed to stand "Still. She Was; finding it difficult not to revear her feelings to the other girl. - In the box were splendid, red roses! The very flowers he knew she loved! He hnd cared so little he had flaunted his gift to another before her very eyes! She felt she must tear them from her fortunate rival, and cry out: "They are mine! mine!” But she drew out of the room quietly, wondering if she could bear to see him that night. She decided that pride must come to her aid, and she roust not excite comment by not appearing, so she dressed her hair in ( the most becoming way, and put on the only evening gown she possessed, a simple white crepe. She was after all father pleased With the reflection in the glass of a graceful little figure with beautiful arms, shining dark hair, soft eyes, and a distinctly adorably mojlth; y

She came down Just m time to be paired off with a crude young man who could talk of nothing but baseball and the horse show. At the table she tried to entertain him, but it seemed that whenever she glanced down where Beecham sat next to Margie, he always seemed to be looking at her, but she concluded it was because she looked so much at him, and after that kept her eyes in her own neighborhood. Margie was wearing one of his roses. After dinner, when the dancing began, Beecham came to Ruth, and asked her to dance. She tried to refuse, but the temptation 'was too great. She would have - that one great joy if she never spoke to him again. After the dance he led her away to a quiet corner. “Now,” he said with a grim attempt at a smile, “I’m going to inflict myself on you for a few minutes. I hope you’ll bear it with Christian fortitude. I’d like to know what I’ve done to make you positively loathe my presence.” “Why nothing.” she stammered, not knowing what else to say. “Of course I ought to have known — it’s just a common case of don’t like—” “Ob, nos no! it Isn’t!” she cried out. He looked at her mystified. “Tnien why did you slight—yes insult my poor little gift?” “Your gift!” she echoed blankly. At that moment Margie came to them. Both rose at her approach. “Ruth, dear,” she .began, “I just fan up to my room for something, and while I was looking for it this pin

dropped into the box that held those roses. In searching for-it I found this card. I didn’t mean to rob you, dear. It was just a mistake.” She took the rose from her gown and handed it with the card to Ruth. The girl took them wonderingly; but Margin kissed her, and went away. Thtn Ruth read upon the card something that brought to her face a color that mutched the rose in her hand. “Oh! But I'm robbing her!” she cried. “No, you’re not. We’re just good pals, Murgie and I —but I want you to be—” It didn’t seem necessary for him to say anything more. Both understoood.

She Was Bending Over a Vase of Red Roses.