Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 144, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 July 1917 — WAYS OF WOMEN [ARTICLE]

WAYS OF WOMEN

By EARL REED SILVERS.

Bay Gardner and Mildred Flint were engaged to be married. Everybody agreed that the match was an ideal one; both young people were members of the Country club; both played tennis, rode horseback and drove their own automobiles with an abandon and proficiency which were the envy of their acquaintances. And, moreover, fheyhaiTLeen designated by one enthusiastic friend of Ray’s as "the two best sports in the world.** "There’s only one danger In the match," Mary Hughson, Mildred’s especial chum, announced. “Both have always had everything they wanted, and if they should ever each want something different, there’s bound to be a clash.” Mary's words returned to Mildred with double force as she Sat on the Country club porch with Ray. They were talking about the house they were going to build. The entire furnishing of the big living room had been decided upon, all except the ornament which should adorn the ledge at the top of the massive stone fireplace. “We ought to have something in keeping with the plan of the room,” Ray announced. “A deer’s head, or a pair of snowshoes, or something like that.” Mildred shook her pretty brown head stubbornly. Ray smiled Into her challenging eyes. “The cup for the national championships would look good,” he answered. “All that I’d have to do to win it would-be to beat Norris Williams.” “Tes; and all that you have to do to win the cup is to beat Toita Pennington.” “One Is Just about as easy as the other to me. Give me sonfethlng easy, Mildred." The girl lifted her chin the fraction of an inch. “Anybody can do easy things,” she answered. “I think that cup would look just fine in our living room.” “It sure would,” Ray smiled goodnaturedly. “Let’s have a set of tennis.” “I want you to win that cup,” she said, steadfastly. “But Mildred, dear, I can’t do that.” There was just a touch of irritation in his voice. “You know as well as I do that I could never beat Pennington.” “You can try.” “Yes, but thht wouldn’t do any good. He’d wallop the tar out of me.” “Oh! So you don’t want to do as I ask you?” “Don’t be foolish; It wouldn’t get us anything.” “It might get us the cup, and I think you’re a mean thing for not trying.” Ray smiled sadly. The ways of women, were still a mystery to him, and, not knowing what else to dd, he kept quiet. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the clay courts; from within the clubhouse came the sound of music. Suddenly Mildred turned to her companion, one bright tear glistening in the corner of each eye, “You told me once that you’d do anything in the world for me,” she said. “i will.”. ' - ' i-.... “Then try for the cup.” So, on Saturday afternoon, Ray found himself facing Tom Pennington for the club championship. Mildred's fiance was a good tennis player, but Pennington had once won the state championship and was regarded as invincible in Glenwood. No one realized this more fully than did Ray. He glanced anxiously toward Mildred, and the girl smiled confidently. But as the match progressed, her confidence received a sudden shock, for Pennington won the first set six to love. The second set recorded the same score and Mildred grew thoughtful. In the third set. however, Ray won the first game, and the girl’s eyes lighted up hopefully. But hope, as well as confidence died away when the former state champion ran out six games in rapid succession and won the championship cup. Tom didn’t see Mildred again until he had taken a shower and changed his attire. Then he found her waiting for him on the swing at the far end of the porch. He smiled' whimsically into her eyes. “Well,. I tried.” he said. “But I’m just not any good.” Mildred flared up Instantly. “You are good,” she answered. “You beat everybody else but Tom Pennington, and you could win from him if you practiced more.” Ray smiled gently. “The finest thing in the whole match was my one loyal supporter,” he said softly. “It was worth being defeated just to see you stand up for me.” “And anyway.” the girl answered, “it wasn’t a Ibve match.” The man shook his head. , “You’re wrong,” he said. “It was a love match. Do you know what the score was?” “Love-three.” “No, it was love-one." No one was watching, so he moved closer. “And tluit one was you, dear.” For a moment they looked into the depths of each other’s eyes. * 3 “What does a cup matter, after all r Mildred whispered finally. “We’ll hang a tennis racket over the fireplace." (Copyright. 1917. Newapa-