Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 171, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 August 1917 — IT WAS DIFFERENT [ARTICLE]

IT WAS DIFFERENT

By LOUISE OLIVER.

Margaret left the girls at the corner and cut across lots to her own house. It was a lovely, soft spring night with a moon, and the perfume of a million blossoms. Her thoughts were busy. She was thinking of the film she had just seen at the moving picture theater, of poor rebellious little Maggie Tulllver. How like Maggie she was herself, she thought, impulsive, loving, misunderstood, and always in trouble through no fault of her own. Just now she wanted to do something that seemed to find nothing but ridicule from the people at home. She wanted to have a fresh-air camp for children down on the lake where they could play and wade and frolic all summer. “But, Peggy, dear,” her aunt had expostulated, “there is a lovely big home for little city children up on the hill.” “Well, there are more children in town, aren’t there?” “But that isn’t it, dear. You don’t understand. It would take hundreds of dollars and many people to do the work. There would be washing and Ironing and cooking and dish washing and bed making. It wouldn’t be all play. And the lake is full of malaria and they’d all be sick and maybe some of them would die. Then what?” “Get some more,” said Margaret, not to be discouraged. “No, dear, it isn’t possible. You’ll have to get over this notion just as you got over wanting to be an aviator, and a missionary and all the other things. You’ll find your calling some day, I’m sure, and in the meantime just try to be contented with Uncle Ben and me and be your own little sweet self.” Margaret still thinking sympathetically of Maggie, crossed the smooth, moonlit lawns. “I’m just as sure as I can be,” she declared, “that by finding my calling some day, Aunt Emma means that I’ll get married. And that is the one thing on earth I won’t do. I consider it weak-minded, this marrying business, when there are so many real things to do in the world.” The soft grass and shrubs concealed her approach, and, as she went lightly up the side steps of the porch, she heard voices around front. Evidently no one know she had come, for the talking went on. She tiptoed to the dining room door, opened the screen and went in. “Even this hot place Is better than sitting out there and being told that I ought to get married. I’ll just have a saucer of strawberries and cream and then go to bed.” • She went back to the* Icebox, got the berries and switched off the light. Then she stepped out into the inviting coolness of the garden. “Hello!” said a masculine voice from the swing. “Hello,” answered Margiiret surprised. “I .thought Katrina had gone out. Excuse me!” And she prepared to depart. “Don’t go!” said the voice. “I don’t know who Katrina is, but she’s not here. There is just me—only I —l mean to say, I only am present.” “Who are you? I have a habit of being particular about my friends. Were you about to break in? Perhaps you have the flat silver about you now!” “I don’t believe I can talk much, my .mouth’s watering so at the smell of those strawberries.” “Just wait a minute and I’ll get you some.” She was back In an Instant, this time leaving on the kitchen light. She wanted to see what her vls-a-vls lookedJike. She was agreeably surprised to. find as he sprang forward to hold the door that he was tall, slender, young and nicely and quietly dressed, and his face satisfied her completely. She settled herself in the swing and he sat down beside her. “Well?” she asked. “Am I to have the story?” “There’s nothing to It—except that I’m misunderstood.” “How Interesting I" exclaimed Margaret, biting a berry. “So am I.” “I’ve always done pretty much as I pleased, though,” said the young man. “That Is, I wanted to write Instead of going Into business, but It hasn’t more than paid expenses. So now Uncle Dick Insists that X come and live with him and be his heir and marry some girl he’s picked out for me. Isn’t It awful I I’d rather go to Alaska.” “Do you mean that Mr. Dixon Prothero Is your uncle?” “Yes.” “And he brought you here to see the girl he wants you to marry?” “Yes.” “And you’re hiding?’ '• “Yes.” “Good for you. So am I! Pm the girl!” “Good heavens!’’ ; She nodded. “But If you’re the girl, it’s —it’s different. You see, I didn't know. I—l—really, Pd love to have you marry me.” “If I did. would you let me have a fresh-air camp for children, and have a flying machine, and be a missionary, and everything?” “Sure thing. And we’d go to Alaska, and Pd write, and we’d have a perpetual picnic.” “All right,” said Margaret, happily. “Til just do it. It never occurred to me before that marriage might mean that at last I should be understood.” • . (Copyright, 1817, by the McClure Newepa- . per Syndicate.) There is a breed of cattle in the Bamoan islands the bulls of which seldom weigh more than 200 pounds and ;the cows seldom more than 160 pounds.