Jasper County Democrat, Volume 7, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 February 1905 — THEIR SUMMER ENGAGEMENT [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THEIR SUMMER ENGAGEMENT

By HERBERT McB. JOHNSTON

Capyrlflit, 1004, by Herbert Mcß. Johnston

“Fhyllls,” said I solemnly, “do you know what day this Is?”

“Friday, Sept. 21,” repeated Fhyllls glibly.

“Yes,” said I, shaking my head tragically—“yes, this Is the fated day, the accursed hour. The time has come.” Phyllis laughed. When Fhyllls laughs the prettiest dimples come in her cheeks. I have accused her of laughing Just to bring them there, but she only laughs the more.

"Phyllis,” I warned her, “those dimples.”

I think they grew even deeper. “And I’m such a weak one,” I murmured thoughtfully.

“We’re getting away from the question,” replied l’hyllis, with swift Inconsequence. “Wlmt about the date?” I assumed my most melancholy air. My eye caught the corner of my pocket handkerchief, and I pulled it out. “The day of our parting,” I replied briefly, smothering a pseudo sob. Phyllis’ brows met In a perplexed frown, a most adorable frown. “I don’t get it,” she said.

“It’s your own doing,” I asserted, throwing the blame on her. “It was entirely your own suggestion, and you have no one to blame but yourself.” Still Phyllis frowned. I know a way I could have smoothed out the wrinkles.

“Why. our engagement, you know,” I insinuated. “It was expressly understood, I thought, that it was strictly a summer affair.”

At last Phyllis comprehended. For a moment I thought she was going to smile and enjoy the Joke, but Instead her eyes grew wide with amazement, and then she hurled her face In her handkerchief. There was no mistaking it The sobs were too violent to be anything but genuine. “Phyllis?” I interrogated in amazement. “Phyllis, what Is it dear?” I don’t believe either of us noticed the last word.

Then she dried her eyes and straightened up her head. 4 T never thought, Jack.” said Phyllis, with considerable indignation, “that yon would have reminded me of 1* And on the very day summer is over too! It seems to me you were in rather a hurry to have it ended.” “But, .Phyllis’’— I blundered. “Yes, ‘but, Phyllis,’ ” she mocked me. “I suppose you were afraid that if it ran a day over it would mean a renewal of the contract, or perhaps you thought I wouldn’t let you out of it You needn’t have worried, I assure you.”

Phyllis was holding her head very high. A sunbeam playing across her brown hair set It afire. Iler eyes needed no sunbeam. I never saw Phyllis look more handsome.

And then, while I grew redder and more shamefaced, I saw the little vixen was-laughing at me. “Jack,” she said, “there’s something I like about you. I don’t know what it is. I think it must be your family.” That set me on my high horse. “Ah!” I murmured indifferently. “Good of you. I’m sure. Perhaps you have even picked out which one—Fred or Charlie?”

“I'm not quite sure.” said Phyllis roguishly. The dimples were there again. “Phyllis,” I said, “I’m never going to ask you to marry me again.” “I don't want to marry you again,” answered rhyllls. “You haven’t yet,” I retorted. “What I mean is that I am never again going to ask you.” “Never?” asked Phyllis In mock ter-

ror. “Never!” said I firmly. “This is the very last time. 'Will you marry me?” “That’s once over, right there.” she laughed. “Remember,” I warned her, “It was the last time.” “Will yon make me a promise?” questioned Phyllis. “To”-

“Not ask any other girl either,” finished Phyllis. ' « “I don’t see what difference It would make,” I commented. “Because If you will,” said Phyllis, ‘Til wait until I’m ready or on the shelf and then come arvond and jude

you; only ra nue to t>e sure you were disengaged.”

I guess I must have looked a bit blank, because Phyllis burst out laughing.

“How long will it be?” I asked. “I really can’t say,” laughed Phyllis. “If I decide to wait until I’m ready for the shelf I flatter myself it will be some time yet” “So do I,” I said sadly.

“Well,” asked Phyllis, with some asperity, “you don’t hope for anything else, do you?” But the thought of it seemed a long way ahead. “If I were sure”— I began. "If I give you my word,” said Phyllis. "Phyllis,” I said soberly, “if you said the word I’d wait till the day of doom for you, dear. But, you know, little girl, I don’t want to. I want you now.” Phyllis’ eyes had lost that hard glow. There was only the dull, soft fire of burnished copper now. I ought to have taken her In my arms and kissed her right there, but I didn’t know' enough. I always was noted for doing such stupid things. Phyllis has told me so since.

"Do you really, Jack?” said she soft ly.

"I really do, Phyllis. Without you I’m like that soul which the poet tells about, ‘that went into the storm f\nd blackness and lost itself between the earth and heaven.’ ”

Phyllis sat a little closer to me. It’s a good dodge, is that poetry business. I’ve always felt that I owed a good deal to some of those poet Johnnies. "That was awfully dear of you, Jack,” she whispered. I felt a goodish bit like a cad then. It seemed so like taking an unfair advantage. Yet it wasn’t that I didn’t mean it, for I did, every word of it “Phyllis,” I half whispered, "shall I break my word?” Phyllis never said a word, but Just crept a little closer. I dared to put my arm around her. Now, it's always been my contention that when a girl says stop In a whisper that she means the exact opposite. “Stop!” whispered Phyllis. That was when I did it. Her head was on my shoulder, but her face somehow got twisted up, and I kissed her full on the lips. Phyllis’ lips are warm and soft. "Oh, Jack!” she whispered. Then I kissed her again. But I only kissed her twice. An event is but momentary ; let it last longer, and it sinks to the level of a mere incident. “And it’s my family you like, is it, Phyllis?” I asked her. Phyllis nodded her head. She was too close for me to see her do it but I could feel it on my shoulder. “Fred or Charlie?" I asked again. "I guess—l think—er—their brother.” After that I forgot all that rot about an event being but momentary. Anyhow, what’s the odds if it is? People don’t go through life looking for events all the time. Commonplace things are

much nicer. “And you’re going to be engaged to me now for all the time?” I questioned when’l got my breath. “No,” said Phyllis, shaking her head. “Please, dearest.” I said. “I want you so—so much. Please say you will.” But Phyllis shook her head. “No,” said she, with a happy little laugh; “It’ll have to stop when you marry me.”

I DARED TO PUT MY ARM AROUND HER.