Jasper County Democrat, Volume 21, Number 91, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 February 1919 — The Blue Dress [ARTICLE]

The Blue Dress

By MILDRED WHITE

(Ooerrigkt. ISIS. W«t«n Kmwn Uatoa.) * Little Mary Smith hummed a song, as she closed the office door behind her. She continued bumming in a Joyous thrill, as the elevator swung down to the ground floor. The elevator boy grinned into the girl’s glowing face. “Gee! you look happy," he said. “I am, happy,” Mary told him as she smiled. Out on the busy street crowded with its home-going throng, Mary looked up to*where early stars shone above the tallest skyscraper. . . “Even a moon,” she rejoiced, “as if everything was not perfectly perfect, without a moon.” She could hardly wait as she climbed the stair of the boarding house, to fit the key in the lock of her small room door, to gloat again over her new treasure. The treasure was lying spread out upon her bed. as she had left It in the morning. Mary bent over the gown touching it with caressing fingers, its coming had seemed to be the climax to her happiness. And so long had sadness been little Mury’s portion! All things beautiful —like this glorious fur-trlm-ined frock—hnd vanished at the time of her father’s death; when bewildered by the changing of her life-plan, Mary had gone forth to the strange city, to earn her livelihood. From the black dress, to the forbidding boarding house, through the indifferent city crowd, became a dull and accepted routine. Then all at once hope called to Mary'again, and smiled, and beckoned. Hope, in the form of a letter addressed In an almost boyish scrawl. “Dear Marysaid the letter. "No doubt you have forgotten me among your city friends, but I shall never forget you. Lida Warren came back to Lynden yesterday, and said that she had seen you In an office building where you were working. And I thought now, that I might presume to call upon you; (Mary smiled at the prim word) if agreeable to you, when I come to the city. That will be next Thursday; may I tnke you to the theater in the evening?” The lonely girl had sent n prompt reply: "She would he glad to go to the theater with her old friend.” After her letter was dispatched Mary sat staring across the city roofs. Lawrence Barr hud been her girlish ideal of all that ». man should be, hut Larry had never understood. To him in his simple cotinge home, Mary, In her father’s great house, was a creature to be admired and approached with diffidence. Only now when the apparent greatness of her future hnd crumbled, did Larry dare to seek out the one woman he desired to make his wife.

Then, as though fickle fortune in her sudden changing wished to leave nothing lacking, came on the morning of Larry’s expected visit —the box from cousin Lucia. This cousin of Mary's hud been pleased to send to her occasionally, certain discarded articles of her own appaVel. These garments Mary was usually obliged to cast aside us hopeless. Hut today’s box bore *‘a love of a dress,” as Mary mentally called It, and blue, of a color to match Mary's blue-bell eyes. Mary's heart quickened as she glanced wistfully at her companion during the performance at the theater. If he could only know how good It was to see some one from home again,— how very, very good It was, to see—him. But apparently Larry did not know, or if he did, he seeiueiP disinterested in the knowledge. “Good-by,” he said briefly at the boarding bouse door, “good night Mary and —good-bji.” Through a rush of disappointed tears, Mary in her little room sought out the fastenings of the beautiful blue gown. An envelope upon the dresser.drew her attention. It was a telegram. Hastily she tore it open. “The wrong gown was forwarded to you from the cleaners, where I left two to be renovated;” Mary read. “Please return blue fur trimmed dress to Lucia.” Little Mary Smith laughed shakily as she brushed aside her tears. "Everything—goes back,” she murmured confusedly. The boarding house maid tapped, and thrust a second note beneath the door. Mary recognised Larry’s familiar scrawl. “Dearest." she read again. “I can’t go away without saying wliat I came to say, even though It is of no use. I have always loved you, Mary, and hoped that now perhaps, it might not seem such an undesirable change, from your present mode of life to my simple home. Maybe it was the costly gown you wore tonlgut which discouraged me; I realize that It’s a far cry from that sort of dress to Lynden; and Mary, my heart is for your happiness more than for its own—so I’m leaving on the ten o’clock tomorrow morning—” Breathlessly Mary reached for pen and paper, her answer must go to him tonight by special delivery. Smiling, she folded cousin Lucia’s telegram into her letter. •„ “Dear Larry—:” Mary wrote. “I am glad that you do not have to be returned like my mistaken blue dress. I love you Larry. Above all things I’d love to live as your wife, in the Utile house at Lynden,” *