The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1888-12-22
BLUE. OR CRIMSON?

from harper Dazaf.
II was a momentous question, far
more SO than the reader, CHANGING at
the title of this story, imagihes. The
young lady standing by the window,
in street costume, gazing Mt zoe
blooming squares in the il Gle garden
below, was no neGIrer deciding it than
she had been three days ago; yet it
must oe settled that afternoon, and
the hands of the clock were pointing
ten minutes to- 5. "Blue, or crim-son?''
the words began to adjust them
selves with annoying pertinacity to
the monotonous ticking on the man
tel-"blue, or crim-son? Yale, or Har-
vard?" and then this further affix,
containing the kernel of the Difficult.
ty, 'R plfe, or Mars-ton? Role, Or
Mars-ton?"
Which should it he? The clock
dropped preliminaries and struck to
the telling clause with persistency SO
aggravating that the young lady
knitted her pretty blows and finally
stopped her cars, ehe must think
she mast think. Here were only fif
teen minutes In which to balance for
perhaps the thousandth time, the
merits of two rival and declared suit
ors for her hand, represented by the
colors of the rival colleges. Which
should it be?
How it was that, though neither Of
these suitors had yet been accepted,
each believed himself favored, and
expected his supposed lady-love to
wear his colors that evening, is a
mystery which only an accomplished
coquette could explain. This par
ticular coquette did penance for much
previous Irritation during the mau.
vais quart p'heure at the window.
trying to make up her mind whether
to purchase blue or crimson ribbon
for Elinor Vance's party.
She had put off purchasing either
as long as possible, and had had inn
mense trouble to prevent being pre-
sented with both. But for this un
fortunate party, which had given
each admirer an excuse to request 6
proof of favor, she need not have de
cided quite yet whether to accept
Roger Marston, whose dark eyes anC
charming manners had turned thu
heads of half the girls in her "set. ,
who was handsome, aristocratic, ant
oh, most potent word!-rich, OF
Walter Rolfe, the "little lover" of hel
childhood, her playmate and teacher
at once, her loyal champion always
and the hero of her earliest day
dreams.
"Why, Lou, what in the world ar
you standing there for with YOU
fingers in your ears? So you're go
ing out?"-with disappointed &C
cent.
Eyes, IN. Why?"
"Oh, I've just got note from you
Aunt Maria. She's sick, and nothing
IL do but l must go up there thi
evening. And 1 thought perhaps
you'd make the biscuit for supper
l can't trust Inga, you know" Ings
was the Swedish 'help," majestic
snow fair, picturesque, serene, and al
yet innocent of the least details O
| cooking. Cant you be back in hal
an hour? 1t don't take long to max
a cream-tarter biscuit"
Eyes, m" with despairing glanc
at the clock, "Pll try"
One would not have said she wa
trying very hard, noting her deliber
ate pace when once on the street
She could have wished the walk t.
town twice as long. How provok
ingly things happened! The 'help'
only fit to look at, and Aunt Mari'
sick to-day of all the three hundre'
and sixty-five in the year! Oh dear
DEAR! Should it be blue or crimson
OF course it ought to be blue
Walter and she seemed to belong t,
each other-always. She had stanch
ly believed him, till lately, the clever
est, best and handsomest boy in tn
world. He might be-yes, she wa
afraid he was-a little common place
but he was as much a part of her pas
as her brother Jermey, and scenes
as much q part of her future. T
eliminate Walter
But then what girl she knew woul
think of refusing Roger Marston? H
belonged to one ofthe Boston families
he had five times Roles property; h
was handsomer too-at least tn
girls thought he was; he sang; b
painted; and poor Role was apt t
yawn over "enthusiasms." Suret
no one else would hesitate betwee
the two, and yet
Here she was at a store door, an
the clocks were pointing fiftee
minutes past five. She passed tina
door, and the next, and the next
then turned back resolutely. Wha
was the use of wavering? 1t shoul
be crimson.
81 declare, Miss Lour' This greetin
was given by an irreproachabl
gentleman offorty who was patrollin
the center of the store. "Icannot b.
lieve my eyesl For two weeks 20
have passed without a glance at m
windows. and now, when Pm in tt
depths of despair, in you walk as
nothing had happened.
"You see, Mr.. Batchelder," was tt
saucy response, 81 couldn't endrr
the separation any longer And no
fortunate l am to find you at libert
to attend mep
"Whatl You're going to ignol