The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1896-04-30
HOW FOLLY ANDI MADE UP

~.H feeling rather blue
ZNs& and sorry about it,
M1E-y#@sM although both were
fESZ-..'--zz-AH\ equally determined
=EEskst. not to make the
==s.1 first advances to-
~ wards "m 2
up, and, as | was saying, we were
both regretting the quarrel not little
Not that the mere fact of our quar-
relling was at all surprising or unu-
sual. We We're always quarrelling.
We quarrelled and differed with such
frequency and ease that our wise
friends were in the habit of advising
us constantly and regularly to part
before our wedding day made this
course Of action impossible or incon-
venient. But this quarrel had been
an exceptional one in several ways.
70 begin with, usually quarrelled
with Polly. This time she had quar-
relied with me. Next, I generally be-
gan by pulling some Of Polly's admir-
ers to pieces; to-day she begun by
scoldinS about an old fame cf mine.
And, as elimination, ] regularly got
the better of even Polly's quick tongue
and sharp wits and secured the last
word for myself, but this time Polly
had delivered the final blow with such
crushing effect that I was completely
silenced and could do nothing but sit
boring my cane into the gravel path
and biting my mustache.
We were at the park and Polly sat
on one end of the painted iron seat,
her head thrown back in the Gibson
girl fashion she never affects save when
she is very angly, en- unwonted color
in her dainty oval cheek and a danger
Gus brightness in her large gray eyes,
which were apparently studying the
cloud formatioas in the blue sky
above. Her little foot, clad in its
dainty, narrow toed shoes, was tap
ping the ground impatiently, and she
was humming little tune all out of
tune with the beating of her foot.
I knew that that tune was only being
indulged in to keep herself from cry
ing, and I was rather glad that she
couldn't make her voice steady enough
to hum "Comin' Through the Rye. -
I knew she wanted to do so, because
that is the tune I especially dislike,
but, as said, she couldn't do it just
then, and I was rather glad. So she
went on humming a hymn tune, and
her voice kept shaking more and more
when she came to the high notes.
Now she had just told me that she
hated me, and I augured the contrary
from the fact that she was so near to
tears, go I coughed apologetically and
drew shade nearer to her. After
all, she was so clearly wrong that
could afford to be generous aud speak
first.
So presently I coughed again and
moved up little more. Then, as she
did appear to be conscious of my ex-
istence, I coughed once more, cleared
my throat and remarked: "Polly."
She made no answer, did not even
turn her head, but observed that hel
nostril was inflated dangerously. pre-
cisely like that OF we'll bred horse
when much excited, and [ knew that
she was more angry and nearer to cry.
ing than ever. So my heart was glad
and said again: "Polly."
This time she tossed her head the
least in the world, SO I ventured tc
take her hand as I said: "Polly. won't
you say you're sorry for what you
said?"
She caught her hand away from mine
with pretty air of detestation ant
burst forth:
"Say I'm sorry that [ said Marit
Jones was setting her cap for yor
again? No, won't; I'm glad l saiC
it," (Terrible emphasis upon the
"glad.")
Now, ( hadn't meant what she sale
about Maria, but about hating me
but Maria is good girl and my
friend, SO 1 took up the cudgels in hel
defence.
That's very unladylike remark,
/ said hotly, "and-"
cit is perfectly true" interrupted
Polly, more angrily than before; GO
don't care that" swapping her prett,
gloved fingers, "about whether it
unladylike or not. Til say it again
She is setting her cap at you."
She was white with anger now. and
seeing this, | grew cold, and thus ha,
her at disadvantage. Long exper
fence of quarrels with Polly ha
taught me this, and l was base enougl
to be glad she was so angry. An angr.
woman can never argue to good effect
So now I whistled softly the tune sh
specially detested, and waited mo
ment before spoke.