The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1898-01-29
4 PIECE Or FICTION
By RICHARD HAMILTON POTTS.


w
found wanting in the presence of ones
own sex" Lou pauses and gloomily
chews the end of her pencil.
"Well, for my part, confess I am
glad of any change. It is so stupid I
pine, banker for sensation and the
want of it, This dreadful monotony is
embittering my soul. And I wildly
clasp my hand to my left side where I
suppose my soul to be.
81 feel for you and long and banker
with you responds Hortense genially.
"And 7.
"And T." rejoin Lou and Kathleen.
"Cannot somebody do something out
of the way?'' / ask. From the silence
which ensues it seems that somebody
cannot
kathleen, - continued, turning in
despair to girl who had-only been one
of us a few weeks, but who had already
givenus sufficient proof that she was, as
we put it, "up to anything "Kath-
leen, do suggest something.
my mind is a blank, ;" she answers.
s'I am perfectly willing to do anything
anybody else suggests but as for sug-
costing myself-it is beyond me. -
A gloomy pause. My last hope has
vanished.
ST wish my hair lay in dusky waves
and shadows on a low, broad, white
brow murmurs Kathleen at last. She
has taken a small pocket glass from her
desk and is pensively regarding her
charming, piquant face.
CHOW, what are you all laughing
at?" she adds, opening her big, brown
eyes and looking the picture of astonish-
ment. "And I wish had house with
a lofty, marble hall, too, and I wish
my hair was SO long that when I walked
distractedly up and down 1.-THE hall,
! mean-my hair would trail behind me
and make faint swishing sound. y
A burst of unsympathetic laughter
follows this speech.
"Well, if she has not read more nov
els than any girl I ever knew!" ex-
claims Hortense.
'Hushr' I whisper. fHere comes
Miss Banks. %
We all smother our laughter and re-
sume our copying of a problem from the
blackboard That is, excepting Kath-
ieen. lam seated next her, and no mark
mars the whiteness of the paper before
her. She is evidently in brown study.
Never mind, - whisper, 'sif your
hair is not long and cannot swish on
a marble hall, it's a pretty color and
curly. And then by the time you get
the hall your hair will probably have
grown, you know But she only smiles
and relapses again into thoughtfulness.
That evening Lou Devine and are in
our room studying. There is knock at
the door and Kathleen enters. Her pref
ty, short hair is wet and pushed off her
forehead, as if she were the victim of
severe headacbe-or a composition.
Her eyes, usually sparkling with mis-
chief, are large, dark. mournful. She
assures us with emphasis, in answer to
our sympathetic inquiries, it is nothing
but slight headache. She wanders
around like an uneasy spirit, but as
usual we have left our lessons until the
last minute and are too busy to notice
her.
"Bess,' she says at last. "Bess-er
lend me pencil, will you?''
"Don' forget to give it back to me.
Battle of Waterloo, 1915; battle OF Wa
terloo, 1916.
"Bess-are you studying your his
tory?''
Liverpool and Manchester railway
opened, 1880; LIVERPOOL
'Bessie?"
looked up. Something in her tone
attracts my attention
"Well?'' ask rather impatiently.
"Er-now-er, did you say the bat
tie of Waterloo was in 1852"
"Well," I say scornfully, IT thought
you were going to ask me something of
some Importance Of course it was -
And I return to the Liverpool and Man
chester railway. Kathleen turns to the
door.
She has her hand on the knob, when
she pauses
"Oh, by the way, Bessie, - she says,
with somewhat studied carelessness sis
the new teacher 8 name-er-Winkle?"
YES I answer, surprised at her
manner
"such a queer name, you see. Rip
Van Wrinkle, you know, and-er-
that" And she is gone.
Lou and I stare at each other in
amazement
ssWhat makes Kathleen SO PECULIAR
asks Lou --
"Give it up" answer. "she Ger
tainly was rather queer" And we re-
sumo our studying But the dates will
not. stay in my head. ! cannot help
thinking of Kathleen and her strange
hesitation, her very evident confusion.
~
One by one the first class in literature
files down the staircase which leads to
the room where stands Miss Banks, our
worthy principal, and Mr.. Wrinkle
first Kathleen, then Hortense, then l,
and behind me Lou
As we reach the door Kathleen stops
short, puts one hand to her head stag
gers little and gasps, "Oh, cannot "
Then, before we can move or speak,