Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-12-03
Thanks to the
 Weather. k
By JOANNA SINGLE.
Copyright, 1907, by E. c. parcells.

dow. If she and Richard had not been caught in sudden shower to the ut ter ruin of her very prettlest dress, she would never have been irritable and quarreled with him about nothing at gall, and she would not have expected him. to take the fault upon himself
 when she alone-after the weather was to blame. And now 1t had rained for nearly week, and the inaction was driving her wild. She could only think, think and vainly try to over come her pride and send for him.
 For the thousandth time she drew from her dress his. last letter and re- read it:
 Dearest-we have been friends and neighbors and sweethearts all our lives and should not let anything corAe between us. love you, and if you will just send one word saying you want me I will come at your call and forget the nothing we Quarreled about. Should we let anything 80 childish part us? look for word from you. If 1t does not come, I shall know that you really meant to break our engagement and shall of course not trou- bic you. But you couldn't have meant 1t, Edith? Fraternally yours,
 RICHARD COPELAND.
 That was all, but she had sent him no word, thinking that in time he would come anyhow, and then she would let him coax her out of her anger. But he had not come, and she could not fail to respect him for refus- ing to be played with. So she was very wretched and blamed her own pride and the weather. The rain beat down warmly and inter- mittently, and all nature expanded and throve under its moist influence. Edith looked across the fields to the south to Richards home, which one day was to have been also hers, and saw him out in the rain on his horse, coming >, from the town few miles away. How often they two had ridden about the country together! And now it was all over. He would never come back to her-unless she sent for him. Could she do 1t? It was early in the after noon, and she might send her little brother over with a note. She hesi- tated; then she went to her room and sat down to her desk. It would be a relief to write to him, even if she could not bring herself to send 1t to him.
 Dear Richard-Will you come to see me tonight? I was horrid. and I am very sorry. If I had not been wet and cross I should not have thought of caring be- cause you rode to town with Fay Of course you could not help her overtaking you. She always was forward. Forgive me and come back. You know that-I love you-always. EDITH.
 She sat looking at it. Then her heart misgave her. It had been two long months since they parted, and he might no longer care for her. He might care for Fay. The neighbors had said he had been to see her The letter was altogether too unguarded. She could not tell him she loved him. So she carelessly thrust it into her dress with the letter from nim.
 She tried to busy herself about the house, but somehow she could not work. She was restless and felt as If her mother and sister saw it and would know that she fretted for Richard. She tried to read in her own room, but it seemed like prison.
 Along about 8 o'clock she felt as if the day had been years long. She could bear it no longer. She put on some heavy shoes and an old water proof riding habit, wound her fair hair closely under little cap and stood be- fore the glass thinking what fright she looked and rather rejoicing in the fact. What was the use of being beau tiful when Richard no longer loved her?
 She slipped out to the barn and sad dled Ginger, her little mare, mounted and rode quickly out of the gate and northward, as she did not want to pass Richards house. Her mother saw her ride off in the storm and wondered if the girl was going crazy, t:t was too late to call after her. At first Ginger wheeled and refused to believe that she was expected to splash her dainty hoofs through such pools of mud and water, but after a few shorts of pro- test Edith convinced her with the quirt that this wind and rain were really to be faced, and the little beast settled into a spiteful trot.
 Edith rather rejoiced in buffeting the storm. The rain and wind cooled her hot cheeks, and the open air relieved the unbearable tension of her nervous ness. For the first time since the trou- ble with Richard she allowed herself the unrestrained luxury of tears. Here out in the open, with the sting of rain drops in her face, she was free from prying eyes. She did not need to keep up her pride, and she could be as wretched as she really felt She did not look about her, but rode mile after mile, letting tie mare take her own course.
 After riding an hour or so she no- ficed that the storm abated and, look ing up, saw that the clouds were less dark. Here and there was a gieam of blue, though the warm wind still blew Intermittent drops into her face. She drew her collar closely about her neck 1 and pulled her cap over her eyes and ! rode on with her own thoughts.
 At last an idea came to her. Why hot phone to Richard-just call him lp and talk to him In the old way l |ebOut nothing in particular and, if he made it easy for her, ask him to ] |cOme to see her that evening1 Strong i kn this new resolve, she looked to see I