The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1907-04-12
THE EVENING STOR Y
Thanks to the Weather.
By Joanna SingIe.l


very prettiest dress, she would never
have been irritable and quarreled with
him about nothing at all, 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 a. week and. the
inaction was driving her wild; she could
only think, think, and vainly try to
overcome 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 come be-
tween us. I love you. and If you VIII
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 SO childish part US? / look
for a word from you. If it does not
come shall know that you really meant
to break our engagement, and shall of
course not trouble you. But you couldn't
have meant it, 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 LEI
him coax her out of her anger. But he
had not come and she could not fail to
respect him for refusing to be played
with.
her own pride and the weather. The
rain beat down warmly and intermit-
tently, and all nature expanded and
throve under it's moist influence. Ed1tna
looked across the fields to the south to
Richards home which some day was to
have been also hers, and saw him out
in the rain on his horse, coming from
the town a few miles away. How OFTEN
they two had ridden about the country
together! And now it was all over-he
Il 70 hoy
she sent for him. Could she do 1t? 1t
was early in the afternoon and she
might send her little brother over with
a note. She hesitated, then she went to
her room and sat down to her desk IL
would be a relief to write to him--eVen
if she could not bring herself to send it
to him.
Dear Richard:
Twill you come to see me tonight?
I was horrid. and I am very sorry II
I had not been wet and cross should
not have thought of caring because
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
"EDITHA."
She sat looking at it. Then her heart
misgave her. 1t had been two long
months since they parted. and he
might no longer care for her; he might
L
he had been to see her. The letter
was altogether too unguarded-she
could not tell him she loved him. So
she carelessly thrust 1t into her dress
with the letter from him.
She tried to busy herself about the
house, but somehow she could not
work; she was restless, and felt as II
her mother and sister saw 1t and would
know that she fretted for Richard.
She tried to read in her own room, but
it seemed like a prison. i
Along about o'clock she felt as II
the day had been years long; she could !
bear 1t no longer. She put on some
heavy shoes and an old waterproof
riding habit, wound her fair hair close |
" under little cap, and stood before
the glass thinking what a 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
saddled Ginger, her little mare; mount
ed 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 Won
dered if the girl was going crazy, but |
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 snorts |
Of protest. Edith convinced her with |
the quirt that this wind and rain were |
really to be faced, and the little beast |
settled into a peaceful trot.
Edith rather rejoiced in buffeting
he Storm the rain and wind cooled |
aer hot cheeks, and the open air re-
ieved the unbearable tension of her
he trouble with Richard, she allowed
herself the unrestrafned luxury of |
ears. Here, out in the open, with the
sting of raindrops in her face she was
rec from prying eyes; she did not
iced to keep up her pride, and she
could be as wretched as she really felt.
She did not look about her, but rode
nile after mile, letting the mare take
Ter own course. i
After riding an hour or so she noticed
hat the storm abated, and looking up
saw that the clouds were less dark l.
Here and there was a CLEAN of blue,
hough the warm wind still blew inter-
nittent drops into her face. She drew
Ter collar closely about her neck and
pulled her cap over her eyes and rode
IN with her own thoughts.
At last the idea came to her. Why
lot phone to Richard? Just call him
Up and talk to him in the old way about
lothing in particular? And If he made
easy for her, ask him to come to see
Ter that evening? Strong in this new
esolve she looked to see where she was,
md realized that after a long detour
hey were about mile below Richards
louse, which they must pass. She could
lot go back, for 1t was probably near
vening. The sun threatened to break
through the clouds near the horizon |
NE rain had entirely ceased. She felt
ired. but happier, and quiet after the
elief of tears.
Then she remembered a way through ]
fields that they had often ta- {
en. She would have to pass a bad
Tough, but that could not be helped ]
e must not see her in her present
light. She realized that her face was
wollen and her eyes red with weeping, |
nd that she was covered with mud. her !
air was flying wildly. though the
ampness always made it the curlier {
he turned into the pasture, after dis {