The Hays free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1908-1924, 1910-07-23

sunny, southern beach, the girl with
the parasol was a mystery. She and
her parasol were as inseparable as
the S1amese twins, and, by clever ma
neuvering, she managed always to
place the sun-shade- between herself
and any curious passer-by who sought
to glance at her face.
She was beautifully gowned, at all
tunes, and her parasol never failed to
! be harmonious part of her toilette.
/ II she walked forth on the board walk
in the morning in tailored linen suit,
| her parasol would be Of linen to CORE
spond; If she drove in the afternoon
! IN fluffy frock of dainty material,
| her parasol would be as fluffy and
! dainty.
Young Tom Martinson, who was ia
king advantage of the Easter festivi-
ties to get a needed change at the sea
side, was not the least interested of
those who observed the girl with the
! parasol He had been attracted to her
on the morning of his arrival as she
walked before him on the board walk
| The grace of her carriage and the
! spOtless white linen in which she was
! gowned from head to foot had caught
I
! overtake her But if ne had hoped to
get glimpse of her face in passing
! he was disappointed AS he neared
her, she had, with apparent uncon-
seriousness, drawn the parasol around
her shoulder until it entirely shaded
| her face.
The following morning as he gal
loped along the bride path that ran
! parallel with the boulevard by the sea
( he caught sight of her sitting erect,
/ her coachman beside her, in her trap
AS inconspicuousJy as possible-for
Tom Martinson was nothing if not
well-bred-he managed to spur his
! pony to unwOnted antics in order to
meet the young woman face to face
But, by another unfortunate coinci-
dence, the girl at that moment found
that the sun was in her eyes and that
her parasol was a necessary shade.
The next move on the part of Mr.
Martinson was to learn the girls
name. 1t was sure to be on the regis
ter and he had discovered that her
apartments were on the same floor as
! his own. But there was little to be
gained by knowing that Dorothy
Conant was the name she had placed
on the hotel book and that she lived
in a large western city, the name of
which was so badly Scribbled that he
was certain the maid had done it.
There seemed to be no way in
which he could find out who the girl
was and learn her reasons for keep
ing herself so mysteriously alone
And this very mystery was one>of the
L
ly to her. He had made up his mind
that she was pretty of FACET not, in
deed, beautiful. And he thought he
had made one more discovery; he be-
lieved she sang.
This last deduction had been made
by reason of his having heard a glori-
GUS voice emanating from the end of
the corridor in which were her apart
ments. To make sure of this last
piece of evidence against the Elusive
girl, Tom Martinson determined to
spend the evening on the veranda that
belonged equally to him and to her
the upper porch that ran around the
second floor of the hotel and from
which French windows opened to the
suites on that floor. Perhaps, since,
so far as he could learn, the girl never
left her rooms in the evening, she
would spend her time singing.
After dinner he betook himself to
the veranda and drew a chair as near
the windows he believed to be hers
as his conscience would permit 1t
was the night before Easter and the
air in the southern town was as
balmy as a night in June in the north
ern climate. Martinson lighted his
cigar, elevated his feet and looked
out across the water just beginning
to be silvered by the rising moon
Presently he heard notes from a
piano. At first, the player ran light
ly over the keys as if she were won
dering what to play. Then she broke
definitely into a prelude of a solo
from Stainer's "Crucifxion'' The
man, without, turned toward the
windows from which the sound came.
How appropriate, thought Martin
son, was the music to the season.
But then, had he stopped to realize
it, how exquisitely in harmony was
everything the girl did He lis
tened and she ran from one part to
another of the wonderful "Crucifx-
ion," until Martinson longed, more
than ever, to know her.
After awhile the singer within be-
gan, softly, to sing little sentiment
al song, and as the simple words met
his ear there was wonder in the mans
mind. Was it only that his mind had
dwelt so constantly on the mysterious
girl that she seemed Familiarity close
to him at this moment, or He
listened intently! No, she did Iinger
over the vowels and s1ur her rs as
could no girl from the part of the
world from which she was registered
in the hotel book. And yet-the girl
of whom this voice-this very song
reminded Martinson, could not sing a
note.
He put this idea from him as abb
surd- The girl inside could not be
she; she was too mysterious That
other girl-she was almost a memory
now-had been surrounded by a very
conventional family; she had been