Connecticut western news., 1911-08-24

staid young woman whom I found rather hard to talk to. I asked her who was the girl che was with when was ntroluced to her, and she said she was A.,uas Miller and. taking the hint, offcroi tJ iu.roduge me. 1 ac- cepted and was introduced.
 I don't think l ever chuckled so in my life as v'l2n l found myself incog- nito chatting with the girl whom had been s%yiag soft things to over the wire. ] made up my mind to stave off the dcnnuement as long as possible. Not for the world would give her Gny clew to my identity by the slight est reference to what had passed be- tween us. And as to letting her know even that I was a telegraph operator. nothing would tempt me to risk giving away the whole thing by doing so.
 danced several times with Agnes Miller and once with her friend El- len Ormsby. I concluded to go slow with Miss Miller, but got in a num- Der of compliments and several looks indicating my admiration for her. When 1 left her to catch my train, which did before the dance had end ed, pressed her hand and received slight pressure in return.
 Very soon after this received a shock at the return of Sam Atkins. The Spanish war was over, and Sam had come home in excellent health and handsome as ever What disconnected me was that in some way-I having sent my girl his photograph-he might spoil my fun. But on second thought 1t occurred to me that there was no likelihood of this since she was so far from both of us.
 On my return from c. resumed my telegraphic chat with her, enjoying 1t far more than before from having made her acquaintance. 1t wtis very amusing to talk with her, having seen her, while was still unknown to her except through Sam Atkins photo graph. She continued to complain of the dullness Of G., so I concluded to ask her 10 come to town and go with me to the theater. This would let her into the secret of my having sent her another mans photograph. but I must let that out some time. and there was no especial reason for delay,
 She accepted the invitation with alacrity and appointed night. I pro cured a couple of seats and wrote her that I would meet her at the station and take her from there to the thea ter; she would know me by bit of orange ribbon worn in my buttonhole. To keep up the fraud till her arrival I asked her to carry a few violets in her left hand. s
 When Miss Miller alirhted from the train and saw me, whom she had met before. with the orange ribbon in my buttonhole she stood still for a mo ment; then, simply remarking that we had met before and had deceived her about the photograph, we left the sta ton, and, since it was summer even Ing and m hour must elapse before the play would begin. we walked to park or central square and sat down on one of the benches. She then re- proved me mildly for sending her the wrong photograph, but said she didn't mind that since she had made my acquaintance at c.
 When we entered the theater and took our seats but few people had arrived. We enjoyed ourselves chat ting about our telegraphic correspond ence and watching the audience come in, Suddenly my heart stood still.
 Who should enter and take the two seats in the next row In front of us but Sam Atkins and Miss Miller's friend, whom I had met at G., Ellen Ormsby. #
 The expression on their faces was, to say the least, peculiar. Smiles were struggling to assert themselves which the three were endeavoring to suppress. cast hasty glance at my companion and saw her eyes fairly dance with mingled delight, mischief and triumph.
 knew at once that the game had been playing had not only been discov- cred, but had been turned against me.
 Sam, you rascal" exclaimed You're a traitor to your own sex"
 My remark accustomed a burst of laughter from the whole party except myself.
 Come" said, explain the matter"
 At this moment the orchestra struck up the overture, and in ten minutes more the curtain rose. My tormentors forced me to wait till the end of the first act before giving me an explana- ton; then my companion said:
 Nellie Ormsby Is a telegraph op- orator at the c. station and has been your correspondent She sent you my photograph, with my consent instead of her own, and, having no more con- fdence in you in such q matter than herself, did not believe the likeness you sent her was your own. She went to M., taking the photograph with her, and Il mutual friend of hers and MT. Atkins there told her that it was his picture. Before leaving town she saw you at work at your instrument and knew that you were her correspond ent. Then MT. Atkins returned from the war. She went again to M., made his acquaintance and told hinl the secret