The Bemidji daily pioneer. [volume] (Bemidji, Minn.) 1904-1971, 1912-04-06

THE PAPER WAS TORN BIZ THE DOGS TEETH
She glanced up the street and then
down it as if the buying of that loaf
Of bread had rounded out her days
program and left her objectless.
chuckle Of childish delight focused
her glance on Mrs. Flynn's front Win
dow-the show window about which
We're clustered half Il dozen happy,
dirty, care free little gamins Their
frecklei faces We're pressed close
against the glass. One snub nose was
turned up TO her.
look. lady; amt them JUS the gor-
geouSeSt:"
The lady looked She even stepped
down from the doorsill to get better
view. The children laughed She
Shuddered
Easter WAS approaching and the an
nual miracle had been wrought in
Mrs. Flynns front window. man.
moth wooden hen, comfortably nestled
in curly green excelsior, challenged the
world to admire the fruits of her in
dustry. Untold quantities of eggs that
discounted the rainbow in variety and
vividnrss of hue surrounded her-such
puppies, s"ch green's, such FELLOWS as
were never seen on land or sea-
Poor little things!" said the lady I'M
der her breath, sweeping the whole
joyous group with plying eyes. How
can they ever learn what beauty
means!' She turned away They
were mOnstrosities. those eggs, but
people bought them. They had given
her an idea. She was glad she had
bought her bread at that particular
bakery. She stopped at dairy to add
pint of milk TO her menu. She had
bought her dinner.
The first lesson inculcated by the
lady managers of the exchange was
smiling courtesy to all Corners. Won
en- always smiled on Tom Worthing-
ton. He was such dear" His big
gray eyes were so clear and kindly and
bis ruddy brown hair so perfectly crop.
ped Miss Crutcher smiled on Mr.
Worthington the very next day. She
had found him bending over the case
that held the Easter eggs,
Il see you have added to your collec-
ton since l was here yesterday" he
said.
You mean that box with dozen in
1t? | can't say l admire it as much as
do the flower and fruits. She brought
1t in this morning. She calls it an egg
shell idyl. Why, l am sure l don't
know. But people like to be puzzled.
SO it may sell them. The whole dozen
have to go together. That will be bad
for the sale"
Her comments fell on unheedine
ears. With barred head Tom was lean
Ing low over the box. A rich flush
had mounted into his cheeks. There
was but one woman in the world who
could have executed that exquisite idyl
and he had spent year In futile
search for her, His heart was singing
a paean to the egg artistic: MY dear,
my dear! Every spot that was ours
In common" The little coral house,
with its dazzling white roof-it was
there on the shell. There was the sin
gle doorstep where they had stopped to
rest the day he told her that he loved
her. No one in sight-just he and she.
There was another alabaster white
egg, stained with the flaming crimson
Of the hibiscus. growing against the
old gray wall. He had climbed the
wall to get it for her. No one in sight
just he and she. filing the whole
Bermudan landscape And the ragged
wind slashed banana leaves, under
which they had taken shelter from the
sun in the street Of old st. George
Just one little brown native to stare
at them-just he and she.
It was the idyl of
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