The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1912-09-20
THE EVENING STORY
On the Boardwalk.
(By Ella Randall Pearce.)


mer night, Miss Anita Wallace started
out for a solitary stroll from the north
end of the boardwalk, while at the
south end. Mr.. Franklin Sholes, haV-
ing shaken off his gay friends at his
hotel. lighted a cigar and sauntered
modify northward.
! The strangeness of it lay in the fact
that only 4S hours before these two
| young people had quarreled and parted
forever, as each one passionately at
| firmed.
It shall go to the Canadian forests
| and you may never hear OF me again.
| was SholeS parting shot.
| I'm going abroad with the Mac
Phersons!'' called out Anita, mocking-
| ly. "Goodby.''
Each one believed in the other
intention, but after a day spent IN
| miserable reflection decided that
| broken heart could best be mended
| nearer home, so, doubtless actuated
by similar reasons, both the detected
| lovers once, but strangers now" hao
migrated to the popular shore resort
| where a year ago their courtship had
| begun and run happily through a
| wonderful summer season.
Anita's thoughts were travelling
| backward as she slowly pursued her
way with her pensive face turned
! toward the sea. What was the shift
What did she have in common with
| the festive world, where in every di-
rection that her glances turned she
saw couples arm in arm, fond-eyed
and smiling? Franklin Sholes was
on his way to Canada and she was
aloneI
After all, was foolish to come
here of all places" reflected Anita
At don't want to care for him any
more. I want to forget, and there's
| nothing like stirring up old memories
to make folks remember. And those
were happy times! But he has
changed-and I hate a stingy mani"
Some distance ahead a solitary fig
ure leaned over the narrow railing and
tossed a half-finished cigar into the
| waves.
Tastes like a stogie," muttered
young Stoles. We'll, I suppose Miss
Anita Wallace is on the high seats to-
night. The sight of the ocean gives
me the blues-what did come down
here for, anyway? Brings back the
old days when Anita was so dear and
sweet Society's spoiled her-and
hate a frivolous, extravagant woman!
Besides, my income would not support
her. Glad I found it out in time
Then, as he leaned over the dark,
tapping waters, his meditations keyed
to their melancholy music, he recall
ed Anita as he had seen her last-a
dazzling figure in pale pink, with deli
cate Observation-Disclosures of deeper rose
shades f1ecked with crystal beads-a
beautiful gown, but quite inconsistent
ly worn by a young woman of modest
means.
There had been Their times when his
practical mind revolved around the
perplexing subject of his sweetheart's
attractive-and, as it seemed to him,
Sholes' frank criticism that had start
ed the quarrel that ended SO dis
astrously. How defiant, how tantaliz-
ing Anita had been, and how harShly
she had forced him to speak.
"Oh, well, she'd be no wife for
poor man. Vanity and extravaganza
have broken up many home. But
perhaps I might have expressed my
self more automatically. Antta's
young and has been fiattered a lot.
And that pink dress was mighty be-
coming
Then he continued his way. Mean
while Anita, hoping to find diversion
for her jaded mind, had turned in at
one of the little Japanese bazaars that
bordered the board walk, where the
regular evening auction sale was in
progress.
The place was thronged, but she
found single front seat at one side
where the glib auctioneer's interesting
prattle came plainly to her. He was
disposing of some fine linens: a small
Oriental rug followed and after that, !
the rimble assistant brought out some
gay fiat boxes LndL Q1SDuTSeQ SOIL IOlQS
of radiant color ii
Little silk scarf. made in Japan, all |
hand embroider," chanted the auc-
tioneer Here's a beauty-what you |
call that color? Yes. Merican
can Beauty-yes, it will make lovely |
the lady who wears it. How much |
you offer? Anything to start-how |
much for this 'Merican Beauty scarf? |
Five dollar, thank you-all dat? It |
is hand embroider, not machine, you |
understand? Ten dollar, thank you.
Do 1 hear more? %
Anita became suddenly possessed of a |
desire to possess that lovely, silken /
thing. Haunting at her its rosy pink /
sheen and delicate embroideries. Two |
nights ago she had worn an embroid- |
cred rose pink gown.
Twelve" called somebody on the |
other side of the bazaar. Thirteen,
stammered Anita, close at the auc-
tioneer's side. and. when the word was
repeated, two or three higher bids
were made. The auctioneer nodded
his head toward the far corner.
do / hear more? Eighteen, thank
you Eighteen is bid, eight
Twenty said Anita, her pulses
thrilling with the spirit of the contest.
s"Twenty-do hear more? Twenty
two?'
The auctioneer's look of inquiry was
answered by a nod from her distant
opponent, and, when his glance swung
around again, ANITA snapped nef eyes
So they silently bid
against each other, she and the un-
known in the far corner, while the
pattering talk went on.
"Twenty-eight'' agreed Anita. at
last, with an uncomfortable feeling of
getting beyond her depths. Thirty,
nodded the unknown. Anita sank
back with little gasp of mingled
disappointment and relief. No. she
would not bid again, but OH how she
wanted that lovely rose-leaf scarf
from old Japan
She looked curiously at the last bidder