The Washington herald., 1914-12-01
DAILY SHORT STORY.
POLLY PERKINS.
~ CATHERINE CooPE.
iConrrirht- lsli.N

Copyright, Isl4)
No one would have stigmatized Polly
Perkins as being insane. Eccentric, men
tally unbalanced she certainly was and
another couple of years might possibly
see her comfortably ensconced in home
for incurables For the present she was
happily if whimsically domiciled in a
tiny cottage on Long Island. Miss Polly S
mental state was the cause of rude Jests
from village children and one Of amused
interest TO older minds. Weekend guests
were sure TO be taken past the abode of
Polly Perkins just as they were invari-
ably regaled by the story of the haunted
house on the old farm road.
She's dippy on the subject of pink. "
said Jimmy Rogers as he strolled past
Miss Perkins cottage with Bob Haw-
tlbrne after a swim in the sound.
q wouldn't have believed It," laughed
Hawthorne as he eyed with amused
glance the pink-painted cottage, the pink
flower gardens, pink gate posts and out
buildings. j suppose she has pink bows
on all the live stock" he commented.
she surely has" chuckled Jimmy,
every living chicken in the barnyard
has pink bow on his neck"
You're joking" exclaimed Hawthorne
but at that moment the cluck, cluck of
the discussed birds announced their pres
a
most tidy little flock Of chickens, each
bird wearing a pink bow on its neck,
came pecking away over Miss Polly's
front lawn.
81 don't call that eccentric. 1 call it
plain cracked, said Hawthorne. What
kind of a freak is this Polly Perkins,"
he asked.
Not so much of a freak as you'd ex-
pect,'' said Jimmy, as they moved along
10 he
tirely in pink and looks not half bad
under the pink sun bonnet she wears
about the garden. You know she writes
stories and things for the magazines"
That accounts for it," said Haw-
thOrne: they are nearly all dippy on
some line. these writer people" After
that the two men fell into a discussion
Of the yacht races being held at the
club and promptly forgot all about Polly
Perkins and her chickens.
1t was not until a few days later thai
Hawthorne, lolling in Jimmy Rogers
hammock, looked up to see lone chick
en- clucking away and pecking contentedly
for vermin in Rogers well-kept lawn.
The chicken had a more or less bedrag-
gled pink bow on its neck that sadly in
terfered at times with the capture of
dainties from the soft sod.
'HellO!" exclaimed Hawthorne, draw
ing himself up from his most comfortable
position the better to look at the hen.
II you haven't strayed from Miss Per-
kins' pink domain I'll eat my hat"
And because Bob Hawthorne was a
trifie bored with his own society and
more or less curious regarding the eccen-
trio Miss Perkins. he decided to make a
martyr OF himself and take the straying
bird home.
He had little difficulty in catching the
chicken. Evidently Miss Perkins hens
were more in the nature of pets than
table delicacies. He wondered if each
and every bird had a name such as
Florabelle or Sylvia or even Peter Per-
ktns. He supposed they would have.
After few moments Of reconnoitering,
he discovered much to his surprise that
wing Of Miss Perkins property prac-
tically adjoined that Of Jimmy Rogers
He climbed the latter's fence and found
himself facing the back of a pink chick
en- coop. Hawthorne laughed shortly and
would have continued his progress to-
ward the restoration of Miss Perkins
poultry to its owner, save that a sharp