The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1915-05-21
CHARACTER IN PASTEL
BY HARMONY WELLER.


was not exactly homely, but she was
not pretty
III should try to describe her."
one man in her set was heard to say
in speaking OF Priscilla, ''she has a
personality that is OF pastel shades. :"
Hire a hall and make speech
about her, why don't your" asked
Tom Royden; for it was to him that
the remark was made "Or write
her about 1t. never heard so many
eloquent compliments about any one
little drab-colored GIRL he said, with
some heat
Never drab-colored. Tom. Any
thing but that
That's so. Bill; old maids are drab,
aren't they?"
And, thereafter, In spite OF himself.
Tom was drawn toward Priscilla. The
more he was thrown with her--the
more he danced with her, dined with
her, talked with her-the more he had
to admit her fascination.
Her personality seems to be al
ways just what need. She invari-
ably fits into my mood, Now, what
bothers me is this: does she fit In
this way to every fellows notion?
Does every one think she's just the
right girl?"
Tom pondered these questions
through more than one night. At
length he became frequent guest in
the home of Priscilla's parents in
their country place on Long Island.
And it was during visits in her home
that he began to gather through close
iptrospection, the reasons for her per-
sonality.
Her father. an unusually success
full business, man, was bluff and noisy,
self-centered and very proud of his
achievements in the material world.
Her mother was the antithesis of
the father: she was diffident, quiet,
retiring-but sweet. Priscilla. born
unselfsh, had tried all her life to
please both parents. She had listened
to and admired her father on all oc-
casions, drawn him out on his ia.
vorite topics. fiattered him a little
With her mother she tried to be as
interesting as possible: she attempt
ed to make the little woman feel that
she was part and parcel Of the
world instead of a retiring, almost
subdued, creature And Priscilla sue
ceeded in bringing more color into
her mothers personality than any
one else had ever been able to do.
Mrs. Walker was almost at ease when
Priscilla was about
Priscilla" Tom asked one night as
they sat at coffee before the log fire
in the dimly lighted living room, is
there anything you can't do-any-
thing you are not interested in?"
Priscilla laughed softly and studied
the black coffee in the tiny cup she
held "Why-yes, suppose there
are many things can't do. For in,
stance ! can't vote"
And don't want to. hope" Said
Tom, testify io5s
"Oh-h! but do! I'd like very
much to have the privilege of the
ballot. but 1t is hardly my way to-
well, to get out and fight for it," she
said. sF
''Next?' persisted Tom.
"Oh, don't force me to talk of my.
self; it isn't an interesting topic"
Not to you, perhaps. But, Pris
ella" Tom leaned toward her, "it
has become the most absorbing topic
for thought, conversation and consid.
eration--to me-"
Priscilla only smiled sweet non.
committal sort of smile.
Girl, don't you know most girls
would have blushed-if they weren't
past blushingor simpered or looked
shocked? And yet you receive that
reD1ark-which you know very we'll is
only the forerunner of more and Sc.
rious ones-as IL had said it was a
pleasant day, Priscilla, look at me. !"
Priscilla turned her soft blue eyes
full upon him. Slowly smile dawned
in them even as she looked at him.
"Well?" she asked. what thsn?'
What then? | love you. can't
stand 1t to be away from you for a
day. And yet have that awful feel
ing that you are all things to all men
Ito all people in the world. And I
never could stand that. dear. I'm
jealous; want you to be mine
alone"
"But-Tom." she said. calling him
by the familiar title for the first time,
though he had long discarded formal
ity with her. what makes you think
FL am so much to every one?"
"Oh, the fellows are always making
poetic remarks about you: they're al
ways looking at you; always wanting
to do something for you. And the
girls adore youi So where do I come
in? Can you tell me? Or is it against
that tantalizing policy of yours to tell
me. Priscilla?"
you come in--just where you
like" she said with characteristic
quietness.
Tom jumped to her side. "Pris.
ella. Say it againl You love me?
You really care for me?" he asked.
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