Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1915-09-02
DoRRrs IDEAL LOVER
BY SHIRLEY CARSON.


DO describe your ideal hero.
Dorry," begged the girls. The one
you would welcome to the castle OF
your heart" added Eleanor sentiment.
ally.
Dorry crossed her slim ankles and
cIasped her hands around her knees.
Sitting there on the grass in her lit
tie white frock, she looked very young
and very lovely, but Dorothy was past
twenty.
WELL" she began, loking dream.
lily into distance, "he must be tall;
six feet anyway, as much more as
would be in proportion to his per-
fectly magnificent physique
Mercy" breathed Susan. 1T
would cost a heap to feed such
giant" Her eyes met those of Peter
Ford and she was conscious of
panied look In his honest brown eyes.
Susan WINGED and was sorry that they
had urged Dorothy to express her
opinion concerning heroes. Peter
Ford was so hopelessly in love with
her little sister-and he fell SO far
short OF the ideal man! Poor Peter,
with his fine intellectual head and his
hopelessly blunt and commonplace fea-
lures; his slight stature and his hon
est glance beneath thatch OF straight
black hair! Every careless word OF
Dorothys was turning the knife in
Peters loyal, loving heart.
So Susan fell very silent, while Dor
othy's voice trickled on musical rip.
pie of words:
with curling, golden hair like
a Greek gods; eyes blue and mystic
as the sea; a straight nose; firmly
modelled mouth and dimpled chin.
Oh, l don't care" pouted Dorothy, at
their laughter. II do think man
with a dimpled chin is too alluring!"
My word" cried Jimmy Dean
shrilly.
Don't be silly, dear!" whispered
Susan, warningly, but Dorothy only
shrugged a careless shoulder and with
a pink color flying in her cheeks went
on recklessly:
He must be musical-and an ath-
lete-and fond of all outdoor sports.
He mustn't read anything except the
newspapers
I'm afraid he'd be horrid BORE
remarked Susan dryly.
Peter Ford was walking away to-
ward the fish pond.
The guests scattered to other amuse-
ments, and after while Dorothy was
left alone. The sun was sending
long, slanting shadows across the
green turf and there was fragrance
of roses from the garden beyond the
fish pond,
Lazily Dorothy tossed aside her book
and made her way slowly toward the
rose garden.
But the garden was already ten
anted.
Standing before great bush or
pink roses, his hands grasping the
thorny stems and crushing the masses
of pink blooms against his cheeks, was
Peter Ford.
She went close up to him, and still
he did not turn to greet her.
Timidly she touched his arm.
Peter she whispered.
He turned haggard face and
looked down at her from burning
eyes.
"Well?" he demanded. almost
harshly.
Il suppose-you think I'm awfully
silly" she stammered; "a perfect
idiot"
You know l never could think any
thing like that about you" he said.
Il mean silly when talking about
castles and ideal lovers and every
thing. was hopelessly silly. l know
NO, you are not that he said,
slowly but you are young and beau
tiful, Dorothy, and who could blame
you for desiring a mate to match
your own loveliness? Not II"
1T couldn't make any difference to
you, anyway, Peter half whispered
Dorothy, turning her face away from
him. You wouldn't want to live In
my castle"
Not with that paragon of perfec-
ton you described"
II wouldn't either!" cried Doro-
thy, with astonishing inconsistency.
I'D be bored to death"
ideal" protested Peter lamely.
"But-but," admitted Dorothy, tear
fully, that description was the exact
opposite Of my ideal. There! You've
made me say 1t, Peter Ford!"
Say what?' he demanded grasp
ing her hands and looking into her
dropping face. Are you playing with
me, Dorothy?"
81 couldn't play-when-it means so
much to me-" she confessed, with
sweet humility.
There was an eloquent hush in the
rose garden.
Susan, waiting on the terrace for
her sister, spied Dorothy coming
across the lawn with Peter Ford.
They were hand in hand like two
happy children. They paused at the
fish pond and Susan saw them bend
ing over its telltale surface.
Dear old Peter-Tm so glad,' muir
mured sympathetic Susan. THE
naughty child, to describe such a
popinjay of man when she adores
Peters ugliness! What are you chill
dren doiug?"
flushed faces from the mirrorlike pond
lnrnthy ansMered with q swift wild.