Catoctin clarion., 1918-07-25
The
Awakening
~D
pv MINNIE M TOWNSEND
SSSSSsSsSSFSSSSSTS
Copyright, 1918, by the Mcclure Newspa-
per SYndicate.l
BY MINNIE M. TOWNSEND

"By. Myra, I'll be late for lunch, but
if you get hungry don't walt. Molly
won't mind warming mine over"
Myra, comfortably settled In the
easiest chfir of the sitting room, lazily
waved slim white hand to her
mothers CHEEKY gOod-by, and turning
toward the window watched the lively
little body cross the street and join
several other dear mother people on
the corner. Myra laughed scornfully.
I'm surprised at mother; such
motley crowd, tall, short, fat, lean,
rich and poor
Myra. however, failed to take note
of the one connecting link among the
women. Each one carried huge sew
ing bag and everyone from old Mrs.
McCnnes worn brown lining mon
srosity IT, the wealthy Mrs. Van
Eaton's creation of satin and ribbon
was ovcrlowlng with its burden of
brown aud gray yarn and partially
finished garments for Uncle Sans
soldier boys.
Myra ycwned and turned lazily to
book in her lap, but somehow she
could not get interested. A coming
party was uppcrmost in her mind and
she was having rosy visions of her
self in the new satin gown which she
had ordered Just that morning, She
was wondering If she could get slippers
to match the delicate hue Of her dress
material, and If she had better have
her hair done by hnir dresser or trust
to her own nlmble fingers to get just
the correct amount of wave into the
glossy strands of bronze. Pleasant
reverlcs were interrupted by the in
sistent peal of the telephone bell.
Her eager greeting Of her dearest
chum was cut short in Mortified dis
may.
"Cut out the party? Surely, you
must be mistaken, DOra-why ! or
dorcd my dress today. On account of
the war? My soul. This old war makes
me tired. l don't see what this country
rot into It for, anyhow. ! wish to
goodness | lived in warless age
What's that-make comfort
bags instead of dance? Well, OF all
the nonsense, No, | won't help. 1t
makes me tired. No, said, Dora.
BY"
NTyra returned to her easy chair,
pouting dreadfuly. She caught up the
book she had tried to read and flung
II to far corner of the library table.
Her childish spite thus appeased, she
=. t.,t, hn lnyn a nj
depths Of the chair and sulked herself
to sleep.
Her brother awakened her later by
flinging the morning newspaper into
her lap Myra turned lazily to tho
woman's page and read the fashion
talk first. Then she skinned the love-
lorn letters and read the next chapter
in thrilling serial of love and ADJ
venture. That digosted, she turned In
bored fashion to the jokes.
One or two rather scandaous head
lines caught her eye, but as far as tho
remainder of the paper was concerned
1t might ju"t as well have been blank.
Her brother finally turned wiStful
eyes toward the feminine heap In the
easy chair.
awful, isn't 1T" he inquired glum-
ly.
Myra surveyed him lazlly. "What's
awful. BObF"
"Didn't you read the war news?" hs
asked sharply.
She grunted in disgust:
~ should say not; hear enough OF
the old war. Why, just think, Bob,
they've postponed our club party on
account Of the war, and ordered my
dress"
"Myra!" !"
There was new note in her broth
er's voice. She glanced up quickly,
and the expression on his face made
her get slowly to her feet her eyes
wide and questioning.
"Dont you dare talk like that" he
continued, huskily. "An old party
nnd real men dying for their country
and for right. Read that"
Mechanically she took the sheet he
held out to her and glanced over 1T
carelessly, as though a cursory look
would reveal the cause of his pertur-
bation "Do you mean this, Bob? Why.
it's only a list of the casualties" she
said, reprovingly as though such list
could be of no special interest to them.
"Only Read em, said"
Dumfounded, she read them down
Suddenly she stiffened, peered closer at
the printed sheet and then turned in a
bewildered fashion to her brother.
at can't be he, Rob; why, Bert was
only boy-just a boy-he can't be
dead"
at is true He was only boy, but
he died for his country, while YOU
hate to give up an old party"
She did not heed the reprOOf. Star
ing at the familiar name, she was hark-
ing back over the year to their high
school days. Albert Blake had gradu-
ated in her class, just barely acquir-
ing the necessary points to let him
pass out into the world with diploma.
Back over the years she slipped. In
the grammar grades he was a big, over
grown tease. Too silly to be really
popular, he had laughed his way
through the grades The feminine por-
ton of the school had always steered
clear Of him. as wherever jolly, good
natured face shone there was always
to be heard the squeal Of hair-puled
lass.
Myras eyes were misty as she re-
membered the boy. Suddenly she
frightened. Across memOry's page