The Benson signal., 1918-07-20
The
Awakening
Copyright, 1918. by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate.)
By MINNIE M. TOWNSEND


"'By, Myra, I'll be late for lunch, but
If you get hungry don't wait. Molly
won't mind warming mine over"
Myra, comfortably settled in the
easiest chair of the sitting room, lazily
waved a 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.
"Tm surprised at mother; such a
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.
McCane's worn brown lining mon
strosity to the wealthy Mrs. Van
Eaton's creation of satin and ribbon
was overflowing with it's burden Of
brown and gray yarn and partially
finished garments for Uncle Sans
soldier boys.
Myra yewned and turned lazily to
q book in her lap, but somehow she
could not get interested. A coming
party was uppermOst 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 hair dresser or trust
to her own nimble fingers to get just
the correct amount Of wave into the
glossy strands of bronze. Pleasant
reveries 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 I or
dered my dress today. On account Of
the war? My soul. This old war makes
me tired. don't see what this country
got into it for, anyhow. I wish to
goodness [ lived in warlesS age
What's that-make comfort
bags instead of dance? Well, of all
the nonsense. No, I won't help. It
makes me tired. No, said, Dora.
BY"
Myra returned to her easy chair,
pouting dreadfully. She caught up the
book she had tried to read and flung
it to far corner Of the library table.
Her childish spite thus appeased, she
slumped down into the luxuriant
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 the
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 ad-
venture. That digested, she turned In
a bored fashion to the jokes.
One or two rather scandalous head
lines caught her eye, but as far as the
remainder of the paper was concerned
1t might just as we'll have been blank.
Her brother finally turned wistful
eyes toward the feminine heap in the
easy chair.
awful, isn't it?' he inquired glum-
ly.
Myra surveyed him lazily. "What's
awful, BOb?"
Didn't you read the war news?" he
asked sharply.
She grunted In disgust:
81 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 a 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.
'.Don't you dare talk like that" he
continued, huskily. can old party
and real men dying for their country
and for right. Read that"
Mechanically she took the sheet he
held out to her and glanced over it
carelessly, as though cursory look
would reveal the cause Of his pertur-
baton. "Do you mean this, Bob? Why,
it's only list of the casualties" she
said, reprovingly, as though such a list
could be Of no special interest to them.
"OnlyI 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.
"Tt can't be he, Rob; why, Bert was
only a boy-just a boy-he can't be
dead"
"It 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 bark
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