The daily banner. (Cambridge, Md.) 1897-2008, 1918-02-19
Cinderella's
Diary
@o
By HILDA MORRIS

! ting opposite her in the street car, no
| ticed her closed eyes and general air
| of fatigue. She was eighteen or nine.
| teen years old, he decided, or perhaps
| twenty. She had a lovely oval face
| framed with waves of bright hair, and
! she looked like lady in spite of her
rather shabby, inexpensive clothes
| There was something very attractive
! about her.
] John did not realize that he was
staring at the girl until she opened her
| eyes. She opened them suddenly, as
/ if she had felt his gaze through her
! closed lids. And she looked directly
| at him. 1t was very impersonal
| look, casual and little questioning
| perhaps, yet it did very curious thing
to John Arnold. 1t made him feel very
young, or very happy, or very glad OF
something; he could not analyze the
| feeling exactly, but at least it was diff.
! ferent from anything he had ever ex.
| perienced before. Perhaps it was be-
| cause the girls eyes were so luminous
gray, and so deeply fringed with
| black. They were very unusual eyes
! They closed again, however, almost al
once. 1t was as though she had given
him a glimpse of something too pre-.
ciOus to be wasted. The car jolted on
and the girl still sat with her curling
lashes resting on her pale cheek. She
| was evidently very tired.
! "a schoolgirl, perhaps, or else she Is
taking a course in business college,
! John decided, noting her pile of books
''They work hard, too, those girls. She
looks as if she needed country air and
a good long rest"
! The car emptied itself, street by
street, until there were few people left
besides John and the girl of the curl
| ing laSheS. AS q matter of fact John
had passed his street, but for some
reason he had forgotten to get off. The
tired-looking girl still sat with her eyes
closed, resting. But at length she
reused herself with a start and got
| off hurriedly at a noisy street lined
with high apartments. John could see
her fastening along in the chill dusk,
| the collar of her thin coat held high
about her throat.
1t was not until they had gone on
some distance that he noticed the
book. 1t lay directly at his feet, a
cloth covered Record" such as people
| use in offices. 1t was one of those
books the girl had carried. John had
particularly noticed it's businesslike
appearance. He picked it up curiously,
and opened to the front page. A school
notebook. no doubt, or Office accounts.
| Perhaps it might contain the girls ad-
| dress, so that he could return it.
The first page, however, dispelled
this theory. Across it was printed, in
a careful hand:
| Dorothy May Douglas. Her Diary"
Of course John Arnold should not
have read the diary, yet its neat pages
looked so alluring, and, after all, he
/ thought. it might contain the address.
She would want~it returned, people
| do not like to lose such precious things
| as diaries. So that evening after din
ner John settled down in his comfort
able bachelor living room and guiltily
scanned the pages of the little book.
'Monday-A hard day at the Office.
Miss Coleman is so difficult to please.
! When l get to be head Of an Office
force shall try to make them like me.
! I'll be nice to girls that have head
aches, and I'll never, never speak so
sharply that I make them want to cry.
| Oh, well, 1 hope I'll never be head of
an office. I'd rather have a cottage
with white muslin curtains and red ge-
raniums in the window and keep a cat
"Tuesday-Stupid day at the office.
But saw the loveliest silk dress in a
store window as I was coming home.
1t was just exactly what 1 would
choose, blue with gold embroidery. If
l were Cinderella I'd write to my fairy
godmother and tell her to bring me a
dress just like that for the ball. Per.
hapS l am a sort of Cinderella, but
there isn't any fairy godmother or any
prince.
"Wednesday-It was dreadfully cold
in the office today. Miss Coleman likes
the cold. And now there isn't enough
heat in my room tonight, either.
wish l were Cinderella; at least she
had a fire to sit BY"
In spite of the warnings of his con-
science as a gentleman, John skinned
other pages, all pathetic with sordid
details of work, wistful with girlish
longings.
I'm invited to a party" read the
very last page of all. "a really truly
] Iose
and no prince has invited me, but it
will be Il very grand affair. It's at
Mrs. Cotton Curtis house, a dance she
is giving for her daughter. l don't
know why she invited me. She and
mother were school friends, but there
are such miles between us now, miles
| of different circumstances, | mean
I've never met the daughter, but I'm
sure she wouldn't care for me. I'm not
one of the well-dressed, expensive-loOk-
ing girls whom she associates with.
And l haven't anything to wear. Girls
can't go to parties in blue serge skirts
and shirtwaists. Whatever shall dor
John Arnold closed the book with a
little sigh. Why should girl like that,
eager and young and charming, have
to work and long for the shimmery
things that other girls had, all the pink
and frivolous things that are the trail
ing clouds of girlhood! This girl in
| particular.
Quite suddenly Johns eyes fell on
an envelope which had dropped from
| the little hook
Miss Dorothy May Douglas, 634
| Pleasant Avenue"
Cinderella's address, John looked
at Il, and abruptly the vague plan
which he had been forming in his mind
became firm resolve. He would be
the fairy godmother himself.
1t happened that Mrs. Cotton Curtis
was Johns aunt, and after much de-
liberation he decided to take her into
his confidence. Mrs. Curtis was a
lady with love for whatever was I'M
usual and romantic, so she delightedly