The Watertown news. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1917-1919, 1918-11-20
THE ANNUAL PICNIC
BY JOSEPHINE MURPHY.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Copyright, 1918, by Mcclure Newspaper
SVndicatAl

\IOpyIlSHI, LILO, ny nCCluIo NtWSpdpSl
Syndicate)
At the time of the annual picnic
given by Lovett & Neville to their
employees it was expected that any
incipient romances that the year had
developed would be hailed forth into
the gay light of publicity. Not that
the number was so very great, but it
must be admitted that even the most
distinguished floorwalker loses GER
tain charm-the charm, perhaps, of
the proud and unapproachable-w
you have taken notes on him for
twelvemOnth across the counter.
Nevertheless, something was always
to be hoped for at the annual picnic.
A year ago it was confidently predict
ed that Kenneth Moore of the book de-
partment and Cynthia Gray of the rib
bon counter we're to afford the neces-
sary love interests. There must have
been an understanding between them,
certainly; he hardly so much as said
"GOOd morning" now to other girls;
they had been seen together at the
f'bCl ttilb iull' II. vi, tlltlC NtlC Jitlltf
Of signs! The seal Of f1nality was alls
that was lacking.
The 1ong-eXpoctnd day brought only
confusion to these cherished hopes.
Cynthia, who WIS looked upon rs one
Of the most refined girls in the whole
store, appeared unusually gay and
reckless. First she was devoted to one
man, then to another, with an impru
dence that set friendly eyes wide with
horror. Finally, when the picnic din
ner was over, the party broke up for
games, swan-bOating and strolls in the
woods, Cynthia flung herself at a GER
tain Mr.. Green, newly of the shoe de-
partment, and before the eyes of ali
they had gone together toward the
lake.
"Well, wouldn't that frost you?"
gasped Florence Small. els the girl
crazy? The way she's treating Ken
meth, and he the most refined fellow
IN the store, tool"
They saw Kenneth alone, and sent
one of the new men over to him with
an invitation to come to the skating
rink but he only shook his head with
a wan smile, and replied: 81 have got
sort of a headache; guess I'll just sit
around a while. Perhaps I'll come
down later" He did not have head
ache; but he wanted to be alone, for
his heart was sore. He had not eX-
pected Cynthia to treat him like this.
During the whole trip she had
scarcely spoken a word to him. No
one would ever have thought they
knew each other. And it didn't seem
like her either. He couldn't under
stand it. Why, only the last time he
called on her they had sat together in
her little "den," and had talked on
quite a number of subjects. There
was nothing sentimental about Gym
thia; they had been just good pals
together; that was what he liked best
in girl.
She sang we'll and loved poetry, both
Of which he also was fond of. What
had first attracted him to Miss Gray
was the sight of her buried in a vol
ume of poems. He had asked her what
she was reading. She had glanced up
at him with a smile he could never
forget. Lucille" she said.
Now, Kenneth had never read 'Iu-
cile," so he purchased a copy, which
at this very moment was in his pocket.
He had brought it, thinking of how he
and Cynthia-but what was the use Of
thinking. That was all it had come
to. And he unused, as others unused
before him.
In the distance he heard the CAV
strains of the band at the skating rink,
and the sound disturbed him, so out of
harmony was it with his mood He
thought of Mr.. Green, perhaps even
now padding down the lake with the
faithless Cynthia. But Cynthia had
ruthlessly deserted Mr.. Green when
he went in quest of a boat, and strolled
off by herself.
Kenneth arose from the bench on
which he had been sitting and wan
dered up the path. Sitting down I'M
der tree he opened his volume, "Lu-
cile." He was glad even now that
Cynthia was not beside him
Afternoon sunlight began to peep
through the trees. He got up and
leaped to the summit of Homegrown
bowlder, and, looking down the path,
chill of terror ran over him. Cynthia
was walking toward him with down
cast eyes, digging the toe of her little
boot into the moss every now and
then. All at once she stopped, and
with a cry snatched something. 1t |
was LUCILLE" She pressed the volume
to her lips. "It's his r' he heard her
murmur-"Kenneth's." There were
tears in her eyes. Kenneth !''-he |
heard her murmur again. He took
step forward. "Cynthia," he cried. |
Cynthia, dear!'
He forgot the steepness and height |
of the bowlder; he slipped, lost his bal
ance, and in minute was lying below. |
Cynthia ran to him, fell on her knees
with q cry Of distress.
ooh! Kenneth, are you hurt?"
He sat up and shook himself, like |