Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-06-14

BY HILDA MORRIS
By HILDA MORRIS
Copyright, 1918, by the Mcclure Newspa-
per S~yndicate.)

Copyright, 1918. by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate.)
When Bob Ellison was very young
he had an Irish nurse. She vas a
pretty colleen, that nursemaid, her big
blue Irish eyes fringed with lashes as
black as the glossy braids of hair.
Little Bob idolized his Maggie, and
years afterwards, when she was but a
memory, the sight of blue eyes trimmed
with black would recall her dancing
feet, her merry voice, her tales of
COLLINS and the "wee folk" He never
hoped to see Maggie again, of course,
but he did hope, in some vague, sub
conscious way, to meet eyes like hers,
in a face like hers, sometime, some
where. All of US cherish ideals
whether we know it or not, and most
of them have curious foundations. No
n could have been more surprised
than Bob Ellison at the suggestion
that the ideal of the girl he wished
to marry was patterned after the be-
witching Maggie of his nursery days.
Nevertheless, it was so.
Bob went through school and college
with none of the love entanglements
from which his fellows suffered. There
were girls, of course, some of them
very nice girls with whom he liked to
dance and swim and occasionally flirt,
but-noneo of them looked like Maggie.
The Irish ones were red-haired, or
their eyes were brown, or they had
too many freckles. It was not until
Bob was twenty-six years old and a
decided "catch" that he saw a girl
with Irish eyes and blue-black hair, a
girl whom even Maggie might have
envied.
1t was at a dance that he met her,
a debutante affair to which his mother
had babe him go with particular in
functions to meet Miss Wayne, "the
Miss Wayne of Boston" Bob's mother
was not of the fact that her
son was clever enough and handsome
enough to marry whom he would, and
she liked to fancy an alliance with
some old aristocratic family. After
Bob had gone to the dance, his mother
sat at home, picturing to herself a
daughter-in-law, tall, distinguee, a little
aloOf and awe-inspiring.
As for Bob, however, he shook off
his mothers injunctions as soon as he
had left the house. Miss Wayne of
Boston, indeedl He knew all about
those Boston girls; he had had them
for teachers. They were mostly thin
and wore spectacles and liked to talk
about the English essayists. He had
no intention of seeking an acquaint-
ance with Miss Wayne.
4nd STs Tsa5. q1s hae -naahadL thu he'll.
roc he saw the girl with the Irish
eyes. She wore blue, a misty floating
blue that matched the blue of her eyes,
and her sleek hair was black as the
twinkling slippers on her trim little
feet. Some one called her Maggie
Rose" Maggie-Rose, of all lifting
Irish namesi Some one introduced
her to Bob and they danced off to-
gether. Maggie-Rose Flynn! He did
not care who she was or where she
came from, except that she seemed to
have come from his land of dreams, his
shrine of ideals. She danced divinely,
and when she spoke her voice was
divine, too, a merry musical voice
such as only Irish maids may have.
She was his Maggie to the life, only
far more lovely. But of this Bob was
entirely w He had forgotten
Maggie; it was only her essence that
survived to weave the fabric of his
hearts ideal.
Maggie-Rose seemed to like him,
too. They danced together a great
deal that evening, they had supper to-
gether, they sat for a dreamy half
hour in the conservatory. She talked
a good deal, but Bob was not really
conscious Of much that she said; it
was the sound of her voice that en-
cbanted him, the curve of her red lips
when she smiled, the blue of her eyes.
If she told him anything about herself
he was not aware of it, she remained
to him a mysterious fulfllment of a
long-cherished dream, a bewitching en-
bodiment of all that was most charm
ing in women.
Later some one else claimed her for
a dance, and Bob watched her from
the shelter of a doorway until some
one reminded him that he ought to be
dancing with another girl. Reluctant
ly he turned away his eyes from the
graceful form of Maggie-Rose, and
the girl with whom he danced found
him very silent and stupid and a very
bad dancer; in fact, she said that he
never would look where he was going,
but insisted on gazing over the heads
of people as if he were looking for
some one, which seemed to her very
rude.
Afterwards he tried to find Maggie
Rose, but she had vanished. No
graceful shape in floating blue ap-
peared on the ballroom floor, that is,
no shape that was graceful according
to Bob's idea. Maggie-Rose had ap-
parently disappeared as completely as
If of the StrOka of 10 her fairv ood-