Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1919-05-14
THE ANNUAL PICNIC
BY JOSEPHINE MURPHY.
Copyright, 1915, by Mcclure Newspaper
Syndicate.)


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--when
you have taken notes on him for q
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 were 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
alter and lunch. oh, there were plenty
OF signs! The seal of finality was all
that was lacking.
The lors.expected day brought only
confusion to these cherished hopes.
Cynthia, who was looked upon as one
of the most refined girls in the whole
store, appeared unusually gay anu
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 all
they had gone together toward the
lake.
swell, wouldn't that frost you"
gasped Florence Small. us the girl
crazy7 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
wan smile, and replied: II have got
sort Of 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 1t. Why, only the last time be
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 well 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 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 'Tu.
cile," so he purchased copy, which
at this very moment was In his pocket.
He had brought 1t, thinking Of how he
and Cynthia-but what was the use Of
thinking. That was all 1t had come
to. And he unused, as others unused
before him.
In the distance he heard the gay
strains of the band at the skating rink,
and the sound disturbed him, so out Of
harmony was 1t 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 un-
der a 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 fern-grown
bowlder, and, looking down the path, a
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 cry snatched something. 1t
was "Lucile." She pressed the volume
to her lips. tits his!" he heard her
murmur-"Kenneth's." There were
tears in her eyes. eKenneth !-he
heard her murmur again. He took a
step forward. "CynthIa," he cried.
Cynthia, dear!"
He forgot the steepness and height
of the bowlder; he slipped, lost his bal
ance, and in a minute was lying below.
Cynthia ran to him, fell on her knees
with cry of distress.
"Oh! Kenneth, are you hurt?"
he sat up and shook himself, like
an English sparrow after a bath.
II suppose they are all laughing at
me; but I don't care-I mean, not il
you'll call me Kenneth like that
again."
Springing to his feet, he flung his
arms about Cynthia and kissed her
ardently several times.
Cynthia !" he gasped. II love you.
You can't get away"
II don't know as I want to-" she
retorted shyly. II think we've been
foolish enough for one day." she