The Press., 1919-12-11
CAPITAL BLUNDERS
By BERNICE CONE,

Maida Lane, teacher at Primary No. 3, shrugged into her yellow sweater and went out, locking the door of the empty school house after her. She had always loved yellow. It was, she said, the color of spring sunshine and daffo- dils. Unfortunately it was also the col- or of slip of paper that rustled hate fully in the sweater pocket as she walked-a telegram from Phil Drew.
 Que in New York Monday, 10 a. m. Bride with me-" 1t announced cheer fully.
 Bride with me" had resolved itself into maddening refrain. Everything that she did kept time to it.
 The road from the schoolhouse to her home was an unfrequented one. A little way down 1t stood a great red oak tree. Bob was waiting there as usual. Quite suddenly Maida threw her arms around his neck and sur prised herself by sobbing her heart out against his tan coat. "Woof!" said tho collie huskily; "Woof!"
 '"The worst of 1t is, Bob," said the | the right to feel this way, even. Just because you've gone with fellow all through high school doesn't make you engaged to him. And if he enlists and goes across the water, and you knit for him, and pray for him, and write to him, and he writes to you, and you send him candy and cigarettes and hn and-and-why, you haven't any call to resent it if he gets married, have you? And there's no reason at all why you should get bitter over it."
 And, Rob-" continued the dogs mis- tress earnestly. "if you've so far for gotten your human nature as to be too frankly happy when the letters came, and too openly puffed up over the sou v"nirs. why. then. you must expect Brookvlle to smile little. and pry little, and pity you some when you receive a telegram like this.
 "SO we'll be awfully nice to MT. and Mrs. Philip Drew, but not too nice, or BrOokville will know how we feel-and that's one thing, Bob: BrOokville may guess that we feel badly, but it's never going to know absolutely certain, sure. Come on, boy; let's be happy! Race yOu!"
 With brave little attempt at laugh ter from Maida and joyous bark from Bob they were off.
 On Monday afternoon, as the teacher of No. 5 again reached for her yellow sweater, a shadow fell across the SchOOlhouse floor. She looked up quickly. Phil Drew's six feet filled the door frame. The sunlight back of him gave to his figure the illusion of a statue done in bronze. Maida's heart began to beat glad welcome that was as quickly drowned in the refrain, Bride with me-"
 She held out her hand formally. "Phl Drew!' she exclaimed, with a smile and what she considered the proper amount of polite interest. 'Tm so glad to see you back again" !"
 The bronze statue blinked in amazed it demanded.
 "Of course. It was so thoughtful of you to let me know just when you were coming. I want to congratulate you," she continued sweetly. "It will give me a great deal of pleasure to meet Mrs. Drew.
 "Huh?" inquired the bronze one, too dazed for elegance of speech.
 "Im looking forward to meeting Mrs. Drew," Maida repeated, slightly puz- zled in her turn. "Your-your telegram said"
 :That we were due at ten," inter- rupted Phil. 'I hoped you'd meet me-"
 "Why-" she faltered "I-I didn't think you would want me to-"
 Phil drowned. Look here, Maida," h. protested, "I don't know what you're driving at, but you don't seem over joyed to see me, that's sure. If there's someone else, why don't you say so, and not"
 "No," said Maida with the tragic fnality of eighteen, 'there will never be anyone else for me-"
 Lieutenant Philip Drew seized hun grily upon this assurance, and would have seized hungrily upon Maida. but that lady indignantly pushed him away. Her eyes blazed angrily, but there was a hint of tears in her voice. 1 "I think you're the funny one," she said, thrusting the telegram into his hands. "to send me this, and then come l here and pretend-"
 "Ha, hal" vociferated Lieutenant Phil. when he read the message. "That'S l rich-'Bride with. Say, girlie, did you honestly think-why that's Tom Pride-yOu know. I wrote you about l him, my buddy-he's over at the house now; came home with me-best fellow l that ever lived. Just little mistake | in capital. that's all. Bride with no, sweetheart, I had to come home to l get one of thOse." Copyright 1919. Mcclure Newspaper Syn
 dicate.) |
 Sad Is Sad.