The spectator., 1920-06-25
APRIL SHOWERS
By SUSANNA MACklN.


'Be sure that you take your um- brella, Myra." Mrs. Bennett had come softly into her daughters room. 1t looks like rain," she continued, "and it feels more like the middle of March than 1t does like the middle of April"
 Myra Bennett stood before her mir TOT, deftly adjusting her new spring hat--a chic flame colored toQue. Her black dress of soft clinging stuff had touch of flame yellow at the neck, wrists and girdle; and from her young, well-formed shoulders it hung in simple, girlish lines. A swift side long glance at her reflection brought look of approval to her troubled face as she turned from the mirror and slipped into her coat.
 "Yes. I'll take an umbrella" she assured her mother.
 And be sure you get something good for your luncheon, Myra," her mother cautioned, "you-you haven't eaten much breakfast-a cup of coffee is nothing for a girl to work on. You"
 Don't you worry, mother" the girl broke in as she fumbed in her beaded bag. 'I'll make up for breakfast-you | ought to see how much I eat at noon." "I'm glad you do, Myra. I hope | you're not letting anything trouble you"
 Mrs. Bennett returned to the din- ing room and began to clear away the breakfast dishes.
 'T should worryl Myra Bennett whispered to herself.
 Her eyes sought the eyes of square | jawed young face in silver frame upon her bureau.
 "I should worry!" she repeated as she took the photograph from the frame "I can stand 1t if you can." she informed the picture, flinging 1t into the waste basket. Then she fled from the house.
 In the big millinery shop. where Myra designed fetching" hats for Madam La Bonte's fashionable ellen: | tele her fingers fiuttered about among | the frail straw and gorgeous flowers; and wonderful creations" were fash toned by her capable fingers but her thoughts were leagues away. By the magic of thought she had | taken herself back to night in June; | to moonlit beach and John Martin, | the scent of the sea. the touch of l hands By this same magic she | walked in the future. There was a l little white house and garden Of roses-real roses. John Martin walked beside her. and there child's chubby fingers were clinging to her skirts.
 When she had come back from her meanderings the same magical thought told her that she had been dreaming, | romancing, and that she had lost | lost John Martin through her own ! silly nonsense. her unreasonable jeal- ousy.
 Myra Bennett was glad when the | hour to quit work had come. She had. ] of late, done her work in dazed | way
 Out in the canyon-like street the rain was pelting against the sidewalk, and. occasionally, a gust of wind slapped tne Tdin lHlO tlle ldCeS ol tHc passersby.
 Myra, her scant skirts clinging to her. made her way to nearby sub- | way. but just as she had reached the | entrance a strong gale struck her and sent her umbrella and her flame-col- ored hat chasing each other across the | street.
 Out from a drug store doorway a man darted after them, then another man joined in the chase, and Myra, her brown hair wet and disheveled. watched them. Again and again the man that was chasing the hat had had his hands almost upon it when, like a | flash. the freakish wind carried 1t off again. She had lost sight of the other man and the umbrella.
 Ut was perfectly good silk um- brella," Myra soliloquized; perhaps the man needed 1t himself--well, let him keep 1t. and the hat? The hat must be wreck"
 Myra suddenly became aware that tall man was holding an umbrella over her. She looked up into a pair of laughing eyes. The man holding her umbrella was hatless, and mois- ture was streaming down his young. square Jawed face.
 John Martin Where"
 "This only proves, Myra," John Mar tin interrupted, that you need me l around-especially in a storm"