The Press., 1920-01-01
TRIFLING WITH FATE
By GRACE WEATHERBY.


 As the last sweet note died away there was a dead silence in the room Molly Phipps sat very still at the pi- ano her hands lying idly on the keys. The room was darkening fast, and it was that peaceful hour between day and night. On the wide. deep lounge Harry Curtis lay, spraw'ed among the cushions, lost in thought. It was a common thing for him to drop in and spend an hour or two with Molly. She was, and always had been, even from infancy. Harry's best pal, but his feel ing for her was purely brotherly at- lection. Who, besides herself, knew that Molly adored him-loved every hair or his curly brown head?
 The young fellow stretched lazily and broke the silence. 'I guess that's about right, Moll. Love does not come but once, and if I don't hurry up it will be too late for me-"
 Molly laughed amusedly. "You? Why, child, you're barely thirty ! You've got loads of time."
 No, I haven't. No man wants to wait until he's an old man before get ting married Why, if I had a nice girl, I'd get married right away" Moly's loyal heart contracted with fear. She had adored him from child hood. He had always been her hero, and now he cared nothing for her. Harry went on. blissfuly uncOn- sciOus of the havoc he was making, "Of course, I've known lots of girls, but I've never met the girl, you |noW.' v
 MOlly's pride came to her rescue. "Harry, I'll help you find her if you like. I know lots of lovely girls, and ] am sure I could find one for you.''
 When he had gone Molly buried her head in the cushions he had just va cated, and cried to her hearts content. When she was calmer she planned for long time. Hell get all that is com ing to him-and mOre!"
 A week later Harry found a small scented envelope in his mail. It was Molly's invitation to spend two weeks at her camp in the Maine woods.
 When at first he was introduced to the gay group of young folks who formed the party he was a tritle dis appointed at MOllys selection. What did she want lot of silly, frilly girls at camp for, anyway? Camp was the place for jolly, strong girls, who weren't afraid of freckles. Then he remembered. Molly had promised to "get him a girl"
 AS the lovely autumn days wore on, MOlly's heartache grew worse. Harry was having the time of his young life. He had found Hive" girl to hike with "a girl who could play tennis to per fection--a dainty, frilly girl to take canoeing, girl who could sing divine ly. From morning till night he was on the go, with always pretty girl at his side. But one night-there came a change. It was the middle of the sec ond week, a lovely, balmy night. Harry, who was rather tired of listen ing to the frlly girls silly chatter, was seeking quiet place to rest a while.
 We wondered idly where Molly was. He hadn't been seeing much of her lately. The more he thought of it, the more convinced he became of the fact that Molly, his Molly, was deliberately neglecting him. It never occurred to him that he might be neglecting her. Suddenly he stopped short and lis tened. It was mans voice, pleading Molly. dearest, I do love you, you know It. Won't you-dear?" Harry held his breath. Silence. Could it be possible that Molly was accepting him? The impudent fool! He'd teach him! Oh, why didn't Molly say some thing? Then came the unmistakable sound of a kiss. That was the last straw. That was too much. His anger at white heat, he ran forward. throw ing discretion to the winds. He sim ply wouldn't allow it. Now the bench was in plain sight, and sure enough there sat a couple locked in each oth- CTS arms. In a twnllling Harry had torn the man from the girl, and stood facing him, his eyes blazing. 'You will-will yOu?" he snarled, and struck him full in the face. But his adversary was no Weakling, and Harry had his hands full protecting himself from the volley of blows shOwered or him. At length he administered 8 sound punch which sent the man to the ground in a heap. The girl, who here tofore had remained mOtiOnless witt surprise and fear, TOW sprang forward "Ralph-oh, Ralph, please look at me. The sound of her voice was like a dasi of cold water to Harry. He looked al her. It was not Molly! That is-no his Molly It was that tennis player Molly Denton.
 Mortified and ashamed, he helped the man to his feet, mumbling his apol ogieS, with poor grace. Relief was up permOst in his heart. He had anOth CT chance-it wasn't his Molly. Ht ran back to the house and found MOll, curled up in the hammock on tht porch. At the sight of his torn ant i very dirty clothes Molly sprang to he | feet. "Why, Harry Curtis, where hay, you been? What has happened?" Bu | that young man was too glad to hay, found her alone to waste time in ex plantations. He gathered the slim fig ure in his arms and proceeded to makt up for all lost opportunities. Whel | at last speech was possible, he said ! Molly, you sure did teach me a les son. I'll never be so foolish again Each of those girls was all right in he | way, but there wasn't one who cOult | hold a candle to my old pal, Molly ' l True, Molly didn't quite understand l it all, but she was perfectly willn!
 to wait until later to hear the details l and just buried her head deeper int | the torn and very dirty shoulder