The Emmett index. [volume] (Emmett, Idaho) 1893-1925, 1920-10-21
APRIL SHOWERS
~ SUSANNA MAckiN.
e. ls1e. ey Mccluf. New.pAper syndic.te.

| s&h iSzv. ~ Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate. }
| BE sure that you take your UNI
brella, Myra." Mrs. Bennett had come
softly into her daughters room. ut
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
ror, deftly adjusting her new spring
hat-a chic fame 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 1t hung
| In simple, girlish lines. A swift side
long glance at her reflection brought a
look OF approval to her troubled face
| as she turned from the mirror and
slipped into her coat.
Eyes, 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 girl to work on.
You"
Don't you worry mother" the girl
broke in as she fumbled 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, l hope
you're not letting anything trouble
you"
Mrs. Bennett returned to the din
ing room and began to clear away the
breakfast dishes.
81 should worry" Myra Bennett
whispered to herself.
Her eyes sought the eyes of square
jawed young face in silver frame
upon her bureau.
81 should worryl" she repeated as
frame. 81 can stand it If you can
she Informed the picture. finging II
into the waste basket. Then she fed
from the house.
In the big millinery shop where
Myra designed fetching" hats for
Madam La Bonte's fashionable Glen
tele her fingers f1uttered 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 hack TO night in June;
TO a moonlit beach and John Martin.
tIe scent of the sea. the touch OF
hands BY this same magic she
walked in the future. There was a
little white house and a 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
siIly 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 a dazed
way.
Out in the canyon-like street the
rim was pelting against the sidewalk.
and. occasionally. a gust of wind
slapped the rain into the faces of the
pasSersby.
Myra. her scant skirts clinging to
her. made her way to a nearby SUBJ |
way. but lust as she had reached the
entrance strong gale struck her ana
sent her umbrella and her hame-col- |
ored hat chasing each other across the
street.
Ont from a drug store doorway a
man darted after them. then another
man Joined in the chase, and Myra'
her brown hair wet and disheVeied
watched them Again and again the
man that was chasing the hat had had
his hands almost upon 1t when. IKE
Hash, the freakish wind carried II OF
again. She had lost sight OF the other
man and the umbrella.
at was perfectly good silk UNI
brella," Myra soliloquized; perhaps
the man needed II himself-well, lei
him keep it, and the hatf Inc nat
must be wreck"
Myrd suddenly poe"'
tall man was holding an umoreila
over her. She looked up Into pair
of laughing eyes. The man holding
her umbrella was hatless, and mos
ture was streaming down his young |
square-j awed face.
aJohn Martin Where
This only proves. Myra," John MAT
tin interrupted. that you need me
around-especially in Storm