The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1920-05-21
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NEIGHBORS
BY LoTTIE W. SIMMONS.
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"Therel need raisins for this pud-
ding and. come to think. I'm all out"
declared Myra Higgins in vexed tone
as she vigorously stirred the contents
Of huge yellow bowl.
Jake Higgins looked up from the
newspaper he was reading.
"Pll 60 over to Julias and borrow
a cupful," he offered.
A dull red stained Myra's cheeks.
She glanced angrily at the good-look-
ing middle-aged man who had spoken,
and great desire came over her to
shake him.
"You stay away from Julia's." she
snapped. you go there too much al
ready. Don't you know. Jake. the
whole town is talking about you and
Julia MARTINI"
"Oh, Lord Myra. don't begin that"
replied Jake.
Occasionally mimicked Myra.
'Jake, you make me sick! You've
been in there twice this morning, al
ready. How many times yesterday,
and the day before. and the day before
that? Why don't you pack your trunk
and move over? AS for Tom Martin.
he hasn't the gumption Of sick chick
en-. He start something! You could
lug his wife off under his very eyes
and he'd be as resigned as a dead
lamb. Neighbors, indeed How about
Laura Pickett? Called on her lately2
She's a neighbor."
'Look herev' blazed Jake. "you
know as we'll as that stopped call
ing on Laura 20 years ago."
II know you did," was the hot re
tort, "and it's high time now that you
paid her a call! Here" grabbing up
a cup, 'you take this and ask Laura
/ to let me have cupful of raisins till
Wednesday,"
swell, l guess not" exploded Jake,
Jumping to his feet and thrusting out
his stubborn chin.
"All right, Jake Higgins" Myra's
voice dropped to zero. "Just because
I'm your sister I've stayed here and
kept house for you-stayed when you
know I've almost died for the city and
the work / wanted to do there. But
at last I'm going-that Is, unless you
want to run over to Laura's and bring
me cupful Of raisins."
"D-w Jake gritted between his
teeth; and as he Strengthened his neck
tie he was duly conscious of the fact
that his safety razor had done good
work that morning, the only trace OF
a strong beard being a blush shade
about his square chin. A queer little
sensation began to play about his
heart. Thoughts flew thick and fast.
Fate was leading him back to Laura |!
He recalled what sweet little thing
she had been-long yellow curls.
cheeks as red as the bright side of an
astrachan apple, big eyes and dlmple
brought often into play by means OF
| crinkly little smile. Let's see
Laura would be forty in June. Lord!
How time did fly!
AS usual it was foolish thing they
had quarreled over.
Nobody saw the hand Of fate when
| Tom Martin and his wife came back
after years Of wandering and rented
| the Bromley place.
They had all been playmates togeth-
er, Tom and Julia, Jake and Laura.
and Myra.
At sight Of Jake's retreating back
Myra's face relaxed and she smiled.
A couple of moments later Julia
Martin appeared at the back door.
'sMy clothesline is caught, Myra. /
can't get 1t either one way or the 9TH
er. / thought maybe Jake"
"He isn't here" interrupted Myra
| coldly, shut come in; want to ask
you something. Why don't you tell
Jake to keep away from your house?
Do you realize that he is costing you
your good reputation?''
| Julia eyed her friend very serenely
for a guilty woman.
''What the gossips say can't do me
any real harm, Myra," she replied gent
~. swell soon be leaving-Tom can't
stay In one place long, you know, but
Laura will be here all her life. and
Jake-here in this little town where
they were born-and they might as
we'll be happy. And you. Myra. you
want your chance. don't you? If you
are the old Myra, with the old am
billions, you certainly do"
Myra was puzzled.
IT don't know what you are driving
at" she said.
"What do you suppose Jake and I
talk about when he comes in?" she
asked with bright smile. "I'll tell
you-one topic always-Laura. That's
why he comes. He loves her, of
course-he's always loved her, and he
likes to talk about her, or hear me
talk, should say. Haven't | almost
worn out the English language raving
about her yellow hair, her crinkly
smile, her dimple, her superiority, her
tender heart, her goodness, and still
that man isn't satisfied? It's like pour
ing water into jug with hole in it.
And, Myra. can't you foresee the re-
suit? He's going to march over there