The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1928-01-05
The Doctors
Prescription
By EDGAR T. MONFORT
(copyright)

WITH envious eyes Dorothy Keen Keen,
shaping her lips into carmine cupids
bow with the lipstick she held be-
tween her fingers. She leaned closer
to the mirror and worked with the
care and concentration of an artist
painting a picture. This task at last
finished to her satisfaction, she dark
ened her penciled eyebrows, then
turned quickly from the mirror and
slipped on diaphanous. pink dress
of tulle and georgette.
"Gladys, you're beautiful" ex-
claimed Dorothy generously. GOOD
ness, what I'd give"
She stopped abruptly for what was
the use of going on? 1t was a sort OF
mental stone wall against which
she had thrown herself since earliest
childhood. Certainly she could not
make herself beautiful by wishing for
1t. She could not make men like her
and rush her by wishing for It; so
what was the use Of wishingf But
ulu S6cIl udIu hOb ~ w
popular without having a dazzling, be-
witching vamp for younger sister.
When Gladys was in the room nobody
ever saw anybody discovery male
thing within reach swarmed around
her like bees around flower. To be
sure, Gladys never kept her admirers
long, but then there was always a
fresh crop with equally fine cars and
open pocketbooks coming along. A
man was proud to be seen on the
street with her. There was some
thing about the very way she wore her
clothes that made people turn and
look.
"'By, darling; don't know when I'll
be home. We're going to Atwood to
the road-house dance"
AS she left the room there waited
behind her the fragrance of thou
sand flowers, exotic, intoxicating.
OF course Dorothy was not going.
she did not have dozen invitations
a year to go to places with men and
these she treasured like golden memo
ries to be lived over afterward, bit by
bit in the lonely evenings she stayed
at home while Gladys was out dane
ing and flirting the hours away.
Her head ached as she stopped to
pick up the undertakings her sister had
left lying in heap on the floor. Her
head had been aching for days but
now it seemed suddenly worse.
"Why won't you go to Doctor Win
throp regularly as he told you and
have your eyes treated? protested
Mrs. Keener impatiently, when Doro-
thy told her about 1t at breakfast next
morning
Why wouldn't she go to Doctor Win
throp regularly? Another thorn in
her side and one that she could not
explain, even to her loving sympa-
thetic mother. How could she tell her
that she was wild about the good
looking middle-aged physician who
was always so kind and sympathetic.
She would not so humiliate herself
especially when he had never so much
as called on her. He had called on
the family frequently but then he
had known them for years and it was
not his fault that her empty little
heart had gone out to him in its lone
illness. So she merely said to her
mother:
"I'll go right down there as soon as
I've finished eating. Gladys won't
need the car until later. She won't
get up until nearly lunch time, I ex-
pect."
"What if she does need the carr"
demanded Mrs. Keener.
Dorothy shrugged, brushed a crumb
off her smart green-fannel dress and
rose from the table.
"It's the old headache, Doctor Win
throp," Dorothy said half an hour
later, trying to smile.
Eyes, your mother called me up
just now" he said.
She glanced quickly at the clear
cut features, the fine gray eyes that
so strongly suggested gentleness and
kindness and little thrill passed
over her.
"Do you think it's a symptom of
some serious condition." she asked a
little breathlessly.
"N-no, I believe it's psychic and I
could cure it If you'd let me-" He
flushed and toyed with the paper
weight on his desk as he spoke.
"Oh, how% she asked quickly. I'D
do anything you said"
as that a promisef A solemn
promise?" he shot back at her.
She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her
lips parted. She was almost pretty
as she sat there Doctor Winthrop
leaned over and took her hand.
Dorothy, this is going to sound
strange to you, but you must realize
that it's natural. You've developed an
inferiority complex because you have
little, rattle-brained butterfly Of a
sister who is more popular than you
are. But remember there are lots of
older men who could appreciate you
and wouldn't give snap of their
finger for Gladys. I'm one of these