Kansas University Weekly.
211
Falling Leaves.
Gently drop the whispering leaflets Through the sunshine's yellow gold, Hastening to protect Earth Mother From harsh Winter's piercing cold. Tenderly they cling about her Whisp'ring words of love and cheer, Promises of coming Spring-time Day of Resurrection near, When glad Earth shall rise in beauty, Re-created, from her trance; And once more the merry leaflets On the green trees leap and dance.
R. P.
"The Education of Our Youth at College."
"You're going to take him to your party?" I asked, looking down at Polly as she tripped along by my side.
Polly shook her parasol—a ridiculous little flounced affair in white—decided to open it and framed her face in its fluffiness. Then she looked up at me. "Yes," she said with a comical little sigh that was straightway swallowed up in the ripple of laughter which overtook it, "That's one of the penalties of raising a boy."
I looked down at Polly, then at the erect stalwart figure of the Junior who had elicited this comment, and then at Polly again. "I may be extraordinarily obtuse," I said, "but I confess I don't see."
Polly looked at me again and laughed, for some unaccountable reason.
"He's very nice looking now, isn't he?" she said. "But you can't imagine what he was a couple of years ago." She clasped her hands in a gesture of burlesque despair. "He was raw, you know, perfectly raw. He wore his hair parted on the side, and oh such neck-ties! They used to give me the night-mare regularly. Then he laughed at everything I said and tried to be witty and to amuse me."
I shuddered, and Polly bestowed an approving look on me before she went on. "Then he never smoked, and looked on cards as—oh, I don't know--infernal machines, I suppose. And he said 'Yes ma'm,' and 'No ma'am.' Just fancy !" "and went to the Y. M. C. A. meetings, I suppose, and wore a C. E. pin?" I said.
"I see you have the idea," answered Polly, dimpling at me.
"But he seems to be very different—and indifferent,—now," I ventured.
"Yes, isn't he," said Polly, with enthusiasm.
"He smokes a pipe," I continued "and the most sure-footed fly would slide off his hair, and he walks with his left hand in his trousers pocket—"
"Yes; I really believe," said Polly swinging the sunshade, "I really believe I have made a success."
"You !!" I said, looking at Polly in perplexity, "You?"
Polly dimpled again, and flashed a mischievous glance into my eyes.
"He was very young, you know," she said, "just eighteen, and I suggested things and laughed at him and—oh everything."
"Yes," I said, "but I don't understand. Why did he do it for you and—"
"Stupid!" said Polly, "He was—oh well, he rather—"
"Start again." I suggested encouragingly.
"Well, then, he liked me, you know," said Polly.
"Oh!" I said comprehendingly, "and you—" "Yes," said Polly.
Then she cocked her parasol so as to frame her face again, and laying her hand lightly on my arm looked up into my face with a glance that sent my old heart, tough as it is, into a flutter.
"Do you see?" asked Polly stooping to pick a four-leaf clover.
"I see." I said. Then I put out my hand to help her up, and as our eyes met we both laughed.
"Not at all!" she said promptly. "He's perfectly happy."
"Poor fellow!" I sighed with a glance at Polly.
"And next year?" I suggested. "I don't