Kansas University Weekly.
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word?" His voice changed and lost its masterful tone, as Dorothy shrank back and tried to draw her hands away from his. "What's the use of making a fellow miserable, wretched, ready to die? If you don't care for me say so—but I did so want to write to the Mater and tell her about you—you are so glorious, so splendid—she would be delighted. But I can't while you treat me so, of course. We had such a good old talk Thursday night and I was in seventh heaven."
"I was the luckiest dog on earth, you have no idea how all the world seemed changed after—after we had been in the conservatory. I couldn't sleep Thursday night I was so happy and Friday I couldn't because I was so miserable. Do tell me what it is, dear!"
During this speech the girl's face was a study first cold, icy cold, then relaxed into a very small, shy smile then cold again, but finally only sad.
"You see, Walter," she said, "its this way. I had known you only two days and three evenings; when you spoke that night, I was so happy that I didn't know or realize what a fool I might be making of myself. How do I know what you are? Anybody could be splendid for two days and three evenings. Of course appearances are against it, but you might be bad and horrid you know, and think of my humiliation if I should find you so after I leave here and know you better."
"But your mother knows me and knows all about my family. Can't you trust what she has said?"
"Yes, but most families, pardon me, have a black sheep and she hasn't known you since you were a child. Think, Walter, of the humiliation for me if I should be disappointed in you. Then another thing—That might——I——you——you looked so awfully proud and triumphant that I could just imagine that you were saying to yourself. 'Silly goose, she is easily won; whom shall I try next?'"
By this time Walter was almost laughing from relief. Things looked bright, if only he can manage skillfully, all will be well again.
"I was proud and triumphant, you sweet, silly goose, because you had made me so—who wouldn't be?"
And so it went on. In a very, very short time they discovered that it was time to get ready for dinner and they hadn't rehearsed a bit. But as Walter said:
"Now that I shan't be frozen up everytime I speak to you our parts will go allright."
Mrs. Wentworth was somewhat reassured by their protestatim of improvement when she met them after dinner and every one hurried away to prepare for the evening. The room was filled with eager spectators, the curtain rose—the play began—the evening sped away. Loud applause was often heard, Dorothy and Walter received many flowers and were greeted with enthusiasm and praise on every side.
"Splendid," "Perfect," "Didn't she look beautifui," "They seemed to live it all," "you could almost imagine that they meant all they said," and many such remarks were made as the people left. Dorothy and Walter looked radiantly happy—because people were so pleased, of course—and Mrs. Wentworth beamed upon everyone and devoted herself to her hero and heroine to make up for any slight they might have felt before. The next day was spent in festivities and on Friday all went home declaring the visit the most delightful ever enjoyed by any of them.
HELEN PERRY.
The Forest Queen.
The wind has hushed its murmurs Here in the mountain wild. The forest droops its branches; Beneath them sits the child.
She sits in thyme embowered. She sits in fragrance rare. The blue fly drowsily humming Flits glittering thro' the air.
A stillness broods the woodland. She looks so wisely gay; About her azel tresses The rippling sun-beams play.
The cuckoo laughs from a distance.
It comes to me now, I ween;
Her radiant eyes so lovely
Are those of the forest queen.
—From the German of Theodore Storm by G. L. Spaulding.