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\me Patriotism
I Of Penelope.
By VIHG/S/IA BLAI'R.
t Copyrighted, I DoS, by Associated
Literary Tress.
“A man who can vote and won't
vote ought to l>e made to vote,’* said
Feuelope dramatically.
“Of course if you feel that way,”
Oswald Peering said stiffly.
“Every woman should fool that
way”—Penelope's scornful little nose
was in the air—“and every man. The
welfare of the country depends oil it.”
‘Tin not so sure"—Dee ring was fast
becoming aggressive— “that a woman
knows”—
And then Penelope blazed, "Of
course”—becoming aggressive—“that a
woiurtu ought not to dabble in such
things. But the blood of nay ancestors
is in me. All of my grandfathers were
in the Revolution and in the war of
1812. My father tcrved with honor In
the civil war and my brothers in the
Spanish war. blow can I help feeling
that the men who wouldn't fight
were”— She Stopped. 1
Oswald was very pale. “I know
what you were going to say—that be
came I (didn’t light I was a coward.”
Something in the stillness of his an
ger frightened Penelope.
“I didn't mean”— she faltered.
“Yes, you did,” # lie told h r. “Yen
meant that I was a coward because I
didn’t go to the war when your broth
ers did. But there were reasons.”
“There are always reasons,” she
flashed out. "You may now say there
are reasons why you are not going to
vote tomorrow.”
“Well, I don’t think you could Under
stand if I told you, Penelope.”
Bhe stood up and faced him. “Oh.”
she said, and her little figure in the
clinging mauve gown was drawn up to
Its tull height—“oh, I always thought
that you put women on a low plane.
Oswald, and now I know it.”
“li isn’t that,” he sakl doggedly,
“hut I think bought not to be made to
explain my reason for not voting. It
Involves someone else. 1 shall stay
away from the polls tomorrow as a
matter of conscience, Penelope.”
Her little nose was buried in the
bunch of violets he had brought her.
“I don’t think it is worth arguing
about.” she snid at last wearily as she
lifted her head from the flowers. “But
I really think we couldn't be happy If
we feel so differently.”
“You mean”— He had risen and
was standing beside her.
“1 mean that—that 1 think we have
made a mistake.”
“Then you won’t marry me, Penel
ope?”
“1 have never said that 1 would, Os
wald.”
“No, but you pave me hope. You
knew that 1 thought”—
Before his accusing eyes her owu
dropped.
"But I never really said ‘Yes,’ ’’ she
whispered.
“Perhaps not. But 1 understood
that it was because you wanted to be
sure.” His voice broke, and then all
at once he gathered himself together
and, with his head held high, said
“Don’t talk of a man’s alle-
Ktouee to his country, Penelope, when
Hfcthave failed in your allegiance to
ISEb iove -’*
■nr, n’t love you,” she began, but he
her. "You do. You know
But deep
t yea ibu't mist
in IJml or
Br-I >'- j \• V.
the' force of arms, but l tell you i
heard something about Oswald Deer
lng today that made me believe Jn a
new kind of courage.”
“Wbnt was it?” they demanded.
“Well, the nurse - who takes care of
Oswald's mother told me when I was
waiting In Oswald's ' office today. It
sepms that his father was killed in the
civil war and that since then bis moth
er lias been very delicate.
"When the first news of fighting in
Cuba came Oswald was wild to go, but
she opposed It strongly, and at last,
when she found that his mind Was
made up, she had a heart attack that
m arly killed her. So Oswald stayed
at home and studied medicine, but he
Las never really got over bis disap
pointment.”
renelope’s father brought his hand
down on the table with a bang. “But
he should have gone at his country’s
call,” and Penelope's eyes flashed,
“And have killed his mother?" Bruce
asked quietly. Tor a moment the older
man was silent, and then he said, “It
was a test of patriotism, but the boy
did the right thing.”
Penelope leaned across the table and
asked an eager question, but only her
mother knew of her real Interest and
why her cbdeka were pale and her
eyes shadowed.
“But—but do you know the reason
why ’ Oswald didn't vote?" she de
manded.
Bruce tided. “Same reason. Ills
mother Insists that he shall vote the
ticket that his father always did, and
his conscience won't let him. lie says
conditions are different now. So lie
doesn't vote at nil.”
“I think he's somewhat tit and to his
mother's apron strings.” Penelope's
voice was scornful.
“Little sister"—Bruce's steady gaze
made her flush deeply—“if you knew
what Oswald’s mother had done for
him, the sacrifices she made that he
might go to allege! She cannot live
many months now, the nurse says, so
l feel that he is right, even if She is
wrong to demand it."
And after that Penelope fled to her
room and thought it over. What a lit
tle prig she had been to call him a
coward! lie was braver than—why, he
was the bravest man in the whole
world to face the world’s scorn for his
mother’s sake.*
And even as she thought it she re
solved that she would tell him at
once. It was late, and beneath the
dull gray clouds in the west was the
line of deep orange where the sun had
set.
Far down the street she could see
the light In Oswald’s office, and to
ward that light when she had slipped
on her raincoat and hat she made her
way.
Her timid knock brought her lover
to the door.
“Penelope!” he stammered when he
saw her.
“Yes”—she flitted past him and drop
ped' into the big chair iu front of the
Art I—"l’ve 1 —"I’ve come to make up.”
She was smiling up at him, but there
came no answering smile.
“I want you to forgive me,” she fal
tered.
“For calling me a coward?” There
was a bitter note in his voice.
“I—l understand now that it was be
cause of your mother that you didn't
go.”
“You had to be told that?” he asked
sternly. “No belief in me brought
you here until you had proof—oh,
Penelope!”
“You should have told me, Oswald.”
“After your distrust, no.”
There was so much of
tone that she stood up
“Then there's
■ ’iv >
head wrr.cr. a Frenchman, who was a j
passenger, walked out on deck Just be
fore dark, took a look .at the Pictured
Rocks and was much pleased with the
view.
In the morning, before breakfast,
he again came out on deck, and the
panorama astonished him.
“What ees dis beautiful sight you
have here?” he aske
He was told, “Y’otl u-e again looking j
at Pictured Rocks.”
“What a great countree!” he ex
claimed. “Before you go to bed you
walk on de deck. You have a grand |
view de Picture Rock. Den you go to i
bed. you sleep well all night —de
steamer is go ahead all de time—you
come out on deck in de morning, you i
see Ticture Rock again. What a big
countree you got and what big Picture ;
Rock!”
No one told the admiring Frenchman
that the captain, finding that Lie could
make no headway against the wind
and the waves, had run back to White
fish point during the night and that he j
was then looking at the same rook
pictures he had seen the evening be
fore.
*— j
The Doctor ar.d the Dog.
A family that live iu a detached
house out in the suburbs telephoned ,
for their doctor. The call was urgent. !
It was late in the evening.
When the doctor arrived at the gate
the family dog was there ahead of
him. The dog did not like the looks of 1
a man with a triangle shaped bunch
of whiskers aud black satchel.
The doctor started to brush by the
dog aud go iu. But the dog soon j
showed him that he wasn't joking.
“Maybe they'll hear the dog and call
him off,” thought the doctor, and he
waited. But they didn't.
There was just one thing for the doc
f v to do, and that was to go to the
uearest telephone and call up the fam- j
ily. But lie learned that it was no
easy job to find a telephone. It was
then pretty late, and he had to go half
a dozen blocks back toward town be
fore be found a place where he could
get a phone.
“Dog!” repeated the man at the other
end. “We haven’t any dog. You must ;
■ have stopped at the place next door. 1
They have a dog. Now, hurry back
here.” —New York Press.
The End of the Recitation.
“And I—l am that little chap, curly
and brown.”—Punch.
A Little
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k~
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J Jr
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