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Newspaper Page Text
By Selina Elizabeth Higgins.
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
Miss Beulah Jones was cutting
up a cake with a piece of silk
thread to prove its lightness, as
there came a knock at the door.
She passed through the sitting
room with many a hurried reach
for scattered garments and frag-
Flushed in a Startled Way.
tnents of cloth, in a hopeless ef
fort at tidying up.
"I do hope it isn't the minister,
or anybody but some neighbor,"
fluttered the neat and circum
spect little lady.
"It's only me, Beulah," spoke
the bluff voice of giantlike John
Moore, her distant cousin.
"About once a year I get around
here. Why don't you ever come
and see Us, Beulah?"
Miss Jones flushed conscious
ly, then her calm, pleasant eyes
took on a serious expression.
"You know I never go any
where now," she said, briefly.
"Well," spoke John, plumping
down into an easy chair, "I've
heard some wonderful things
about those pet chickens of yours,
and I've come to find out about
them. Well! Well! Well!"
Honest John craned his neck
to stare out through the window.
His lips expanded. His ruddy
face began to pucker comically, .
and he let out a great guffaw.
"What are you laughing at,
John Moore?" demanded Miss
Beulah, with severity.
Her cousin could not reply for
some time on account of convul-'
sive chuckles. There was ample
occasion for his merriment. Wad
dling 'around in the chicken yard
a full score of Plymouth Rock
chickens were parading proudly,
attired in close-fitting overcoats.
The sewing machine and the rug
about it were littered with scraps
of cloth representing all the col
ors of the rainbow.
"It's a great idea," said John,
"but it's the funniest thing I ever
"I don't see anything very fun
ny about it," resented Miss Jones.
"I suppose the neighbors call me
eccentric, and all that, but cloth
ing the chickens is no whim. It
is a practical piece of humanity.
Some of the poor things froze up
last winter. They shan't this."
John Moore grinned the harder