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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, February 28, 1913, Image 20',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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ing. People stared at him as he
tore across the road. The kite
made a final dive and landed on
the roof of an old ruin of a barn.
A woman at the door of a house
near by screamed hysterically as
Clyde seized a ladder at the door
step. Her husband came running
out with a gun. Heedless of
everything save that precious let
ter, Clyde placed the ladder
against the eaves of the barn.
Their rotted ends broke away like
punk, but he ran up the ladder,
crept across the mouldering shin
gles, and reached the kite.
"Got it at last!" he gasped
joyfully, as he tore the coveted
"messenger" from the string
Under his weight the flimsy
-roof bent in like a piece of rub
ber. His clothes caught on a
score of nails. Rip-snip-tear!
Clyde rolled a foot, a cloud of
dust covering him. A big spike
ripped one sleeve from end to end.
Clyde dropped to the ground.
He was a doleful sight smudg
ed, perspiring, in tatters but he
laughed gaily, exultantly he had
"Why, Mr. Bissell!" exclaimed
a surprised voice as he came out
on the road that of Viola her
self, halting the automobile she
drove and stared, startled but
amused. "What has happened?''
"This!" replied the young law
yer, promptly, desperately "a
"Oh, dear!" and Viola flushed
all over her fair face. "I that is
shall I take you home?"
She made room for him. But
the shy miss did not start the ma
chine villageward. She took the
quiet, beautiful brookside road,
canopied over with arching trees,
and lined with radiant flowers,
and with singing birds all about
them. The auto went slower and
slower, and stopped in a lovely A
nest of greenery.
Viola regarded her prince in
tatters arfchly as he told his
story. A smile she could not
help it mingled with the love
light in her gentle eyes.
"Shall I open the letter?" in
"But it is too late to come now,
as I asked yoj," she said, drop
ping her glance.
"Oh, then you asked me to
come!" cried her lover, in a tone
like a cheer." It was to tell you
something. Shall I tell it now,
here how much I love you?"
He took silence for assent '
such sweet, modest, inviting si
lence, indeed ! and the birds sang
on, and the flowers appeared to
nod blessings towards them, and
all the good, happy world seemed
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
Put into a bowl a cup of granur
lated sugar. Add the juice of six
lemons and stir until the sugar 1
melts. Put in three peeled lemons,
sliced very thin, and lieave on ice
until you are ready to use it. Add
then a dozen sprays of green
mint and a quart, at least, of
pounded ice. Stir well for a min
ute and pour from a height into it
two or three bottle of ginger ale.