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Newspaper Page Text
THE DANCING PARTNER
By C. P. Fisson
" Olive's short holiday was nearly
ended, and she did not know how she
nvas going to take up the old life
"again, it had become so distant dur
Jing those two weeks.
She sat in front of the farmhouse,
''staring out at the sea. In her hand
""Hope You Are Enjoying Yourself,
she held a letter from Bert Dempsey.
3HeTras coming to take her to Boston,
"he wrote, and hoped, facetiously, that
"her rest among the "hayseeds" of
Massachusetts would enable her to
'produce "the hve thing" in imitations
-when she returned to the boards.
He was coming at 5 o'clock that aft
ernoon. At twenty-six -Olive was already
celebrated throughout the-'-cOuntry
for her inimitable parodies of theat
rical celebrities. Add a talent for
dancing which drew crowds wherever
she appeared, and a face which was
not the least of her commercial as
sets, and one can picture her. What
ever had induced her to cancel her
engagement in the middle of the fall
season, and run away to the remote
New England coast, she could not im
agine. It might have been a growing dis
taste for the tawdry theatrical ujfe,
the hollow shams of enjoyment, the
stale company of her fellow actors;
or perhaps some memory of her early
days in the little country town where
she was born, when Ihe stage had
seemed impossibly wicked to her.
She had given the impression that
she was a city stenographer to Far
mer Joyce and his son, Ralph, the
young physician, who lived with
A step at her side made her start
and secrete the letter hurriedly. She
looked up, to see the young doctor at
"So you are going to leave us, Miss
Freyne?" he asked. "We shall all
miss you. But you will come back?"
"Perhaps," she answered vaguely.
But she knew that she would never
"Well, dinner is ready," he replied,
offering her his arm as she rose. "My
mother will miss you we shall all
miss you," he reiterated.
Old Mrs. Joyce kissed Olive as she
entered the parlor.
"I declare, I don't know how we
shall get along without you," she
said. "It's ,as good as a play having
you around no offense meant, my
dear. But you are such good com
pany. And Ralph- "
Ralph was studying his plate. Pres
ently Farmer Joyce came stamping in
and sat down to his mcl.
"Well, Miss Freyne guess you
won't be sorry tojjet ba k to your of
fice' again after fwo wee'ks of farm
life," he chuckled. "Though I wish
w could havehad-you longer. If yep