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Newspaper Page Text
ft - A MISUNDERSTANDING By Maud Beasley Lizzie Holt, attheperf umery coun ter of the Twenty-five and Fifty Cent store, looked up at Maggie Parsons, her neighbor behind the toilet arti cles. 1 "Gee! That's the third time old .Simmonds has spoken to me this morning," she remarked. "He must be getting stuck on you, lizzie," replied her friend. Simmonds, the owner of the chain of stores, was a man between sixty and seventy years of age. He had a fringe of white whiskers under his cjiin, he was not particularly well groomed or spruce; in shorthe was not in the least the kind of elderly gentleman who would attract the af fections of a pretty girl of twenty. Lizzie had secured her position the first day she looked for one. She had come up from the country, and when she had saved up the price of a trousseau a really elegant one she meant to let George Robbins, at present employed in their home town as manager of a little local store, lead her to the altar. Simmonds certainly appeared in terested in lizzie. Before the girl had been in the store a month he had already contrived to have her sum moned to his private ctffice at least a dozen times. "How would you like to act as my stenographer, Miss Holt?" he in quired upon the last of these occa sions. "I don't know much about stenog raphy," admitted lizzie. "But I could learn, I suppose," she added, thinking of the increased salary and the 'im proved, trousseau that would result therefrom. "Well, I'll tell you what I'll do," said the old man. staring at her in a. way that brought the blushes to her cheeks. "Ill pay for you to learn at jthe night school on the nest block: 1 Then when you are competent, may be there will be a place for you in here." Seventeen comely young women looked daggers at Lizzie "when she came out of the office. "What d'he say to you, Lizzie?" de manded Maggie resentfully. "Raised you?" "Not yet, but soon," said Lizzie, humming a tune. The stenography lessons were a failure. lizzie made no progress at lLmS 2v2& JMmmr-iA mm t'" ' ' '- RS "He Must Be Getting Stuck on You, Lizzie." all. Her vain little head was filled with the thought of the trousseau, and the hooka would" turn the wrong way, and the consonants turn them selves Into impossible angles. Meari while Lizzie1 continued at the store. Simmond's attentions were now tie talk of everyorie. Lizzie could stand it no longer. "If he wants' to take ait interest in,'