The day book. [volume], March 21, 1917, NOON EDITION, Image 18

About The day book. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917

Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

                
RED ROSES
By Mary Parrish
-
(Copyright, 1917, W. G. Chapman.)
Undoubtedly Ruth was too sensi
tive. She could never get away from
the fact that she was the "poor rela
tion." No one in the family seemed
to make this apparent; they were all
kind and considerate; but to some
natures the position of being depen
dent is especially galling, and some
times embittering.
Ruth lived in a small country,
town, and wishing to study design
ing at an institute in the city, her Un
cle Vane had offered her a home with
his family while she attended the
school, as her parents could not af
ford the expense of keeping her
there.
Margie Vane, the only daughter,
ivas a year or two older than Ruth,
and had been "presented" in society
:he year before Ruth's coming.
There were parties, dinners and
luncheons in plenty for Miss Vane to
attend, but Ruth felt she must make
the best of her time with her studies
so seldom mixed in the gaities; be
sides she had not the wardrobe to ap
pear at these functions. Of course
when people were invited to the
house for dinner or evenings she
was always present. On one of these
occasions she met Glenn Beecham.
He was a good-looking type of the
young American and was rapidly be
coming a successful architect. Ruth
noticed that he was much attracted
to her cousin Margie and proceeded
to efface herself as far as possible.
But there was something going on in
the region of her heart which she did
not find quite so easy to efface. The
mysterious attraction which draws
us to some individual soul has never
yet been very satisfactorily ex
plained by scientists. Ruth Bassett
was not the sort of young woman to
be fascinated by the first good-looking
man who came along, she was
xather too serious-minded for that.
and she had been brought in contact
with quite a good many in the Vane
society; but Glenn Beecham seemed
to her "different." The one we really
love is always "different."
One evening she happened to be
in the reception room when he called.
She was bending over a vase of red
roses, enjoying their fragrance, and
She Was Bending Over a Vase of
Red Roses.
caressing arranging the stems as he
entered.
"You love flowers?" he said.
"Oh, yes, but espeeially re'd roses.
They are so splendid, royal, full of
life."
Their conversation drifted an to
their work, architecture and design
ing. The two arts had, something in
common, a kindred interest and they
became engrossed in the topic.