Newspapers / The Young American (High … / Sept. 4, 1920, edition 1 / Page 8
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to the dance tonight,” Bolton relent-1 ed, “and I thought I’d drive over and meet this attractive little girl I’ve been hearing so much about .instead of asking her through Alicia. It’s a very Impromptu fraternity dance too, or I ivould have sent an invitation.” At this revelation a look of utter dismay and uncertainty spread over her face and she gazed helplesslly at him as if to find the answer to her dilemma. How could she confess now? What a silly fool he’d think she was. At this moment her solution ap peared in the form of radiant sister Alicia, who came in breezily, flinging hat and things on the table and fol lowed by her devoted slave, Reggy Reynolds. “Hel-lo Dick” she chirped, “how ever did you happen to honor us with a call? I suppose Theresa has been entertaining you amply, at least you look entertained enough—^^but what ever have you been doing to her? I do believe she is going to cry. The resa,” going over to her sister, “what is it dear? Has Ripk Bolton been teasing you? Don’t believe a word he says. He’s the worst kidder in the whole college.” Theresa shot a hateful glance at Richard, who stool in a-mock penitent attitude, and then her torrent of weening broke. •T do believe you knew I was The resa all the time,” she stormed at him, “and I think you are a perfect ly horrid, mean, beastly—” here words seemed to fail her for a minute, but she went on, “You let me make a perfect fool of myself just to amuse yourself. Well, you may be sure I wouldn’t go to the dance for anything in the world now—anyway—the invi tation was probably all a joke, too, she added, her eyes blazing. Richard Bolton stood the fiery as sault nobly, and seemed to be enjoy ing it rather unduly. He turned to her amazed sister Alicia and said. “Would you mind leaving us alone for a While, Alicia, I’ve got to square my self with your sister!” “No, indeed, Dick,“ Alicia respond ed tenderly amused at her baby sis ter’s spirit. “All I have to say is you’ll have some job. Come on, Reg gie lets leave poor Dick to his fate, and smiling they left the two combat ants alone. As soon as Alicia and Reggie had left, discreetly closing the door after them Dick walked over to Theresa, who had buried her face in her hand kerchief and was now quite dissolved in tears. “I have nothing to say to you,” came in miffled tones from the depth of the sofa. “I wish you’d leave me alone.” “Theresa, Dick’s voice was quite ar resting when he wished it to be and at this moment, to his own surprise it seemed he never wanted anything so much as this little girl’s forgive ness. “Don’t you understand? I want to take you to the dance- tonight more than anything I know. I did the mo ment I set eyes on you in the door way. I couldn’t resist kidding you— you were so funny. I want to take you to this dance—and to the Junior Prom, and to the Senior Prom next year, and Theresa dear, can’t you see I’m just crazy about you, and I’ll be miserable until you forgive me.” In spite of her beating heart The resa was gradualiy becoming mistress of herself. She raised her head, dried her eyes, and sildntly rearranged her hair while she kept him waiting for his reprieve. “Of course you can’t expect me to believe a word of what you’re saying now Mr. Bolton,” she said, “after the reputation you have for being the worst jollier in college. I guess I’m game enough to go to the dance with you though—even if the joke is on me.” She said this as if she were conferring a favor. Instead of realiz ing one of her dreams. “But you’ll let me call you The resa, won’t you?” he asked, “and you’ll let me tell you what a darling you are, even if we both know I don’t mean a world of it?” he chided. “Oh, no,” she laughed. “I shall ex pect you to reform now as a matter of penitence, and tell only the truth to me.” ^ , . “Agreed,” he cried, then taking both her hands he added, “Theresa dear, I’m going to be terribly in love with you.” myself. THE RHYMING OPTIMIST. I have to live with myself, and so I want to be fit for myself to know. I want to be able, as the days go by. Always to look myself straight in the eye; I don’t want to stand, with the setting sun. And hate myself for things I’ve done. I don’t want to keep on a closet shelf A lot of secrets about myself, And fool myself, as I come and go, Into thinking that ndbody else will know By Aline Michaelis. Now the sun was fast descending and the linnet hushed its song, and the road stretched out unending from where Box-Car trudged along. “Faro, things seem mighty lonely on this trip. I’ll say they do. Seems they ain’t no bummers only One-Eye Pete an’ me an’ you. Five years back, when Spring wuz cornin’, we wuz meetin’ boys we knowed; now, there ain’t nobody bumm’n’; every road’s an empty road.” Musing on his fel lows’ folly, Box-Car Bill his way pur sued; but his words were melancholy and rebellious was his mood. “Yes,” he said, “in Southern places, jest along about this time, all the old pals turned their faces starting for a cold er clime. An’ they didn’t have to worry, folks wuz sure to feed ’em some; and they didn’t have to hurry, sein’ any place wuz home. Lots o spots wuz fine ter'snoozin’, ’specially an old barn loft, an’ the life wuz quite amusin’; soft, I calls it mighty soft. ’Course, we has to keep on movin’; but gosh ding it, that is good, fer theres nothin’ fine as rovin once you get it in your blood. Ther-^ ain’t no grounds fer compalinin’ ween a feller hits the trail, so this thing needs some explainin’, for there ain’t no one in jail. Everywhere the wim- min greet us: ‘You’re the only tramps this Spring,’ an’ they seem^ right glad to meet us, fix us pie an everything. This wov.ld be a dindy season an’ the weather now is fine; but say. Faro, what’s the reason we’re the last ones uv our line? Where are all the bummers lurkin’? Gee, Friend Faro, I am sad! Cmi it be ibut they are woikin’ an’ gone wholly to the liad? The kind of a man I really am, I don’t want to dress up myself in sham. I want to go out with my head erect, I want to deserve all men’s respect; But here in the struggle for tame and pelf I want to be able to like myself. I don’t want to look at myself and know That I’m bluster and bluff and empty show. I can never hide myself from me, I see what others may never see; I know what others may never know, I never can fool myself, and so. Whatever happens. I want to be Self respecting and conscience free.
The Young American (High Point, N.C.)
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Sept. 4, 1920, edition 1
8
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