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Show P X! ROMANCE VS. RICE By ADELAID R. KEMP. Anne I'reston boarded the crowded Pullman of a through train with an expression ex-pression of absolute weariness on her pretty face. It was a warm day anil she settled herself for her long journey jour-ney unmoved by the monotonous murmur mur-mur of voices drifting about her, and thinking only of the visit ahead. Tired from her hard winter in the ollice. she felt glad indeed she had resisted the pleading of the other girls to spend her three weeks' vacation with then) tit a fashionable seaside resort. With closed eyes site remembered gratefully the kind letter from dear Aunt Maria inviting her down to the old home in Maine, where she had spent such happy summers when she was a little Kii'l. ' It was late in the afternoon when the train came to her station. Alighting, Alight-ing, the lirst thing on which her eyes fell was an old surrey with its fringed top and a plump horse in the shafts. Coming toward her was a tall, well-built well-built young man with eyes gray, se-rc-ie, and strangely compelling, the look of strength in his mouth and chin and in the square swing of his shoulders. shoul-ders. Could this be Aunt Maria's adopted son, the merry, freckled-faced lad with whom she had spent such happy days fishing and picking berries? With outstretched hand and a slow, friendly smile, he met her. "You are little Anne. I should have known you anywhere," he said. "Why I" she exclaimed, bis calm, deep voice causing an odd flutter in her heart, "you must be David." As they jogged along The country road they were soon chatting merrily together, quickly bridging over the years since they last met, as is the way of youth. "Oh !" she said, "was anything ever so lovely? Why have I stayed away so long?" David looked at her thoughtfully. "I don't know," he said slowly. "But I hope you won't do it again." On the brow of the hill overlooking the sea stood the lovely old farmhouse. White paint gleamed on every board and timber. Eaves, window shutters and doors were green, and there also, as Anne had remenrbered, were the geraniums blending with the hollyhocks. holly-hocks. As they drove up Aunt Maria's raotherly figure rose from the wicker rocker on the porch and with a kind, ruddy face beaming with affection, came to meet her. Anne felt a tightening tight-ening at her throat, and with a sudden sud-den mist blurring her eyes she hid her face in the ample bosom. Long hours on the heach or In the hammock among the pines gave splendid splen-did results, and the flush of health returned re-turned to Anne's cheeks, the sparkle to her brown eyes. With it all a spirit of happiness and content filled iter whole being. One morning she entered en-tered the kitchen at an earlier hour tnan usual, to find It deserted. A few dishes at the end of the table gave evidence evi-dence that the men had finished their breakfast. But the fire was low and an unusual air of desolation seemed to pervade the atmosphere. Anne quickly ran upstairs to Aunt Maria's room, only to find that kind-hearted soul stricken with a severe headache and unable to dress. "Oh, auntie, why ever didn't you call me?" exclaimed Anne, laying her cool little fingers on the aching brow. "You mustn't worry, dearie. I'll soon be better," answered Aunt Maria. "If I could only sleep a short time. But there is so much to be done downstairs." "Auntie," said Anne, with determination, determina-tion, "I can do everything if you will tell me what to get for dinner. And then you can take a good rest and feel all right by afternoon." Aunt Maria, with a relieved sigh, gave a few directions, adding at the last, "and David loses rice pudding. So you can make a big one, and he can have it for supper, too. It might have been two hours later that David, returning to the house as was his habit fo'r a little lunch, heard a queer, choking noise in the kitchen. Hurriedly entering-, he saw a slight figure fig-ure huddled on the old sofa. "Why, little Anne," lie said, hurrying to her side, "what lias happened?" For a moment she lifted her tear-stained face and glancing despairingly toward the stove, sobbed: "Rice." David looked wonderingly in the same direction. "I don't understand." he said. Anne's face was hidden on his broad -shoulder now and he held her close. "Why! Why!" she stammered in muffled toes, "Auntie asked me to make you a rice pudding a big one. And I opened her new five-pound package and put it to soak and, oh, dear!" she was overcome now and could say no more. A look of understanding came suddenly to David's face. Over on the stove were kettles of rice, little kettles, big kettles, even the dishpan had been called into service. He drew one long breath and then his peals of laughter could be hoard in the attic. at-tic. Anne looked Hp indignantly, and tried to draw away. It was at this juncture Aunt Maria appeared In the doorway, her headache bandage perched on one ear, bewilderment bewil-derment in iter eyes. On the old sofa sat her help blissfully unconscious of hoeing undone or dinner to he cooked. Late in the autumn, when they starred starr-ed on a happy wedding journey, David picked a few tiny particles from ihe folds of his wife's dainty suit. "Look, little Anne," he said, "shall we save these for a pudding?" (Copyright, 1019. McClm-e Xewsf ip r Syndicate.) |