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Show V Martha jane' I j By AGNES G. BROGAN. ' ( iCopyrlKht, lyl7, Western Newspupor Union.) Martha .lane sat between her two aunts and road the paper in the lamp light. Kven the reading of an evening paper was, in the aunts' opinion, a concession con-cession to frivolity. Their constant discipline dis-cipline upon this point had imbued their dependent young niece with the Idea that every desirable thing must be frivolous. One following the routine of Martha Jane's busy day would scarcely have called her dependent, but the girl's gratitude for her "upbringing" tuTd been shown in unceasing obedience to the elder women's wishes. Other girls had been courted and married, other girls wore pretty fancy dresses and dainty, high-heeled shoes. Martha Jane went quietly about in sensible gray, with shoes bought for service. She glanced now with a smothered sight, from the glint of her aunts' busy needles to the concentrated frowns upon their faces, then listlessly turned back to the paper. There would be at least the pleasure of the daily short love story. What was love like; she wondered. Then Martha Jane's eye fell upon an appealing letter. It was published beneath the heading of "Everyone's Column," and she read : A LONELY SOLDIER. Will some one be kind enough to write me a letter? I will reply, telling them about camp life. It makes me feel terribly terri-bly lonely to see other fellows getting letters let-ters while I have none. Not a relative left in all this country, not a friend it seems, who cares. Hoping some kind heart will favor me. Richard Jameson. The number of a Southern regiment ended the letter. An unusual flush flew to the roots of Martha Jane's soft hair, an unusual eagerness shone In her blue eyes she would answer that letter. If there was one other soul as lonely as herself they must join hands across the miles. This should be her one secret. "Good night, Aunt Martha," said the girl ; "good night, Aunt Jane," and hastened up to her room. Oh ! she wrote him such a letter that solider preparing to answer his country's call a letter of fun and sympathy and all the girlish life which had been kept sealed so long. Then came the delightfully exciting days of waiting. Anticipation lingered in the girl's eyes. "What has got into you, Martha Jane !" said one of the aunts, disapprovingly. disap-provingly. "You're getting that frivolous friv-olous lookin'." But for once Martha Jane was not subdued. With a daring little laugh 1 she went on her way to the post office, ' and there it was, in the box. She could i see the dashing script through the glass. The postmistress turned it over unbelievingly. "Well!" she exclaimed. "Fer you?" "Yes," answered Martha Jane. She V smiled provokingly. It was a good '. walk down to the ravine, but she felt ( that only there might she be sure of 1 no Interruption. He was very grate ful, the soldier boy, and if her letter had been good, his was wonderful. Not only of camp life did the letter tell, but of an adventurous discouraging discourag-ing life before. "Answer soon, please," he begged. "You've given me something to look forward to." Bob Blake, recently returned to town, awaited his packet of mail one morning, and turned to the postmistress postmis-tress as Martha Jane, absorbed, passed out with her bulky letter. Bob wrinkled wrin-kled his brow thoughtfully. "Isn't that Miss Winters?" he asked. "Martha Jane Winters? Used to know her at school. But she looks different someway." "She is different," the postmistress explained, "since she's got that steady lover. Used to go along before quiet and resigned like. Now she's all roses and dimples. Reckon they'll be married mar-ried when war's over." Bob Blake wheeled about on an impulse im-pulse and followed the girl down the street. "You've forgotten me, I'm afraid," , he said, as Martha Jane turned around. Every morning after that, she met him at the post office, there were evenings eve-nings too, when her letter had delayed to the later mail, and Bob would' walk home with her through the star-light. And when one evening she accepted the usual missive in Bob's presence, her eyes fell before his questioning ones. When she raised them from its perusal, relief and joy flashed up at him. This is what Martha Jane read : "and there's a girl out here visiting visit-ing her brother, whom I've got to know pretty well. So, when she goes home she'll write me letters, and you won't have to bother any more " "From your lover?" questioned Bob fiercely. "I never had a lover," truthfully answered Martha Jane. Bob Blake drew her gently out into the night. "Well you're going to have one now," he said. |