THE FRANCES SHIMER QUARTERLY
An Elopement
She was a tender, frail little thing, so helpless as to be almost pitiable, so weak as to be almost miserable. Her great black eyes stared at me when she opened them wide, but when she sat leaning back among the pillows they were always half closed giving her a dreamy appearance. Her tangled black curls were usually dangling about her face in a most distracting fashion; her nose was perfect, and her mouth must have been modeled after the story-book ideals. And then that dimple just above the upper lip on the left cheek-was there ever a more charming place for a dimple? Her complexion was bewitching—exactly like the kind you buy—but usually, yes, all the time, her hands and face were dirty. But
"I loved her and
She loved me and
That was bliss."
Once, as she and I sat on the sofa, I thinking of the time when I should be grown up and famous, possibly a president, or at least a mayor, and she—well, she never thought of anything, she was really very stupid. Suddenly a bright idea came to me.
"Marion," I cried, "Come with me. Come where we shall be bored no longer by people who smile when I kiss you and who nod approvingly when I leave you to take up a book. Come, let us go where there is candy and ice cream, candy and ice cream, my dear, and pie and cake, oh, yes! Marion, coffee! You love coffee, don't you?"
Marion smiled her approval. Marion was not given to words.
It took only a moment to tie on her little bonnet and for me to get my big sun hat.
We hurried out of the door and out into the street, quite unmindful of the fact that we were running away. We were going somewhere; we knew not where. We had gone two blocks; I had never gone so far alone before, and Marion was even less experienced than I.
"Oh!" I shouted, "There's a train." But we waited for it to pass just as big folks waited, and then went solemnly on into the main street of the little city.
"Now," I whispered to my tiny sweetheart, "We will go to Mr. John's candy store. He has asked me ever so many times to
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