. The chief. the little ironwrought bench under a wide-spreading willow tree. From her bag she drew adiminutive powder puff and mirror, then passed the puff over her small butslightly tilted nose and fluffed out her hair. Leaning over she tied her slipperstrings more tightly, and idly plucked a few blades of grass. A discreet and humble cough sounded near by, and Ida straightened uphaughtily, if somewhat quickly and by jerks. 5r Well? Her tone was very supercilious for such a small person, but itcompletely cowed the demure personage in front of her. Obsequiously he clutchedat his hat and strai
. The chief. the little ironwrought bench under a wide-spreading willow tree. From her bag she drew adiminutive powder puff and mirror, then passed the puff over her small butslightly tilted nose and fluffed out her hair. Leaning over she tied her slipperstrings more tightly, and idly plucked a few blades of grass. A discreet and humble cough sounded near by, and Ida straightened uphaughtily, if somewhat quickly and by jerks. 5r Well? Her tone was very supercilious for such a small person, but itcompletely cowed the demure personage in front of her. Obsequiously he clutchedat his hat and straightened his large bow tie. Peering at her from his tortoise-rimed glasses he cleared his throat and re-marked that it was a fine evening for a sitting. Ida immediately arose and darted an angry, contemptuous glance at him. Well, who do you think you are? she sarcastically remarked. Why, I think I am Stanley Napoleon Kent, Miss—er—. Jones, she supplied, and went back to the dance. Olive Ann Schell, 18. A W. 2^0Jrt ^u«^^?f^ A Few Brush Strokes Locating the Essentials 52
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