A Dream Turned Upside Down

           

           “JustonemoreweekandwegobacktoRedmond,”saidAnne.Shewashappyatthethoughtofreturningtowork,classesandRedmondfriends.PleasingvisionswerealsobeingwovenaroundPatty’sPlace.Therewasawarmpleasantsenseofhomeinthethoughtofit,eventhoughshehadneverlivedthere.

           Butthesummerhadbeenaveryhappyone,tooatimeofgladlivingwithsummersunsandskies,atimeofkeendelightinwholesomethings;atimeofrenewinganddeepeningofoldfriendships;atimeinwhichshehadlearnedtolivemorenobly,toworkmorepatiently,toplaymoreheartily.

           “Alllifelessonsarenotlearnedatcollege,”shethought.“Lifeteachesthemeverywhere.”

           Butalas,thefinalweekofthatpleasantvacationwasspoiledforAnne,byoneofthoseimpishhappeningswhicharelikeadreamturnedupsidedown.

           “Beenwritinganymorestorieslately?”inquiredMr.HarrisongeniallyoneeveningwhenAnnewastakingteawithhimandMrs.Harrison.

           “No,”answeredAnne,rathercrisply.

           “Well,nooffensemeant.Mrs.HiramSloanetoldmetheotherdaythatabigenvelopeaddressedtotheRollingsReliableBakingPowderCompanyofMontrealhadbeendroppedintothepostofficeboxamonthago,andshesuspicionedthatsomebodywastryingfortheprizethey’dofferedforthebeststorythatintroducedthenameoftheirbakingpowder.Shesaiditwasn’taddressedinyourwriting,butIthoughtmaybeitwasyou.”

           “Indeed,no!Isawtheprizeoffer,butI’dneverdreamofcompetingforit.Ithinkitwouldbeperfectlydisgracefultowriteastorytoadvertiseabakingpowder.

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