Ed Martin was always so leisurely in his movements
that the marvel was how he got so much accomplished. Local
dignitaries of the most admired kind, perhaps, wear their
distinction as a kind of toga; but Ed was plump and short, with his
scant, fair hair always rumpled, and a manner as friendly as a
child's.
"Haven't got another Valedictory for us to print, have you?" he went
on genially.
Missy blushed. "I just dropped in for a minute," she began uneasily.
"I was just thinking--" She hesitated and paused.
"Yes," said Ed Martin encouragingly.
"I was just thinking--that perhaps--" She clasped her hands tightly
together and fixed her shining eyes on him in mute appeal. Then:
"You see, Mr. Martin, sometimes it comes over you--" She broke off
again.
Ed Martin was regarding her out of friendly blue eyes.
"Maybe I can guess what sometimes comes over you. You want to write-
-is that it?"
His kindly voice and manner emboldened her.
"Yes--it's part that. And a feeling that--Oh, it's so hard to put
into words, Mr. Martin!"
"I know; feelings are often hard to put into words.
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