Mrs. Minks Soldier and Other Stories

Alice Hegan Rice
Mrs. Mink's Soldier and Other
Stories

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Title: Mrs. Mink's Soldier and Other Stories
Author: Alice Hegan Rice
Release Date: March 2, 2005 [EBook #15230]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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MINK'S SOLDIER ***

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MISS MINK'S SOLDIER
AND OTHER STORIES
[Illustration: Then Miss Mink received a shock]

MISS MINK'S SOLDIER
AND OTHER STORIES

BY
ALICE HEGAN RICE
Author of "MRS. WIGGS OF THE CABBAGE PATCH," "MR. OPP,"
"CAVALRY ALLEY," ETC.
NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1918

Copyright, 1905, 1906, 1910, 1918, by THE CENTURY CO.
Copyright, 1914, by THE CROWELL PUBLISHING COMPANY
_Published, October, 1918_

TO THE LADY OF THE DECORATION
A MEMENTO OF MANY HAPPY DAYS SPENT TOGETHER
"EAST OF SUEZ"

CONTENTS
MISS MINK'S SOLDIER
A DARLING OF MISFORTUNE
"POP"
HOODOOED
A MATTER OF FRIENDSHIP
THE WILD OATS OF A SPINSTER
CUPID GOES SLUMMING
THE SOUL OF O SANA SAN

MISS MINK'S SOLDIER
Miss Mink sat in church with lips compressed and hands tightly
clasped in her black alpaca lap, and stubbornly refused to comply with
the request that was being made from the pulpit. She was a small
desiccated person, with a sharp chin and a sharper nose, and narrow
faded eyes that through the making of innumerable buttonholes had
come to resemble them.
For over forty years she had sat in that same pew facing that same
minister, regarding him second only to his Maker, and striving in
thought and deed to follow his precepts. But the time had come when
Miss Mink's blind allegiance wavered.

Ever since the establishment of the big Cantonment near the city, Dr.
Morris, in order to encourage church attendance, had been insistent in
his request that every member of his congregation should take a soldier
home to Sunday dinner.
Now it was no lack of patriotism that made Miss Mink refuse to do her
part. Every ripple in the small flag that fluttered over her humble
dwelling sent a corresponding ripple along her spinal column. When
she essayed to sing "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," in her high, quavering
soprano, she invariably broke down from sheer excess of emotion. But
the American army fighting for right and freedom in France, and the
Army individually tracking mud into her spotless cottage, were two
very different things. Miss Mink had always regarded a man in her
house much as she regarded a gnat in her eye. There was but one course
to pursue in either case--elimination!
But her firm stand in the matter had not been maintained without much
misgiving. Every Sunday when Dr. Morris made his earnest appeal,
something within urged her to comply. She was like an automobile that
gets cranked up and then refuses to go. Church-going instead of being
her greatest joy came to be a nightmare. She no longer lingered in the
vestibule, for those highly cherished exchanges of inoffensive gossip
that constituted her social life. Nobody seemed to have time for her.
Every one was busy with a soldier. Within the sanctuary it was no
better. Each khaki-clad figure that dotted the congregation claimed her
attention as a possible candidate for hospitality. And each one that
presented himself to her vision was indignantly repudiated. One was
too old, another too young, one too stylish, another had forgotten to
wash his ears. She found a dozen excuses for withholding her
invitation.
But this morning as she sat upright and uncompromising in her short
pew, she was suddenly thrown into a state of agitation by the
appearance in the aisle of an un-ushered soldier who, after hesitating
beside one or two pews, slipped into the seat beside her. It seemed
almost as if Providence had taken a hand and since she had refused to
select a soldier, had prompted a soldier to select her.
During the service she sat gazing straight at the minister without
comprehending a word that he said. Never once did her glance stray to
that khaki-clad figure beside her, but her thoughts played around him

like lightning. What if she should get up her courage and ask him to
dinner, how would she ever be able to walk out the street with him!
And once she had got him to her cottage, what on earth would she talk
to him about? Her hands grew cold as
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