to reconcile the lady whom he felt sure had gone out of her mind were futile. At one point when she appeared ready to explain an equally indignant, tall brunette, made her appearance. Mr. Horne at this point, realizing that obviously something was wrong, began attempting to invite the ladies to the back room since the event had gained the attention of all in the store. At last, when relative peace had been regained, Ethon no longer heard voices for some time, walked slowly away from the entrance of the back room. Mr. Horne, with an efficient scoul on his forehead, examined a small rectangular slip of paper, the size of three by five inches. He took the sales slip from the shoe box. "Let me see...Number Three..." he announced. ".. Why...that's Ethon...!" Mr. Ethon stood waiting as Mr. Home with the two at his heels entered the back room. "Ethon, there seems to be a... a... mistake of some kind. Do you know anything about this?" He held out the note. Mr. Ethon read one of the notes he had written. With an audacious calm he said, "It's my hand writing I believe." Mr. Horne flinched. He stuttered slightly when he said, "y... y... you mean you're responsible for this?" Mr. Ethon gave something of a modest smile. "Was the note found in the inner sole of the shoe?" Promptly the first lady voiced, "It certainly was!" "Was it discovered there because a nail had worked through the inner sole to puncture 8 the foot and compelled an inspection of the shoe?" He waited eagerly for the answer which came from the second lady somewhat reluctantly. "Yes." Mr. Ethon's simple smile had an infuriating tinge of satisfaction as he turned to Mr. Horne and nodded. At Mr. Homes request, Mr. Ethon went upstairs to the office. It was sometime before Mr. Horne returned and after some, as Mr. Horne would have put it, 'on the line words', Mr. Ethon was delighted to hear Mr. Horne say, "Your mustach... didn't...?'' REFRACTION Kristin Jensen Broom straw grass scratched my bare feet With Fehling blue blades. I walked. The heated sulpher sky burned above me. Blue grass merged; I scraped The blue iced leaves of the oak. They cut. I climbed and dug my naked toes into sponge bark, And I laughed at the wind. He crawled Through the grass. I leaped on wind sanded roots. The sulpher sky pressed me; The rusted iron clouds bruised me; To the wind I shouted. An empty echo. 9