The Lampasas Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 51, No. 36, Ed. 1 Friday, June 16, 1939 Page: 3 of 4
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■
Will
' *
—
W“
them, what Delafield caHed a bunch
of
re*
-
1
was
-
fP
“I
I
<4
♦
ed Sun-
k .
j
■M
i
(d»,
I
UZ2S2ESJS!
WWW
I
kee un-
only under promise
uo anything, until h '
son and
Monday
>as been
i Round
d Betty j
■eeks in
mother,
8 !
■eturned
re, Sun-
rt week
iOto Gil-
Austin
ne home
. G. W.
’r
was a
tes vllle.
ot con-
neither
s about
y qual-
td balance them.
it will be a case of sheep and got
but the goats are—darling.”
^ey were,- however, the six
,4 -
t
I-
return-
, Tcniyf*
it Lam-J
— <
in, Mrs.
■. J<hn
e Rose
I. tr.eta
e home
:>1in, Jr.
ling of
’ M
E ' / '
COURT I
< I
1
■ ■. .
me nave mine.
Yet, as time went on, he learned
that Edith’s faulta were tempered by
fuse liberty and license. Sh«
smoked nor drank. These wi
her dancing a fine and stat«
ity which saved it from sensi
Yet when be toW~hvr thin£
was always that irritating sh
- -“4
—Police f
nd then./
|on had /
1
a board I
tart be- 1
ked too i
|as that I
the po- 1
I. Decis- j
Ithiin a 4
■ft Sun-
ihe will I
id Mrs.
will go
mme of j
Linden >i
cops in’
swunff J
Ed youth I
“There J
• Two r
nt must 1
If “Snow I
” so he 1
k- char- I
eman. I
■
- '
rfw-
-J
. . ‘ ma - - .
hiaehauffew.- >
“Very good, sair,” said Briggs, and
led the way up the terrace.
Baldy ushered Towne into the liv- j
ing toom, and Frederick, standing on
the threshold, suneyed a cosiness
which reminded him of nothing so
much as a color illustration in some
old English magazine. There "was the
coal grate, the (able drawn up to
- on its
massive tray, violets in a I6w vase—
and rising to meet him a slender,
glowing child, with a banner of orange
wool behind her.
“Jane,” said young Barnes, “may
1 present Mr. Towne?” and Jane
held out her hand and said, “This is
very good of you.”
He found himself unexpectedly gra-
cious. He was not always gracious.
He had felt that he couldn’t be. A'
man with money and position had
to shut himself up sometimes in a
shell of reserve, lest he. be imposed
upon.
But in this warmth and fragrance
he expanded- “What a charming
room,” he said, and smiled at her.
Jane felt perfectly at ease with
him. He was, after all, she reflect-
ed, only a gentleman, and Baldy
was that. The only difference lay
in their divergent incomes. So, as
the two men takled, she knitted on,
with the outward effect of placidity.
When at last Baldy drew up at the
|tk way station, and unfastened the
stain, he was aware that she had
Lne<l a suede bag and had a roll
■ bills in her hand. For a moment
I heart failed him. Was she going
r offer hi in money? -
But what she' said, with cheeks
ming, was; “I haven’t anything less
an ten dollars. Do you think they
II take it?”
“It’s doubtfui. I have oodles of
ange.” He held out a handful.
“Thank you so much, and—you
ust let me haVc your card—”
“Oh, please—”
Her voice had an edge of sharp-
-ss. “Of course it must be a loan.”
He handed her his card in silence,
le read the name. “Mr. Barnes, you
ve been very kind. I am tremen-
usly grateful.”
“It was not kindness—but now and
■ en a princess passes.”
For a breathless moment her amaz-
i glance met his—then the clang of
bell heralded an approaching car.
i As he helped her out hurriedly she
■ mbled over the rug. He caught
■- up, lifted her to the ground, and
■tioned to the motorman.
■The car stopped and she mounted
■ steps. “Good-by, and thank you
■ much.” He stood back and she
■ved to him while he watched her
K of sight.
yis work at the office that morn-
W had dreams for* an accompani-
■nt. He went out at lunch-time but
i nothing. It was at lunch-time that
i bought the violets—paying an
thinkable price for them, and not
ing.
it was after office that Baldy car-
d the flowers to his car. He sbt the
c on the back seat. In the hurry
the morning he had forgotten the
Jtjp-hich still lay where his fair
isenger had stumbled over it. He
Iced it up and something drop-
I from it* folds. It was the gray
■de bag. half open, and showing
roll of bills. Beneath the roll of
h was a small sheer handkerchief,
Unity case with a pjn^h .of pow-
and a wee puff, a new check-
in—and, negligently at the very
twwi, a tints fl ring of
ptmentthat as it lay in Baldy’s
he doubted its reality. The
was a platinum, slender, yet I
enough to bear up a carved 1
bnstone in a circle of diamonds.
» carving showed a delicate Psyche
rith a butterfly on her shoulder.
■ diamonds blazed like small suns.
Is Ida the ring was an inscription
|)el to Tfdith—Forever.”
KI to Edith? Where bad he seen
re names? With a feudchn flash of
he had often said, was silver-haired
and over sixty. He basked in her
approbation; was soothed and sus-
tained by it.
Then she had died, and Edith had
come, and things had been different.
The difference had been demon-
at^ted in a dozen ways. Edith was
•t him,
came over and tucked her arm in
his. “Baldy,” she coaxed, ‘aren’t you
■yofng to tel! her uncle?"
S
ft '
ier body. Her voice was girlish
sweet, with a touch of huskiness,
sidy flung his scorn at her. “Jana,
the goata
of them. What good would it do to
’hoot .Delafield Simms? A woman’s
hurt pride isn’t to be healed by the
thought of a man’s dead body.
Young Baldwin brought out the
bag. “It is one that Delafield gave
her,” Frederick stated, “and I cash-
e 1 a check for her at the bank the
day before the wedding. I can’t imag-
ing why she took the ring with her,"
“She probably forgot to take it
off; her mind wasn’t on rings.” Jane’s
voice was warm with feeling.
He looked at her with some curl-
ity. “What was.it ottV*
“Oh, her heart was broken. Noth-
ing else mattered. Can’t you see?” -
Jane swept them back to the mat-
ter , of the bag. “We thought you
ought to have It, Mr, ,Towne, but
Baldy had scruples about revealing
1 anything he knows about Miss
Towne’s hiding place. He feels that
i lie trusted him.”
“You said you had advertised, Mr.
Barnes?” >
“Yes.”
“Well, the one ’thing is to get her
home. Tell, her that if she calls you
as yours?” ‘
“Apparently ay opinion isn’t worth
anything”
-Oh, no it b—but you must tot
Delafield liked each other no end.
Why worry?
And really at times Uncle Fred
was impossible. His mother had liv-
ed until he was thirty-five, she had
adored him, and had passed on to
Cousin Annabel and to the old ser-
vants in the house the formula by
which she had made her son happy.
Her one fear had been that he might
marry. He was extremely popular,
r.\A' 3
■’ -14'1
y
[Think,” fiercely, “of having a lov-
Who ran away.
Well,” said Jane, “there are
If advantages in being—unsought
L like Miler-ess of Doo—
“I care for nobody—
No, not I,
$ Since nobody
Cares—
For mo-!”
asked them, and Towne had Replied
promptly, “Certainly not There’s
nothing we have to say that you
can’t hear.”
So Jane listened with all her ears,
and modified the opinion she had
formed of Frederick Towne from his
pictui-e and from her first glimpse
of him. He was nice to talk to, but
he might be hard to live with. He
had-obstinacy and egotism.
“Why Edith should have done it
amazes me.”
“She wus -hurt,” she said, “and
she wanted to hide."
“But people seem to think that in
some way it is my fault. I don’t
like that. It isn’t fair. We’ve al-
ways been the best of friends—more
like brother and sister than niece
-end- uncle.”------
“But not like Baldy and me,” said
Jane to herself, “not in the least ;
like Baldy and me.”
“Of course Simms ought to be
shot," Towne told them heatedly.
“He ought - to be hanged,” was
Baldy’• __
Jane’s needles clicked, but she said
nothing. She was dying to tell these
of beauties. Their bridesmaid gowns
were exquisite—but unobstroidve. Tha
color scheme was blue, agd silver—
and the flowers, forget-me-nots and
sweet peas. “It’s a bit odd fashioned,”
Edith said, “but I hate sensatigpal
effects."
Neither the sheep nor f"
agreed with her. Their ideas weru
different—the goats holding out for
rowdy—you know that But I like to
play around.”
His pride in her grew—in her bur-
nished hair, the burning blue of her
eyes, her great beauty, the fineness
of her spirit, the integrity of her
character.
Yet he sighed with relief when she
told him of her engagement to Dela-
field Simms. He loved her, j)ut none
the less he felt the strain of her
presence. In his establishment It
.would be like sinking back into the
luxury cf a feather bed, to fake up
the old life where she had entered it.
And Edith, too, welcomed hereman-
cipation." When I marry you,” she
told Delafield, “I am going to break
all the rules. In Uncle Fred’s house
everything runs by clockwork, and
it is he how* winds the clock.”
Their engagement was one of nvj-
tual freedom. Edith did as she pleas-
ed, Delafield did as he pleased. They
rarely clashed. And as the wedding
day approached, they were pleasant-
ly complacent.
Delafield, dictating a letter one day
to Frederick Towne's stenographer,
spoke of his complacency. He was
writing to Bob Sterling, who was to
be his best man, and who shared
his apartment in New York. Delafield
was an. orphan, and had big money
interests. He. felt that Washington
was tame coinpared to the metrop-
olia, He and Edith were to live one
block east of Fifth Ayemje, in a
house that he had bought for her.
When he was in Washington he
occupied a desk in Frederick’s of-
’ V- . *• ’•
i the bag, stuffed the bag in hia
Let, and made his way to a news-
• at the corner.
’here it was in. startling headlines:
th Towne Disappears: .Delafield
tms’ Yacht Said to Have Been
hted Near Norfolk!
Io his passenger had been the
ch talked about Edith Towne—
erte<Mtot the moment of her mar-
rc! - -~~
le thought of her eyes of burning
p—the fairness of her skin and
k.rthe tout h of haughtiness. Simms
Ta cur, of course. He should have
fit at her feet!
*he thing to do was to get the
> back to her. He must advertise
>nce. On the wings of this decision,
car whirled dqwn the Avenue. The have ideas.”
is which, after much deliberation,
lushed across the counter of the
Ispapcr office, would be ambiguous
otheys, but clear to her. “Will
sengcr who left bag with valu-
» contents in the car cal! up Sher-
id Park 49.”
[ s she really as beauiful as that," I
e demanded.
As what,"
ier picture in the paper.”
iaven’t I said enough for you to
w it?”
line nodded. “Yes. But it doesn’t
nd real to me. Are you sure you
ra.’t dream it?”
J’ll say I didn’t. Isn’t that the
[Jit ?” The gray bag toy on the
tie in front of them, the ring was
Bjane’s finger.
Ehe turned it. to catch the light,
toldy,” she said, “it’s beyond imag-
Shc hacT been for several years with
Towne. She was twenty-three, well-
groomed, and self-possessed. She had
slender, flexiole fingers, and Dela-
field liked to look at them. She had
soft brown hair, and her profile, as
she bent over her book, was dear-
cut and composed. ,
“Edith and I.^re great pals,” he
dictated. “I rather think we are going
to hit it off famously. I’d hate to
have a woman hang arouiwl my neck.
And I want you for my best man. I
tarthg a -tat, JuU
once in a lifetime, old chap.”
Lucy wrote that and waited with
her pencil poised.
“That’s about all.” paid Delafield.
Lucy shut up her book and rose.
“Wait a minute,” Delafield decid-
ed. “I want to add a postscript."
Lucy sat down.
“By the way,” Delafield dictated,
“I wish you’d order the flowers at
Toliey’p. White orghids for Edith of
course>He’ll know the right thing
for the bridesmaids—I’ll get Edith
to send him the color, scheme—”
Lucy’s pencil dashed and dotted.
She looked up, hesitated. “Miss
Towne doesn’t care fay orchids.
“How do you know?” he demanded.
She fluttered the leaves of her
notebook and found an order from
Towne to a local florist. “He says
hero, ‘Anything hut orchids—she
doesn’t like them.’ ”
“But I’ve been sending her or-
Baldy wer’ to the telephone. When
he came back his eyes were like grey
moons. “He promised everything, and
he’s coming out—’’
“Here?” ~
“Yes, he wouldn’t wait until to-
morrow. He’s wild about her—”
“Well, he would be.” Jahe mental-
ly surveyed the situation. “Baldy,
I’m going to make some coffee, and
have some cheese and crackers.”
“He may not want them.”
“On a cold night like this, I’ll
say he will; anybody would.”
Baldy helped Jane get out the
round-bellied silver pot,' the pitchers
and tray. The young people had a
sense of complacency as they han-
dled the old silver,. Frederick Towne
could have nothing of more distin-
guished history. It had belonged to
their great-grandmother, Dabney,
who was really D’Aubigne, and it
had graced an emperor’s table. Each
piece had a monogram set in an
engraved wreath; The big tray was
so heavy that Jane lifted it with
difficulty, so Baldy set it for her on
the little mahogany table which they
drew up in front/of-the Hre. There ing ^u.ijtj
was no wealth now in the Barnes “Look here,'
family, but the old silver spoke of
a time when a young hostess as
Aack-haired as Jane had dispensed
lavish hospitality.
g Frederick Towne had not expected
sang it with a light boyish awing what he found—the little house set
high on the terraces seemed to give
4 4 - W* - A- a - A - g
Qroin ns £Oiaen'*i&|pntM
squares a
... .
_
“la there any othor-woman?”
•It took* l*o it Bob to utterly at
sea. So to everybody etoe.”
rwwm ii
■- . ■, ^.,4
:--f, ':?!
4-
A'—A
■ ". lr.,;
. He stared at her. “Her uncle? Tell
He flung off her arm. “Would you
have me turn traitor?”
"Heavens, Baldy, this isn’t melo-
drama. It’s common sense. You can’t the fire, the twinkling silver
teep that bag." « ■ - • ’
“I can keep it until ‘she answers
my advertisement.” .
“She may never see your adver-
tisement, and the money isn’t yo-irs,
and the ring isn’t."
He was troubled. “But she trust-
ed me. I can’t do it.”
Jam^sh^jgged her shoulders, and
began to clear away the dinner
things. Baldy helped her.. Old Merry-
maid mewed to go out, and Jane
opened the door..
“It’s snowing hard,” she said.
The wind drove the flakes across
the threshold. Old Merrymaid danced
back into the house, bright-eyed and
round as a muff. The air was freez-
ing.
“It is going to be a dreadful night,”
young Baldwin, heavy with gloom,
prophesied. He thought of Edith in
the storm in her buckled shoes. Had
she found shelter? Was she fright-
ened and alone somewhere in the
dark?
He went <nto the living-room,
whence Jane presently followed him.
Jane was knitting a syfitater and she
worked while Baldy read to her. He
read the full account of Edith Towne’s
flight. She hack gone away early in
the morning. The maid, taking her
breakfast up to her, had found the
room empty. She had left a note for
her uncle. But' he had not permit-
ted its publication. He was, they said,
wild with anxiety.
“Hl bet he’s an old tyrant^
Baldy’s comment. —
Frederick Towne's picture was in
the paper. “I like his fare,” said
Jane, “and he doesn’t seem so fright-
fully old.”
“Why should she run away from
him, if he wasn’t a tyrant?” he de-
manded furiously. 1_
“Well, don’t scold me." Jane was
as vivid as an oriole in the midst of
her oi-ange wools.
She loved color. The living room
was an expression of it. Its furni-
ture was old-fashioned but not old-
fashioned enough to be lovely, Jane
had, however, modified its lack of
grace and its dull monotonies by
eovera of chintz —... tropical bir ds
against black and white stripes—and
there was a lamp of dull blue pot-
tery with a Chinese shade. A fire in
the coal grate, with the glow of the
lamp, gave the room a look of
burnished brightness. The kitten,
curled up in Jane’s lap, played coz-
ily with the tawny threads.
“Don’t scold me,” said Jane, “it
^nination, he dropped the ring back isn’t my fault.”
“I’m not’scolding, but I am wor-
ried to death. And you aren’t any
help, are you?”
v She looked at him in astonish'
ment. “I’vedried to help. I told you
to cal! up ”
Young Baldwin walked the floor.
“She trusted me.”
“Yoi^ won’t get anywhere with
that,” said Jane with decision. “The
thmg to do is td^tell Mr. Towne
that you have news of her, and that
you’ll give 1
that he w<c?
has talked it over with you.”
“That sounds better,” said young
Baldwin; “how did you happen to
think of it?”
“Now and then,” said Jane,
shan’t be long, Briggs," hetsaid to I the tropica! birds about her. To Fred-
|erick she seemed like i bird herself
—slim and lovely, and with a voice
that sang- ' - ;
Towne was not an impressionable
man. Hia years of bachelorhood had
hardened him to feminine arts. But
here .was no artfulness. Jane assum-
ed nothing. Sbe was herself. Aspie
talked to her, he became aware of
some stirred emotion. An almost the shouldossr-^h, welk I’m not a
youtAful eagerness to shine as the
hero of his tale. If he embroidered
the theme, it was for heir benefit.
What he told her was not the truth,
nor even half of it.
Edith Towne had lived with her
Uncle Frederick nearly four years
when she became engaged to Dela-
field Simms. Her mother was dead,
4is was her father. Frederick was her
father’s only brother, and had a big
house to himself, after his mother’s
death. It seemed the only haven for
his niece, so he asked her± and asked
also his father’s cousin, Annabel
Towne, to keep house for him, and
chaperorte Edith.
Annabel was over-sixty, and rather
indefinite, but she served to play pro-
priety, and there was nothing else
demanded of her in Frederick’s house-
hold of six servants. She was a dried-
up and desiccated persdn, with fixed
ideas of what one owed to society.
Frederick’s mother had been like that,
, so he did not mind. He rather liked
“Do you want me to go?” she had to think that the woman of his fam-
ily kepi to old ideala. It \gave to
things an air of dignity.
Edith, when she came, was . differ-
ent, So different that Frederick was
glad that she had three more years
at college before she would spend
the winters with him. The summers
were not hard to arrange. Edith
and Annabel adjourned to the Towne
cottage on an island In Malne-^nd"
Frederick went up forj week ends
and for the month of August. Edith
spent much time out of doors with
her young friends. She was rather
fond of her Uncle Fred, but he/did
not loom large on the horizon of her
youthful occupations.
Then came her winter at home,
and her consequent engagement to
Delafield Simms. It was because of
Uncle Fred that she became engag-
ed. She simply didn’t want to live
with him any more. She felt that
Uncle Fred would be glad to have
her go, and the feeling was mutual.
She was an elephant on his ’hands.
Naturally. He was a great old dear.
4>Ht he wM a Turk Wh
it, of course. But his ideas of beintt
master of his own house were per-
Moodthirsty males what aho thought fprtjy arrhiae. Coiwh, Annabel and
the servants, and everybody in his
office simply hung on hto’-words,
and Edith wouldn't hang. She came
into his bachelor Paradise like a
rather troublesome Eve, and demand-
ed her share of the universe. He
didn’t like it, ahd there you are.
It was really Uncle Fred who want-
ed her to marry Delafield Simms.
He talked about it a lot At first
Edith wouldn’t listen. But Delafield
was persistent and patient. He came
gradually to be as jnuch of a part
of her everyday life as the meals
she ate or the car she drove. Uncle
'Fred was always inviting him. He
was forever on hand, and when he
wasn't she missed him.
They felt for each other, she de-
cided, the thing called "love.” It
was not, perhaps,*<he romance which
one found in bocks. But she had beep „
taught carefully at college to dis- *eek’
t rlist romance. The emphasis had
been laid on the transient quality
of adolescent emotion. One married
for the sake of the race, and one
chose, quite logically, with one’s head
instead, as in the old days, with the
So there you had it. Delafield was
eligible. Hq wa« healthy, had brains
enough, an acceptable code of Tnor-
ql«—and was willing to let her have
her own wfly. If there were moments
when Edith wondered if this pro-
gram was adequate'to wedded bliss,
sh* put the thought aside.. She and
—THE DIM LANTERN— >
I (By Temple Baileyi Int-‘
nn Pub. Co. VVNU Service
--a—__
CHAPTER ij—Conti^ed
told you—” '
hink of having a ring like
yield an ineh. ‘‘Dear Uncle Fred,"
she would ask, when they disagreed
on matters of manners or morals, or
art or athletics, or religion or the
something impressionistic, the sheep
for ceremonial splendor.
There was to be a wedding break-
fast at the house. Things were there-
fore given over early to the decora-
tors and caterers, and feoffee and
rolls were served in everybody’s room.
When the wedding bouquet arriv-
ed Edith sought out her uncle in his
study on the second floor.
“Look at this," she said; “how in
the world did it happen that he sent
white violets ? Did you tell him, Unci*
Fred?”
“No.”
“Sure?"
“Cross my heart"
—They—had—had- their joke about
Del’s orchids. “If he knew how I
hated them,” Edith would say, and
Uncle Fred would answer, “Why don’t
you tell him?”
,.Byf she*’ had never told, becaue*
after all it didn’t much matter, and
if Delafield felt that orchids were
the proper thing, why muddle up hi*
mind with her preferences?
The wedding party was assembled
in one of the side rooms. Belated
guests trickled in a thin stream to-
■ wards the great doora that opened
and shut to admit them to the main
auditorium. A group of servants, laden
with wraps, stood at the footof the
stairs. As soon as the procession
started they would go up into th*
flee. Lucy Logan took his dictation, gallery to view the ceremony.
y * *------- -- ln the small room was almost
overpowering fragrance. The brides-
maids, in the filtered light, were *
blur of rose and blue and white. There
was much laughter, the sound of th*
organ through the thick walls.
Then the ushers came in.
“Where’s Del?”
The bridegroom was, it seemed,
delayed. They waited.
“Shall we telephone, Mr. Towne?”
someone asked at last.
Frederick nodded. He and his niece
7:4....* stood apart from the rest. Edith was
•filing hut had little to say. Alto
snemed separated from the others by
the fact of the approaching mystery.
‘ The laughter had ceased; above
the whispers came the tremulous
?cho of the organ.
The usher \who had gone to th*
telephone returned and drew Town*
aside.
„ “There’s something queer about It.
I can’t get Del or Bob. They may
be on the way. But the clerk seemed
reticent." ,
“I’ll go to the ’phone myself,” - -
said Frederick. “Where is it?"
But he was saved the effort, • for
someonet watching at the door, said,
“Here they come,” and th?'room se*®- ;
cd to sigh with relief as Bob Sterling
entered. ' 2. ’
No one was with him, and he wor*
a worried frown. •
“May I spe^k to you, Mr. Towne?”
he asked. ’
Edith was standing by the window
looking out at the old churchyard.
The uneasiness which had infected
the others had not touched her. Slen-
der and white she stood waiting. In
a few minutes Del would walk up th*
aisle with her and they would b* „ --------
married. In her mind thaL4>rogram
was as fixed as the stars.
And now her uncle approached and
said something. “Edith, Del isn’t com-
ing-”
“Is he ill?”
“I wish to heaven he were dead.”
“What do you mean, Uncla Fred?”
“I’ll tell you—presently. But we
must get away from this—”
His glance took in the changed
scene. A blight had swept over those
high young heads. Two of the brides-
maids were crying. The ushers had
withdrawn into a huddled group. Th*
servants -were staring —r uncertain
what to do.
Somebody got Briggs and the big
car to the door.
Shut into it, Towne told Edith:
“He’s backed out of It He left—
thia.” He had a note'In his hand. ‘It
was written to Bob Sterling. Bob
was with him at breakfast time, and
when he came back, this was on
Del’s dresser."
She read it, her blue eyes hot:
“I can’t go through with it, Bob.
I know It's a rotten trick, but tim* ‘ 4
will prove that I am right. And
Edith will thank me.
4 "Del."
She crushed it in her hand. “Wher*
ha* be gone?”'
•South, probably, on his yacht”
"Wasn’t there any word for ms?”
end old.
Baldy, leaning against the mantel,
gazed down at h>m. “It’s hard to
decide what I ought to do. But I feel
that I’m right in giving her a chance
first to answer the advertisement.”
Towne’s tone showed a touch of
irritation. “Of course you’ll have to
act as you think best.”
And now Jane took things in her
own hands. “Mr. Towne, I’m going
to make you a cup of coffee."
“I shall be very grateful,” he
smiled at her. What a charming child
she was! He was soothed and re-
freshed by the atmosphere tjjey cre-
ated. This boy and girl were a
friendly pair and he loved his ease.
|His own house, since Edith’s depar-
ture, had been funereal, and his
friends had been divided in their
championship between himself and
Edith. But the young Barneses were
so pleasantly responsive with their
ligbted-up eyek and their little air
of making him one with them. Edith
had always seemed to put him quite
definitely on the shelf. With little
Jane and her brother he had a feel-
luatity of age.
‘ he spoke impulsive-
ly, “may 1 tell you all about it? It
would relieve my mind Immensely.”
To Jane it- was a thrilling moment.
Having poured the coffee, sbe came optoi'oii •• good
out from behind her battlement of -- —-
silver and sat In her chintz chair.
8he did not knit; she w»s enchanted
by th* tab that Towne was telling,
hand* folded.
“Perhaps she didn’t want to tell
you—” = j
“And you think I should have some-
thing ’Hse for the wedding bouquet?”
“I think she might like it better*”
There was a faint flush on her cheek.
“What would you suggest?”
"I can’t, b? sure what Miss Town® —
would like.”
“What would you like?” intently.
She considered it seriously—her
slender fingers clasped on her book.
“I think,” she told him, finally, “that
if I were going to marry a man I
should want what he wanted.”
He laughed and leaned forward.
Good heavens, are there any women
like that left in the world?”
Her flush deepened, she rose and
went towards the door. “Perhaps I
shouldn’t have said anything.”
His voice changed. "Indeed, I am
glad you did.” He had risen and
now held the door open for her. “We
men are stupid creatures. I should
never have found it out for myself.”
his. heart at home. Hi. sweetheart,
he had found her little flush charm-
toff- ,
It was because of Lucy Logan,
therefore, that Edith had white vio-
lets instead of - orchids in her wed-
ding bouquet. And It was because,
too, of Lucy Logan, that other things
tai -tajldn't m Pta were MmM
were Rosalind, Helen and Margaret.
They had, of course, tost names, but
, thee* have nothing to do with the
story. They had been Edith’s ctoss-
i mates at college, and she had be*B
somewhat democratic In her selee-
f tion « them.
“They |are perfect defers. Uncle
t Fred. FU hfere thre* cfere-dwritore
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The Lampasas Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 51, No. 36, Ed. 1 Friday, June 16, 1939, newspaper, June 16, 1939; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1253805/m1/3/: accessed June 30, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Lampasas Public Library.