The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1895-08-08

y Irving Bacheller.D
were quantities in fathers desk. 1 have
selected several to submit TO Mr.. Dix
One Of them treats of an old episode In
fathers youth, which must have years
since ceased to interest him. 1t was
concealed after his favorite fashion
tackled under the bottom of his desk. II
was written forty years & by Maria
Woods-Two years before my fathers
marriage1and II was a refusal of an Of
fer of his hand. 1t was written in the
stilted fashion of that day: ii might
have been copied from "a complete let
ter writer"
My father must have loved Maria
Woods as dearly as / love Henry to keep
that letter SO carefully all these years
l thought he cared for my mother. He
seemed as fond of her as other men OF
their wives, although / did use to won.
der if Henry and / would ever get to be
quite as much accustomed to each other.
Maria Woods must have been as beau
tiful as an angel when she was a girl.
Mother was not pretty-she was stout,
too, and awkward, and l suppose people
would have called her rather slow and
dull. But she was a good woman and
tried to do her duty.
Tuesday evening.-This evening was
my first opportunity to obey the second
OF Mr.. Dix's orders. 1t seemed TO me
the best way to compare the average
length of arms was to go to the prayer
meeting. / could not go about the town
with my tape measure and demand of
people that they should hold out their
arms. Nobody knows how ] dreaded to
go to that meeting, but 1 vent, and i
locke not at my neighbors' cold, al
tered faces, but at their arms.
l discovered what Mr.. Dix wished me
to, but the discovery can avail nothing,
and it is one he could have made him
self. Phoebe Dole's arm is fully sever
inches longer than mine. / never noticed
1t before, but she has an almost abnor-
mally long arm. But why should Phoebe
Dole have unlocked that deor?
She made a prayer-a beautiful prayer.
1t comforted even me a little-she spoke
of the tenderness of God in all the trou-
bles of life, n how Ii never failed us.
When we were all going out I heard
several persons speak of Mr.. Dix and his
Biblical Cyclopedia. They decided that
he was a theological student. book can-
wasting to defray the expenses of his
education.
Maria Woods was not at the meeting.
Several asked Phoebe how she was, and
she replied. Not very WELL"
1t was very late. / thought Mr.. Dix
might be over tonight, but he has not
been here.
Wednesday.-I can scarcely believe
what l am about to write. Our investi-
cations seem all to point to one person,
and that ~person-it is incredible. I will
not DeIeNe IL. MI. DIX came as DefOre,
at dawn. He reported, and / reported.
l showed Maria Woods's letter. He said
he had driven to Acton and found that
the jeweler there had engraved the last
date in the ring about six weeks ago.
Il don't want to seem rough, but your
father was going to get married again.
said Mr.. Dix.
Il never knew him to go near any
woman since mother died." I protested.
Nevertheless. he had made arrange
ments to be married" persisted Mr.. Dix.
WHO was the woman"
He pointed at the letter in my hand.
Maria Woods?"
He nodded.
/ stood looking at ~him-dazed. Such a
possibility a never entered my head.
He produced an envelope from his
pocket. and took out a little card with
blue and brown threads neatly wound
upon it. Let me see those threads you
found" he said.
l got the box, and we compared them.
He had a number of pieces of blue sew
ing silk and brown wooden rawlings, and
they matched mine exactly. Where did
you find them?" / asked.
in my boarding mistress piece-bag.'
1 stared at him. What does it mean %
l gasped out.
What do you Think"
1T is imposSible!'
T1 L. ----rII l.