The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1901-01-04
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| YOUNG MRS. MAYNARD
A Leap Year Story.


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The late Joshua Maynard was good
| enough to accumulate n considerable
| fortune and considerable enough to
| leave the bulk of it to his widow. The
| estate was not In the least involved,
| and all the various charities and edu-
! cational institutions benefited under
| the will were settled with long before
| the expiration of the year allowed by
| law for such business. Attention to
| these details did much to occupy Mrs.
| Maynard's mind during the first
months of her widowhood. AS she
was young-she had often passed for
her husbands daughter-her mourning
was not overpoignant or long endur
Ing. There was an extended journey
abroad, and then she settled in her
New York city house to enjoy life in
her own way.
| This consisted in entertaining friends
| of her own choosing, among whom she
| became n social leader, but she never
| aspired to lead in high society and liv-
ed quietly, considering the extent Of
| her fortune Having dread of money
| hunters, she skillfully spread abroad
the report that she was determined
| never to marry again.
Among her friends was one Lewis
| Baxter, of whom she became quite
| fond. Baxter was n war correspond
ent, and as there was no war on at
| that time and he wasn't of much use
In ordinary journalism he had no end
| of time on his hands and, by the same
| token, no little difficulty in making
both ends meet. The first time she
saw him Mrs. Maynard said to herself,
Now, | should like to have that man
| for friend" And soon she had him for
friend. He became her very devoted
| friend. az shall see you neXt-when"
she often asked as they were parting.
His answer generally was, whenever
you like" But he never came unin-
vited. He never paid formal call or
came unless she specially wished it on
one of her lat home" afternoons.
Baxter grew communicative in his
brusque way, giving the widow the
| benefit Of his grumblng against fate
for keeping him unemployed.
| $50 l want another war;" he said one
| day. at Is terribly selfish, but we are
| all terribly selfish when we are hard
up"
But, look here, heard Of several
secrets of yours quite lately" Mrs.
| Maynard interposed.
Secrets of mine? 1 don't think
have any,"
"Oh, yes; 1 know. l have heard
| about it from grateful people whom
you never supposed that 1 knew any
| thing about
"Oh, that-there's nothing in that. 1t
would be cheaper to be dead If one
might not do good turn for some de-
cent folks in distress every now and
then. 1 don't do it because l am
| charitable or generous sort of fellow.
| do it because it pleases me-"
Then they rambled on In talk about
| charities until Baxter arose to go. with
| the remark that he feared he was Dor
| ing her. Mrs. Maynard assured him
that If that were the case she would
tell him so. Convinced of her candor
and admlring her frankness, Baxter
| sat down again.
| 81 want to talk to you about your
| self" said Mrs. Maynard calmly, and
| If Baxter was surprised Mt this he was
astounded when she continued: "You
don't know what to do with yourself.
| You are wasting your life. The truth
| is, my friend, that you ought to get
married"
Get marricdw He sprang from his
chair with flush of anger on his face
| and perfectly new revelation in his
| heart. He had not known it before.
| He had sat with her and talked with
her day after day; he had been her
| friend and had heard her call him her
comrade; he had found her friendship
| grow day by day more dear to him and
more needful for him. but he had never
| until now realized the fact that he was
absolutely In love with her. How did
| he come to realize 1t now? Just be-
cause Of the few words of easy, kindly
friendship she had let drop, in which
she told him he ought to get married
| to get married to some other woman
and be Mrs Maynard's comrade no
| more. $50, them" he said to his own
soul, "she cares nothing about me
nothing Mt alI-except as friendw
| Mrs. Maynard went on without SEEM
| ing to take any notice of his emotion,
| If, indeed, she had noticed it.
won't you sit DOWN. she asked
sweetly.
He sat down with something rather
like growl.
"Yes," she went on; "I'm quite con-
WINGED that you ought to get married
| and to a woman with money"
ado you mean to annoy me" he ask
ed angrily. "Do you really mean to
say that you believe | ara man to
sham love to a woman to vi. pdle her
out of her money"
81 didn't say a word about swindling
woman out Of her money"
mo, of course you did not say that.
| But what else Is it If one makes sham
| love to a woman in order to get hold of
her money!
| "Rut why make sham love to her?
Why not get to love her in spite of her
money? Suppose | know a young wo-
man who admired you greatly and has
money and who, l think, would marry
you if you tried for her.
Tried for her! What way Of put
ting itv'
| "My friend. do not be too excited; do
not insist on riding the high horse quite
so much. We are people of the world,
you and l."
| "I nm NOT" ha Intnrruntad "ond 7
| didn't think you were either"
| "Oh, well, we live In the world, and
we have to recognize its ways and to
fall In with them more or less. Now,
suppose this young woman did admire
| you and that l told you l thought l
| could help you and make things easy
for you, why should you not begin by
making love to her and end by falling
in love with heretofore or after mar
riage2 l don't think it matters very
much, but on the whole l fancy 1t had
better begin after than before"
| you are in chatting humor today"
| he said moodily.
| ar Not the least in the world. am
thinking only of your good"
'"Then please don't think of 1t any
more-in that way"
| "In that way? Why, what harm
| could 1t do you to marry a rich young
woman who would be very fond of
| you"
"But don't care about her. don't
want her. Who is sheY'
"Oh, come now, as If could tell you
| Oft M In xfhi