Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1902-05-17

RADIO Springs, brought at shorter and
shorter intervals. longer and longer
letters from Philadelphia; while Mr..
George w. Miller's disk in the large
city offices of that wealthy firm of
which he was junior partner was never
long without specimen of Miss
Browns handwriting. 1t was reve-
latiOn, at both ends of the line, how
much one could put on paper for Il
sympathetic reader, and how intimate
a knowledge one gains of special cor
respondent, from week to week. Mr..
Miller soon learned that he had never
really known a girl before-that is,
never understood onp-and that Miss
Browns tastes, Miss Browns indi-
Viduality, exactly and continually sat
isfied and delighted him; while Miss
Brown felt that she lever could have
believed that George Miller could de
velop such attractive traits and such
thoroughly cOngenial set of ideas and
aspirations. They We're a revelation TO
each other-tirst monthly. then a
weekly, then almost a daily, reyelat ton.
1t matters not how often such a dis
covery is made, in each new case it is
equally astonishing and suggestive, and
leads inevitably to the further discoy-
cry that letter writing has it's limits,
and needs the supplement- of personal
intercourse to perfect its delights. viii
anyone be astonished to learn that six
months later Mr.. George w. Miller
himself arrived at Colorado Springs,
one September morning, with three of
lsabePs last letters in his inside vest
pocket, and a pre-occupatlon so great
| that he paid no attention to Pixies
Peak at all? Isabel, on her side, was
not in the least surprised when he was
announced at No. - Cascade avenue,
| for his last letter-well, she was quite
ready to welcome him, and prepared
to descend the stairs without any
symptoms of astonishment, except that
her heart was beating with most In
convenient Quickress, and her cheeks
were as red as the heart of a June
rose.
This being the state of the Young
peoples feelings it is somewhat strange
to be obliged to chronicle that when
Miss Brown entered the drawing room
and Mr.. Miller rose eagerly at her ap-
proach, they should have stood looking
at each other as if turned to stone.
For fully two minutes not word was
interchanged; then the lady, with a
gasp, sank down in the nearest chair
and covered her face with her hands.
while the young man, bending over
her, murmurcd awkwardly:
Il beg your pardon. Miss Browns
it Miss Brown"
Eyes, it is" returned the girl, sit
ting up defantly, her blue eyes ablaze
and her slender figure full Of angry
grace. What right have you, sir, to
ask me such a question: when you are
Incorporating under somebody else's
name yourself?'
Il was baptized George Wharton Mil
Ter" returned the young man, with
equal bitterness, and my parents are
therefore responsible for the 'masquer-
ading'"
"Wharton?" cried Miss Brown. 81
never heard Of you before! | never
wrote to George Wharton Miller-the
right name is George Washington Mil
lerr'
Mr. Miller sat gravely down in the
nearest chair-she was certainly dis
tractingly pretty-and regarded her
with a return to his Philadelphia calm
ness of manner.
Your letter was ddressed to George
W. Miller" he said slowly, "and the
postman made natural mistake, since
our firm Is the most important of the
name. Probably there are ten George
Washington Millers In Philadelphia.
But that doesn't explain how Miss Isa-
bel Brown, Of Colorado Springs"
"Oh - why, of course-I never
thought" cried the young woman, en-
barrassment succeeding anger-"that
is, of course, | thought your answer
was to me; but my cousin. Isabella
Brown, used to live in Colorado Springs