Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1904-09-20
ON, nang II ali. Cyntnla, 1 was 20
busy looking at you that l forgot what
I was saying. Don't know where I'm


I was saying. Don't know where I'm
at"
At this plain avowal they both
laughed, and he went on with mascu.
line frankness:
II say, you've done yourself proud.
You're ripping, you know" And he
gazed at her with so much Of the old
boyishness in his face that the reproof
that rose to her lips was suppressed.
Then a black thought suddenly
clutched at her.
You aren't married, are you?" she
demanded so abruptly and intensely
that she WINGED the moment the words
were out, while his prompt negative
was tempered with certain shame as
he recalled some events Of the previous
Year. Cynthia was 80 direct that she
inspired him with desire to meet her
on her own ground.
"No, I'm not married, but l am
afraid that l should have been except
for the firmness Of the young lady'a
mother" he acknowledged honestly.
"She had other views for her daugh'
ter. You see. l wasn't rich enough
and I'm mighty glad l wasn't-now,'
he added with fervOr that was be.
yond suspicion.
Still, Cynthia's manner seemed to
take on slight coating Of ice. $50
you're blighted beingw she said
thoughtfully. her chin resting on the
back Of her hand and her eyes fixed
upon his face speculatively.
They parted few minutes later,
reluctantly. it Is true, yet with the
feeling that the fine glow Of the meet.
ing had suddenly faded.
Hes mourning for that horrid lit
tie thing with the mercenary moth
err" reflected Cynthia scornfully and
without any cOmpunction whatever
anent the injustice Of calling an un-
known damsel "a horrid little thing,
while Jack Mayhem, his eyes dazzled
by the fpe, open face Of his old play
mate, wondered how he could ever
have fancied pretty little pink and
white Dorothy.
As he remembered Cynthia's mouth,
with the little curlycues at the cor
ner that looked like baby smiles, his
face grew gloomy.
depend upon it, old fellow, you'll
find there is some man In the back
ground" he confided to himself darkly
on the way homeward. Don't get
the idea that there's any chance fol-
you. A girl like that Here he gave
up at loss for words to express his
convictions on the subject.
But in spite of this mutual cynicism
Miss Williar and Jack Mayhem were
seen together very frequently during
the next three months. They affected
palm rooms and art galleries and sucl.
places where certain soft splendoI
and quiet made for sentiment and low
toned conversation.
1t was upon one such occasion thai
q patron of art who had closed tht
book of romance before the yOun:
people in this story were born over
heard the following extraordinary bi.
Of conversation He was sitting witt
one eye screwed up critically In the
effort to form a judgment of Claude
Monet Oh the wall before him when
he heard the young man murmur any
iously:
"You don't suppose your mother will
say that I'm not rich enough. do you"
Indeed, no. replied the girl ut his
side confidently. "My mother is no:
that kind. Besides, didn't our moth
ers know each other before we Were
born?"
The patron Of art looked slightly
puzzled. From the tail Of his cool
estimating eye he sent furtlve glances
at the pair, vainly endeavoring to fol
low the young lady's reasoning.
There was an ecstatic silence for Il
second. during which the patron OF
art found the two decidedly interest
Ing from an artistic standpoint. II
was an eloquent moment-and paint
able. 1t was really Il pity. Then the
girls face dimpled and she began to
speak.
"Oh, Jack" she said, and her tone
was caress, isn't it lucky that ]
got you out Of the grab bag after ALL!
The patron of art moved away. shak
ing his head as IL the times were get
ting beyond him. "Got him out OF the
grab bag" he murmured, just to see
how 1t would sound-'got him out OF
the grab bag