The new enterprise., 1904-12-08

low looking letters, "low
LA they sound when you read
III9l ol them over? They're just
like old.fashloned frock, OF
the way you used to dress your hair
ridiculous. And once you thought
them so beautiful! They look like
white cofins, don't theyY and Polly
pointed 70 half a dozen bundles Of once
white envelopes, each tied with a diff
ferent colored ribbon, which she had
laid out on the library table, ready for
sacriGcial burning on the altar Of our
engagement
"They remind me-" l remarked, as I
began pulling out Of my own overcoat
pocket bundle after bundle Of pink and
blue envelopes, each tied with a COM
mon cord, and deposlting them beside
Polly's collection, more Of skeletons
Or stale cigarettes"
DOR dead roses" suggested Polly.
"Or cold pudding" said /.
Polly commenced untying the violet
string around a slender packet, and l
lay lazlly back in the big armchair and
watched her through the smoke of my
cigarette and began reading.
"Who was he, Pollyf" asked gently,
blowing O wreath Of smoke and watch
ing It curl around the chandelier.
"Hc-he doesn't sign his name" said
Polly, evasiyely, and turning pink.
/ raised my eyebrows significantly.
Because" said Polly, hurrying on,
"as he always said, 1t is inartistlc to
sign your name to a personal letter.
II the one for whom It IS intended can
not guess the sender by the very first
sentence, then either he or she does
not care very much, or else the letter
is entirely without individuality. You
do not have to label a good picture
This is a cow do youF"
Every clever Of him." / remarked.
II don't know what you mean, Mr.
Heavyfeatler."
Il mean" said I, that the man who
doesn't sign bis name to the letters
he WHITES 10 woman Is either
ashamed Of what he is doing or in.
sincere in what he is saying; he is
either a cad or a coward. When a man
really loves you, the only thing on
earth he is afraid Of is that he will not
get you"
"Sir Heayyfeather," said Polly, cold.
ly, "you never did appreciate style in
letter writing, YOU"
"Oh, know his STYLE" remaPked,
cynically, "the insinuatng, noncommit-
tai style; the style that never signs
his name and begins each letter imper-
sonally, as though he were talking to
space or posterity."
There was q fash Of something white
through the air, and the bundle Of
letters fell from Polly's hand into the
blazing fire with n crash.
"Now," said Polly, bringing her ell
bows down on the table with a little
thump and leaning her chin on her
clasped hands, ''it's your turn"
But you didn't finish reading them,
said, in surprise.
whats the use?" said Polly. "They
were all alike"
sighed and opened n pink packet
FIRST. felt Polly's eyes on me, and
flushed hotly at the very first line in
the intensely interesting epistle l hap
pened TO draw out.
"Wellr' asked Polly, at length.
"oh, pshawr' I began feeling my
cheeks growing hotter every minute)
'It isn't fair, Polly, to"
"You mean," interrupted Polly, "thar
the lady who wrote the letter said some
silly thingsT
"They didn't seem silly at the time,
replied warmly.
"They never do" said Polly, "ant
pudding never tastes fat when it,
fresh, and cigarettes never seem stGl,
until they go out; and you never hav,
a headache until the day after tn,
dance"
"And a woman never seems happy,
appended, until she can spell he
soul out on paper"
"Well," fiared Polly, "a girl ought I,
be at perfect liberty to lay her sou
quite bare in a letter to her sweet
heart" ~ fNaalN Q'
"Thet depends I remarked, nth
sweetheart" ,a,..,,.,