Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1904-12-31

hdu hepl Ill tOucH with them and their
social life.
Naturally of gentle breeding and in
stlncts. he had not cared for the class
OF girls he met in his life as a com
mercial traveller, and he had bit of
ms fathers dreamy nature, which car
Fled nm to the theater and made him
happy in good books.
There was the nurse who had tided
MIN over the malarial fever. but she
had told him the first day of his con
valescence that she was enra ped rho
daughter of the biggest shoe dealer
III Scranton had Invited him to dinner
every time he called on her father
but she was not just the sort
And matrlmony was gamble.
lottery, after all. 1t was lust the
same whether you knew a girl a dav
or year. You never really knew her
until you married her. Lots Of the
married men had told him So
Then all of sudden he remembered
the brown eyes that had watched him
during Johnson's merciless catechism.
Merritield, the bookkeeper, saunter-
ed In for lunch, and Rigby welcomed
him joyously. After a few desultory
remarks he inquired about the owner
of the brown eyes.
You remember Darnton. who vos
Killed In the Someryille collision last
summer? Well, she's his daughter,
Belle Darnton. think her mothers
folks have money, but she was 100
proud to ask help, and she lives with
her fathers maiden sister. | guess
all they have Is her little salary"
Rigby tramped ten miles through
the park that afternoon, and reached
Il decision. 1t was a coincidence that
| both should be very nearly alone in
the world. And then her eyes were
| appealing. And he really knew her.
for often when Mr.. Johnson had been
away she had written him little notes
oil the road.
That night he walked home with
Miss Brown-eyes. The next night he
| called, the third night he took her to
the theater-but all the while the
blON ii eyes ever MET MS.
And Sunday night Of the following
week he asked her to marry him.
There were four days of grace.
You know, | won't bother you very
much" he explained awkwardly,
wishing that the eyes were not look
ing straight into his. "Ill-I'll be on
the road most Of the time, and your
aunt could stay with you-only in u
much better house-and really, IN do
my best to make you happy"
The brown eyes were shooting
sparks now.
I'm glad you didn't have the I'M
pertinence to tell me you loved me,
anyhow. There is that much to your
credit" she was saying scornfully.
But you couldn't make me happy. ]
hate YOU"
She said more, but Rigby could moi
exactly recall it. Perhaps he didn't
want TO recall It, 81 hate you" That
was quite enough.
And all of a sudden he realized that,
above all things, he did not wish this
girl TO hate him. He wanted her to
love him. wanted it more than any
thing else in the wOrld-even the 90
sition.
Three days later Mr.. Johnson
opened a letter from Rigby, dated in
small Pennsylvania town.
II have changed my mind. I don't
want the New York job until I've
earned my wife"
Then he wrote of sales and custom
ers. Johnson dictated an answer to
the business part Of the letter and
ignored the reference to future mar
raige.
He gave Rigby's letter to the brown
eyed stenographer to file with the rest
of his days correspondence, and she
read the all-important paragraph more
than once.
And all that long, bitter winter