Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1905-07-01

had kept in touch with them and their
social life.
Naturally of gentle breeding and in
sdncts, he had not cared for the class
OF girls he met in his life as q com
mercial traveller, and he had a bit OF
his fathers dreamy nature, which car
ried him to the theater and made him
happy In good books.
There was the nurse who had tided
him over the malarial fever, but she
had told him the first day Of his CON
vaAescence that she was engaged. The
daughter of the biggest shoe dealer
In Scranton had invited him to dinner
every time he called on her father
but she was not just the sort.
And matrimony was a gamble, n
lottery, after all. 1t was lust the
same whether you knew a girl day
or year. You never really knew her
until you married her. Lots of the
married men had told him so.
Then all of q sudden he remembered
the brown eyes that had watched him
during Johnson's merciless catechism.
Merrifield, 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 was
killed In the Somerville collision last
summer? Well, she's his daughter.
Belle Darnton. l think her mothers
folks have money, but she was too
proud to ask help, and she lives with
her fathers maiden sister. | guess
oil they have is her little salary"
Rigby tramped ten miles through
the park that afternoon, and reached
decision. 1t was d 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
OH 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
brown eyes never met his.
And Sunday night of the following
week he asked her to marry him
There were four days Of grace.
You know, l won't bother you very
much" he explained awkwardly.
wishing that the eyes were not look
n CT fCyhN INT Il
the road most of the time, and your
aunt could stay with you-only in n
much better house-and really, I'll 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 not
exactly recall it. Perhaps he didn't
want to recall It, II hate your That
was quite enough.
And all of sudden he realized that
above all things, he did not wish this
girl to hate him. He wanted her TO
love him, wanted 1t more than any
thing else in the world-even the DO
sition.
Three days later Mr.. johnson
opened letter from Rigby, dated in
small Pennsylvania town.
II have changed my mind. 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