Baxter Springs news. [volume] (Baxter Springs, Kan.) 1882-1919, 1906-06-07
MARSTON'S
PROPOSAL
By MARGARET wEsTRUP



sheila was perplexed. She rested
her elbows on the table among the
loose sheets OF manuscript, and her
chin In her hands and. staring out ut
the gray sky. tried to think how q
young man should propose.
Suddenly she had an idea.
Being by nature as Irish rs her
name and eyes. she was impuisive'
and choosing q clean sheet OF paper,
she dashed on the following letter:
Dear Marston: How does q young
man propose at all? In a letter. mind!
No getting OF with glances and half
words. l want a letter from an ordi'
nary nice young Englishman, my hero
to my heroine. asking her to marry
him. My Imagination evidently fails
to supply n correct letter, for the
editor OF The Crescent (oh, Marston,
think Of me appearing In The Cres'
cent )-well, he writes that he likes
short story Of mine very much, and
he thinks the plot original. but that
I fail in depicting the hero's love for
the heroine. more especially In the let
ter he writes to her to ask her to mar
ry him.
NOW, / have an inspiration. Mars.
ton; could you write a proposal for
me? Just as you think you would
write to anyone you wanted to mar
ry. You see, you're man, and would
know what 10 say, at any rate. better
than I should; so you will help me-
won't you? Yours.
"SHEILA DESMOND"
She posted It then and there.
The next afternoon when she re-
turned to the rooms she shared win
fellow-writer she found his answer
waiting for her. She pounced on II
delightedly.
II ran thus:
my Dear Sheila: After all I'm 60
ing to write II. I've tried SO often to
say II, and I never can screw up my
courage. want to ask you II you'll
be my wife. know you've never
thought OF me like that. and you're
heaps too good for me- but love you
so I'd have to make you happy. Ia
give my whole life to that. Won't you
try and care for me little. dear?
You're Just the world to me-every'
things meaningless without you.
Forgive me II I've startled you,
dear. I'm but a clumsy brute, any
way"
"MARSTON HUGHES.
Marian, her friend. looked up from
her letters first.
well" she said. will II do"
Sheila's head was still down, bent
over the sheet of smudged note-paper.
"Yes," she said. slowly. 1T Will do
must write and thank him this
evening""
That evening sheIla dashed of a
note:
Dear Marston: Thanks for letter
I'm quite sorry for you-you do 1t SO
well! But It will do beautifully Tor
the hero in my story. I could never
have written one like It myself. did
not know you had so much eloquence'
I'm sure it'll be compensation for your
trouble when you see your letter IN
Molly, the Maid in The Crescent!
Yours sincerely,
"sHEILA DESMOND"
Sheila flung down her pen with an
impatient sigh.
Cant you get on" Marian asked
alphabetically.
mo. Marian: will you come and see
me when I'm in the workhouse?"
Eyes. dear, and bring you bun In q
paper bag"
AREN'T you mixing me up with the
bears at the zoo?"
Marian eyed her thoughtfully.
ats a pity you don't try to get on
with that other story-'Molly, the
Maid" she said. you know the
editor Of The Crescent will forget
you. It's over three weeks since he
sent your story back for you to alter
81 think I'll go out" said sheila, In
consequently.
Marian's eyebrows rose a little. She
glanced out at the thin drizzle OF rain
falling from heavy gray skies.
Beautiful day for a walk" she said
sheila went forth into the drizzle
slim gray figure, and proceeded te
try and walk herself into suitable
frame of mind. She shared Central ParR
with a workman for awhile, then ever
he went away, and apparently she had
the park to herself.
Then she saw q tall figure approach
ing.
As he drew near he raised his hat.
"oh, 20 you are back, Marston!" she
cried. gayly. "will you hold my um
brella while shake hands with your
al wouldn't think Of troubling you
There was q little pause Of horror
Her face, pink as q rosebud from the
damp air, was raised to HIS Ike Q
child's who had been chidden for an
unknown fault. But Sheila was not
child, SO she smiled q stin little
smile and
at a q nuisance" she agreed. indif
,erently. isn't It q horrible dayr