Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1907-11-30

it was once and for ever He is gone-I
may never see him again-but / could
never marry any other man. No one
knows but you, Arnold; it is my foolish
little seeret-you will keep it, won't
| your"
| Her hands Were in his, she looked up
into his face, her eyes full of tears; he
noted how lines already crossed her
broad, white brow, there We're few
| premature gray hairs among the brown,
waving locks, there were hollows under
the eyes, telling of many tears, and he
| felt pang at his heart, and a mist came
over his own eyes.
| He prided himself on his philosophic
calmness in every crisis of life, but now
| he could not trust himself to speak for
moment; he knew that he loved this
tired looking little girl, had always loved
her, and would love her forever in vain.
| u am so sorry" he said at last. 81
would have made you happy, I know;
but I will say goodbye now. He looked
down at her again, then suddenly stopped
and kissed her, took up his hat. and
walked straight out of the house without
another word.
An hour later Arnold stood in large
drawing room awaiting the appearance
of Maggie Ellis. The fact that he could
not have the girl he loved for his wife
had not in the least affected his deter
mination to marry. Wife and home were
part OF his life scheme, and, failing his
hearts desire, he must secure the next
best.
a different scene, this, from the one
he had left so recently. A handsome
room, with every sign of wealth. The
door opened, and in rushed Maggie
stout, flushed, and gorgeously attired.
Wei, neverl" she gushed, ''this is
surprise; who would have thought of
seeing you today, why, it's simply years
and years since we met. And how smart
you've grown, but how pale. Look at
me. I'm credit to my keep, ma says,
but you are thin as rail. Why don't
| you get wife to take care of you and
fatten you up?"
Just So" said Arnold, sitting down
on huge puffy chair, as soon as Maggie
released his hand, which she had been
shaking all this time, 'sthat is what
am thinking of doing"
"Are you really, now2 Well, how
smart of me to say that-sort of intui-
ton, wasn't it9 There's nothing like
marriage to brighten folks up"
You think SOL" asked Arnold SOL
EMMY; shat is just my own impress
sion. May I ask if you are thinking Of
| it yourself?"
Why, of course, I am, you silly boy,
haven't you heard? / thought you had
rallied to congratulate me. It's next
week Harry Bilson-you remember
himi He was at your school; he is
rather stout, but / am not thin, you see,
and he has heaps of money. He adores
me, too. / expect | shall have lovely
/ time"
Indeed, / hope you viii be happy"
said Arnold, in his precise way "And
allow me to send you little present for
old times sake. ] must go now, I have
not much time, and have other calls to
make. | am just seeing few old
friends. Oh, and can you tell me the
address of the Deanes? ?"
"Of course, Annie is my friend; she
is such dear. you know, so full of ad-
vice, and so kind; such sweet. old
maidish thing"
"Old maidish" repeated Arnold; "then
| she is not thinking of marriage?"
Rather not" laughed Maggie; she's
not the sort, poor dear, men like some
thing snowy nowadays. Annie is like
stout calico, wash and wear well; but
men are such stupid things, they prefer
chiffony girls and summer girls like me,
TIL they're married, and then it's too late
10 change, you see. Well, goodbye, Ar
mold; take my advice now, and get
wife as soon as ever you can"
Arnold walked slowly away down the
street and thought of many things
A prim, digniied street. A stiff, fat
house, all the curtains exactly alike.
Within room, with all the chairs in II
stiff row against the wall. Arnold was
announced, and kindly welcomed by
prim little woman in a faultlessly neat
dress and white linen collar. He sat
down in stiff, high armchair and con-
sidered her thoughtfully as she talked
of old times and offered him a cup of
hot, refreshing tea.
"Wash and wear we'll" he repeated to
himself; Eyes, that is what / most need,
perhaps She is not Ruth, but, thank
heavenl neither is she Maggie. / beg
your pardon, Annie, what were you say
inga was not listening, fear"
She laughed low, pleasant laugh. 81
am not a very interesting person, /
know she said.
ut is not that. wish to ask you e
question, Annie. / cannot beat about
the bush. / need wife; my income is
good will do my best to make you
happy Will you marry me?
@Will marry you, Arnold? Do you
mean what you says Is it possiblef oh,
never dreamt you cared for me, and |
have loved you always"
Arnold felt a little pang of self-re-
proach;; he had avoided saying that he
loved her.
.That's all right he replied. II be-
gan to fear no one would have me-" and
he kissed her CALAMITY. Annie did not
miss the passion lacking in his caress,
her experience of lovers had been limit
ed. She was grateful, and kissed him
back
"There is nothing TO wait for" he re-
marked presently; eve will be married
month from now, when | will take a
months holiday"
That same night Ruth, with aching
heart. cried herself to sleep as she
I l. f11r k..k