The Kendrick gazette. [volume] (Kendrick, Idaho) 1892-1968, 1907-06-14

Mr.. Augustus Sheringham entered
his hanson with much the demeanor
with which an Indifferent sailor might
climb into a seagoing ship. He had
bad half hour before him, and he was
we'll aware Of the fact. Having direct
ed his coachman to an address on 9TH
avenue, and Strengthened his immacu-
late tie at the strip of looking glass
beside him .(this last purely mechan-
lcal proceedlng), he leant forward. and
with fixed, unseeing gaze, that seemed
to scorn the traffic Of the city, again
surrendered himself to the problem.
that had been torturing his brain for
hours. What on earth should he say to
herr How could he ever hope to ex-
plain the position in which he found
himself?
New York was looking its best that
fine June morning. In the pale warm
sunlight Central Park glowed gently;
the merry chorus Of birds blended har-
moniously with the Jingle of buses
and the soft purring of electric auto
mobiles. 1t was a day to delight the
senses Of one swho loved his New York
but half as intensely as did Mr.. Sher-
ingham on ordinary occasions. But to-
day as had been limited, he cared for
none of these things-saw them not,
indeed. For almost the first time in
bis forty years of blameless life Mr..
Sheringham, on that drive to 9th ave
nue., neglected to observe and return
the salutes Of passing acquaintance.
He was thinking, too, deeply to be con-
scious Of anything but the one ques-
ton that absorbed him, and which he
did not know how to answer.
Presently he drew from his pocket a
letter, and fixing his glasses, regarded
the paper, with frowning concentra-
ton that seemed determined to gain
some inspiration from it's mere peru
sal. The action was, however, an emp
ty one, for he already knew the con-
tents Of the letter by heart, had read
and re-read it fifty times since it had
burst like bombshell into the midst of
his placid bachelor breakfast. But for
the fifty-first time he strove to grapple
with the problem that it presented.
my Dear Mr.. Sheringham-You
note only reached me this morning,
but I am obeying your wish and re-
plying to it with as little delay as
possible. Perhaps 1T is unnecessary for
me to say how much your proposal has
touched me; it cannot be otherwise
than fiattering to a woman of eight
and-thirty (my ageD to be asked to
be his wife by man whom she both
admires and esteems. But, dear
friend, while fully sensible of the
worth Of what 1 renounce, you must
forgive me If l say that 1 fear it can
not be as you wish. Some day, per-
haps, may try to explain to you NV
reasons; till then, and always, please
permit me to remain, as before, your
sincere and attached friend.
ANNETTE PILKINGTON."
A sufficiently straightforward and
charming letter, you will admit, for a
woman to send in reply to the propo-
| sal of any man. Why, then, did Mr..
Sheringham, whose appearance was
hardly that Of the rejected sutton, feel
apprehensive? The reason Is simple.
He had not written the letter to which
this Was an answer. Mr.. Sheringham.
In short, had never proposed to Mrs.
| Pilkington. and was now faced with
what he conceived to be an unpleasant
| duty of telling her so.
He had small doubt as to the mis-
creant who was almost certainly the
cause Of his dilemma. Not for nothing
had Mr.. Sheringham been a bachelor
uncle for the past twenty years. He
remembered with grim satisfaction
how often he had reproved his sister
Mary for her absurd leniency toward
those unconscionable boys. how often
he had predicted that some day Tom,
now cadet at West Point, with his
dangerous capacity for initiating hand
| writing. would achieve some serious