The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1910-10-26
His Golf Girl
By NJ. J. PHILLIPS
Copyright. 1910, by Associated Literary Press

oSAskOe SA0 " kkOS0 49,. .F
about the central figure in the pic
ture. His widow sold out her hold.
ings. to me without coming to Port
land, so while we were curious, we
could not question her about it Quite
recently, when 1t lost its advertising
value to US through long display, we
sold the picture to the CondarS house.
We know no more of the young lady
there" he pointed to Coniston's cali
endar, than you do" ~
Perhaps the widow might be able
to- help me-" said Coniston, hopefully.
Twill you give me her address,
please?" -,
The president shook his head re-
gretfully. I'm sorry to say that I
can't" he replied. THE negotiations
for her stock. were conducted through
my attorneys exclusively. The family
had several homes scattered through
the United States, and Mr.. Holdings
worth was constantly on the wing.
And the widow said that she was very
anxious to close up his business so
she and her daughter might go
abroad again"
He studied the calendar and smiled!
II rather think Mr.. Hollingsworth
liked to have that photograph cir
culated because he was In it himself"
The president pointed to the old
gentleman with the sidewhiskers.
THAT was his ~picture?" %t}S
Eyes" And, as Coniston. rose to
go, II wish you luck"
The calendar house was now Com
iston's last hope. He fastened back
to New York. Butt had moved to
a small town in Pennsylvania, Mid
vale, which fact he discovered only
after three days Of vexatious search.
He went to Midvale.
The Office of the calendar company
proved to be a busy place. 1t was
a big room in which a half-dozen
typewriters clacked. Five OF the SIX
typists were pert, pretty young wo-
men who cast occasional Interested
glances at the g~oodlooking Conis-
ton. They found him. however. stolid-
ly unresponsire. =
The sixth stenographe- was a pales
frightened little thing with red hair
who was alternately bullied and ig-
nored by the others. In spite of his
down-heartedness at the failure OF his
search so far, Coniston founS, time to
feel sorry for her.
After an hours wait he WIS sum-
moned to the managers Office.
The burly, black-browed young man
he found scowling put of the window
did not seem to be In very good
humor. well, what do you want?'
he growled %ungraciously when Conis-
ton entered. ,,,
A moment later he cut short his
visitors tale with an insulting laugh
ooh, OH" he said, so loudly that Com
iston was sure the words carried to
the outer Office, another masher
stuck on The Golf Girl ehf Well
you don't get her address from mel
We're not helping Washers. She's
probably no better than she ought to-
be, but" =
Coniston struck him squarely In
the mouth with a force that crumpled
the man into a heap in the corner
Then he walked out.
In the outer Office he paused q
moment to smile reassuringly at the
startled force. The red-haired girl
seemed more frightened and foriorn
than ever. Impulsively he took the
carnation from his %buttonhole and
laid 1t on her freckled little hand.
At dusk that evening he stood out
side the little railway station, await
ing the New York train. A card was
thrust into his hand 'm behind.
He turned to see the figure Of a girl
fastening away. Her hair cleaned
red under a street light. '
He examined the card. On 1t was
written: Miss Marjory Holdings
worth, Echo, Cove,s California" and
Coniston laughed light-heartedly. He
had found "The Golf Girl" at his own
door, since Echo Cove - the town
which his estate adjoins, Glen Dug
lass, are but seven miles apart.
Some of the very few folk who
know the above story maintain that
Dick Coniston purchased lifelong
happiness with a ten-cent carnations
but the rest know that he won his
pretty wife and deserves her because
Of his generosity and innate kindness
Of heart.