The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1913-04-21
LITTLE SUMMER AFFAIR
By ADELE JOHNSON.

that you 90 not care 1Or me! lnd'
you have been trifling"
Yes, II you want to put 1t that way
Mr.. Henry Croydon. 1t wss purely a
little summer affair. ! supposed you
understood the game. Now that the
season Is ended, It's called OF think
there's lots of pleasure In such little
affairs don't you? I'm going back to
my dear old noisy city. Really. I'm
tired OF the quiet Of the country
These hills seem to stifle me. I'm of
for the world of light and music, the
theater and good times. Three cheers
for Broadway"
Gertrude, you are trying to tease
me. Come, dear, II know anything
about girls, you do love me. You
have given me every reason to think
so. Why, just last week you told me
you loved these hills; that you hated
the restless life; that you had found
your real self here; that you had felt
peace Of soul and happiness that
were past understanding"
Yes, yes, but-but a girl has a
right to change her mind. And as
for your understanding girls-ha! ha!
my dear friend, you may know your
country product, but not us Of the
city. I'm in earnest, Henry. I'm a
creature Of moods. ! crave adven-
ture, excitement, travel-oh, every
thing. The stir and hustle appeal to
me now. My home is calling, calling
for me. Come drink to my health,
All, you must go? Goodby, Mr.. Croy
den. Come, shake hands"
Excuse me, Miss Arlington, I've
washed my hands. You are a cruel
woman, Gertrude Arlington. ! cannot
believe such as you are the handiwork
of God. You and all your clan should
go through life labeled Poison. Good
evening"
When Gertrude recovered her senses
she gasped, "Oh, that he should
think of me in that way, who love,
love him. l, who would consider it
the greatest privilege to share his
life, to do the most mental work for
him; the only man have ever loved.
But | had to force him to think me
hard and cruel or he would never
have gone back to her. Her! What
is she to me? Why should l let her
ruin my happiness?
She drew from her pocket the letter
she had received that morning, the
contents of which had caused her a
struggle:
my Dear Miss Arlington:
Il trust you will pardon me for writ
ing to you, almost a perfect stranger
to me. Six times | have written to
you, only to destroy the letters and
despise myself. ] have heard that
you are as good and kind as you are
beautiful, and l feel sure you will
understand.
Henry Croydon and | were school
mates and childhood lovers. He has
been attentive to me all these years.
Indeed our friends considered us en-
gagged, although no formal declaration
had been made. | love him. and |
think | could make him happy. He
has been the only bright spot in my
otherwise colorless life. | was sure
of his love until you came to spend
the summer in our village. Before
that I was the only girl he cared for.
Miss Arlington, you have money
and friends You are young and at
tractive. l am an orphan, to whom
the prospects Of a home means
heaven. Perhaps l should be silent
and give no sign of the pain within
me. That is considered a woman's
duty. / fear l am weak-weak. /
hope you may never suffer what !
have during this summer Oh, can
you understand? Yours sincerely.
MARY GOODWIN"
Gertrude Arlington slowly tore the
letter to shreds. A beautiful smile !
lighted her face. AS she went to her
room to pack her trunks she muir
Eyes, Mary Goodwin, l under.
stand"