The herald. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1905-1953, 1914-11-26

60 hose, cravat and bordered handker-
! chief. In the hatbox was a new pearl
gray hat, and in the cupboard a brand
new walking stick. A shirt, carefully
selected from a new half-dozen, lay
over a chair, and new gloves and boots
we're in their proper places.
This beautiful Sunday was to be
day Of days. At two o'clock he was
TO dine at the Emersons to meet Miss
| Vida Winters. And Frederick knew
as well as all the rest of Greendale
that old Henry Winters had coined
money almost as fast as the mint,
after he had moved to New York.
Frederick rolled out of bed, bathed
and made a painfully careful toilet,
albeit his brain was buster planning
things to say to the prospective heir
ess than with the shoestrings and col
lar buttons.
1t was common talk in Greendale
that Frederick Adair would never
marry. Bachelorhood ran in the Adair
family.
Its shame for him to waste Mar
garet Cartwright's time." was the
common cry. He'll never marry her
in the world"
Frederick finished dressing. He
had tried to conjure up a mental pho
tograph of Vida Winters, but inva.
riably her hair was soft and of a shin
ing chestnut brown like Margaret's,
and Margaret's violet eyes smiled at
him.
When Beau Brummel sailed forth,
after a critical inspection in his mir.
ror, the annoying mental vision had
vanished. Instead, on the retina Of
his mental eye was an impression OF
Mr.. Frederick Adair. correctly and ex-
pensively caparisoned in the newest
style, ready to lay siege to the heart,
hand and fortune of Miss Winters.
1t was too early to present himself
at the Emersons. The morning being
exceptionally fine, he wandered into
the park. And as luck would have It |
Margaret. returning from church, de-
cided to take the path In the park, too, |
and they met.
Darn it," was his mental ejacula- !
ton when he recognized her. Then
his eyes widened with admiration. In |
new suit Of silk, the exact shade
OF her eyes, and little tip-tilted hat |
with blue flowers, she was adorable.
Good morling-what shall I call |
you-Madam Ceres?"
She laughed and held out her hand.
Good morning, Mr.. Brummel. Thank
you for your compliment, but Ceres
only made potatoes grow. Besides,
I'm not madam"
"Of coursT always say the wrong
thing" He glanced at his watch.
There was still plenty of time before
dinner. Where are you going? And
may l go along?"
I'm going home, and you may 20
along. was just hoping to see you
today. I'm going away tonight"
Away? For how long and where,
may l ask"
Il am going forever and always.
to answer your first question, and
to New York, thence to Europe, to
study, II all goes well. It's my mu-
Sic"
The lightness Of her tone stabbed
him. Here was a new Margaret
who was going away, and glad OF the
prospect. He had always supposed
that had he taken the notion to pro-
pose she would never have hesitated
Tor a second to say Yes"
Now she appeared to be unattain-
able. 1t was the first time in his life
hat his vanity had been hurt, a vanity
hat had stified love.
Margaret"
YES"
Il can't let you go!"
why, Frederick. / don't under
stand. Can't let me go? Why, pray?"
Because l love you'll" he said, try.
ng to get a glimpse of her eyes.
Don't you think you might come back
md marry me! Or, better still, not 20
It all. I'm done for, Margaret, If you {
TO-"
II might think about 1t, Freder- +
ck," she said softly. 1T is rather ,
lard to unmake my mind. Won't you
,ome home with me to dinner?"
And the Emersons with Miss Vida
Winters waited in vain for their guest
Until the telephone announced that
lie had been unavoidably detained. q
Copyright, 1914, by the Mcclure, Newspa- O
per Syndicate)