The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1915-06-18
DELIBERATE MISS JOAN
BY JEAN A. sMYTHE.
Copyright, 1916 by the Mcclure Newspa
per Syndicate.)

''3''ss'ss
Copyright. 1915. by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate.)
Peter Dodd paced the floor of his
studio, his chestnut hair outstanding
from the riot of his restless fingers.
A Japanese servant entered softly
and laid a pine log on the fire. As
Mito passed a table he flicked aside
little dust. moving. as he did SO, .
big white box tied with blue ribbons.
Suddenly the portiere was whirled
impetuously aside and q woman en-
tered the room. There was glimpse
Of Mito's frightened, astounded face
as the curtain swung back.
"Peter!" she said with catch in
her voice.
Peter Dodd's lower jaw dropped
ludicrously. II anyone had asked him
to wager his life as to the last woman
in the. world who would rush impetu-
ously into his studio at the close Of
this March day, or any day-he would
have confidently staked his existence
on that one woman-Joan Henshawe.
Yet, here she was-Joan Henshawe!
Older by seven years since he had
last looked on her fair loveliness, ex-
ulting in her statuesque beauty; hat,
ing her for her cool, serenity; loving
her always-bitterly
Joan stood there, a lovely color in
vading her cool cheeks. She wore
black and white, and by contrast her
eyes were very blue and her hair very
shining.
Don't you remember me, Peter?"
she asked.
"Of course I do-Joan Henshawe.
l was surprised to see you, that's all.
Here Of all places. Did you come
alone?" By this time he had shaken
hands conventionally and pushed for.
ward deep Preside chair
Then he pressed a button for Mito.
Tea, Mito," he ordered, "and you
may light the lamps"
In the soft glow Of lamplight. Peter
poured the tea and passed Mito's
crisp Japanese cakes.
you came here at once-to see
me? You are not in trouble" he
hesitated. because Joan's sudden ap-
pearance there was the most sig.
nificant thing in the world to Peter
Dodd. 1t meant that some great ex-
perience had sent her to him for help
Because Joan. the sweet. imperturb-
able one, had never done an impulsive
thing in her wellordered, deliberate
life.
II am very glad to see you." he said
simply, and then sat staring into the
fire
Joan arose and moved about the
room. pausing now and then to study
a picture or touch a bit of bric-a-b rac.
Finally she stood at the teakwood
table looking down at the box of
chocolates and the box of violets.
This is my birthday, Peter" she
said at last.
"Yes-I know it," said Peter.
Are these-for me?" she asked.
Peter Strengthened and stared at
her.
YES" he said at last: "1 didn't send
them-I never do, you know"
Not now" agreed Joan. 81 missed
them. What have you done with 9th.
ers, Peter"
For answer Peter strobe across the
room to a carved chest and flung
open the lid. Within were a dozen
boxes-many Of them bearing the i'm
print Of oriental sweetmeat shops;
some contained curios; Joan caught
glimpses of bits Of ivory toys.
Those are all my birthday gifts
since you went away?" she asked.
Peter nodded. Il bought 'em-and
pretended I sent 'em; but 1t was all
a CHASTITY farce; this is my cupboard
Of skeletons. Here belong these 9TH
ers!" He took the two boxes from
the table and tossed them into the
chest.
Joan as promptly took them out.
She opened the purple box and pinned
the fragrant violets on her breast.
Then she knelt down and hastily
hshed out the remaining boxes on the
table and closed the empty chest.
1T would make good linen chest"
she said. musingly.
Peter Dodd came and planted his /
,lenched fists on the table. He looked
It her across the unsent birthday of.
'erings.
What is the game. Joan?" he
lsked.
Uncle Gregory told me today that
'ou were in New York-had been for
Tx months-I didn't know" There
vas note in her voice he had never
leard.
Il didn't know you were here-you
lidnt come to see me-" she accused
lin.
Peter lifted his haggard eyes.
And so-and SOL came after Won
'eter!" she flung out passionately.
You came after-me?" He was
oming around the table.
"Yes-because I wanted to see Won
)h, Peter, missed you sol"
And the deliberate Joan Henshawe
uried her shining head on Peters
boulder and hid her sweet, shamed
ace from his adoring eyes.
1