Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1916-09-07
TWO CONFESSIONS
By EARL SiLVERS.

Henry Riller had been at the Fern ! cliff boarding house just thirteen days, and during that time he had ! won the worshiping admiration of , Mildred Graydon. He was to % home on the morrow. In spite of the fact that the board was only five dollars week and the majority of the guests were shop girls, he had had delight full time. But that had been because I of Mildred. She semed different from the other girls; her voice was softer, her clothes simpler, her English bet ter. She didn't say "Ain't that won- derful."
 They had both arrived on the same day and had met at supper. After that they had been together continu- ally, until Henry admitted to himself that he was almost in love. But on the evening before he was to return to the daily grind of business he stood on the veranda of the low, rambling farmhouse and looked dejectedly at two chickens pecking aimlessly on the front lawn. He was about to make d confession, and he didn't know how Mildred would take it. Henry looked up and smiled as a dark-haired, blue-eyed girl ripped lightly down the steps and accosted him.
 Are we going out on the Iake?' she asked.
 eff you want to-" They made their way together to the small lake, unclaimed rather dilapidated looking boat and em- parked. For time both were silent. Then the girl spoke. T wonder" she let her eyes rest on his for moment-"I wonder if we will ever see each other again."
 He looked startled.
 "Why, of course, won't we?" q don't know; I've read lot about these summer affairs, and have seen l movies, too. They never seem to last very long,"
 "Maybe it won't be so with us" he said finally.
 "Why maybe?" She looked at him duestioningly.
 'I've got confession to make" he announced hesitatingly. "But l don't know whether I ought to make it or not!"
 "What kind of confession?" About myself. I've come up here with all these shop girls and clerks and made believe that I am one of 1 them" A slight tinge of red crept over his forehead. "But I'm not. My father is E. P. Riker the big manu- facturer, and we've loads and loads of money"
 "And you came up here?" She seemed incredulous. "Yes. I came for therfun of the l thing-just to see what it would be | like"
 "Oh!' He didn't look up; he was afraid to meet her eyes. And now," he concluded, "you'll probably think have been playing with you. But I haven't; I'm really crazy about you." He made bold this time to glance at her, but instead of the hurt look he expected he surprised smile on her face.
 Don't you care?" he asked.
 "Why, mol" She continued to smile at him. q knew you weren't one of those people as soon as l saw you. That's why let you go with me so much. My father is Arthur Graydon, l the big New York doctor" "What!" His jaw dropped from sheer amazement. "Yes. am Doctor Graydon's | daughter. I'm glad to know that you are what you are, because now you can come to see me in New York"
 "Yes," he answered, "that will be fine."
 But, somehow, his words failed to carry conviction. He took up the oars and rOwed slowly toward the | shack which was called boathouse. 1 The girl, too, seemed rather thought fully silent, and he ventured to glance at her. He was struck with the sud- den desire to reach over and touch her hand; but he did hot. Neither said word until the boat struck the bank with a dull thud. Then the man spoke.
 'I've got another confession to make" he said, and this time his voice was steady. i've just been ly- ing to you. My father is Tom Riker, and he works in a factory in Hobo- ken. I'm a floor-walker in Tracy's."
 "What!" This time it was the girl who registered amazement.
 "Yes," he continued. "1'm a four f1usher. I thought at first that this was only a summer Irritation and that we would forget about it as soon as we went home. So I told you l was rich in order to make good impress sion. But, as soon as you told me who you really are, realized that r. that I-cared for you. But now, l