The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1916-04-27
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!: IN WINIfRED'S name /
BY ELLIS GRAHAM. 3


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Dot regarded the telegram in her
hand in utter dismay. 1t was there
in simple letters, the message of her
fate
Arrive Tuesday. Could
And it was directed to Winifred, of
course, and Winifred was down at Old
Point Comfort with the Beverlys on
their yacht. She would have to meet
him at last, confess the whole thing,
and protect Winifred somehow.
Winifred had met Give Gould in
Washington, and he had taken a fancy
to her. He had written to her from
San Francisco the day before he
sailed, and Dot had listened to the
letter as she had to with every new
correspondent of her roommate. But
there was something about the letter
that held her-an underlying faith in
things, sense of humor, something
that told the real man behind the
pen.
Il won't answer it," Winifred had
said, airily. He's too dignitied and
slow, Dot"
"Oh, you must answer it. He ex-
poets that. Wait, I'll do it for you"
you old dear thing" Winifred
laughed over at her. "You never write
to any boys at ALL Go ahead. He's
perfectly safe, bound for Australia,
and l don't mind. Hold star up for
him to see his way by and tell him
to cheer up"
But Dot had answered the letter
In her own way, and it had started a
correspondence that had slipped out
Of her reach and control before a
year had passed. Now he was back,
and in the letter she had received the
day before he told her it was her let
tiers that had drawn him over the
seas to her, and she must fulfill all
they meant to him.
The evening was rather COOL Clad
in a white wooden dress, with white
sweater and no hat, she watched from
the veranda until she saw a figure
start across the green from the street;
then she went to meet him. Oh, yes;
1t was he. She knew him in an in
slant from his picture, and she went
straight toward him without compro-
mise.
You are Mr.. Gould, aren't you"
She gave him firm hand clasp. Il
am Winifred's best friend, and she has
| 90
you visit with me awhile? am Doro-
thy Page"
Up on. the veranda they sat, while
she listened to him talk Of the voy-
age and trip over the continent.
Couldn't he guess at all Of how her
pulses were beating, how she was
trying to keep her nerve still and lis
ten to him? And all at once some
\ thing seemed to snap the tension.
She lifted her head and looked at
him, at his wide, uncompromising
eyes, so direct and true in their gaze,
and she told him the truth as she
had intended to do.
And that's all, you see.' Her
hands put away from her an mag
mary something when she had fin
ished. Il did it, and l am not sorry
either. Winifred never needed you
and | did. l never had anyone to
write to that | liked, and somehow l
could tell you everything"
Except this
Don't. / am sorry in way for
you, but you won't mind. Winifred
has always cared for Bob"
I'm not thinking of them. I'm sure
| only wish them the greatest happi-
ness"
She hasn't been here much the last
term, not since they were engaged.
She was taking postgraduate course
anyway. Oh, know" She rose and
stood before him, rebellious, worried,
and still in a way penitent. Il know
you must think it was awful of me"
NO, l don't" He rose, too, and Dot
wondered how he could leave her so
soon, with just word of ordinary
courtesy. After ALL the letters had
been theirs, and they had grown to
know each other so well in them. But
Give continued:
Those letters, whoever wrote them,
gave me courage and new grip on
life Just when | was worried and los
ing my grip. Remember that line
of Browning
Drop hearts blood where life's wheels
crate dry
That was what they did for me.
Did you feel all the time really imper-
sonal toward me, Dot?'
Dot laughed softly, a bit instead
lily.
mo, l felt as If you belonged to
me-
Just that. And so did l. They
pulled me back thousands Of miles to
you"
Not to me. To Winifred."
"Winifred wrote to me six months
ago, as soon as she was engaged to
Bob, and told me the truth" he said.
II have come back to you"
When you didn't even know what
l looked like?"
"Winifred sent me your portrait aft