Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-08-09
Annabel's
Godson
By HILDA MORRIS
Copyright, 1918, by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate.)

Annabel had chosen him to be her
godson because she liked his name
Peter Winslow. 1t sounded as though
he might be a nice sort of chap, for
Annabel had always liked the name
Peter. Her sister chose n named
John, and her chum, preferred Henry
but Annabel stuck to Peter.
Annabel's brother had brought home
the list of names from his camp. They
were lonely fellows, everyone Of them
he said, and would appreciate letters
from some nice girl.
Her brother Herbert was quite OBJ
durate on the point of describing Pc
ter.
"See for yourself" he urged. He
and some of the other fellows are go
ing to a reception at your club on Sat
urday. You ought to be able to pics
him out-your own godsonP"
There were a great many soldiers al
that reception. 1t was one Of those
friendly affairs arranged expressly FOL
the entertainment of boys far away
from home. And 1t was the duty OF
the girls, as hostesses, to make the sol
diers feel at home. When Annabel ar
rived the party was in full swing. II
Peter was there 1t waS quite evident
that someone had p~re-empted him.
And then her eye fell upon a very
plain, apparently very shy young mar
who stood alone in a far doorway, as
though he had just arrived and was
quite uncertain what to do next. II
was her obvious duty to max him fee
at home, so Annabel crossed the room
and told him she was glad that he nae
come, and all the other pleasant things
that a hostess is supposed to say. The
young man looked at her uncertainty
and turned quite red. They sat down
and talked sketchily of the camp.
"You don't happen to know a-Mr,
Winslow among the soldiers, do you?"
she asked him suddenly.
Again the young soldier turned red.
"Why-yes, that is my name" he re-
turned.
"Oh !" Annabel exclaimed, and added
vaguely, 81 think perhaps I've heard
my brother speak of you"
But she was conscious of very keen
disappointment. He did not know that
she was his godmother, and she would
not tell him, either!
Someone else came up just then,
and after a decent interval Annabel
made her escape. She did not want to
stay at the reception any more; after
all she had accomplished what she
came for. Henceforth her letters to
Peter Winslow should be chiefly about
the weather, current events, and other
topics which should concern a god
mother.
She was so wrapped up in her
thoughts that she ran square into a
tall soldier who was just coming
through the doorway.
"I-beg your pardon !" he exclaimed.
in contrite tones. did 1 hurt you?"
"Oh, no-that is-po you didn't"
Annabel smiled. "It was my fault,
anyway"
And then, quite curiously they stood
still and stared at one another, openly,
for almost a minute.
Snow where" Annabel was the first
to speak, shave 1 seen you before? /
nave,
81 remember, even if you don't. It
was in the eighth grade, way back in
Oldport. You sat across the aisle from
me and you used to wear a blue sailor
suit. Your name is Annabel Ames."
Annabel gasped.
"Of course! I remember, only
how you've grown"
They both laughed.
"Come in and sit down here by the
window" she invited him. std like to
hear some more about Oldport."
They spent ten minutes or more in
recalling the old school days, but all
the time Annabel was puzzled, trying
to remember his name. Everything
else she knew, the way he used to
sharpen pencils for her, the time he
spelled the school down, but she could
not remember his name!
"Tve a young brother here some
where" he remarked suddenly. "TheEe
he is over by the door. You never
knew him, did your"
"Your brother?' she exclaimed. mo
I only remember you. You are
Peter Winslow!"
"Of course, don't say that you had
forgotten my name!"
He spoke so earnestly, quite as
though the idea hurt, hat Annabel
could not tell him that she had. Be-
sides, she was not sure after all that
she had not remembered. Peter Wins
low had sounded familiar, somehow,
when she chose him for her godson.
Indeed, that must have been why she
chose him. Of couse, she had remem-
bered Peter Winslow!
81 suppose that you have a god
mother who writes letters to you?" she
asked.
"Yes, and I'd like to meet her, too.
The queerest thing, I can't make out