The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1919-10-24
A VISITOR
BY BARBARA WOOD.


heart beat like little trip hammer.
who's there?" she called again;
| this time her voice was steadier. But
there was no answer. Slowly, OH. so
slowly, Polly slipped two pink little
feet out from under the covers, and
without taking her eyes from the door
she felt around on the floor for her
slippers. After moment or two of
vain searching she dropped her eyes
to look for them.
As she looked away the door opened
swiftly and noiselessly and someone,
| or something, was In the room. But
Polly was intent upon finding the slip
pers which had so mysteriously disap-
peared. Her curly head and bare,
round arms were half way under the
bed and she was saying to herself:
"Why didn't snap on that light?"
Now Miss Polly Beckwith Anderson
was not in the least nervous or timid
young lady. She was what her gentle
men acquaintances called "a sport
through and through" and she could
recall many delightful day spent
'breaking" one of her fathers colts
or at target practice with her two
| brothers. But when she heard her
| name spoken In n hoarse whisper by
| a man in her own room at two o'clock
| In the morning her heart stood still for
the space of quickly drawn breath.
| First, two shoulders clad in pink silk,
then two arms, soft and white, and
last head and face hidden from view
by dark mass Of curls made their
way slowly and fearfully out from
their recent hiding place.
with toss of her head she threw
her hair over her shoulders and lifted
wide. frightened eyes to look into the
face above her. In an instant she was
on her feet, and her eyes, even In the
dark, cleaned with anger.
Robert Anderson, what do you
mean by frightening me like this? An
swer mew
Bob shook with suppressed laughter
as he put his finger to his lips.
"But where have you been. and why
| did you come in here and scare me
half to pieces?" Polly asked, noticing
that he was still wearing his daytime
| attire.
'"Listen here, Polly-o,"-her brother
was serious now and was fumbling In
his inside coat pocket-"I saw Dave
tonight and he asked me to give you
this" With that he handed her n note
| addressed to "P. b. A."
But Polly did not take 1t. She was
staring ut him with great light In
her eyes. Finally she whispered:
| "You saw David-my David?"
"Yes, little sister, and he's pretty
lonesome for you, too, Iguess He took
me out to the little new cottage he has
built and furnished for you, and, Polly,
| it's n beauty. There's nothing he's
| forgotten. He asked my advice about
few things for your own sunshiny
boudoir because, as he expressed 1t. I
was more acquainted with girls
things Dave may make money on
the quality and excellence Of his por-
traits, but no portrait he ever painted
will be equal to the one you will make
with the home he has made you for a
setting. Why, girl, he pictured you In
every nook and corner; the place
couldn't belong to another person In
the world. But here's your note; it's
time for me to retire"
Polly took the note and reached up
to kiss her big brother good night.
"Oh, Bobby, Bobby" she whispered,
~ love him so much, and you under
stand so well! If only father were a
little more like YOU"
Bob stroked her hair.
"Never mind. Polly-o," he said gen.
tly, hell be all right after It's over.
It's just that he hates to jose his only
daughter" ~
When Bob was gone Polly opened
the note and her fingers were trem-
bling little as she read 1t. She had
not snapped on the light until Bob left,
and when she did 1t showed dark, tired
rings under her beautiful, heavily
fringed eyes. There was sad little
droop to her sweet lips. And yet she
was happier than she had ever been.
for she was going to David. Three
long years they had waited for her
father to give his permission to their
marriage, and at last Polly had told
David that II would be wrong to wait
any longer.
And now she held David's answer In
her hand. Through her tears she read :
"Come. dear heart. l am waiting, and
everything is ready for the mistress Of
our home" There was more, but the
word "come" was all that really mat
tered
Eyes, David. am coming" she whis-
pered, and with little sob she threw
her head down on her arms and cried.
Daddy, daddy, must"
For three days Bert Anderson fused
and fumed, because his daughter was
not there to wait on him; he always
did when she went away to visit.
At last there came day when Mr..
Anderson received letter written in
Polly's own hand. When he finished
reading his face flushed with anger.
"Thunderation 7" he blurted out.
Then very slowly he began to review
the years since Polly's mother had
died. Always II was Polly who COM
forted him; Polly who made him
laugh; Polly whose girlish lovelines,
had made him so proud. When at lass