Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1920-04-16
TO HIGHEST BIDDER
BY IzoLA FORESTER.
10. 1870. BY Mcclure Newspaper syndloat,


interested in the final fate of the Win
dygo0l estate, yet as he saw the broad
advertisement of the local auctioneer
in the little weekly paper he felt pc
culiar twipge Of.what some have called
heart strings.
After breakfast he took the small
chummy roadster and made the three
and one-half mile run along the shore
road to the grounds.
1t was a large. square house, built
In the Italian villa style. The view
out to sea was splendid.
And here he turned the corner of
the path and found a girl watching
him intently from the summer house.
The two gazed at each other in sur
prised silence for q moment and tnen
she beckoned to him TO approach
not in friendly way but imperiousy.
"When are you going to sell this
placer"
I'm not going to sell it at all. in
tend to buy it," he answered cour-
teously
She frowned and paused Evidently
his appearance inspired confidence, for,
after Il quick second glance, she ex.
planned;
81 have come from Italy. This was
my fathers house. Perhaps you know
of hm?"
Dexter's eyes were steady and keen.
He knew more of Seward Coates than
his daughter did, he fancied.
"My father is dead" she added,
without emotion. "He was in the war.
My mother is very beautiful, but she
has no head at all for business, so
| am managing things now"
Dexter nodded his head gravely
eve do not wish to sell Windygool
at all. I shall pay the taxes and live
here"
Let me send you a couple Of COM
petent, trustworthy old helpers, and
pay off these taxes, and look out for
things for you. I knew your father,
and have several Of his paintings my
self. I should be glad, indeed, to have
you for a neighbor."
He left her still In the old summer
house, resting roses in her lap and
peace in her dark eyes. Before sun
down old Jerry and Roxy, his wife
were installed, and a telegram had
come back from Boston announcing
that Mrs. Coates would arrive In the
morning Dexter reviewed his days
activities and laughed to himself.
He leaned back his head in the deep
leather chair, thinking how as young
ster he had loved to visit Coates, and
-, l. -
admired his work and adventurous
life.
Now there would be no auction, no
wiping out Of the old story, no packing
away of the paintings from the broad,
low walls
1t was six weeks later He was
busy writing about dusk in the living
room when suddenly Francesca stepped
into the room from the long windows
that opened on the veranda.
She had lace scarf around her
head and was out of breath She held
crumpled in her hand a long, folded
paper and handed 1t to him with eyes
that sparkled tragically.
~ found that in his desk. OF course
once, my mother says, and we apollo
gize"
He opened and read it, inwardly
cursing the big-hearted responsibility
of Coates. Unreservedly he gave Win
dygool in the event of his death to
my very dear friend and neighbor,
Courtney Dexter, who appreciates 1t
as I do"
"But this is not legal" he protested
at is not even witnessed. Don't think
of it at ALL You know and l know
your father was impusive and err
rattle"
She raised her hand to stop him.
II would obey anything at all he told
me tc do. This is in his writing, and
we were nearer to each other than
you could even know, Mr.. Dexter"
Dexter looked at her with sudden
intensity and longing. Since she would
stand firm then he would tell her. He
crossed to his desk, hunted In the long
center drawer, and found Seward
Coates last letter to him, written
from Sorrento before he went to the
front. He gave 1t to her and watched
her face as she read
For death is nothing but a tran
sition to higher beauty, but for those
"'e love 1t is tragedy. So am asking
YOU to meet and know my daughter,
Francesca. To me she is the flower
of life, and of all men have known
would intrust her happiness to you
most of all This is merely a shot
into the blue from troubled mind
yet what is to be viii be. salute you
with all good wishes and remem-
brances. COATES"
There was a deep silence in the
quiet room. Francesca had covered
her face with her hands. He drew her
head to his shoulder tenderly.
81 would not beg you to marry me
for the world, even though he wished
IL