Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 186, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 August 1910 — A Dimple or Two [ARTICLE]

A Dimple or Two

By JOANNA SINGLE

(Copyright, 1910, by Associated Literary Press.)

“After all, a man chooses,” finished Dr. Everett Transome, “and If he chooses to ruin his career by marrying some yellow-headed little nothing whom common sense would show him was quite the wrong woman, the failure of the marriage is purely his own fault. I’ve no patience with such men. It is Just as easy to love a balanced, dignified woman with brains, whose mental and social training would be a help to him, as to let himself be lured to the altar by a rosy, cheek and a dimple or two —like poor old Trafton, for instance.” He spoke with the settled assurance of extreme youth and inexperience. Mrs. Jimmie, really, if amusedly, interested, listened to her guest in wide-eyed politeness. Then she said she simply must dress for dinner and trailed off. Once in the hall she fairly ran upstairs to the guest room where her pretty, pink-cheeked cousin was making herself Unnecessarily lovely. 'I don’t want to be late at my own table, Rose, but I must tell you that Jimmie has brought home an eastern college friend, and he’s to take you In to dinner. He deserves anything you may do to him, though heaven forbid that I put you up to any worse mischief than your own fertile mind suggests. You won’t believe it, but he has Just finished telling me exactly what sort of a girl he intends not to marry.” “Does the description, by chance, fit little Rosie?" asked the girl, demurely wicked. “For a moment I thought he must have been trailed by you somewhere when you were east last summer a'nd was revenging himself. But no, he was quite serious.” “Any man who is quite serious deserves—.anything! Is he worth while?’ Rose tilted her yellow head to catch the mirrored effect of a rose In her hair. “If he's—worth " “He's all that himself and his doting widowed mother think him! Of fine family, good looking, with brains and manners carefully cultivated here and abrgad; and with money. But very—young. It seems that his mother intends to have him wed a Miss Minerva Farleigh of Boston. He is out here for a rest before beginning In the fall the practise his father left him. He —well—l must dress! Rose—don’t be outrageous—but he does need a lesson!”

Dinner went oft conventionally enough. Rose tried the sweet, feminine, dependent role she usually played till she decided on what the game was to be! She drew Dr. Transom out about himself and he was, naturally, deeply interested. Her questions about his work and plans were, in fact, so intelligent that the young man twisted his broad shoulders, and turned his fine brown eyes on his neighbor in some surprise—she didn’t look like much but a frail plaything—he especially disapproved of yellow curls. And in the cheek nearest him he marked a deep and restless dimple. Her hands were little and delicate. She was very slender. He wondered if she knew how to take care of her health?—probably not. He was sure of it when, in the drawing room after he noted the scandalous height of her small heels. He determined to advise her. Dr. Transom played the piano well. Induced by Jimmie, who knew all his friend's paces, he played some Beethoven, some Bache—then a little Chopin—the latter because he thought Miss Rose Thorne might care for lighter music. She sat where he could see her by a side glance. She was not amused, evidently. Finally she sauntered over to him and asked: "Can’t you play something lively—a gypsy dance, or some ragtime?" Her eyes were innocent, and he stared at her in dismay. But Jimmie Reverton grinned and pushed him from the stool.

“I’ll play,'* he laughed. “You’re ■too solemn. Pull up a rug or two there, Jimmie. Now, Rosie, give us a step or two.” To the young doctor’s scandalized ■ fascination the girl rose, and to the wild time of the host’s music began a whirling dance. He could not take his eyes from the pretty witch in her gauzy blue dress. At last, half exhausted, she stopped suddenly and came panting to sit beside him. He thought angrily that the exercise was bad for her heart; that some one should look after the girl, and that he would try to coax her to wear common-sense shoes—he would do that much good during his stay—iand she was little more than a child. !He wondered at Jimmie’s letting the igirl do so unfit a thing. On the strength of his concern for her unprotected situation he asked her to drive with him next day. The doctor had been coaxed to stay on a month at the Riverton place, and Rose began trailing him to the " best of her practised ability, while he told himself that he was looking after her properly. She rode and walked and drove with him. He found she could do most things that he could, and many-that he could not; the intelligence of her sympathy surprised him, and he always intended to speak to her about the folly of her ways. She delighted him when she' did what he least approved of—even to wearing high heels and dancing.

So he forgot his career, Miss Minerva, Boston, hla mother, and the universe. And, finally, he forgot himself. At least that was the opinion of his family—before they really knew Rose. One of the signs of the doctor’s ailment was that he began to forget to write home, and had already lenthened his proposed stay to a week past its supposed bounds. Back in the east -his mother went to call on Minerva. ’ No; Miss Far-* elgh had not heard from him foi some time. Minerva had long been tacitly considered a daughter in the family. Not that Everett had made love to her—he did not know, In fart, what love was, nor how to make it—not until he met Rose. And now that he had met her, he did not know that he was making love, nor was he aware that he had learned one of love’s first lessons—blindness to the world and forgetfulness of self. Like the ostrich, hiding from, his enemies by thrusting its head in the sand, he was hiding from his own heart. Mrs. Transom wrote her son a long letter. He replied, saying he was enjoying himself and really had decided to stay another week or twb—in fact, he would not say just when he would return. Then it was that his mother packed a trunk and decided that a little trip would do her good. She determined to surprise her son and come home with him—it would be a natural and motherly thing for her to do—and Bhe would see the girl who was keeping him. The wisddta of her sex warned her that “girl,” though unmentioned in her son’s letters, lay beneath hiß strange and sudden wish to dawdle in a mid-western town at the home of a mere college friend. Meanwhile Everett Transom was becoming very gay and foolish, discovering that he had really never lived, that the breezy western air was the finest in the world, and western girls had much more attractiveness than he would have thought possible. And Rose was growing quiet and serious— at little seasons, few and far between, be it admitted. Her interest was no longer feigned. She began to be a little afraid. This man with the resolute _ eyes and unsmiling mouth would not be flirted with and take dismissal easily, she knew she would be called to account.

Things were at this pretty pass of loverlike doubt and fear, when one lovely morning Mrs. Transom, quite unannounced, got out at the little station, and finding a cab, came out to the Reverton place. It was a beautiful day, and seeing the big house standing out by itself, where she could not miss it, she asked the driver to let her down to walk a few blocks after her long journey—besides, on foot, she would be more of a Surprise. As she entered the drive, she saw coming toward her a pretty dog cart And in it, his hands holding loosely the reins which should have beer guiding thp perverse spotted pony, sat her son—her cherished boylaughing and turning his face ridlcu lously close to a very pretty, a most unnecessarily pretty, yellow-haired girl who raised back at him in a manner, which was, to say the least, frank! Neither saw her. But the pony and not to run over her, shied. His senses returning, the young man looked up and saw his mother Not believing his eyes, startled, full of what he had been faying to Rose—how he loved her—he Jerked the reins the wrong way and the perverse pony started sharply to one side, so sharply that in a twinkling the cart upset and dumped lover and girl at the astounded and frightened old lady’s feet. Mrs. Transom tried to scream, but her voice refused to come. Then Dr. Transom was on his feet gathering Rose up out of the dust and into his arms, assuring himself she was not hurt, saying he knew not what until she declared she was not even scratched. Then he turned and dutifully kissed his mother. She looked sternly at Rose. "Your—new daughter, Rose," he explained swiftly. Rose, very dutifully, received her future mother-in-law’s frigid kiss.