Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 230, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 September 1911 — The Girl on the Cover [ARTICLE]

The Girl on the Cover

With a sudden, Watftpfaive clutch Cteorge B*u**«& griftbbeQ the magazine from the news stand. .Tbagf.' , staring straight Into his eye# from she cover, was a bewitening picture of Grace GkWfemzzm Wkce, whom era’ .git ri s m 1 • “I’ll take all of these magazines yqu’ve got,” Brunson cried to the rilerk behind the counter. The clerk stared, and lost no time in bundling up. * dozen or'more of thfe thrigWiri^*! ed bis eyea on kte sweetheart’s face. Coherent tboufebt returned to him presently and he sought for the arUshers of the inagazibe asking, for the artist’s address. IB the day intervening between the mailing of kls note and the receipt of a reply, Btunson did little but purchase pew copies of the magazine. We whiled away several weary hpurs in tepriqg off the magazine covers and in ning them on the Uhjtgrim. At last the letter With the address of the artist, A. B. Sloane came. Luckily, sloane lived In trie same city with Brunson and the lgUpr lo£t no time in hurrying to Sloane’s studio. Once there he sept in his card and waited impatiently until the maid returned with ft, “Miss Sloane is out,” the maid said, and looked at Brunson curiously. So A- B. Sloane is a woman, he thought to himself. Three times he tried to see Miss Sloane, but each time was met withthe information that she was out. Brrinson began to consider the matter mysterious. Why was it that he could never see Miss Sloane? Perhaps she did not thoroughly understand the situation. ■He would write to her. Accordingly he penned the following note: # “Dear Miss Sloane: “I wish to see you to learn the whereabouts of the young lady who pohed for the cover design for the present month’s issue of ‘The Public Magazine.’ This young lady was and is my sweetheart. We parted in a qqarrel; and I have never seen or heard of her until I saw her picture. The young lady in question got the idea that I was engaged to another girl. Can’t you let me know where she is so that I can set myself right? ‘‘Yours Truly, George Brunson,” Hopefully Brunson waited for a reply to this epistle, but no reply came. Again he attempted to .call upon Miss Sloane* but again was informed that sfce was out. Would anything be more mysterious and exasperating he wondered. Finally, in desperation, de decided to camp at Miss Sloane’s door until he either saw her qr passed away through sheer exhaustion. Accordingly, his pockets filled with sandwiches, he took op his post near the door one morning. All day he stayed there without results. Many people entered the bther rooms, but not one came to Miss Btaane’g studio or left. Many curious glances were cast at him, but he ; did not care. Once or twice he the door opened a short distance and someone peeked at him, but he could not* be sure. At last late at night, be was rewarded. Someone left the studio and attempted to hurry past"" him. It Vas a woman. Brunsoa A*ught her by the arm and dragged her to a light Then he saw Grace Cameron, his sweetheart. - .* . .. 1 “Why, why!” he cried. “How are you here?” ‘I—I go( your note,” faltered, “but I didn’t reply—l wanted to see if you were in earnest or not. You see I go by the name of A. B. Sloane now. I drew that cover design—of myself. I —l hoped you would see it.” For a moment Brunson looked at her uncomprehending. Then a glad light came into his eyes. “Have I explained away your quarrel?” he asked. “Do you find me enough in earnest to —to say ■Yes?”' He glanced into her face and saw his |inswer in the divine light which sprang into her eyes at his words.— Frank H. Williams.