Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 53, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 March 1913 — NONDESCRIPT TYPE [ARTICLE]

NONDESCRIPT TYPE

How Polly Irving Heard of the Last Twig on the Family Tree. , ■ —■— * i BY IZOLA FORRESTER. "For me?,” repeated Polly. She Siad opened the door of room four ■barely enough to see the mite that stood waiting there. “Are you sure you’ve got the right room, Dan?” Dan was positive he had. He had been sent up to the principal’s office for misbehaving, and had been used as a handy messenger in any emergency case. There was a gentleman up there who wanted to see Miss Irv- ... Now, the strangest part was that to Polly’s knowledge no gentleman so far had evinced any yearnihg to see Miss Irving in all Miss Irving’s life, and especially since she had become a kindergarten teacher. So she hesitated, wondering what sort of an agent had located her there. “Well, you may bring him down here, Danny," she said finally, and iDan sped away. Polly, went back to her desk with fluttering pulses. It was hard to face jeveDu the forty pair of Inquisitive childish eyes watching “teacher.” There was a tiny round mirror lying in her desk drawer, long unused,' but now, just for an instant she lifted It cautiously out, and looked at herself. She saw gray eyes, rather serious and a very decided chin. Polly loved to !tell herself that she had a decided chin in spite of the dimple there. And there was a kink In the fair wave of hair, too, but still, she was a rather nondescript type of girl. She had heard ever since she had been knee high to the table, that she had- no Charm and no magnetism. One grows to believe a thing after it has been drummed Into one steadily. The color rose in her face at the kdock on the door. It was not a timid one. “Come,” she called. “I'm looking for Miss Irving,” said a rather boyish voice, and a head was intruded into the sacred precinct of rbom four. “Can you spare teacher just a minute, children?’” “Yezzlr,” rose a buzzing chorus. Miss Irving went to the door, and atepped out into the hall, puzzled and jrather on the defensive. “You’re Miss Maullne Mary Irving?” he asked, smiling down at her. “Yes, but I don’t care to buy anything at all,” began Polly firmly. “Don’t you?” He was really laughing now, “You will later, Miss Irving. I bring you very good news. My name is Maynard Talbot. I have hunted all the way from London to Chicago for you.’’ “From London?” repeated Polly, wonderingly. “Why?” “You are chief legatee under your granduncle’s will. I can’t explain so hurriedly, but it’s a matter of twenty thousand pounds, about one hundred thousand dollars. Sir Robert’s solicitors sent me over to find you. May I wait until school is over?” “If —if you like,” Polly faltered. She gave him a chair near the desk, and tried to conduct that last half hotfr of kindergarten as she had done for thirteen years, ever since she had been a girl of eighteen. When it was over, and the last little lass had thrown her a kiss at the door, she sighed, and turned to the young man from Londontown. “Now tell me all about it,” she said. “*I knew father had relatives abroad, but he died so long ago, and mother was from New England, so we rather forgot the British branch.” “The only twig left on that branch was old Sir Robert,” said her caller, ■cheerfully. “I’ve seen him several times, whenever I had to run down to Tiverton Manor. He died about seven ■months ago. There are several very good country places, but those go to the next of kin. The money was his private fortune, and he willed it to your father or his heirs.” “Will I have to go over there to live?” asked Polly. “Dear, dear, no. You may live where you like. I’m going to. I’ve just put ill my money into land up In Alberta, British Columbia, you know. All of Us younger sons have a hankering for your west and our west. There isn’t much for us nowadays over home, and the new generation doesn’t care to hang around on bones and leavings, ao to speak. And when a chap’s not talented, he might as well take to the open, and hit a niw trail, don’t you think so?” “Listen," said Polly, eagerly, leaning forward, her hands clasped over her knees, her eyes shining. “Why couldn’t I do that too? Why couldn’t I hit a new trail, as you say, and ppt my money into something way out there where it Is all new and free? I’d love to.” “But it's no place for a girl you know,” Talbot told her seriously. Tm not just a* girl,” protested Polly. “If I were twenty and pretty it might be different, but I’m not I’m thirty-one, and very ordinary—” “Oh, but you’re not, you know,” he declared. “Yes, I am,” Polly insisted. “I never expect to marry, but I want a great big place of my own that I can ride over and run as t like. I shall go west with you, Mr. Talbot" Until the clock up on the wall pointed to five Talbot tried to argue her out of it Then every day for a week he spent several hours trying to persuade her as to the proper course for an heiress to follow. Still Polly wilfullj set her face westward. Rapidly •he cleaned up matters at home. The

kindergarten was dropped at the end Of the quarter. Then when her first installment arrived from London, she began buying her outfit, and after her through the stores trailed Maynard Talbot, admiring but fearful. They grew to be pals during those days. They pored over section maps together, and visited all manner of railroad offices and outfitting places. They read up on grazing and wheat culture, they discussed mew styles in silos as well as riding boots. Polly wanted to start in on a heavy basis, but Talbot advised caution until they had become accustomed to the country and its needs. “It’s too bad you’re going to take a place of your own,” she seM, one day. “I’d like you to manage mSbe for me, ypu know.” “I’ll do it anyway," Maynard promised, as he lounged on the sand at her feet. They had strolled far out along the lake shore until the big sand dunes lured them to rest “I’ll get a place next to yours.” “Will you, Mr. Talbot? Truly?” Polly looked at him earnestly. “I think you’ve been so nice to me ever since you came, and I must ha*ve seemed a terrible nuisance to you.” “A very precious responsibility,” said Maynard, smiling up at her. “I told you the firm back home I’d look after your interests.” “Had you ever seen my picture?” “Never. I wish I had one of you this minute as you look now.” Polly looked at him reflectively, even suspiciously. No one had ever paid her compliments before. “Do you like the way I look, Mr. Talbot? 1 ’ curiously. 7777 Maynard was silent a full minute. He looked at her until she turned her eyes away from him, and then his hand closed tightly over hers as it rested beside him on the sand. And Polly laughed, a rippling nervous little laugh. “Oh, say it quick,” she whispered. “I’ve always wondered what men find to say. They seem such big overgrown, awkward, helpless boys, you know —” “Do they?” said Maynard grimly. He sat up and took her in his arms. “Well, I’m not going to say. anything.” She closed her eyes as he bent his head and kissed her. It was almost worth being a girl without charm to find your first kiss given to the one man you loved, she thought. “Now listen. We will be married here, go on to Alberta and choose our place, then cross over to England in time for the Christmas holidays. We owe some sort of decent acknowledgment to Uncle Robert.”

Polly sat up very erect. “To whom?” He looked thoroughly amused. “Uncle Robert, I said. Do you mind, dear? I’m the next of kin. I was on my way west anyway, and decided to take a look for myself at the little seventeenth degree American cousin. I didn’t know I was to find my Lady Polly. And I feared if you knew the whole truth at once, you’d be on your dignity with me, and we wouldn’t be good friends at all. Don’t you know?” Polly covered her face with both her hands, . “Oh, it/takes away all the fun of our starting out west together,” she cried, “and —and being pals.” Talbot held her close in his arms. “It doesn’t do anything of the sort, you silly child,” he laughed. “We’ll be married at once. Say yes, Polly. Polly? Hear me?” Polly nodded her head. (Copyright, 1913, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)