Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 130, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 May 1913 — WINNING OF A MAN [ARTICLE]

WINNING OF A MAN

' '■■■■ ■■ i \ J What Happened When a Real | Man Entered Upon Winona’s Horizon. By HARMONY WELLER. ; Winona sighed deeply. She felt that iher reasons for sighing were many and good. / In the first place Winona firmly believed that the numerous suitors for her hand were merely after her money. She had not stopped to realize that Sher eyes were gloriously blue and her hair a shining mass of copper, nor did she know that her character was lovable and her mentality above the average. All she reckoned on was the fact that her money was a snare for fortune hunters and she doubted her swains, one and all. Secondly, she sighed because she had had a splendid art education, yet wealth and social obligation had kept her from manifesting her talent. Winona had taken a course In interior decorating and in her heart she felt that she would reach supreme heights of happiness if she were allowed to dab paints on the walls of adorable little bungalows. Thirdly, she sighed—and perhaps ■he sighed deepest—over the fact that a real man, the kind that would take her heart and life by storm, had failed to appear on her horizon. “Perhaps I am just naturally hard to please,” she reasoned, “but I simply cannot love a man who idles about in a steam yacht or touring car all day and who haunts the cabaret restaurants by night”

X A tear squeezed itself from beneath "Winona’s lashes; then a second and third. After that her head went for--ward and she wept oat her unhappiness on the Irish lace that covered her sofa pillows. Her hither coming in found her •curled up like a kitten and with tears streaming down her lovely cheeks. “Wlnny!” he cried, and took her into his arms. "I am just terribly unhappy,” she smiled at him through her tears, “I want a long brown painting apron and brushes and paints—and—and something to paint!”

“Bless my soul, child —you can have an entire shop if you want it As for something to paint, I can give yourj contract that will tax even your clever schemes for decorating.” Winona smiled into her father’s •yes. “Tell me quickly!” she demanded. will be so happy you won’t know me—if I can just be a working person for once.” __ • “I have seen an architect today about putting up a dozen bungalowß on the West Park road. I want them to be little gems along the drive and the young chap I have chosen has Ideas that I like. Now you and he can get together—that is if you can without actually coming to blows,” he ended with a laugh. “I am not sure that I would let him know that you are my daughter,” he added; “he might be inclined to give way to you—though Davenport doesn’t seem like the man who would give in much to anybody” Winona pouted, ttten hugged her father. Her cheeks were free of tears and her eyes sparkling. “I love the idea! I shall go straight away and get a plain frock suck as a working artist would have. You are a dear!” she.cried excitedly and hugged him again. When Winona met John Davenport she was not Bure that they would avoid the blows that her father had laughingly suggested. The young architect had, looked at her in a more or less supercilious manner when he bad learned that he, in a way, was to work with her. “He is evidently one of those unlllumined men who think ttrJJ anything feminine belongs seated ax the side of a sewing basket I will-show him!" she decided and Davenport fell to wondering why the girl’s blue eyes bad narrowed In so peculiar a manner. That was but the first of Ms wondering. Prom the moment he and Winona began to talk actual business he was kept in a state of cdntinual surprise. ' “She is a clever artist,” he told himself often when some particular bit of designing discussed. “And after all —the feminine mind should know more about a home than the masculine.” s Had Winona realized the pralße that Davenport was giving her in his mind she would have been even happier in those days of work when, the bungalows were progressing at a splendid rate. But she did not know it and her heart was beginning to feel that a real man had entered upon her horizon. Notwithstanding her first impression she knew now that John Davenport was a man whom any girl could be proud of winning. The close companionship and exchange of ideas gave her ample time to know him as she had known no other man. He would never idle away his days on yachts and motor and Winona smiled when she tried to picture him at a cabaret •how or dancing the-one-step. “And I think he likes me,” she told herself with a little happy sigh; “his eyes tell me so.” She was high on her ladder painting fleecy clouds ton the ceiling when khe heard his voice in the next room, tae was speaking with some one 'Whose voice was feminine and rich. Winona almost stopped breathing so -suddenly had the seeming position •truck her. The architect was showing the bungalow to someone. “I like this the best of all, dear,”

the feminine voice went'on. "The aecorations appeal to me most.- Could we take this one or has it been sold?” "No —It is the last but one to go. 1 think we could be very happy here —it is just big enough for you and me, Isn’t it? I will make arrangements for the purchase this afternoon.” He turaqd suddenly and sprang into the next room. A crash had sent the rqjl blood out of his cheeks. “Winona!” he cried and picked the girl up. She had toppled from her ladder and lay white and still in his arms. Fortunately she bad fainted before falling and the limpness of her body had prevented serious injury. “Oh-h,” she sighed, and opened her eyes wonderingly. Davenport’s arms tightened about her and Winona felt him tremble, j “Tell me, dear—are you hurt?” he questioned tenderly. He glanced quickly up at the other woman who stood beside him. “Mother,” he said, “I want you to know the girl I love—l have told you so much about her.” Winona drew a long breath and her heart took up the beat where it had left off when she thought her architect had been Bpeaking to his future wife. Later on, when they had decided upon an early wedding, Winona looked up at Davenport with • rather fright ened eyes. “But I have stacks and stacks of money,” she said and waited fearfully for his wrath. “So have I, sweetheart,” he laughed, “more than I can in any way take care of. So let’s forget it and just be happy.” “We won’t have much trouble doing that —will .we?” Winona sighed happily. “Is this the way you two build bungalows?” asked Winona’s father, who stood in the doorway. “Yes,” and we are going to build one more,” John Davenport said. (Copyright, 191*. by, the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)