Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 196, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 August 1913 — GOT RIGHT WOMAN [ARTICLE]

GOT RIGHT WOMAN

She Wasn’t Marrying His Money, But the Only Man in the World to Her.

By T. BLAIR EATON.

Peter Barlow squared his big shoul ders and turned to the gray-haired man who Was scribbling on bits of paper at the mahogany desk, “Let’s have all the horrible details,” said Peter, with a grin intended to be entirely nonchalant, but which, if the whole truth be told, was a trifle forced. “Just how much, or rather how little, is there left, Mr. Grayson?” Grayson frowned as he looked at the columns of figures on those bits of paper before him. “There’s practically nothing, Peter,” he said, with a slow shake of his head. “This is bad business —much worse than I thought at first. I’m sorry—more sorry than I can tell you. If you’d only come to me six months ago— ’’ z “That’s one of my characteristics—to shut the door after the horse is gone,” said Peter. “Nothing, you say 7 H’m! That’s bad. I’ve managed to get a chance with Billy Kenmore at those mines of his in Sonora. It’s a blamed long walk down there.” “There’ll be, perhaps, five hundred dollars,” said Grayson. “Fine!” said Peter; then he scowled. Grayson interpreted correctly the meaning of thgt scowl. “Of course, it will take a little time to straighten this whole mess out,” said be. “In the meantime, call on me for anything you want up to that five hundred.” / “Thanks! Mighty good of you*’’ said Peter. With a whimsical smile he turned/ his pockets inside out. A dollar bill and a little odd change tumbled to th* corner of the desk. “I’m going to take you at your word,” said Peter. “I’ll have to have my expenses down there, and there are a few little things I want to set straight before I leave. . Suppose you let me have —say three hundred and fifty, if it will be all right.” Grayson nodded. "Surely,” he agreed. “Like it in cash?” "Yes, that’ll be best,” said Peteh The other touched a button beneath the desk. “Bring me in three hundred and fifty dollars, Babbitt,” he ordered the clerk who answered the summons. Ten minutes later Peter Barlaw, the three hundred and fifty dollars tucked in various pockets, shook hands with the lawyer, laughingly cut short the other’s expressions of commiseration, and went out. But in the hall Peter Barlow's face became very grave. It became graver as he walked towards the elevator. Then he pulled out a little engagement book, glanced at a certain page, and all but groaned aloud. “To Edith’s for answer Thursday at three,” he read. This was Thursday, and between the time of writing that entry four days ago and the present time, Peter Barlow’s assets had shrunk from a supposed half million to something like five htmdred dollars. “ ‘To Edith’s at three for answer,’ ’’ he repeated jjrimly. “I’ve got the answer right now, and I may as well take time by the forelock and go up there at once.” He pulled out his watch. It was quarter to twelve. “Yep, I’ll go at once,” he .decided, and went out to the street to hail a taxi. “Say,” he said, cheerfully to the chauffeur, “I can’t in the least afford this, but habit is strong, and besides this is my last appearance so take me to Jolin’s on the avenue, then over to McPhair’S, then run me up to this address,” he finished, handing the chauffeur a scribbled card. It was nearing one when the taxi stopped at the uptown address. Peter alighted, paid the chauffeur, gathered up from the seat a huge box of candy and a large box of orchids, mounted the steps and rang the bell. He waited In the subdued light of the hall until he heard the patter of light footsteps on the polished stairs. “Peter!” cried the girl, running up to him and catching his arm playfully, “it was three! Don’t you remember?” Peter seemed about to catch her In his arms, then suddenly, his lips set and he stepped a pace away from her. He was still smiling, but it wasn’t cheerful —that smile. ( "You see,” said he. “I have brought you the answer Instead of waiting for it. It wouldn’t do, dear —never in the world. It would be a frightful mistake. I've just realized it I’m going away—to Mexico tomorrow, and —and —say, here's some of those fuzzy chocolates and a box of orchids,” he ended rather painfully. The girl made no move to take either of the boxes he bad caught up and was holding up to her. She was looking at him curiously. "You see,” he began, after an exceedingly awkward pause, "you see. I*ve just come to my senses. All those doubts of yours werp right. It wouldn't do—we’d never be happy. HI just hike Opt and leave the field -do a better man and —” "Peter!” The single word came so sharply that he stopped short. "You’ve asked me to marry you. You were coming here this afternoon for your answer. It*s to late to hedg*. I’ve decided I will marry you!” “Dear suffering sslnta!” gasped P*-

ter and dropped both the boxes with crash. Twice he opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words would not com*. When they did come, at last, they were hurried, garbled, like the words of a man in a panic. “Oh, you can’t,” he said. “You can’t. I tell you' it won’t do. I shouldn't have asked you. I made a mistake. I —” She looked at him narrowly.. “Why?” said she very calmly. She seemed to be enjoying immensely his discomfiture. “Well, I—I—” Peter began to stammer. “Another girl?” she questioned softly. \ Peter clutched at straws. “Yes, that’s it, another girl,” he declared shamelessly. She began to laugh. Peter felt yet more uncomfortable. “You’ll have to forget her.” said she. “We’re goinfc to be married — before you go to Mexico tomorrow.” “Say, look here, Edith,” Peter said vehemently. “We can’t. I tell you—” She stepped close to him. She put both hands on his shoulders. She was looking up at him with shining eyes. Peter, at the sight of her thus, groaned aloud. “You are telling me anything but the truth,” said she. “I happen to know the whole truth. I know your money is all gone, save five hundred dollars or so. Mr. Grayson was dining here with us last night. He told father. And father said: “That’s the best thing that ever happened to the young scamp. Peter’s'got the stuff in him. It will be the making of him —that and the right woman.’ And I am she, Peter, the right woman —1 know it —I’d have known it if dad hadn’t winked at me when he said what he did. I’m going down there to Mexico with you to help you manage Billy Kenmore’s mine. Yes, I am; don’t say a word. You just march those orchids straight back to Jolin’s, and take that candy back to McPhair’s and tell them you don’t want them. The idea! You couldn’t afford them. And mind you, walk; no taxis. And after you’ve taken those things back, go get the license, and come straight back here. Dad will be here with Doctor Brook, and we’ll be married here very quietly.” Peter looked at her very hungrily. Then with a sudden sralghtening of his tall frame and a shutting of his teeth, he spoke. “I won’t! You shan’t make this sacrifice,” said he. “Sacrifice!” said she. “Is it a sacrifice th marry the one man in th* world you’ll ever care about? I wasn’t marrying your old half million you thought you had; I'm marrying you. And I think you are going to be a whole lot better. You without that money.” , “No,” said Peter Barlow, heroically, but rather unconvincingly. ” She came very close to him once more. Her soft hair brushed his cheek. She looked up at him with eyes that burned like two stars. The nearness of her, the dainty sweetness of her made him gasp. “No?”,she asked with a quiet smile of triumph. “No?” He caught her in his arms. He held her tight “Yes—oh, the fool that I am! — yes,” said he. “You win; you knew you would. What show have I got to put any fine notions In effect when you’re with me? Marry you? I’d like to see anybody stop me, money or no money. Hang it what a fool lam to let you do this, what a fool, but how fearfully happy I am being that kind of a fool!” An hour later Peter Barlow again entered Grayson’s office. “I think I’ll go the limit and borrow tfle whole of the five hundred off you,” said Peter. “You see, I’m taking a wife down to the mines with me.” “A wife?” said Mr. Grayson, evidently not in the least surprised. “Assuredly, Peter. Excellent idea. I was sure you would.' I was sure of it last night at dinner. I am not sure, too, but what you owe the winning of that wife to the loss of your money. I think it opened her eyes to her. real affection for you. Well, she’s worth losing that trifling sum for.” “You bet she Is,” said Peter Barlow. (Copyright, 1913. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)