Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 213, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 September 1915 — A BALKY CINDERELLA [ARTICLE]

A BALKY CINDERELLA

By IZOLA FORRESTER.

And now it was over, the five weeks of travel through France and Normandy, old Brittany and Holland. Phil hardly heard what the count was saying as she leaned over the rail and looked ahead at New York’s skyline of tall buildings shaping out of the morning haze. She knew perfectly well that Aunt Isabel was watching them from her deck chair even while she discussed custom troubles with the commodore and Larry. The whole situation had been explained to Phil before she left her stateroom.

“We’ve done everything we could for you, Philippa,” Aunt Isabel had said plaintively,' “Here we have the royal suite or bridal suite, or whatever they call IL and everyone thinks, of course, you are your uncle’s heiress. I haven’t denied IL for it helps immensely, and both the commodore and myself are really quite fond of you. You’ve been very sweet during the trip and clothes have done wonders for you, too, and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t marry the count. I have no doubt but what your uncle would do the right thing by you, though I do hope the castle is well .ventilated. He hates stuffy ruins, so I’d never get him to visit you. I’m sure your mother-can’t say but what I’ve made you a success.” “Yes, ma’am,” Phil said mildly, turning around on her little finger Larry’s boyish silver ring. Plain it was, just a band of silver worn thin, with his monogram engraved on it, but it had been on her hand since a certain evening the third day out She regarded it thoughtfully. Larry had not been definite. He had not made any sort of a proper prosposal, as Aunt Isabel would have put iL He had only slipped the ring from his own hand to hers as it lay beside him on the railing, and had tried to tell her how much she meant to him, and how some day when he had made a success he would go to the commodore and ask him to give her to him. Larry had been the unknown quantity in Aunt Isabel’s reckoning. The commodore had met. him in Paris, stranded after trying to Impress the continent with the v/ilue of a certain make of spark plugs. As a salesman he was a failure, but the commodore had made him private secretary, courier and general major domo, and he had won his regard and the surety of work in the big general offices out WesL Somehow there didn’t seem to be anything real excepting the little silver ring. She hated the Cinderella clothes she wore and even the string of pearls the' commodore had given her. And as she saw Larry’s cheerful, boyish face she did what Ted back home called “Phil’s trick.” She balked.

“I’m awfully sorry,” she told the little, courteous count, giving him her hand, “but I can’t do as you wish. I’m not the commodore’s heiress, you know. I’m just his niece by marriage, and they had both been kind enough to give me this trip. I haven’t |IOO of my very own. Won’t you go and talk to Aunt Isabel, please, and forget all about me?” "Mademoiselle, I —l honor you," he faltered over her hand. And Phil knew he was grateful to her for her frankness. Then she turned to Larry, and they leaned over the railing together happily. “You turned him down, didn’t you?* Larry said. She nodded her head. “I told him the real truth, and I want to tell you. too, Larry.” And she did —far more completely than the count had heard it. “What are you going to do?” asked Larry. “Stay home and look after things and mother. I’m the only one that likes home life,” she laughed. “Aunt Isabel said the only home for me wa* either to dress me up and make me a social attraction, or else marry me off to some adjacent farmer. We haven’t any adjacent farmers down our way, though, and I’m not a social success a bit.” Larry’s strong young hand closed over hers. His face was close to her fluffy windblown hair. “Can I go and tell the commodore he’s got to raise my salary because I'll have a wife to look after soon? Can I, Phil? I know you care, sweetheart. You’re blushing like fury. If you don’t quit IL I’m going to lean over and kiss you before everybody. Can I tell him, Phil?” “After we dock,” said Phil, contentedly. “I don’t want Aunt Isabel or the little count to faint away just thia minute. They’ll think we’re perfectly crazy, Larry.” “Who cares?’’ Larry retorted promptly. "1 may not have any moldy old castle or title to give you, but I’ll make you happy, dear, 'I know I will.’’ Phil snuggled as close to his side as she could get. “I’ll bet a cookie,” she whispered, “Cinderella just loved real pumpkins and mice. Crystal slippers pinch awfully.” (Copyright. 1915. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)