Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 145, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 July 1917 — FORCING INTEREST [ARTICLE]

FORCING INTEREST

By SUSAN E. CLAGETT.

It had poured steadily for three days and nights and as Martha Pendleton stood in the doorway peering out into the gathering darkness there was so heavy a downpour it seemed as if all the waters In the heavens had been collected in one vast bucket and overturned upon the little mill town. She watched the sweep of rain with dismay, hesitating to brave the onsfottglit. “You had better wait until it holds up. This cannot last long,” a cool, pleasant voice said from out the shadow at her back. As the man spoke he ’•is thinking of a talk he had had with his father some days before, and its consequences. “ _—— “How is it that Richard Pendleton’s girl is working in the mill?” he had asked the older man. Old Tom Dally flicked the ash from his cigar and paused quite a time before answering. “Why?” he had asked at length. “She seems out of place.” “If she has to make her living I fancy she is doing it in the way she best can. You have charge of the department. Isn’t her work satisfactory _ “Perfectly. I was only wondering why she had to make her living.” “There was a slump in certain securities and all Dick Pendleton saved from the wreck was that cottage on the edge of town where the girl and her mother lived. Then, to make matters worse, the shock killed him.” “Couldn’t you have done better by the girl than put her in the mill?” “I tried, son. But. my boy, there is a pride that will not accept help unless it be given in the form of work. It was best for her to stay in her home town with her mother, so I gave her such employment as I could. I would gladly have done .more.” Tom swung himself out of the room. An hour later he was ransacking the town to find something to make Martha Pendleton think. Roses? There were none. Books and candy seemed too ordinary a medium with which to approach her. At last, seized by an inspiration, he wrote to her, and this was his letter:

“Martha Pendleton, up to now you have never given me a thought. From now on, for a week, I am going to compel your interest by writing to you every day. Just a line. Unfortunately, I have never dabbled In correspondence. Now I wish that I had. It would make it easier for mein this determination to draw your thoughts in my direction. “I cannot give you longer than a week because I hold you too close in my heart to wait longer. You will have to think of me, dear. You will not he able to help it; because I am only going to sign myself, One Who Cares.” Every day for the week he had sent a letter. Sometimes i't was closely written, sometimes but a line, but each evening when the' girl reached her home the big white envelope was lying upon the hall table. Now, as she stood in the mill door staring out into the drenching rain, her umbrella turned inside out from her first attempt to battle with the wind, she turned perplexed eyes upptt. th® young fellow standing near. “I have waited until I can wait no longer, Mr. Dally. Mother will be alarmed.” “You will have to wait until it holds up,” he replied. “Come into the office. It is pleasanter He led the way, touching theyelectric switch and throwing the room into brilliant light. “Sit here in father’s chair, Miss Pendleton. Fate has taken a hand in affairs tonight and I—l want to talk to you.” She turned to him In some surprise. “You know dad pretty well, do you not?” “He has been very kind to me," she answered simply. “He’s that kind—” Tom took a deep breath —“I want you to go to the parsonage with me before you return home? 1 - z The girl had risen and was looking at him with crimsoned cheeks. “Just what do you mean. Mr. Dally?” Now that the die was cast Tom regained a semblance of confidence. “What I have been telling you for a week past. I couldn’t go to your home without creating gossip here in the mill, and I didn’t wish to subject you to that Chance has brought about our meeting earlier than I expected.” He fumbled in his pocket “I have the license, Martha. You have your bat and the sky is clearing. Are you teadyr For an appreciable instant the girl hesitated. “I was ready the night I received your first letter, Tom.” Then she laughed. “You dear. I have been familiar with your handwriting for months and months. Your father was very proud of your college letters, and always brought them over for mother and me to read.” • (Copyrlght, 1917. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)