Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 172, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 July 1918 — THE LITTLE HOUSE [ARTICLE]

THE LITTLE HOUSE

By GERALDINE MACK.

(Copyright, 1918, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Edwin Witham, bachelor, millionaire, clubman, Harvard ’l2, golf expert and gentleman, sat reading an advertisement in the Yokum Daily. It read thus: , “For sale, Little House in the Wood, all modern conveniences, will sell at sacrifice. Inquire Miss Eunice Loveless. TeL 89 Main.” Little House in the Wood, Eunice ■Loveless. As I repeated the words over to myself I found them to my liking. Surely the owner of such a name must be enchanting. Why shouldn’t I inquire about the Little House in the Wood? I would, and. I did. Making my way to the telephone, I gave the number to the operator. After a long and “patient wait a rippling “Hello” came over the wire. Where had I heard that voice before? Ahl I; remembered. It was the voice of the girl to whom I had sought an introduction all season. —“Hello, is this Miss Eunlcq,Loveless?” “It is” Again that rippling voice, which sent my heart into my mouth. “This is Mr. Edwin Witham speaking. I have read'your advertisement and am Interested in the Little House in the Wood.” “I would be very glad to show you the place at your convenience, Mr. Witlftim.” At my convenience! My convenience would be any time. “I’ll be out on the next train, Miss Loveless.” “Very well. Good-bye.” “Good-bye.” Looking at my watch, I found It to be 1:15. I had just enough time to catch the 1:25 out. As I stepped off the train at Yokum I looked around. There at the end of the platform was Miss Eunice Loveless. She was dressed in blue and looked very young and gay. As I advanced toward her, she smlwd and said: “Mr. Edwin Witl»m. I believe?” “Yes, and this Is Miss Eunice Loveless,” said I, admiring her dimples, her gray eyes and the black hair so becoming beneath the trim blue hat. “You know, Miss Loveless, I sdw you at the club dance last month and, because I was obliged to leave suddenly, I never knew your name.” I thought it best not to add that I had done my best to find out, though. She laughed and jumped into the little racer, and we started off. The ride to the little house in the wood was very beautiful. The river, along which the road ran, extended as clear and as still as glass. The air was soft and the pine-wooded shores very silent. The house was but 10 minutes’ distance from the station, and as we neared it the girl at the wheel cried: “Behold! Little House in the Wood.” The house stood on a knoll surrounded by pine trees, overlooking the river. There were rows of boxwood bordering the driveway from the low, spacious veranda to the river road. The house was for the greater part covered with ivy.

“How’s the first impression,” asked Miss Loveless, the trim little hat on one ear, the dimples coming and going, and the gray eyes sparkling. “Fine,” said I. “You must come around to see the swimming tank,” said she, leading the way to the back lawn. “That settles It, I’ll take it because of the swimming pool,” said I. The dimples came and went. °I suppose you will think It funny of me to want to sell this place, when my father gave it to me this season. I’ll tell you the deep, dark truth, if you’ll, promise not to tell.” I promised. ' “Well it’s this way. I entered my horse ‘Jose San’ in the Yokum .races. I was sure of his winning, so I bet on him. ‘Jose San’ finished about half a neck behind ‘Junior’ the winner.” Here she looked at me, the gray eyes wide and the red lips poutipg. Who could stand such a pout? Who could sfbld such a charming child as she? Not I, so I only grinned and told her that I would be out that night with the money to close th£ deal. I felt rather guilty when I said that, for the deal could have been closed then and there. Thai night as I drew up to the veranda, she stood in the doorway. The light from the hall fell on her hair, and outlined her dainty, attractive, girlish figure. As she greeted me her eyes looked very gray, and her hair very black. The dimples came and went, and she led me into the library, she looked very small and lovely and helpless. As I handed her the money -she suddenly began to sob. “Oh, Mr. Witham, I don’t want it to But I need the money, so I suppose’it must. If I only had courage to tell Dad about the race.” The light had gone from her eyes, the dimples from the soft cheeks, and the small mouth quivered. Without thinking, I rushed to her. I took her in my arms, crushed her to me, and said over and over, “Eunice dearie, it doesn’t have to go. it will be yours and mine. ‘The Little House in the Woods.’ Look at me, darling, and let me find my answer in your sweet eyes.” As she lifted her eyes to mine, I saw But it was a different light, brighter and warmer, and I knew that light burned for me. As I crushed her to me, she whispered, my name as if it were a thing sacred; adored, revered and loved. It was my answer. “The Little House in the Wood” was mJ bride’s to be and mine. • -