Jasper County Democrat, Volume 6, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 March 1904 — HER FRANK OPINION [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HER FRANK OPINION

By A. S. RICHARDSON

Suzanne's voice rose decisively above the exclamations of dismay. “It might have been worse, and Miss Cranford can mend It.” She ran Into the hall and leaned over the balustrade. A young man, good to look upon and evidently fresh from riding, was watching the florists at work. “Frank!” “Cousin mine?” “Will you please go”— “I will,” responded the young man, running up the stairs—“anywhere you wish.” “Bless you, dear,” said Suzanne, dragging Frank into her mother’s room, where six pairs of feminine eyes rested despairingly on a hideous three cornered tear in Suzanne’s wedding

veil. “That must be mended, and only one woman in town can do such work —Elsa Cranford. Now, if”— “Where does she live?” Frank picked up the cloud of lace, yellowed by time, and looked at It critically. "I suppose that if you were not marrying a lord you would weur a nice, clean, new veil that would not tear when you looked at it. This is rotten.” Mrs. Lynde was shocked. “But this is an heirloom. It isn't every girl who can be married in the veil worn by her mother and her grandmother before her.” Frank bit his lips. lie wanted to say that the average girl who married a title through the more or less flagrant "mediation of u social matrimonial broker did not care to discuss her grandmother. When be had heard in Faris of his cousin’s engagement to this heir M an impoverished English name, he had discovered that, even after two wandering on the face of the 4flobe, Americanism was strong within him, and he hated to see the bulk of Lynde fortune go to build up a decrepit English estate. “You will find Miss Cranford at 213 Elmhurst avenue. Tell her she must do it at once and wait for it. We cannot take chances at this hour. Pay her anything—every^ing—but have it done. Tell Forbesno the brougham must meet the 11:20 train, and the”— “Don’t apologize, Suzanne,” laughed her cousin, taking the package. “If you had a whole racing stable at your command today every horse would be out. I’ll use my own mount and enjoy the ride.”

And so lie rode away past the stately manors of industrial magnates, past the less pretentious homes of real suburbanites, into a sleepy, eountry-like lane lined on either side with small cottages and gay gardens. At 213 he tied his horse to the cap of a near bronze jockey and stalked up the path. A slender, graceful young woman was training a climbing rose on the shady side of the porch. She drew off her garden gloves as Frank stated his errand and stood in the warm June sunlight studying the tom veil critically. “It will take at least an hour,” she said, turning toward the bouse. “Will you wait?” “Yes, thank you.” He sat down on the step and removed jiis hat. Above him on one side of the table, strewn with magazines, papers and sewing materials, sat an elderly woman with carefully dressed white hair. On the opposite side of the table was a vacant chair. Miss Cranford paused before it, looked at the unconscious Mr. Lynde with a slight frown and sat down. Aftef all there was not such a wide breach between the status of a footman in a millionaire's household and a professional mender. Besides, under existing conditions at tlve Lynde residence a tired footman might be forgiven a slight breach of discipline. She clipped her thread thoughtfully. Dame Fortune moved in a mysterious way. There was young Harry Lynde, brother of the bride, insignificant and stupid, and here was a footman molded on the lines of a Gibson model, With the easy grace which no end of dancing lessons could Impart to the unfortunate Barry.. The little garden was very quiet, and

visa's needle flew In and out of the lacy weave. Finally Mrs. Cranford’* curiosity triumphed over her dignity. “I suppose everything Is ready for the wedding?” “Everything, I believe.” He frowned slightly, "It is a great occasion, with Lord This and Lady That coming all the nay from England, but every time I think of that poor child”— “l)o stop that nonsense, mother,” exclaimed Elsa sharply. “She does not deserve pity, no matter what comes to her In the future. She marries Lord Harwood with her eyes open. She knows the man’s past, she knows his need of her money, and she knows”— The “footman” crushed his riding hat In Ills hands. “My dear, you are so positive.” “Well, mother, dear, we ought to know. The papers have contained no other news for weeks. And they will be full of it ugaln when she sues for a divorce. It is all so very silly. Everything that man can give her she could buy with her ow r n money. The one thing be cannot give her money cannot buy, yet that one thing I or any girl without a dollar to her name may have some day—the honest love of an honest man. I may be old fashioned, but I believe that with some women love still counts, und when it does it is everything—far, far above titles, coronets, castles and a corner In the queen’s throne room.” Silence once more fell upon the trio. The shining needle fairly flew. The girl’s bright eyes were fixed on her work. The man, gazing through the vista of prim gardens and dose cropped trees, was murmuring under his breath, “The honest love of an honest man.” Would she understand the difference between that little affair of three months in old Japan and an “honest love?” Then there had been Madeline! But that could not count! Why, he had even forgotten her last name! Miss Cranford was folding the precious veil.

“Perhaps—er—you would like to see the ceremony at the church ?” “Could you”— “Yes—l know—er—where the cards are kept” Mrs. Cranford protested. Iler daughter smiled scornfully. “They would not mind, mother. It's all a part of the show.” A tinge of color spread over the “footman’s” face. lie paused on the lower step. “I’ll send—l mean I’ll bring the card over this afternoon.” ******* Elsa Cranford in a simple dimity frock and a flower trimmed hat was caught in the crush of scintillating robes. An usher with a gardenia in his coat was just offering his arm to a stately dowager when he dropped something. He bent over, and the dowager was passed on to auother usher. When the first man straightened up, he extended his arm to Elsa. She gave one gasp, and all the color faded from her face; then, with head proudly uplifted, she started down the aisle at his side. “Please don’t look like that,” he whispered. “It was beastly caddish of me, but I do look a bit like Harry's Englishman, and—and—well, I’m glad I heard your frank opinion on such thingß anyhow.” They were at the pew door. She slipped in without a word, but ns she raised her eyes she caught the pleading look in his, and the rose color came back to her cheeks, t * * * A A • Thft wedding party and guests had left the church. Reporters with notebooks and sightseers crowded around the chancel. Elsa walked slowly toward the side entrance. The vestry room door opened suddenly, and Frank Lynde stepped out. He bent his head gravely, and there was no laughter in his eyes now. “Will you tell your mother, please, that directly this Infernal excitement is over I am coming to call porsoune propre? For I understand that she and dad were good friends in the old days, and—and I want you to think of me, an honest man.” But it was six months before she would admit the fact, and then she simply reiterated her statement that she did not envy the Countess of Harwood.

THE “FOOTMAN” CRUSHED HIS RIDING HAT IN HIS HANDS.