Jasper County Democrat, Volume 10, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 October 1907 — A Game That Two Can Play [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Game That Two Can Play

By W. Crawford Sherlock.

Copyrighted, 1907, by Homer Sprague.

“You won’t keep me waiting long, will you, Beatrice?” urged Fairchild. “Long engagements seldom terminate happily.” “Don’t they?" Inquired Miss Morri■on provoklngly, “I have never had any experience.” "Neither have I,” returned Fairchild Indignantly. “I speak from observation. Don’t keep me In suspense, but name the day, won’t you?” “Why, Lawrence, we’re just engaged!” opposed the girl coyly. “We shouldn’t talk about marrying for a year at least.” “I’m going to Chicago next month,” declared Fairchild emphatically, “and shall expect you to be all ready to marrt me then.” “I’ll never marry in Chicago,” asserted Beatrice positively. “I just hate that town.”

“Then why not marry me here?” pleaded her lover, taking her band and gazing earnestly into her dark blue eyes, “Yon have no relatives to consult, nor have I. We can do as we please, and no one can object.” “Oh, that would be impossible! Why, I wouldn’t have time to get ready.” “You don’t need any more clothes if that is what you mean,” argued Fairchild. “You had seven big Saratogas with you when you came to Ocean Villa and have worn a different gown every time I have seen you, which iias not been seldom, to say the least.” “I know, but”— Fairchild, however, would listen to no objections and pleaded so eloquently that Miss Morrison finally agreed to marry him the following Thursday. The news of the approaching wedding was soon circulated among the guests of the fashionable Ocean Villa, and many were the congratulations and well wishes extended to the prospective bride and groom. These manifestations of good feeling were not unmixed with some traces of envy. “I don’t see what Mr. Fairchild sees in that Beatrice Morrison,” declared Amanda Sparks, who had entertained more than a friendly regard for the prospective young Benedict. “She’s as

plain as a pipestem, and all her clothes don’t give her the slightest style.” ‘‘lt’s her money he’s after,” asserted Leslie Warren, who had made diligent inquiries Into Miss Morrison’s financial standing. “Mrs. Rockingham says she’s as rich as can be, owns all sorts of lahd and warehouses Fn ChU cago.” “Mr. Fairchild is very wealthy,” asserted Miss Sparks indignantly, “and does not need to marry for money. He occupies the best suit of rooms in the Ocean Villa, has his own automobile and spends his mone/ Just lavishly. He’s not marrying for money, that’s sure.” “Neither is Miss Morrison,” retorted Warren. “She’s not plain, but just the reverse in my opinion; much better looking for a woman than Fairchild is for a man.” - Despite these and sundry other adverse criticisms, however, the course of true love ran smooth, and on the appointed day Lawrence Fairchild and Beatrice Morrison were married.~Ti short trip to Niagara was planned, and then the bridal couple returned to Ocean Villa. “Beatrice,” said Fairchild the morn* Ing after their return to Ocean Villa “I will have to ask you to loan me a thousand until I get my remittances. I’m a little short of ready money.” "A thousand, Lawrence!” exclaimed Mrs. Fairchild in astonishment. “Why, I never had that much money in the world!” “What!” shouted Fairchild, rising in his surprise and staring in blank amazement at his wife. “You never had a thousand dollars in your life? Why, T thought’’— “That I was wealthy, didn't you?” questioned Mrs. Fairchild calmly, “Well, you never made a greater mistake In your life, Lawrence.” Then, with evidences of rapidly approaching

tears, she added, “You didn’t marry me for my money, did you, Lawrence?” ■ ' “N-no, not exactly—that to—you know,” stamipered Fairchild, disconcerted by the news as well as by his wife’s agitation, “I thought you were pretty well fixed, you know. Those seven Saratoga trunks and all those fetching gowns you wore certainly Indicated wealth.” “Those gowns were left to me when my Aunt Clara died,” sobbed Mrs. Fairchild hysterically. “I made every one over myself and took the few hundred dollars she left me to come here for the summer. I was, only a poor girl working in a Chicago department store before I married you. I never told you I was rich, and I’m sure you can’t say I did." “No, you never did, but I thought you w'ere, all the same,” returned Fairchild, who had pulled himself together by this time and was facing her with a grim smile upon his lips. “I guess It’s about time for a perfect understanding. Beatrice, I’m as poor as Job’s turkey, or poorer, If that was possible. All I have In this wide, wide world Is a small clerkship in a Boston store.”

“But the automobile and the money you spent like water?” gasped his wife, her tears subsiding as she gazed at him in utter bewilderment. “Everybody said you were immensely rich.” “That’s what they said about you, my dear,” returned Fairchild sententlously. “As for my automobile, it was borrowed from a friend who went abroad for the summer, and, as for the cash I have been wasting so extravagantly, it was the savings of years. I made up my mind to have one good time this summer and see how It felt to be rich, so I just came down here.” “With the purpose of marrying a rich girl, I suppose,” interposed his wife, struggling to regain her composure. “To be frank, that was my purpose,” admitted Fairchild laconically. “Didn’t you come here with the design of making a good match?” Mrs. Fairchild nodded. “Well,” continued her husband brightly, “we have both drawn a blank In the marriage lottery so far as money Is concerned, haven’t we? We are married, nevertheless, and, money or no money, I love you, little woman. Let us be happy, anyway.” “Money isn’t everything, Lawrence,” whispered Mrs. Fairchild tenderly; “we’ve had our good time, and now we have each other.”

"WHAT !” SHOUTED FAIRCHILD, RISING IN HIS SURPRISE.