Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 April 1912 — MARCIA’S PENITENCE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

MARCIA’S PENITENCE

By JANE OSBORN

(Copyright, xpxx, by Associated Literary Press) “It’s a dream.” Marcia Newbury stood before the soft, clinging white frock she had just taken from the dressmaker’s box. “But my old slippers will never do. Let ine see; it’s Thursday, and my next month’s allowance comes in five—no, in six—days.” Marcia went to her desk, opened her purse, and did some figuring. “I’ve got six-ninety-seven. That will leave almost two dollars for carfare, and church, and odds and ends, if I pay five dollars for a pair of slippers. I’ll do it. There are some beauties at Jo ” She was interrupted by the knock of the maid. “A gentleman, Miss Marcia, for your father. I said he was out of town, so the gentleman said you’d do. His name’s Brown." Marcia went downstairs picturing herself floating about at Mrs. Bronson Jenk’s dance that evening in a filmy white gown and dainty white slippers. “Gdod morning, Miss Newbury,” said a good-looking, middle-aged man, coming toward Marcia with outstretched hand as she entered the room. “I’m Mr. Brown, of New York, —an old friend of your father’s." “Good morning, Mr. Brown,” said Marcia, shaking hands with the stranger. “I’m sure father -will be very sorry to miss you. I expect him home this afternoon—on the four-fifty-six from New York." “Well, well,” said Mr. Brown. “Just my luck. I’ve got to take the four-thirty-six back to New York to keep an appointment.” “My father will be sorry,” repeated Marcia. “Well, so am I,” replied the man easily. “But to get right down to the bottom of the matter, Miss Marcia— I’m in a fix. I depended on your father to help me out ” Marcia looked up with real concern. “Could I —is it anything I could do?” she ventured. “I hardly like to ask you,” said the man. 2 “You see, I expected to find a

money order awaiting me here. And it hasn’t come.” “Oh. I’m so sorry!” “And to be frank,” admitted the man, “I was going to ask your father to lend me enough to get back to New York.” Th© vision of the new slippers danced before Marcia’s eyes. Following them two rather worn black slippers hurried along. “Would you let me?” suggested Marcia impulsively. “I haven’t much cash about—but if five dollars would help—” „ A few minutes later Mr. Brown of New York left Judge Newbury’s house with Marcia’s five dollars, promising to send it back the minute he reached New York. A few minutes afterward. Marcia started downtown to buy a package of shoe polish and ribbon enough for new bows on the old slippers. On her way home she met Mrs. Benson Jenks. “Marcia,’* said Mrs. Jenks, “I had the funniest experience this morning. You know Benson’s away from home. A man-—a Mr. Brown of New York —• an old friend of Benson, he said —■ came to his hoiise and I lent him five dollars. He was just strapped and hadn’t enough to buy a ticket home. But, you know, Marcia, I think he was a cheat. I don’t know tthy, but—” Marcia gasped. “Mr. Brown —of New York—five dollars? Why, the fraud came to our house, and I did the same thing!” When Marcia got home she found a young man pacing back and forth. He stdpped as she came up the steps. “Miss Newbury?” he queried. “I’m Mr. Shipley—Peter Shipley—of Boston, and an old friend of Judge Newbury’s,” he explained. Marcia eyed him Icily. “Oh, are you?” she questioned, "her back against the door. ! “The maid says the judge is away,” said the man nervously. ! “Well,” said Marcia, looking a| him out of steely eyes. “Well,” with difficulty, “you see, I’m in a hole. I’m strapped. I .haven’t any money—and I was going to ask the judge—” |. Marcia laughed cynically, ’’Really .were you?” she said.

The young man reddened. “It Is ft queer fix. The judge is the only person I know in this town. I’ve been away and thought I’d stop to see him on my way home. So I telegraphed my partner to forward a money order to me here. It. hasn’t come. I’ve got to catch the 12:03 for Boston to keep an important business engagement; and I have only a quarter.” By this time Marcia was in the hall, holding the door half shut. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Brown, or Shipley, or whatever else your name is. But I positively don’t see how you dare talk in this way,” she said, and slammed the door. “Father,” said Marcia that evening at dinner—she was wearing the new frock and the old slippers—“a Mr. Brown of New York, an old friend of yours—was here this morning and I let him have five dollars.” She watched her father. She knew the joke was on her. “Brown? Of New York? I don’t remember any such man. Still, It’s nqt an uncommon name.” , "Of course you don’t,” laughed Marcia. She told the story In detail, and told of Mrs. Jenk’s experience. The judge laughed heartily. He always called Marcia soft-hearted. “Never mind the five dollars, dear,” he consoled her. “Take It out of the housekeeping accounts and give us rice pudding for dessert until it’s paid back.” “But father,” said Marcia, ready now to enjoy herself, “did you ever know a Mr. Shipley of Boston—Peter Shipley?” “Peter Shipley? I should say so. One of the finest young men in the world. Proutz —the Boston lawyer—has just taken him in as junior partner. What about Shipley, daughter?” It was a somewhat crestfallen Marcia that appeared at Mrs. Benson Jenk’s dance that evening. She had. foregone a pair of new slippers; she had been foolish enough to let a cheat impose on her; and, worst of all, she had failed In hospitality and courtesy. “Although,” she consoled herself, “I really didn’t have any money left for the second borrower.”

“Oh, Marcia,” exclaimed Mrs. Jenks when Marcia went into the drawingroom; “I’ve such a delightful surprise for you. Just before dinner—l had to rush downtown again for something I’d forgotten—l met an old friend of mine from Boston, Peter Shipley, wandering up and down in front of the post office. He said he was expecting an important letter that hadn’t come yet. And, as he hadn’t planned which hotel to go to, I persuaded him to come here. You see, he’s an old friend of your father and he Is crazy, for some reason, to meet you. He’s awfully nice’, Marcia. Do be good to him.” Mrs. Jenks continued oblivious to Marcia’s gasp of surprise and flush of embarrassment; and just then Peter Shipley, very good looking In an out-of-date evening suit borrowed from his host, and with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, came up, was introduced to Marcia, and claimed her for the first dance. “It’s the least you can do,” he laughed as he led her away. “I’ll do anything you want me to do, really, Mr. Shipley, to convince you that I am penitent.” A few months later, when Peter Shipley paid one of several visits to Judge Newbury’s home, he reminded Marcia of her words at Mrs. Jenks’ dance. “I’ll never be convinced that you are really penitent for the way you treated me on that first day, Marcia, less you will stand by your word and do anything I want you to do. I want you to marry me, Marcia.” And Marcia stood by her word.