Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 June 1912 — LETITIA’S LICENSE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

LETITIA’S LICENSE

By MOLLY McMASTER

(Copyright, 1312, by Associated Literary Press.)

The Rev. Samuel Durand strolled leisurely through the park. It was not often that the young minister had the time to stroll, but even ministers find that all work and no play makes a tii-esome pilgrimage through life. The park was still wearing its winter garb yet there was that in the air which suggested an eary spring. The Rev. Mr. Durand expanded his massive chest and drew in drafts of the fresh air. He realized then with the blood coursing through his veins that he was thankful to his big congregation for insisting on this muchneeded rest.

His eyes glanced ahead through the labyrinth of glistening trees and the winding path below. A few yards beyound, in the middle of that wide path, lay a long envelope, and when the minister reached the spot he stopped and picked it up. There was no writing to indicate an owner and the Rev. Mr. Durand turned a searching glance about the Immediate vicinity. Perhaps some one would even then be returning to look for the lost property. But the park was deserted save for the sparrows and the little begging squirrels that sat up with forepaws against their breasts in mute appeal. The minister’s hand went deep into his pocket and drew forth the desired peanuts; three days in Central park had taught him that New York squirrels were not the untamed variety of the western woods. The Rev. Durand stooped to meet the demahds of the little creatures that waylaid rich and poor, saint and sinner. When his pockets were emptied his mind returned to the legal looking

document he had picked up from the path. “A marriage license! Now what man could be so careless as to,, lose so precious a thing?” For a moment the minister’s yes were wistful. “If the right girl had ever come into my life and had registered her name with mine—l think I would not let go the paper in a hurry.” He scanned the document for the names of the couple. "Letitia Larken and Harold Dwyer.” The minister repeated the last name and a thoughtful line drew between his eyes. He stopped still in the path and probed his memory. “Harold Dwyer? Where i have I seen — Ah!” He continued his walk, but the puzzled frown only deepened. “I married Harold Dwyer to —to — Rose Lange five —no sou ago.” And during the remainder of his walk back to the hotel the Rev. Mr. Durand was lost in thought. There might easily be two Harold Dwyers and yet something told the minister that it was not so in this case. He suddenly felt as if his trip to the east, his walk in the park, and in fact his whole life had been a preparation for the finding of this marriage license. Argument whispered to him that Harold Dwyer may have lost his first wife, but wisdom told him that such was not the case. “In any event, I will take the license to the girl,” he decided and wondered why he sought the girl rather than the man. Yet instinct told him that the man could not be trusted and that the girl was in need of ■warning. It was toward the late afternoon when the young minister made his way to the home of Letitia Larkip. Somehow he had had a presentiment that the girl would be living in a boarding house. Yes; she did live in one of those domiciles for the homeless in the t>‘" city. A slovenly but affable maid # the young minister into the front room with the information that Miss Larkin was engaged with the ladles’ guild, but that she would bring her down from the tqp floor. Lost in wonderment as to why the parlors of boarding houses invariably contained a plush album and a table with a marble top the minister did not hear the soft entrance of Letitia Larkin. When he did catch sight of her he arcse quickly to his feet with a

quickly indrawn breath. He had not prepared himself for the big innocent eyes of Letitia or the demure smile on Letitia’s lips or the smooth shining braids on Letitia’s head, or in fact any of the manifold charms that made up the entire Letitia. He only looked at her and gripped himself the harder because of the pain he felt he was about to inflict. She drew nearer and held out a steady, cordial hand. Any member of the clergy was always' welcome to Letitia and she supposed he was one who had learned of her little odds and ends ofcharity work. The girl’s eyelashes swept quickly down when she felt the warm, protecting pressure of the minister’s hand. Then she looked qp and said: “Won’t you be seated?" . “I have come on a rather peculiar errand." The minister spoke with a touch of gravity. “I found this." He held out the marriage license and saw the quick color flame into Letitia’s cheecks. “Oh! Thank you so much. Harold —Mr. Dwyer must have lost it." “I found it in Central park,” the clergyman said and waited until the color had receded from the girl’s face. “I could have mailed the document but I used to know a Harold Dwyer—in sact —” the Rev. Mr. Durand hesitated for the fraction of a minute then went bravely on, “I married a Mr. Harold Dwyer four years ago. His wife was a dear friend of mine.” •

The minister watched the girl’s face. It had grown a shade paler and a startled look had come into her eyes. She regained her composure almost immediately and laughed a pretty, ringing laugh. “Why is it,” she asked with a not quite steady voice, “that one always jumps to conclusions? The World is certainly large enough to contain two or even three Harold Dwyers.” There was a sudden silence in the room while a glance fraught with fear and a newborn understanding passed between the minister and the girl. The minister was the first to speak and he strove to make his tone light; “Then you are the first to venture with your Mr. Dwyer into the land of matrimony?” “Yes,” said the girl, imitating his tone, but underneath there was a vague feeling of disquiet. The room, seemed suddenly to be peopled with strange and ugly shapes. The girl turned toward ,the window as if to escape some hidden pressure. “Here is Mr. Dwyer now," she said, but in a dull monotone. The Rev. Dr. Durand had caught a fleeting glimpse of the man who was then entering the house, and he took up a position well in the center so that Dwyer might see him to best aidvantage.

The minister was conscious of heavily beating pulses when he heard the man’s entrance and felt him glance into the front room. Then he heard a smothered exclamation and realized that Harold Dwyer had fled precipitately from the life of Letitia Larkin. The girl realized everything in a flash of intuition. She smiled a half Tistful little smile and because she was adorably feminine she did that which was expected of her and fainted into the minister’s arms. When she opened her eyes he was gazing down at her with an expression that brought all the color back into Letitia’s cheeks. “It was good of you to save me,” she said demurely. “I couldn’t do less,” the minister told her. “And I thank my good memory for names,” he added. Letitia was slowly tearing the license to bits. “You can get another one —some day,” the Rev. Durand said, half in earnest. Letitia blushed for she caught the serious meaning beneafh the jest. And when she did get another marriage license the big minister accompanied her to take charge of it —and her.

“Why Is It That One Always Jumps to Conclusions?”