Jasper County Democrat, Volume 18, Number 90, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 February 1916 — A WIG IN THE WIND [ARTICLE]

A WIG IN THE WIND

By CATHARINE CRANMER.

“As fqr being on friendly terms with Mr. Gray, I know of no reason why I shouldn't be friendly with him, for he is as truly a gentleman as any man I know.” Grace gave the open car more speed and a drop of rain in Mrs. AllisonDodge's face cut ffiiort her reply to her niece’s spirited speech. The clouds darkened, the wind became stronger, and that first Urop of rain was followed by other scattered drops. The rock road was now in sight. A hurried glance over her shoulder showed - Grace a covered car approaching from behind. About half a mile after they struck the rock road they came to a blacksmith shop and general stove just as the rain began to come down in driving sheets. Without waiting for permission, Grace ran her car under the shed, and a few minutes later the covered car dr#w up on the sheltered side of the shop. It proved to be a jitney in which Ashby Gray had started back to the city. Seeing Mrs. Allison-Dodge in dismay and her niece vainly trying to soothe her, Ashby Gray defied the rain and dashed from the jitney to the shed, offering any assistance possible. In her agitation to see whether the storm promised to abate, Mrs. AllisonDodge lifted her veil to peer at the clouds. A sudden twisting wind swept veil and hat and even the soft white hair from her head. She cried out and grabbed wildly at the moving mass of chiffon and lace and hair, but the wind was stubborn and the veil became tangled, and the lady renowned for her soft white hair and lovely skin stood revealed with a tiny pigtail of gray hair in which a streak of faded brown still showed Grace stood as astounded as Ashby Gray, for she had not known that her aunt wore a wig. Except for one discreet hairdresser there was perhaps no one who suspected that the gradual writening process through which her hair had passed was but the adoption of a series of wigs, each one whiter than its predecessor. After a speechless interval which seemed ages to all three, Grace managed to help adjust the mass of head covering. “Aunt Clara,” began Grace, a moment afterward, “Mr. Gray says it will { take an hour to run back to town with the roads as wet as they are, and don’t you think you’d better let him take you on in .his covered car now and let me come on later when the rain stops?” Something told Mrs. Allison-Dodge that this was ’•o time to harbor prejudice against would-be suitors for her nieces hand. Besides, and most of

all, she Wanted Fo get home and have In a masseuse and that discreet hairdresser, and several other people to repair her in time for the evening. She was half inclined to assent to Gray’s suggestion that she ride home in the closed jitney. “Hurry up, Ashby," called Gray’s companion from the jitney, “I’ve got two assignments waiting for me in town.” i But the name of Ashby had struck pleasantly on Mrs. Allison-Dodge’s aristocratic ear. “Did be call you Ashby? I tho ght your name w r as Gray.” She looked inquiringly at Gray as Grace buttoned the final button on the rain coat she had taken from her own shoulders to j place upon her aunt. ; “Ashby Gray,” corrected Gray, and | bv way of further explanation, added: j “Ashby was my mother’s maiden : name.” “You don’t mean that your mother j was Amy Ashby who married Dr. Well- ' ington Gray, the Boston clergyman?” ! “Yes,” smiled Qray, as the lady's manner melted into effusiveness. Five minutes later Mrs. Allison- ' Dodge was speeding alone toward the city to be let out at the fashionable Alhambra from an ordinary Jitney. It suddenly occurred to Grace that Ashby might have given up important work to remain there with her. “I feel that I’ve no right to accept such a sacrifice from you, Mr. Gray, and if it’s important for you to be back in town soon, don’t let’s wait another minute on account of the rain. I shan’t mind how wet I get, for I haven’t any rheumatism, and —” she met his smiling eyes with a frankly amused smile, “I haven’t any wig.” “You don’t have to tell me that,” he said laughingly, as he looked admiringly at the bronze-colored mass of hair which the dampness had darkened from a bright copper color and had kinked each loose lock into a tight curl. “Poor Aunt Clara; she’cPnever hint--1 ed a wig, and what Is more, she never will. I’m glad she made friends with you before leaving, for now she will feel that her secret is In the hands of friends only, and —” Grace hesitated and Ashby added: “And therefore quite safe.” V Grace telephoned her aunt as soon as she arrived at home. ‘Tm home all safe, Aunt Clara; I thought you’d like to know.” i “I’m delighted, dearie; and where la ! that nice Mr. Gray?” “He’s gone home to dry, but he’s coming out this eevning.” “Bring him over to call on me, won’t you?” “If it clears up, maybe; but there will be lots of other opportunities, Aunt Clara, for he is going to be your nephew.” (Copyright. 1915. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) ‘Subscribe for The Democrat.