OCR Interpretation


The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, June 12, 1916, LAST EDITION, Image 19

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1916-06-12/ed-1/seq-19/

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old home. It seemed to him that no
palace could be more welcome. It
was furnished comfortably, it was
near the town academy, where he
was one of the professors. There
was a vegetable garden and fruit and
chickens. He settled down to prac-
tical housekeeping, a happy and con-
tented man.
Willis had accepted the house in
the city with some grand plans in
view. He grumbled because, with
the exception of a few hundred dol
lars at bank, his aunt had left no
liquid funds. By the end of a year
he was established as a doctor with
a fashionable clientele and had mar
ried a lady more renowned for her
social elegance than either her intel
ligence or means.
For Hector life went on evenly, en
joyably. He was able to live and
save, and books were his hobby.
Winter, evenings the little room he
called his library was a nest of rare
comfort. In summer time he sat on
the -screened porch, which he had
furnished with a table, a swinging
lamp, chairs and a hammock.
Screened in, it was a favorite pre
cinct of peace and enjoyment
And then, abruptly, delightfully,
romance came into his life. It was
like a chapter In some old-fashioned
story book, the circumstances under
which he met Eunice Graydon.
Who but a visionary writer would
ever have imagined that the daughter
of the richest man in the village
would come to the modest humble
home as a guest, remain there two
whole hours and take in the odd en
joyment plainly evidenced in her
bright, winsome face!
"Halloa!"
The call, echoing and somewhat
mandatory, took Hector to the front
door one cold snowy night in March.
He strained his vision to make out a
man well puffled up, holding the
reins that guided a steaming team of
horses. Near to him was a graceful
feminine figure, shivering with the
cold. ,
"Won't you come here for a min
ute?" called out the man to Hector,
and the latter hurried on overcoat
and cap. "I am Mr. Graydon," con
tinued the other in an aristocratic
way. "My daughter, Miss Graydon,"
he introduced informally. "The
sleigh tipped over, smashing a run
ner and wrecking it. I've got to get
these horses home. Won't you give
my daughter shelter with your wom
enfolk till I get home and send an
other conveyance for her?"
"Surely, Mr. Graydon," bowed
Hector courteously, and he assisted
the young lady' through the snow
drifts and into the house.
"There are no womenfolk," he re
marked, as Eunice Graydon ran to
the cozy fireplace and held out her
chilled hands with a little cry of
delight
"You surprise me," she flashed
out, and he felt the warmth and sin
cerity of the compliment as her
bright eyes took in the neat fur
nishings.,. And then they chatted. There was
no restraint In her innocent girlish
way she told how she had attended
two of his lectures at the town hall,
and Hector inquired after the health
of her mo'ther, a confirmed invalid in
whom the whole village felt it had a
right to be interested.
It was all too brief, that lovely
visit, and when Miss Graydon left
Hector he insisted on providing her
with a warm wrap. From its place
in the old wardrobe the shawl his
aunt had so laboriously knitted was
brought forth. He thrilled as he
placed it about her shoulders. Then
the carriage that had come for her
took her away, and, returning to
the lonely room, for an hour Hector
stood gazing upon the chair where
she had sat as though in,some won
derful vision.
What was his surprise the next
day, when the shawl wafe returned,
not by a servant, but by Miss Gray
don, accompanied by a friend.
"I have made a strange discovery.

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