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The day book. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, August 09, 1913, NOON EDITION, Image 18

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1913-08-09/ed-1/seq-18/

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HOLDING HANDS BY GOUVERNEUR MORRIS
With An Illustration Posed Especially for This News
paper by Pauline Frederick, Famous Star of
"Joseph and His Brethren." .
(Copyright by Chas. Scribner's Sons.)
At first nobody knew him; then
the Hotchkisses knew him, and then
ifeseemed as if 'everybody had always
known him. He was. first noticed
sitting in the warm corner made by
WDlcox's annex. Pairs or trios of
people, bareheaded, their tennis
clothes mostly covered from view by
clumsy coonskin coats, passing Will
cox's, would break in upon whatever
else they have been saying to make
such remarks as : "He can't be, or he
wouldn't be at Willcox's;" or contra
dictorily: "He must be, or he'd do
something besides sit in the sun;" or,
'Don't they always have to drink
lots of milk?" or, "Anyway, they're
quite positive that it's not catching;"
or, "Poor boy, what nice hair he's
got."
The suspicion that this interesting
young man was a .consumptive was
set aside by Willcox himself. He
told Mrs. Bainbridge that Mr. Mas
ters was recuperating from a very
stubborn attack of typhoid. So Mrs.
Bainbridge drove out to Miss Lan
grais' tea at the golf club, and passed
on the glad tidings with an addition
of circumstantial detail. Mister Mas
ters had been sick for many months
at she thought the New York Hos
pital. Mister Masters never remembered
to have passed so lonely and dreary
a February. The sunny South was
a medicine that had been prescribed
and that had to be swallowed. Aiken
on the label had looked inviting
enough, but he had found the con
tents of the bottle distasteful in the
extreme. "The South is sunny," he
wrote to his mother, "but, oh, my
great jumping grandmother, how sel
dom! And it's cold, mummy, like
being beaten with .whips. You were
right about the people here all being
kind; they are all the same kind. I
know them all now by sight; but
not by name, except, of course, some
who are stopping at Willcox's.
"But in spite of all this there is
a truth that must be spoken. I feel
a thousand times better and stronger
than when I came. I have no one to
talk to but your letters. . . So don't
stint me. Stint me with money if you
can (here I defy you), but for the
love of Heaven keep me posted. If
you will promise to write every day
I will tell you the name of the pret
tiest girl in Aiken. She goes by eight
times every day, and she looks my
way out of the corner of her eye.
And I pretend to be reading and try
very hardy to look handsome and in
teresting." Such was the usual trend of the
letters. But that one dated March 7.
began with the following astonishing
statement:
"I love Aiken. . . ." and went on to
explain why.
But Mister Masters was not allow
ed to love Aiken until he had come
through the. whole gauntlet of gos
sip. But finally the real truth about
him, or something like it, got out;
and the hatchet of suspicion was
buried, and there was peace "in
Aiken.
' This was the truth that got out
about Mister Masters. He was a
nephew of the late Bishop Masters.
His mother, on- whom he was de
pendent, .was very rich; she had once
been prominent in society. He was

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