  “I am going to remind you of that tomorrow evening,” Dick said quietly. “I am confident now that Miss Sutherland will come off victorious.” Dolly was glad that a bevy of girls surrounded them just then, demanding all the latest information with regard to the contests on tomorrow. She slipped away from her companion soon, and managed to hold him at a distance until the next afternoon, when the great events came off. The best places for seeing had been reserved for the seniors and their friends, so when Dolly took her place by her mother, it was not at all strange that Dick Martin should be seated on the other side of her. On the opposite benches were the friends of the other competitors, and college flags and college cries were much in evidence. Cornell and Vassar seemed particularly confident, and as Dolly heard their shouts and noticed their jubilant flags, she grew despondent. “And don’t forget that you are to take a walk with me this evening, and I’ll tell you then what I want you to do for me.” That was Dick Martin. “Oh, don’t you know that tonight we give a supper to the visitors from the other colleges? I can’t go with you possibly.” “I mean to have my walk either before or after; you shall not snub me in that fashion.” But Dolly pretended not to hear. Her eyes were on the smooth stretch of road in front of her. They were jumping, yes–Mary was not as good at that as she was at running. Dolly slipped her hand into her mother’s. “It is a very good thing that such events as this come only once in a lifetime. I am too excitable to stand the strain equably like Constance.” “Once in a lifetime is quite enough, I’ll agree,” said Mrs. Alden, looking rather anxiously at Dolly’s flushed cheeks. “I shall be “Yes, Mother,” said Dolly, not really hearing a word of what Mrs. Alden was saying. “Oh, look! Wasn’t that splendid of Mary? Do cheer her, Mr. Martin. Louder! Louder yet! Mary has gone farther than any of them, but I am afraid of Miss Smith of Vassar. That is she now! Oh!” A despairing note in her tone as Miss Smith made a better record than Mary had done. “How dreadful! But Mary has won us a second at least, and that is really more than I dared hope.” “Cheer up, then. There are two more chances for you.” “We do not stand the slightest chance in the boat race, and I am afraid that Mary cannot do any better in the running. Still I am grateful for what she has won for us. We shall not be disgraced, at least.” “Now watch!” as the runners lined up in position. “I have a presentiment that you will feel jubilant when this race is over.” And it became evident, almost from the first second, that Westover would win. The cheering and yelling were almost deafening. Really, Mr. Alden said, it was quite as bad as one of the Harvard football games. He didn’t see to what the girls’ colleges were coming, if this sort of thing continued. But Dolly and Beth, to whom his words were addressed, heard not a syllable of his raillery. They were too intent on waving their flags and cheering Mary. Westover had covered herself with glory, and Dolly could go home tomorrow with not a wish ungratified. Fred hurried up to his people. “Mary saved the day for you, didn’t she? She is having a regular ovation down by the Oaks. Shall I take you to her, Dolly?” “Yes, yes, I am wild to see her and thank her. The idea of Mary’s being the one to come to the rescue so nobly. I always knew she was a dear! You need not save my And Dolly whisked down from her high seat of honor as president of the class, and ran in search of Mary, whose father and mother could not comprehend the importance of all the athletic contests, but who were nevertheless filled with very pardonable pride at their daughter’s triumph. When Dolly reached the Oaks, Mary had disappeared, and the most diligent search in grounds and rooms failed to reveal her. Dolly wandered back disconsolately just in time to hear the crowd cheering for Wellesley, who had won the boat race, with Vassar a close second. “They can have their victory, and welcome,” Dolly said contentedly to Dick Martin, who joined her just then. “We have all we want. I must go now and see if the tables are all in readiness for tonight.” “I just heard Miss Newby declare that everything had been done, so I hope you will walk down to the end of the grounds with me. Can’t you do that, Dolly? I have been trying to get a moment with you for a long time. I must go back to Boston at eight o’clock, and this is my last opportunity to talk with you.” “Aren’t you going to say anything to me, Dolly?” “I want to take you all along life’s journey, Dolly. Is that too much to ask? You know what I hope to do, what my plans are and how I am longing to do a little good in the world. Will you help me? I think I have cared for you ever since the first time we met. Aren’t you going to say anything to me, Dolly?” Dolly’s brain was in a whirl. How could she tell? Yet, did she want him to go off and never come back? No, no, she knew she could hardly endure that. And Dick, not knowing what her silence meant, and fearing that a bitter disappointment was in store for him, leaned down to look in her face. Dolly smiled up at him tremulously, and Dick had the answer he wished, although no words were spoken. ***** “I understand, Dolly, Dick has spoken, hasn’t he? I knew that he would, for he wished to do so a year ago, but I think he feared a refusal then. We have known his feeling for you for a long time, Dolly dearest, and I know that he will make your life very happy. But he must let you stay with us for a long time yet.” “Of course,” said Dolly hastily. “Of course, why, I would never, never go off from you now. Dick will not be through with his medical studies for two or three years yet. You will have me at home a long time, Motherdie.” “We can’t have you too long, Dolly; we would like to keep you always, but that is impossible, evidently.” And then Dolly turned consoler, and there was a long, long talk, despite the fact that it was in the wee small hours, and that they were all to take a railroad journey that day. Dolly got up at last reluctantly enough, “Mother, did you notice Fred late last evening? What was the matter with him? He looked so grave and sober.” “He has not told me anything at all, Dolly, but I imagine that he has spoken to Mary.” “Oh, Mother, couldn’t he see for himself that Mary cares nothing for him? The poor boy!” “I am sorry for him, dear; I feared that he would speak too soon, but it was best to say nothing. Fred will not give up easily, and in time Mary may come to appreciate him. Now she does not give a thought to anything beyond her plans and her work.” “I do not believe that she will ever change,” and Dolly went to her room with her own new joy tinged with sadness as she thought of Fred’s disappointment. ***** It is more than two years later. The class of ’09 had been holding a reunion in New York. A number of the members lived in that city, and others were within easy This time there seemed even more news than usual to be talked over and discussed. Sarah Weston would sail the next week for India as a missionary, Grace Egle was studying medicine, Ellen Terence and Kate Seaton were doing work on New York newspapers, and were doing it well, too. Margaret had run off for a day from the well-known college in which she had a good position; Mary was there, too, but after the holidays she would go west, for she had accepted the chair of Biology in a new woman’s college just started there. One of the girls was singing in a fashionable church, though, when she used that adjective, Beth protested vigorously. There had been some lively talk on the subject after Beth’s remark, and the girls had enjoyed it, for it seemed like the old days at Westover, when they were constantly picking each other up and holding conversational tilts. Another of the class was doing lyceum work as a public reader. Still another had opened a kindergarten, and many more, like Beth and Dolly, were filling quietly and efficiently the little niches at home which sadly needed them. For the most part, college life had broadened all of the girls, so that none of them were entirely content to lead a perfectly useless life of fashion and gayety. Constance herself had gone into college settlement work, just as she had planned to do long before. After the rest of their classmates had gone, Mary and the “diggers” (for the old name seemed still to cling to them) stayed for a They were sipping tea, which Constance had insisted on making, when her sharp eyes caught the gleam of a new ring on Margaret’s finger. “Who gave you that, Meg? Are you keeping secrets from your crowd? I wouldn’t have believed it of you.” Margaret flushed richly. “I truly meant to tell you girls before I left tonight, but it was not easy to tell someway. It is absurd to think of it, but really, I am going, if nothing happens, to be Abby Dunbar’s sister some day.” “Margaret! how lovely! no, not that you will be her sister, but that you will be Raymond Dunbar’s wife, for he is as broad and generous and fine as she is petty and narrow.” “I congratulate you with all my heart, Meg, and I am so glad that Abby married that Englishman and will live abroad. Raymond is just the one man in all the world that you should marry.” “Thank you a thousand times, girls,” Margaret said heartily when she had been “But you do not think so any more,” Dolly said shrewdly, looking at her friend’s changing face. “No, I do not,” Margaret owned softly. Constance looked around on the other faces. “Now I wonder if any more of you are hiding weighty secrets. If so, confess!” “How about our hostess, herself?” retorted Beth quickly. Constance smiled serenely. “I have absolutely nothing to confess. I feel like a grandmother, with all this talk of engagements and marriage going on around me. I am outside of it all. Margery Ainsworth and I will probably be the old, staid spinsters of the class; we have found work enough to fill all our lives. By the way, Dolly, how long is Mr. Martin going to consent to wait for you? You have been engaged a couple of years now.” “It is your turn, now, Mary. What have you to say for yourself?” Constance continued mercilessly. “Absolutely nothing beyond what you already know. I have the position which I have coveted all my life, so, of course, I am quite satisfied.” Despite Mary’s words, however, there was a new tone in her voice, which made Dolly resolve to catechise her later. Something had happened, but Dolly could not make out what. “Your turn now, Elizabeth,” commanded Constance. Dolly laughed mischievously. She alone knew that Beth really had some news to tell. “Shall I spare your blushes and help you out, dear? She has only been engaged two days now, so that she cannot carry her new honors as sedately as–” “As some people who have worn an engagement ring for two years and a half,” “And the daughter thought it such a good scheme that she is going to do likewise,” Dolly interjected, and then after the first burst of astonishment was over, the girls had a long talk over their plans and hopes. It was a couple of hours later before Dolly found the quiet opportunity that she wanted for speaking to Mary. “Aren’t you ever going to be good to Fred, Mary? He is one of the very best boys in the world.” “I know it, and it doesn’t seem fair to him that he should be wasting his time and thoughts on me.” Dolly looked at her friend keenly. “You and Fred have some new understanding. Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?” Mary looked troubled. “It is not an understanding at all, and I cannot have you think that, or Fred either. I have promised to write to him, and he says he will not take my final answer for a couple of years. It does not seem fair to him–” And to herself Dolly added: “Fred has the wisdom of the serpent; Mary cares more for him than she realizes, and he will win her in the end.” SELECTIONS FROM LIST OF WINDING WATERS. By Frances Parker. Author of the two big Western successes: “Hope Hathaway” and “Marjie of the Lower Ranch.” This is the first work from the pen of Miss Parker in four years. You will find in her new strong and compelling story of the Great West many startling disclosures of our land that will rouse criticism and interest. TRACT NUMBER 3377. By George H. Higgins and Margaret Higgins Haffey. Tells how Ashton Walbridge, a young college man, enters the oil regions to make his fortune, and how he overcomes all obstacles. You will admire Enoch, laugh at “Little Prue” and sympathize with Anna. Said by many critics who have read the advance sheets to be far and ahead of John Fox, Jr.’s “The Trail of the Lonesome Pine.” Bound to be a big seller. REAL LETTERS OF A REAL GIRL. By Betty. The author of this splendid book possesses that rarest of gifts, genuine and spontaneous humor. She has, moreover, the broad outlook of life and the people that travel in many lands, coupled with the keen observation and wit to record her impressions that makes her book at once unique and captivating. THE HEART OF SILENCE. By Walter S. Cramp. The scene of the opening part of this story is laid in Italy with an American family, consisting of a retired manufacturer from the United States, his wife and daughter, who is the heroine, and a foster son. Around this family is woven a charming tale of love and romance. Not a dull line. MY SOLDIER LADY. By Ella Hamilton Durley. This bright little book gives the other half of the correspondence comprising that charming story, “The Lady of the Decoration,” but is complete in itself and entirely independent and original in conception and heart interest. Five editions and still selling. THE TOBACCO TILLER. By Sarah Bell Hackley. A strong and compelling romance woven about an industry and placed in a section of the country that is attracting international attention at the present time. IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE. By Roger Carey Craven. A story of the South. It is instinct with ambitions, passions and problems of its strongly drawn characters. THE DRAGNET. By Elizabeth B. Bohan. A timely story dealing with the liquor question and municipal reform. These topics are interwoven in a powerful story, in a fearless way that will stimulate thought along these lines. CHANEY’S STRATAGEM. By Hannah Courtenay Pinnix. A striking piece of fiction. The sudden and unexpected turn of Fortune’s Wheel, by which the heroine and the other characters find their level, makes mighty interesting reading. TOMPKINSVILLE FOLKS. By Nettie Stevens. Is a careful study of human nature in human life. The pathos and charm of its rural setting and homely characters are drawn with firm yet skilful touch. THE CAREER OF JOY. By Grace Eleanore Towndrow. Genuinely, tenderly, and with a pervasive charm impossible to describe, the author tells the story of the old love, which returns to the woman’s life after the fetters of a loveless marriage enchain her. Which path shall she choose? THE VASSALAGE. By Adelaide Fuller Bell. The story is vivid, dramatic, picturesque, and the strong strange psychic forces in the lives of the principal characters add a wholly unique interest to the tale. THE BELL COW. By Bryant E. Sherman. Decidedly a story of simple country life. The trials and pleasures are those of the out-of-the-way places. There is plot strong enough to keep the reader’s interest from cover to cover. Humor, pathos and excitement are all here, but the most important part is played by the Aunt Betsy, the old maid with the big heart. ALICE BRENTON. By Mary Josephine Dale. The author has drawn a vivid picture of Colonial Newport, with her wealth and culture, spacious mansions and handsome grounds. Mrs. Gale describes the sufferings and privations of the people during those trying days, calls attention to the depredations of the soldiers, and in the end makes love triumph over all obstacles. The book has ingenuity in plot, and much interesting material.–The News, Newport, R. I. THE DOOR WHERE THE WRONG LAY. By Mary E. Greene. A story that will well repay the reading is “The Door Where The Wrong Lay.” The plot is a strange and unusual one, and the story is one which will linger in the memory long after many a lighter tale is forgotten.–Boston Times. A KNIGHT IN HOMESPUN. By John Charles Spoth. A homely little tale of wholesome sentiment, bearing the title, “A Knight In Homespun,” has its scene mainly in and about Pocono Mountains in Eastern Pennsylvania. It is told through the medium of the old clock, which for many years had ticked off the time in the hall of the home of Dr. Henry Boosch, while it watched the development of the human drama which went on in the household.–New York Times. UNCLE SIM. By Fred Perrine Lake. A story with a charming rural setting is “Uncle Sim.” It gives admirable portraiture of the types to be found in a country village–pleasant, kindly, royal-hearted folk, whose acquaintance is well worth the reader’s while.–Boston Times. AT THE SIGN OF THE BLUE ANCHOR. By Grace R. Osgood. This tale of Colonial Days in New Jersey takes one among charming people, through delightful and romantic scenes both in the Old World and New. WHERE MEN HAVE WALKED. By H. Henry Rhodes. Wild and varied as the ocean itself is this strong tale of pirate deeds and hidden treasures. UP THE GRADE. By David W. Edwards. A story of tender filial devotion that should be read by every young man in the land. A tale of a strong, brave man and a true, loving woman. THE TRAGEDY OF THE DESERTED ISLE. By Warren Wood. A story woven about the Burr and Blennerhassett conspiracy. Much has been written concerning this famous episode, but in this book many hitherto and amazing unknown incidents are revealed. A COWBOY CAVALIER. By Harriet C. Morse. A Texas ranch is the background of a love story whose heroine is an attractive Eastern girl, and her lover a brave cowboy cavalier, giving pictures of rough and tragic customs that will soon be only memories.–McClurg’s Monthly Bulletin. THE JAYHAWKER. By John A. Martin. Mr. Martin’s little story is well done and is worth while. His characters are as real as the scenes he depicts, and the incidents which go to embellish his plot are dramatic and full of excitement.–Boston Herald. THE LAW OF THE RANGE. By Wayne Groves Barrows. A vivid and realistic tale of the factional wars waged by the plainsmen of New Mexico a generation ago. For complete list send to |
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