Morris Tribune

WINIFRED'S FLOTSAM.

It was not because he was a woman hater that Guy Averill, at seven-and-twenty, was still a bachelor and heart-whole. Until this summer he had never been rich enough to support a wife: it was almost more than he could do to take care of himself. so he did not feel justified in paying attentions to any lady seriously.

Although he was industrious and talented, clients were few and far between -were almost unknown to the deserving young lawyer, until he did not so sorely need them. One week-such is the perversity of fate-after he got news that an uncle had died and left him his sole heir, and found that he was sure of an income of nearly two thousand a year, then the world suddenly realized that young Averill was a very promising lawyer.

Having a good income and prospects of plenty of remunerative work, Guy Averill began to think seriously of matrimony, and rather eagerly accepted an invitation to accompany his chum, Cassius Barclay. to the little town of New Myrtle, where said chum's fiancee lived.

For this fiance, Helen Tremaine, had two sisters, and Mrs. Averill agreed with Cassius Barclay that there were not three such girls in the world as the three Tremaines. Mrs. Averill had met them one winter in Washington and afterwards had spent six weeks at their house; hence Guy's invitation, though he had never seen one of the family.

He knew them all by description. Helen was not pretty, but was domestic, accomplished and very charming: the next one. Winifred. was a great rider. swimmer, skater, archer-in fact, "awfully fast," though magnificently beautiful; so Guy felt a strong presentiment that while he would like Helen, and tolerate Winifred for her sake, he would be very sure to fall captive to the charm of nineteen-year-old Marcia, the gentle, fair. lovable girl whose picture he had admired so much.

When he first saw Marcia he was a little disappointed; her picture flattered her; but he soon forgot that in contemplation of her graceful figure, her gentle voice and her quiet womanly ways. He loved to see a woman all womanly, thought a needle and not a pen should be her tool, believed that the fireside was woman's sphere, and so on; all of which conditions Marcia filled.

"Your sister rides beautifully," exclaimed Guy, a few hours after his arrival at Mrs. Tremaine's.

"Yes, she should; she spends hours on her horse," replied Marcia, sweetly.

"Do you ride?"

"Not much. I don't care for such- such violent exercise. In fact, I don't have much time for it, I have a good deal of sewing to do, and-" Marcia hesitated and shook out her work rather ostentatiously.

"I didn't know you had any little folks in the house," said Guy, his attention thus drawn to the small apron in her hand.

"Oh, we haven't. This is for some of our poor Sunday-school children. When I am at loss for employment I always know where to turn, in a manufacturing town like this there is so much suffering, you know."

"Do your sisters aid you"

"Helen can't. her trousseau keeps her busy now; and Winifred-well, I'd laugh to see her doing such work."

"As what?" asked Winifred, who had just entered.

"Sewing or embroidering," answered Marcia, not quite truthfully; but Guy, not knowing the difference between embroidery and plain sewing, was none the wiser.

"What is absurdly known as fancy work I utterly abominate; It seems to me a great waste of time to pass hours and hours in making hideous tidies and mats, or high art curtains out of ticking and such stuff."

"Don't you ever sew?"

"Not if I can avoid it; certainly not for amusement."

"Not for the poor!"

"The poor?"

"Yes, as Miss Marcia does."

"O-h! No, I don't work for the poor- as Marcia does," was Winifred's contemptuous reply.

And Guy was disgusted. How was he to know that the little apron in Marcia's hands would never have been thought of it Guy Averill (whose mother had written of his great love for womanly women) had not been there to see and hear it?

But though he was disgusted with this athletic young woman's sentiments he was by no means so with her. Her dark- blue riding habit showed her supple form to perfection, her soft brown hair was ruffled by the wind, and her cheeks glowed with health and vigor, and she was a great contrast to her pale home-keeping sister.

And as the days passed, Guy was compelled to change his first opinion of the sisters. Winifred's health, spirits and temper seemed to be perfect. Marcia, on the other hand. sometimes forgot her would-be gentleness, and showed a snappish petulance that amazed Guy.

"What a helpful, cheery woman she would be!" meditated Guy, but not of Marcia. "No headaches, no sulks, no sharp speeches! But there, in a wife one needs domestic virtues as well as a good disposition: her ability to dance and ride. skate and swim, shoot and drive, won't keep my clothes in order and direct a household. Fancy this lovely young Amazon trying to cook a steak, if there should be a rebellion in the kitchen."

But though Guy thought he was fully determined to marry some one more like Marcia, yet Winifred ruled his dreams by day and by night. At last he got to this pass:

"Will such a girl ever consent to settle down to a domestic life?
Will she laugh at me if I should dare to speak a word of love?"

One day Helen and Cassius went to a neighboring town on business, and Marcia, Winifred and Guy went rowing on the river, a narrow, deep and rapid stream. Just after the girls had landed Marcia spied an empty basket floating down the stream and declared that she wanted it, so Guy rowed out alone to get it.

Suddenly, they never knew why, the boat capsized, and Guy in trying to re- gain it was carried yet further down the stream.

"Never mind the boat!" shouted Win- ifred. "Swim ashore, the current is strong."

Which Guy at last concluded to do.

When nearly in shore he was sudden- ly seized with cramps and could swim no further. Marcia shrieked and wrung her hands, and cried:

"Oh, he'll drown-he'll drown!"

"Hold your tongue! Run to Patterson's for help," cried Winifred, peremptorily, and at the same time sprang into the river herself.

In a few seconds she was beside the sinking man, clutching him firmly by the arm with one of her strong hands she struck out slowly but surely for the shore. Guy was tall and well propor- tioned, and it took all her strength to get him to, but she did it and none too soon, for her own strength was giving out.

"The heavens be praised?" cried Jim Patterson. It is lucky for poor Mr. Aver- ill that he wasn't alone with Miss Marcia. It's a strong arm and a courageous heart you've got, Miss Winnifred! Come, Joe, lend a hand, and we'll carry him home. Faith, but he's heavy."

The doctor was sent for, and Guy's in- opportune cramp proved to have been caused by a disordered system, conse- quently he was quite ill for some days.

His mother was sent for, and he had the best of care, though he would rather have had Winifred with him more. It was always Marcia who fanned him and read to him in his mother's absence, al- though Winifred always brought him his meals, and somehow the heretofore ad- mired sweetness began to pale. He sigh- ed for a little breezy chat as on a warm afternoon one will sigh for an invigorat- ing sea-breeze.

"Mother," said he suddenly, the first day he was able to sit up, "which do you like best, Winifred or Marcia?"

"Just the question I intended to ask you," was Mrs. Averill's diplomatic an- swer.

"Marcia is so gentle."

"Very; and so quiet."

"Winifred is strong, mentally as well as physically."

"She is an admirable girl."

Clearly he could get no decided opin- ion from his mother. He finally began again:

The fellow that gets either of them for a wife will be lucky.

"Very true. Is there any prospect that my boy will be so lucky?"

"I wish there was"-with a sigh.

"But I fear not; she is so-so strong.

"Thank fortune, it is Winifred!" Mrs. Averill thought. But she said:

"Who? Marcia?"

"Marcia! Oh, mother!" he laughed. "I never thought you could be so sarcas- tic! No, I mean Winifred, of course. Dear, courageous girl! I owe my life to her bravery!"

"Indeed you do."

"What I fear is that so grand, so large hearted a girl-one so full of vigorous life--will never consent to settle down in the quiet way in which my wife may have to live for a little while, for two thousand dollars a year is not limitless. Fancy Winifred pottering over domestic details, regulating the servants and or- dering the dinners! Fancy my queen in a dark, dirty kitchen!"

Winifred Tremaine will never per- mit her kitchen to be dirty! Guy, who do you suppose has prepared your tea and toast, your beef-tea and toast, your blanc mange and jelly, your dropped eggs, your little dainties of all sorts, these three weeks past?'

"Why, the cook, of course!"

"By no means. Winifred has her- self prepared every mouthful she has brought you; she makes every loaf of bread and cake, every pudding and pie, that is eaten in this house."

"You amaze me!"

"Why? because she don't make a show of her work? Because she enjoys out- door life after attending to her domestic duties? She is not only a good rider and all that, but she is thoroughly and prac- tically domestic."

Guy didn't say any more then, but he did considerable thinking. A week later he said to Winifred:

"I have never yet thanked you for sav- ing my life. Miss Tremaine-

"Please say no more!" she cried, hastily.

"What else could I have done?"

"And I am not going to thank you un- til I know whether my rescued life is to be one of happiness or misery. Wini- fred, I love you very dearly! Can you love me a little? Can you consent to be my wife If not, if you give me no hope, I shall blame you for not letting me drown that day. Just one word, dar- ling!"

"I-I-I don't like to be blamed.

And Guy didn't blame her.

Cassius Barclay always calls his wife's brother-in-law "Winifred's flotsam," and says:

"Helen, your sister's flotsam is really a little too good to have been left as food for the fishes."