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Turn Of The Tide, The

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<h2>302CHAPTER XLI</h2> In spite of protests and pleadings Margaret spent the winter abroad. “As if I’d stay here and flaunt my happiness in poor Bobby’s face!” she said indignantly to her lover. Neither would she consent to a formal engagement. Even Mrs. Merideth and Ned were not to know. “It is to be just as it was before,” she had declared decidedly, “only—well, you may write to me,” she had conceded. “I refuse to stay here and—and be just happy—yet! I’ve been unkind and thoughtless, and have brought sorrow to my dear good friend. I’m going away. I deserve it—and Bobby deserves it, too!” And in spite of Frank Spencer’s efforts to make her see matters in a different light, she still adhered to her purpose. All through the long winter Frank contented himself with writing voluminous letters, and telling her of the plans he was making to “divvy up” at the mills, as he always called it. 303 “I shall make mistakes, of course, dear,” he wrote. “It is a big problem—altogether more so than perhaps you realize. Of course the mills must still be a business—not a philanthropy; otherwise we should defeat our own ends. But I shall have your clear head and warm heart to aid me, and little by little we shall win success. “Already I have introduced two or three small changes to prepare the way for the larger ones later on. Even Ned is getting interested, and seems to approve of my work, somewhat to my surprise, I will own. I’m thinking, however, that I’m not the only one in the house, sweetheart, to whom you and your unselfishness have shown the ‘better way.’” Month by month the winter passed, and spring came, bringing Mrs. Merideth, but no Margaret. “She has stopped to visit friends in New York,” explained Mrs. Merideth, in reply to her brother’s anxious questions. “She may go on west with them. She said she would write you.” Margaret did “go on west,” and it was while she was still in the west that she received a letter from Patty, a portion of which ran thus: 304 “Mebbe youd like to know about Bobby McGinnis. Bobby is goin to get married. She seemed to comfort him lots after you went. Shes that pretty and sympathizing in her ways you know. I think he was kind of surprised hisself, but the first thing he knew he was in love with her. I think he felt kind of bad at first on account of you. But I told him that was all nonsense, and that I knew youd want him to do it. I think his feelins for you was more worship than love, anyhow. He didn’t never seem happy even when he was engaged to you. But hes happy now, and Arabella thinks hes jest perfect. Oh, I told you twas Arabella didn’t I? Well, tis. And say its her thats been learnin me to spell. Ain’t it jest grand?” <hr class='tb' /> Not very many days later Frank Spencer at Hilcrest received a small card on which had been written: “Mrs. Patty Durgin announces the engagement of her sister, Arabella Murphy, to Mr. Robert McGinnis.” Beneath, in very fine letters was: “I’m coming home the eighteenth. Please tell Della; 305 and—you may tell her anything else that you like. Margaret.” For a moment the man stared at the card with puzzled eyes; then he suddenly understood. “Della,” he cried joyously, a minute later, “Della, she’s coming the eighteenth!” “Who’s coming the eighteenth?” Frank hesitated. A light that was half serious, half whimsical, and wholly tender, came into his eyes. “My wife,” he said. “Your wife!” “Oh, you know her as Margaret Kendall,” retorted Frank with an airiness that was intended to hide the shake in his voice. “But she will be my wife before she leaves here again.” “Frank!” cried Mrs. Merideth, joyfully, “you don’t mean——” But Frank was gone. Over his shoulder, however, he had tossed a smile and a reassuring nod. Mrs. Merideth sank back with a sigh of content. “It’s exactly what I always hoped would happen,” she said. <div class='center'>   THE END </div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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