Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, June 20, 1914, Page 10

IT HAD TO HAPPEN By JEAN DICKERSON. “Oliver, I'm sure you'll meet some backwoods girl cut there and marry her,” sighed Oliver's married sister. Oliver Penfleld laughed heartily. “My dear Dot, you have a wrong idea of the Northwest forest pre- serves! They are not the scene of garden parties, op’picnics, or pink teas —1I doubt if I see a woman while I'm there, for my district will be on the northernmost boundaries of the re- serve. Believe me, Dotty, your young brother, Ollver, the forester, will re- turn home entirely heart free and quite ready to marry whatever nice girl you have picked out during his absence!” Mrs. West smiled tolerantly. “I never wanted you to marry any- one except Sylvia Braitling,” she said. “She was my dearest friend—almost & sister, in fact.” “Never—I deny that my attentions to Miss Braitling ever approached the danger point,” protested Oliver, “She mever liked me anyway,” he added cheerfully, “or she never would have married that idiot of a Stewart as soon as I went away to study for- estry.” “Well, that’s all past and over,” said his sister; “but Oliver, dear, remem- ber what I tell you, don't fall in love with an ineligible girl; out there, you Won't meet any refined people—" Oliver's firm jaw stiffened into ob- stinacy. had covered many miles since daylight that morning and he was growing very ! weary. His foot slid into a chipmunk’s | hole, he stumbled, promptly sat down on his haunches to save himself, and | 50 maneuvered that Oliver was neatly catapulted over his head to fall heavily | to the ground. | Oliver's last recollection was that his horse wandered down the trail alone, then darkness blotted out every- thing. Oliver awoke in a cool, sunshiny room, with a sewing machine near the window. A table beside his bed held various bottles and an electric stove, (on which something steamed. A very modern and knowing-looking French ! bulldog sat in a chair at the foot of {the bed and regarded Oliver with | friendly bulbous eyes. | “Hello,” said Oliver feebly. ¢“Is this New York—or heaven?” ! A joyful rumble came from the throat of the dog. It was immediately i drowned by a woman's sweet voice. ‘ “Hush, Pedro!” : “My name isn’t Pedro,” protested i Oliver peevishly, “Please tell me what happened!” | A girl came within his range of | vision. She was a sight for weary eyes. Young and fresh, pink-cheeked, blue- | eyed, golden-haired—lovely. She wore | 8 gown of soft pale blue material made "in the latest mode—and her glittering hair was piled on top of her head. In her hands she carried a cup of some steaming liquid. “Please don't come any nearer,” l begged Oliver; “just stand there and let me look at you—thanks! Hobble | skirt and all—it's the loveliest cos- | “Please don't talk about it, Dot,” he ;e I've geen since I left New York! Tequested quietly. “The girl I marry will be one that I love no matter what her social position; but I'm not look- ing for her in the forests—there won't be any girls there to distract my at- tention. Of all the dangers that beset me in the forests, believe me, falling in love won’t happen to me!” Six months later, Oliver Penfield was of the same opinion. Many weeks And before I left I was a bitter enemy | of the present fashions. Absence truly | makes the heart grow fonder!” The girl cast a startled glance at hint and stepped to the door. “Do hurry, dad,” she whispered; “he’s de- lirious.” “I'm not,” protested Oliver; “but I've been in the forest for six months —and I thought I'd stepped into Broad- of patrolling the northwestern forests | way.” had weaned him entirely away from the life of the cities. He felt that never again could he conflne himself within brick-walled communities. “I must have breathing space,” he muttered one morning as he.rode un- der the giant pines whose tops ap- peared to touch the clear blue sky and whose lower branches were 25 feet above his head, On some strong western wind there came a subtle salt smell of the Pa- cific that lay far beyond the Cascade rangé, and the smell of the sea min- gled with the scent of the pines—all clean, healthful odors, with no hint of defiling city emoke.' Oliver’s sure-footed horse had turned into the narrow, steep trail that led down the mountain side toward the castern_boundary of the reserve._He | ri = {T“‘*yHE Laundry that is helping to pave Lakeland’s streets, build Lakeland’s schoo houses and everything else that is for the betterment of Lakeland. @@ There is n laundry in Tampa that has us beat one notch on equipment, prices, quality of work, tim or anything else, and it is nothing short of a reflection on the common sense of the peo ple of Lakeland for any Tampa firm to presume to get business that belongs to Lakeland WE HAVE CAPACITY FOR HANDLING WORK IN ’ gt “Nonsense,” laughed the girl, with a note of relief in her voice. “You are within 300 yards of the forest now. Here, drink this.” “This” proved to be a nauseous mess which Oliver meekly drank while the girl slipped her arm under his pillow and lifted his head. “Thank you,” he said as his nurse stepped back, Some one entered the room. It proved to be a tall, elderly man of be- nign countenance, dressed in flannel shirt with corduroy trousers tucked into woodsman’s boots, “Delirious, did you say, Nan?" he asked in a low tone. “I thought so at first, dad,” said the girl. “Now I'm not sure. hobble skirts and Broadway.” He talks of | THE EVENING TELEGRAM LAK ELAND, FLA,, JUNE 20, 1914. 48t him; and then Oliver, Daving gone “I don’t wonder, honey.” He move: to the side of the bed and looked down at the young man. “Feeling better, my friend?” he asked heartily, “You had a nasty tumble.” “Thanks, I'm feeling better every moment.” Oliver tried to sit up and his new acquaintance slipped another pillow under his head. ‘“Please tell me,” went on the young forester, “how i® happened that I am indebted to your kindness.” “Well, it's a short story,” smiled the other, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “My name is Benson—I spend the summer months here with my daughter, Nan. Two hours ago a | riderless horse wandered into the yard. Nan called me, and together we went back along the trail and discovered you lying unconscious with a nasty cut In your head. We brought you here—and that's all—except that I bound up your wound. It may pain will have no trouble with it.” Oliver suitably expressed his thanks for the care he had received from the Bensons, and then, his curiosity no longer within bounds, he asked them how they had contrived this bit of civ- ilization in the primitive forest. John Benson was professor of biology in a small western university; he had buflt the camp as a secluded resting place during the summer months. His children, of whom there were several, married and single, took turns in staying with him, and this being Nan'’s turn, she had arrived that very morning, Oliver blessed his own good fortune, and feeling better, insisted upon get- ting up and resuming his patrol. The sun was drawing long, reluctant shad- | ows on the velvety lawn in front of the log cabin when he rode out of the yard, sitting a little unsteadily in the } saddle, but strangely contented despite his painful wound. The lonely aisles under the pines were peopled with girls—charming ' home. glirls—golden-haired, blue-eyed girls, | all identically like Nan Benson; in fact, they were all Nan Bensons! “What's happened to you, Oliver?” asked Dixon, as they sat at supper that night. “Beauty threw me and the fall dam- aged my head,” explained Oliver, who i had been unusually thoughtful during the meal. { “You look more as if the fall had | damaged your heart,” retorted Dixon. , “I've heard you eigh flve times. Be- fore supper you were humming ‘Thine Eyes So Blue and Tender,’ and just ,now when I asked you if there was , 8ny more butter in the pantry you | murmured ‘Yes, dear;’ and let me tell you, Ollie, my boy, I don’t permit such familiarities from any man, no matter how young and good looking he may be!"” Here Dixon dodged under the table in order to escape the piece of cold | the Bensons near home. to the door in order to cool his burn- | ing cheeks, received another delight- ful sensation. There was a sound of hoofs on the forest road and there stepped into the moonlight two horses. The riders were Professor Benson and his daughter. “Good evening, Mr. Penfield,” said the professor as Ofiver came forward to greet them. “Nan and I were wor- ried about your wound and we rode over to inquire after it. Hope you are feeling better.” Oliver assured them that he was feeling better, and having exchanged a few words with the father and daughter, he walked along beside Nan’s bridle rein until they reached a turn in the road which would hr'lng1 Oliver held Nan’s little hand in his own for a brief second. Then he stood hatless, watching them until they dis- | yn the winding trail. He you for a day or so but after that you | appeared down the w g stood there, motionless, until long aft- er they had vanished from his sight. Suddenly he roused himself, rubbed his eyes dazedly and slowly returned Here, Dixon, having done up the evening chores, was reading the back number of a popular magazine. He looked up ase his friend entered. “I forgive you the corn bread, Oliver,” he s=aid with mock serious- ness; “now that I understand the mat- ter.” “Understand what matter?” de- manded Oliver, yawning sleepily. “What's happened to you!" “What has happened to me?” re- peated Oliver. “Why, you're in know it?” “In love? And not know it? Why, that's the last thing I expected would happen to me way out here,” muttered Oliver as he stood in the doorway staring into the moonlit forest, and dreaming of the shy look in Nan Ben- son's eyes. Dixon smiled to himself and resumed his reading. An hour later Oliver turned around, blinking at the lighted room. “I say, | Dixon, have we any telegraph forms?” he asked abruptly. | Dixon tossed the pad across the table and Oliver scribbled a few lines and sent the message to the nearest station early the next morning. Mrs. West received the telegram that evening as she went down to din- ner. She read the yellow sheet with flashing eyes: “It’s happened to (signed) Oliver.” “I knew it would happen,” she cried tragically. “Beyond the farthest reaches of civilization—where one ! wouldn’t reasonably expect to find z\i girl—Oliver has chosen to fall in love | —I know I shall detest her!” i But Oliver’s sister couldn't possibly do anything of the sort, after she had | met Nan, love, don’t you me at last! Every typeface strikes the exact printing center everytime The a typewriter. Typewritten letters and bills save your tin, give you a business standing you can gt j other way. The L. C. Smith & Bros. typewriter is espe; adapted to this work because it will stand m wear and does not require an expert opert Anyone can learn to operate it in a short tim It is ball bearing throughout, simple, compa, complete. Mail this coupon today. Polsoned Apples. Almost like the fairy tale of “Snow White” is the story of poisoned ap- ples that comes from Norway. We learn from Dr. Sopp, who is a well known food specialist in Norway, that this s not so. He found that some people suffered from indisposition after eating American apples; he an- alyzed the apples and found that the miscreant was an enthusiastic Amer- - o : 4 (Copyright, 1914, by the McClure Newspa- The man laughed pleasantly, corn bread which Ollver had thrown per Syndicate.) l ican. In a praiseworthy Hesperidean afs = = = = LI T = AR B AT T The Lakeland Steam Laundr Is Lakeland’s Laundry and our work is equal if not superior to that you will get out of town. Phone vs your wants, If our w a bicycle who will be there right now. agons are out when you *Phone, we have 3 bov of Yours for the best work and FOR LAKELAND —_——_ LAKELAND STEAM LAUNDRY PHONE 130 Typewriter for the Rural Business ) Whether you are a sm;lll town merg or a farmer, you can’t afford to be i L. C. SMITH & BROS. TYPEWRITER CO. Syracuse, N. Y. Please send me your free book. D I do not use @ typewriter at present. 1 am using a t; ter and would like to learn about D your special offer to exchange it for a new ones ALL THE LAKELAND and SURROUNDING COUNTRY L. C. Smith & Bros. Ball Bearing, Long Wearing Ty, S — effort to change his apples: he had, with the intent of ing blight and similar et the apple in a state of natux his trees with compounds and arsenic. This had, {4 served the apple, but at poisoning the consumer. a rather sinister reputa best of times. rarily incapacitating s rank with second-hand ¢