A Life Line for Harriet
THE STORY OF A GIRL WHO WAS AFRAID THAT SHE WOULD NEVER BE MARRIED
By Margaret Busbee Shipp
HARRIET had made her debut when she was nineteen. She had been kept back, as her mother phrased it, until Jessie was married. Sadie and Jessie had been "out " together, and it was inadvisable for the third sister to be in evidence until the other two were married off.
When Harriet left school, it was agreeable to know that Dotty was six years younger, and so couldn't come treading on her heels. How the years had raced by, and how developed Dotty was now for her seventeen years!
Harriet's first two winters had been, to her, like a dream come true. Dances galore and partners in plenty—what more could a girl wish? It was her mother, with wise, experienced eyes, who saw that the partners were constantly changing, that everybody liked Harriet and nobody was paying her devoted attention—unless one counted Joe Hayes, who hardly counted at all. Joe was sawed off in stature, with a large mouth, and one eye smaller than the other, giving him the expression of an unfinished gargoyle.
The Nelson home was friendly and hospitable, and the young people of the town had formed the habit of dropping in, sure of warmth and welcome. An unusual touch was given to the family life by the fact that "dad," as all the girls' friends called him, was no submerged tenth. He was a genial, entertaining host and a shark at bridge.
Without a care passed the winter when Harriet was nineteen and the winter when she was twenty. The next two seasons might have been called the Arthur Burton period. Burton came to Yarborough to live, met Harriet, and took an immediate liking to her. A few weeks later—he had seen her frequently in the meantime—he said in his abrupt fashion:
"Look here, I want to lay all the cards on the table. I'm engaged to be married to a girl at home, but the engagement isn't to be announced until she finishes college, and she still has two years. If you and I can be good pals— why, it will make all the difference in my life here; but I don't want to take up too much of your time."
"That's all right," promised Harriet easily. "I know how to be a good friend better than anything else. It's my long suit. I won't tell a soul about your engagement, and I appreciate your telling me." She looked at him with her happy blue eyes, full of good humor and the joy of living. "You know I'm not the sort of girl who goes in for quiet comers and lovemaking and petting. I like crowds, and fun, and a lot of noise—I just do J"
Harriet said it lightly. The realization of its absolute truth came to her gradually. Men didn't make love to her, except Joe now and then. She was too big. Perhaps the majority of men found five feet nine rather too much for a wife.
Harriet was straight as a pine sapling,
