Part Love Story, Part Travelogue Pt 8

Our
Love – Story

My Grandmother Margaret E. Winslow, 1908

BY SWEETHEART (SHARED BY J. STEWART)

Installment #8:

Well I do recall the morning to which you awoke after a dreamless sleep. It was shining fair and warm as you and Mother Eckert started for the Fair grounds. What enthusiastic moments you spent before the Carrara marbles and Italian corals. How you hesitated and sought wistful advice from the strong-hearted coral merchant from whom you purchased a tiny pin to take back to one of the home friends. Poor little Other Girl, you tramped so many miles on those hot tar pavements and tried to see so much, feeling it a duty. That by five o’clock you could have cried with fatigue. Finally, however you persuaded the Eckerts to turn homeward and you left them at the Clark while you went around to your new room next door to Mr. Stewart’s boarding place. There you lay down for a quick minute, washed your aching feet and changed your dress. By that time you were a little refreshed and when your English landlady informed you that an automobile was at the door and a gentleman asking for you, down flew my Other Self ~ a new girl. Ah! How you enjoyed that evening! After the heat and confusion of the day to settle back in the tonneau with the girls and a Mr. Smith while you and Mr. Stewart gaily bantered as he drove you around the city and over the tidelands. At the station where the Eckert’s baggage was dropped, Mr. Stewart said, “What would you folks like for dinner! How would you a planked steak go? If that suits I will order it by phone so there will be no delay.” Planked steak, after a portion of free demonstrated salmon for lunch! It did suit, as well as all the other good things that Mr. Stewart ordered at the College Inn. For you dined there, although you neglected to take the souvenir spoon. You disgraced yourself but your host seemed to enjoy it. Once more you were conscious of that sensation of feeling so perfectly at ease with him. It increased as you came nearer the time of bidding farewell to the Eckerts. When you and Mr. Stewart and Mr. Smith stood on the platform waving goodbye to the moving train you felt a sort of sudden dependence on the new friend who had jokingly promised Mother Eckert to take care of you while you staid in Seattle. Dear Other Girl he kept his promise so well that now I am here to be cared for and to care.

But you can never forget the feelings with which you saw the train disappear and turned back toward the city. The three thousand miles between you and home, the loss of the protection you had felt in Mother Eckert’s presence, the excitement of the new experience of being thrown on your own resources, and the other processes of thought which I can’t set down, created a moment you nor I, Other Girl, will never forget. So Mr. Smith drove you and Mr. Stewart home. Already you looked upon Mr. Stewart as your guardian and you almost wanted to touch his hand for sympathy on the homeward ride. But when he asked you to sit on the porch railing a moment before you went up to bed and attempted to put his arm around you, his guardianship assumed a phase which was not to your liking. He laughed when you resented it but responded to your insistence and made your goodnight a reassuring and a happy one.

Such a time as you had the next morning, looking for a restaurant! All you could find were counter lunches, being an avenue too high on the hill. This was a penalty for having overslept the breakfast hour at the boarding house next door and besides your pocketbook was becoming more and more emaciated. (Later you devised the plan of sleeping late and lunching early, thereby combining two meals and sparing the exchequer.) Finally in despair this morning you purchased some fruit and crackers at a grocery store and determined to make inquiries of Mr. Stewart as to a suitable place for lunching. The afternoon you spent in napping and entertaining an old friend from home besides writing a long letter to Stanley, whose messages from Europe had been greeting you almost daily. Roger was still sitting on the porch at six o’clock when Mr. Stewart went by and passed into the house next door where you knew dinner would be ready shortly. Mr. Smith, his roommate and fellow employee at the Auto Co. was with him and they both greeted you cordially with their caps and smiles. Mr. Stewart nodded toward the house as if to ask you if you were coming in to dinner and you gave him an answering nod which effectually sped the parting guest. Then you flew up to your room, Other Girl, and patted your hair again for I recollect with amusement that you were conscious of wishing to look your best on the occasion of your first appearance at dinner in your new surroundings. Arrived at the Cox’s you found that Mr. Stewart had not as yet appeared. He had asked you to sit at his table so you went into the little waiting room and buried yourself in a magazine. Were you quite unconscious, Other Girl, of steps descending the stairs, coming toward you, pausing very near you? At least your look never betrayed you if you were not. Someone snapped the page from underneath. “Oh! Have you come?” you asked intelligently. Mr. Stewart replied in the affirmative and joining Mr. Smith in the hall you were three young people repaired to the dining room. There the two boys requested that another place be set at their little table and you were asked to choose your seat. It seemed that your choice fell on Mr. Stewart’s accustomed seat so he sat at your left while Mr. Smith was opposite you. Thus began one of the many happy dinners you ate with your guardian and Mr. Smith. Most of the other diners were not as young as your trio and they would gaze with amazement upon your attempts to retaliate when Mr. Stewart buttered your fingers or snatched your last bite of bread. You were a great deal of the time admitting, Other Girl, that he wasn’t all you could wish as to actions, but the rest of the time you were reproaching yourself for not realizing that the intent behind the act was kindly.

After dinner you all went out onto the upper balcony where many early evenings were spent, while you were growing up, dear Other Girl. Even though you have gone, I can remember the sensations that came in upon you as you laughed with the boys while they sent the smoke wreaths curling up into the air. Whenever you consciously recalled that you were alone in Seattle you unconsciously glanced at Mr. Stewart, deriving a sense of comfort and security that you loved as I love the perfected sense of that same comfort and security now.