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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 24, 1922)
•■and 1 don't fancy you'll disturb us. Anyhow, the same man won’t do It twice. You see how things aro go ing to be, my dear. Will you trust yourself with me" "Of course," the Flapper agreed. The three women argued with her volubly: told her that she was a lost gill If she did; tore the Million aire's past to pieces. Molly Brien even called her "dear," and "my poor llttlo Innocent," and cried. But their pleadings had no effect. “If we stay here," the Flapper told him, "they’ll liave your rcvol ver some time or other, and then we’re done. I’m not a tiny •crcip afraid of you. "Bet's take them at their word and go." They settled condition*, and went, returning for a second load of pro visions and stores, as hits already been stated. No one said much, ex cept ltuby Green and Stella Raikes —Molly Brien only cried—until the outcasts backed awuy on the last Journey. Then the millionaire said a few words In answer to the vitu perat ions of the two ladies. “It Is you,” he said, "who are In danger. Walt until they're In drink thi* evening.” The ladles laughed scornfully. The sailors Invited hint to meet any one of them without his revolver, man to man. The outcasts disappeared over the rise. "You really think that?" the Flap per asked She waa very quiet and seemed to have grown older. "Yes," he told her. “Give me some more thing*. I can take a lot on the right arm now. You’re over loaded." “I'm as big as you nearly," she claimed. “Not *o old and strong. . . Ye*, I meant It. my dear. Men and women—I want to warn you-" "But,” she Interrupted, “If you really think that- They've been rather oats to me, except Molly ltrlen; but, If they are In danger, don't you think we'd ought to go back to protect them?” “I'tn not *ure that they want to be protected. Marjorie,” be said quietly. "Not really and truly." “O" the flapper cried. “O!" . . Mr. Franklin? I do! . . And you will, won't you?" With all my power, he promts ed. "You ahall be my little sister, and I will teach you to fihoot; and you shall keep the revolver.” "I think I ahall keep It," she de cided. “and—If I ahot any one it wouldn't be you, but myself. So-" She laughed at him suddenly "I think that's got you!” “God bless you!” he said. “Yes, that's got me, all right. I didn't moan that I felt It necessary to warn you against me, little sis— but you're a great big sis, aren't you? Very far from It. as iny Inten tlons go; Wry far indeed. 1 mean to be a father and a mother and a big brother to you; and I'd curse myself for any other thought: but, my dear. I've lived, and I know, l'in so anxious to be all those rela tives to you; and today has been such a warning; and you have heard what those women have said of us. That la really why I speak. For give me, child, for a much older man's straight word—the only one, I hope and pray. I’ll speak to you on the subject. You, too, must re member that the affection which will grow up between us—Is the af fection—the undemonstrative affec tion of a brother and sister. For give me!” "I admire you very much, broth er,” the flapper said, "and I thank you very much. And that’s that! . . . And you don't think we ought to go tonight?” "No,” he said. "It would only endanger you, and we can't save them." i non i oeueve iney are in aan ger,” slid told him; “and if they arr, 1 hclive they can nave themselves.” Her first thought was mistaken, hut her second thought was right. They were in danger that very night. Tlie men drank; and they found some more of the •'mistletoe'" her ries. There was great trouble, which led to the second secession, after a very painful scene. But the women were good women, and they suffered nothing worse than a few kisses. The men, who were not brutes, even in drink, were soon conquered by their tongues and their tears and were ashamed and penitent the next day. They car ried sailcloth und stores to the place to which the women had fled, con structed their tent, solemnly swore to respect their territory, and did. >Vr some months there was little communication, except that the men often came to their own side of the ravine and called Inquiries wheth er tliey could “do anything;" but gradually friendly relations were es tablished, and It became a regular habit to exchange assistance. The cause of the separation was never alluded to after the original abject epologies and the promises to try to forgive, but at the close of the year the forgiveness presumably had been given, for each lady did the mending of the man who had offended her and made any individ ual application for assistance to him. Indeed the formality of their rci itions was due rather to the men than to the women. The men kept their distance because they thought that “ths ladies" — they always called tha that—expected It of them. This was the state of things when the next Christmas arrived; and somehow Its arrival led them all to review their situation. Republic No. 1 started by review ing their store. The result was not cheering. “.Seems to me," Lane observed, "it will soon be free for UBe as a bedroom again. Lord, what damned swabs we were to frighten ’em out of it.” "That's right," Carter agree. Rut we've promised them not to sv ear. Not even between ourselves." "I don't want to,” Richard said. "Rather raise myself to her level . . . Their level, I mean.” He sighed. "What’s the use of kidding your self?” Lane grunted. "You mean her. We all do. Three different ’hers,’ in course.” "And we can’t!” Carter sighed. “Not enough. It has raised us a good bit, of course, knowing them; but there’s miles between us yet; and never to be passed. . . Well, we’ve fixed on the Ranta Clauses, I take it. Those clothes In the black trunk, that we’ve saved for a surprise; and the tin of peaches. Last one!” "And the invitation to dinner.” Richardson added; "and the plum pudding with it. Reads all right.” He held out a ship's dinner card for Inspection. The menu on the front was crossed out, and he had written on the back. Richardson bud been Intended for a school teach er before he ran away to sea and wrote a good hand. "Castaway Island. Christmas, 192#.” "Messrs. Richardson, Carter, and Lane ask the honor of the com pany of Misses Green. Raikos and Brlen to Christmas dinner (mid day). If accepted please return the Christmas pudding for cooking and bring cups and two small plates and teaspoons. Otherwise please retain for selves. (Boil longer than direc tions on tin.) "Intoxicants to drink healths only, "If accepted please hang duster on broken tree, and leave pudding there, and will fetch for cooking." "Don't know as I'd have men Honed the booze." Carter demurred. “ 'Toxlcanta.’’ Dine amended. "You’ve got to learn to talk proper, Dave.” "I was afraid." Richardson ex plained, “they might be thinking of last year. , . . That swab Franklin sized ua up pretty right, knowing what he was himself! Seems to me sometimes as we ought to have been shot before we let him carry off that youngster.” "Didn't want much carrying off,” Carter thought. "She liked him, and p'raps ahe’a better off than some people. I was round Flatfish Bay In the dark the other night; when I caught those woppers. I heard her laughing like anything. Happy enough she was. "Eric," she calls., “Eric! My line’s caught. Come quick. O! Hurry up. old silly!” Very happy she sounded. . . . Happier than aome other people.” "Ah!” said Dane. "I don't see you can blame him for not standing by and letting a drunken chap mess hla girl about. And we know the sort of chap Black Dick used to be. If anyone was to catch hold of some one I know, and behave like that, Strewth, I'd corpse him! Mates, seems to me Franklin only did right. There was no other way to stop It.” "O, that!” salt’ Richardson. “Daresay he did, but he's got no business to take advantage of a kid: what he must have seen had a fancy for him." "And he had for her,” Carter re minded hint, "and very likely means to do the right thing by her.” "If he means that,” Richardson said, "I don’t say that I blame him so much; not if he's decent to her and meam to marry her when they go off. My God! I'd give half my life if someone would have me then. Happy, you say she sounded?” “Ijaughed like a child,” Carter de clared. "Didn't sound as if she’d anything on her mind, either.” “And did he g sharp when she called, did you notice?" Richardson asked. ”By the sounds,” Carter thought, “he did. Heard him laughing, too." “And kissed her?" Dane sug gested. “Didn’t sound like tlrat,” Carter stated. “In fact—well, mates, I've been wondering whether we might have misjudged them a bit. He might think he'd be a sort of father to her.” ’ Bah!" cried Dane. “A man and woman together; a man that’s bare 40. And a big gill like her’s worse.” "Well," Carter asked, “how about tis? We’re men that ain’t 40; and alone with women that ain't either; and mark you w. 're gone on them; desperate gone. Seems to me, when you respect a woman enough, you sort of fe«l you want to bthave so ss you efln go on respecting her. He might feel like ‘hat. It's all very well to ff.k upon men and women and human nature. Human nature's good as well as bad, ain't it? . . . How about us?" No one spoke for some time. Rich ardson filled his pipe slowly and lit It and puffed. Fortunately a box of tobacco had come ashore; but they were rationed at three pipefuls a day now. “Anyhow," he said presently, “anyhow . . , they've got no company but themselves, and the least of the stores. Pretty ragged when I caught sight of them last; and, come to think of it, they were laughing then. They’re happy to gether. I never though they had their fair share, mates.” “Was you—were you, I mean. Got to study grammar nowadays, 'specially with the ladies coming to morrow! Were you thinking of a little Santa Claus business, Tom?” Carter asked. “A suit for him and one of the cook's overalls for her,” l.ane sug gested. "She's a big gal and could wear It. Peace and good will and all that sort of thing, eh, mates?” “Alight do it,” Richardson pro posed, "after we've taken the things to the ladies.” “And get plunged If we don't mind," Carter observed. “Rest go in the morning and let him see us coming, fair and open. 'Merry Christmas' says we, ‘and a truce for today and. there's a tinned ham and a plum pudding, if you and your missus like to come to dinner.' That'll fetch them. You know they didn't have their share of the tinned stuff.” "They didn t, Richardson owned, "and thnt's a fact. When a chap holds a loaded pistol at your head, it doesn't make you feel overgener ous, or disposed to be too friendly or fair afterwards. Looked down on us, he did. Still, It's Christmas time and I’d do it; but what would our ladles say about It? Refuse to meet them, most Hkely, and bully us for suggesting it. I'm not going to make trouble with our ladles.” "We can’t aslt 'em unless the ladles agree,” Carter stated decided ly. "We're not going to chuck away the good feeling with them. Most like they’d take It as showing we approved of auch things, and feel nervous of us again. Mind you. it's a time we've got to be careful with them, remembering last year. That’s why Tom was right to mention about the wliatlsnames —'toxicants ain't it? But he might suggest it to them.” I’m not going to be the one to propose it to them," Richardson re fused emphatically. "Miss Green gave me a nasty knock last night. It was awful, she said, to think what drink could do with a really nice man like me; but of course, it only brought out what was In peo ple, and made them do what they wanted to do. Made even harmless little berries dangerous. We'd come upon sdme of those white ones; and she shook her head at them and laughed. You know the way she has of shaking her head and the rest of herself. Looked at me and laugh ed! All a lady, and would have mv head off for doing it again, but not above tantalising me, neither! She's specially down on the girl. 'Pears as they had a row over him. And the man’s worse, she holds. She won't meet ’em." "You never know wliat a woman will do,” Lane thought. "As likely as not, they'll think of it, and blame us for not having the proper spirit for Christmas; peace and good will and all that. There's only one rule about dealing with a woman you want to humor. Whatever you do will be wrong! But they might have a feeling about Christmas. Miss Rrien says to me the other day, ‘You can’t blame anlybody for being kind.’ ” "And you had been?” Carter ask ed with a grin. "Don’t be a fool! I'd be kind enough if she’d allow it; but you know she wouldn’t look at me. Though, as Tom says, a lady ain't above tantalising a chap.” "Well,” Carter said, "they can’t blame us for asking their opinion. You put it in your fine way, Tom. on another card.” In the end a second card was written as follows "Hon’r’d Ladies— "This being a season of good will, we do not know If you think we should ask the West Island people to Christmas dinner. We have noth ing against them for a year, and they seem to treat each other well, and some stores and clothes are owing to them, ns they are getting ragged. Considering the season, we are Inclined to ask them, if you do not object, but shall strictly obey your hon'r’d wishes. If they are to come, please hang up colored hand kerchief as well as duster, and we shall act accordingly. "Wishing you a merry Christ mas from all of us, which makes us sorry for them. If you don't mind. "P. 8. We do not feel we are good enough ourselves to throw stones at others though better for your hon'r'd company, which might have a good Influence on them. If needed, which we do not know. He appears to treat her kindly." While the men were thus discuss ing the current situation the ladies Were catching shellfish as a Christ mas present for them, and after this they sat down and also consid ered the position. "I suppose," Ruby Green said, "that what happened last year ought to make us frightened of to morrow; but I am not." She sighed, as if it was a sad thing not to be frightened. "Frightened of them!" Stella Ralkes cried. "Why, we could turn them around our little fingers.” Molly Brien began to cry. "And we musn't," she sobbed. "When we're rescued, there’ll be an end of everything. They're im possible, of course, and . . Some times I pray not to be rescued.” There was a long silenoe. Then Ruby Green tried to laugh. "I suppose,” she observed, “we all feel a bit like that; but we aren't fools. They aren't of our station in means, or education, or any thing. It is impossible, Molly." "Yes, Stella itaikcs agreed. “Im possible. But doesn't it seem shab by to look down on them because they aren't our class? To us they have been chivalrous gentlemen, but ... do you know, girls, sometimes I envy the child. She loved that man, and—went with him. The other day I saw them together; when we went on the Men's Land. They seemed quite contented and happy; and they’ve less than any of us. Sometimes I even wonder whether we are fair to him. He certainly was fond of her —any one could see that—and I be lieve he’ll marry her when we get off here. If we ever do. Do you know, I feel as if I’d like to give them some of these big crabs. It's Christmas time, and ... If Car ter brought that mistletoe this year. I— You may despise me. but I don't believe I'd so much as squeal. I Don’t you think wc could go and wish them n merry Christmas to morrow? I mean the other two.’’ “They probably need the wish less than any of us," Ruby Green said in a hard voice. "We three are pretty miserable. What's the nse of humbugging ourselves. They want us and we want them. We’ve got to pretend that we don’t, though. They musn't find out how we feel . . . We can talk to them tomorrow and see how they feel about the others. Let's be nice to them, and let them see that wo don't feel any difference In—in class; not while we’re here. Doesn’t it sound hateful?" “But it’s there," Stella Ralkes said. “Yes,” Molly' Brien cried, "It's there! But If they realized how we really feel . . . They mustn’t. They mustn't! If I-ane got up his courage and proposed to me—! Oh! I hate Christmas ... I shall go and see those two tomorrow, whether you do or don't . . . and kiss the girl! And wish her a merry Christmas. And, if she wishes me one, I be lieve I shall scream. It Isn’t fair of providence to cast girls on a desert island with people like—like our men. Do you know, I always think of them as that . . . the Im possibles.” In the Third Republic the ques tion of season rame up early In the afternoon of Christmas eve. The Flapper began to decorate the open ing of the case w ith red berries ;and she told the millionaire to come and help. “I suppose," she said, “you know it's Christmas tomorrow? I wonder how they are getting on together. It will be Rirhardson and Ruby, and Carter and Stella, nnd Lane and Molly, I supopse. I liked Molly Brien . . .. Eric?" “Well, kid?” "It’s Christmas time, and ... of course wo don't approve of them, but . . . everybody isn't so good and noble as you. you see. Don’t you think we might walk down tomor row and wish them a merry Christ mas?" I feel more disposed to walk down snd demand some more clothes,” he grunted. “There were some that washed ashore; and we didn’t have our share. Very soon-1” “I've nearly finished a skirt of big leaves," she said; “and perhaps they'd offer us some, Eric. I don't feci as If I want to quarrel this Christmas time. Let's go and wish them a merry Christmas tomorrow ; and take some fish for a Santa Claus. I tvant to." “That, I supposp, settles it,” he thought. "Oh, kid! If we could get off her! Perhaps next Christmas we shall be." "I don’t know that I want to be,” she remarked. "Eric? I shouldn’t like Christmas without you." “Off here or on here, child,” he said steadily, “it will be your doing if we are not together for the rest of our Christ masses. There! I’ve said it! Now you must forget until we're rescued.” “That is nonsense!” she told him. “Dear, we shall never forget It; and what's the harm In saying what we’ve known all the time? I don't mind saying that I-’’ She paused. “Love me?” he suggested. "LoVe you,” she agreed. “Now I have said it, you will take Jus1 as \ much care of me; and I shall be happier, Eric." "Beloved,” he said earnestly, "God judge me as I do you. You are very, very dear to me, my darl- yd lng.” He put hia arm around her and she rested against him. The Third Republic was very happy that Christmas eve evening. Early on Christmas morning the Indies set out to carry shellfish In great plenty across the ravine. They found their Christmas presents and the invitation, and the letter in the barrel at their signal post. They looked in It—It was the recognized postbox—rather expecting some kind of Christmas card. When they had run across with their offering and returned, they hung up both signals of agreement, and then they "cooed.” Coo-ee . . . Coo-ee! , , a Merry Christmas, men!” The three men came at a run. ■'Merry Christmas, ladies. It will lie. since you're coming." ''Take them up some clothes tor the party, Richardson.” “Yes, Miss Ruby. Fine crabs these.” "We though of going to wish them a merry Christmas, too, Carter.” "Like us to show you the way, Miss Stella?” "We’ll have to play blind man's buff and all the Christmas things, Mr. lane." "All of them, mlssie? How about forfeits-?" "All our hosts ask us to. We know that we can trust to their good taste.” The men discussed for an hour whether or not mistletoe would be considered In good taste. They fin ally decided to try to hint at it, no a matter for the ladies’ decision. About noon the ladies, dressed In their best, crossed the gulley. Ruby g and Stella joined Richardson and Carter in the cooking, while Molly and Lane walked to the Eastern Re public. They met it coming down from the hills bearing an offering of fish; both parties cahed out lusti ly, "A merry Christmas;” "And ft fair start for the New Year," the millionaire suggested. "From today,” Lane added. 'Tve brought these clothes for a Santa Claus, you know. You never had your fair share. The ladies are com ing over to dinner with us; and we didn't know if you’d come, you and your missus?” "His missus!" the flapper cried, with a hot face. "I am not that, Lane! I am just his little girl. . . When we get off here—then—" Sh« smiled at the millionaire. "Then,” he said, "I shall ask her to be. my sweetheart—and my wife. That's the true size of it. Laoe.” “O, darling," she whispered. “I’m so glad! Isn’t it wicked how people always suspect things?” "We did, too,” the Flapper whis pered. “We didn't know you had ft different place till Lane spoke of it just now. Eric? We must go back and put our new things on. We are so shabby.” She whispered again. "He always doeB what T tell him. J like him very much. Do you like Lane?” “O, darling,” Molly nearly cried. “Don't ask that. Don’t. He’s In ft quite different sphere. ... I don’t know what I shall do.” “Why,” the flapper whispered, “if you love him enough—! 1 think it just depends on that. . . . Come and see our house. Mine's ever such a little room; but Eric had to * have the cave next to the door, be cause . . . Well, wc all made a mis take about one another; except Erie and me. We didn't! Do you know, we never even said we were fond of each other till yesterday. I knew It though. O! We shall have a lovely Christmas! Fancy having ham and a pudding! Our last tin went six months ago.” You have gone very short, dear.” Molly sympathized. "And yet—you have been happy?” "O, yes: Very, very happy! Isn't It pretty here, Molly? We have the best of the scenery, tip our hills." "You don’t grow happy on scen ery," Molly thought. The flapper laughed, and pointed to the millionaire, who was standing on the drawbridge pointing to some thing down In the gully. Lane stock just beside him. "It's just a background.” she ob served. "Eric, I won t have you stand on that. You might fall over and kill youreelf. And I want you to see me In my new dress first!” "It isn't exactly a dress, missie," Lane apologized. "It's one of cook’s white overalls, in fact.” "But I’ve brought you some coral beads, dear,” Molly said. Molly hugged the flapper to her. When the Millionaire had put on his new suit—It was large for him, and he turned up the legs of the trousers, and the Flapper tacked hack to coat sleeves—and the mil lionalress elect had donned her white overall, with Ink beads round the neck, they returned down the hills, ^ carrying the present of fiah. and sufficient extra crockery and cut lery for the two extra. The others left the cooking for a moment to greet them. They had a merry dinner. Then Continued oil Page Seven.)