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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 24, 1922)
k Love Island (('entlmied Knmi Pafr Two.) By Owen Oliver (Continued From Faso Two.) the ladies washed up. while the men smoked, and diseussed the possi 1 bility of erecting a higher flagstaff * to attract passing vessels. “Have to blow off their route. Richardson warned them. “We're off the track. Can’t say I'm in any particular hurry to get away my self; but the stores are coming to an end, and we've got to think of the ladies. Its’ a hard life for them , . . Miss Green was proposing that we'd take a walk over for you to see their tent. The cave was a bet ter place for them, but—well, Lane's told you how it happened. You were right and wrong. If a man cares enough for a woman, she’s all right . . . I.ike Mlssie—grown a fine young lady, sir, and you and site won't be sorry to get off the place. It’s different with us chaps. We haven't the same to look forward to. But, of course, we hope for the best for the ladies, and that's ship soon.” "Aye!" Carter agreed. Lane nodded. i "Look back to this Christmas all y our lives,” he said. “It's likely to be the best we'll ever have; us chapa." There was a silence for a minute; then the ladies came up. The Flap per sat down-beside the Millionaire with her back against his logs. “Stick them up a bit higher, Eric,” she commanded cheerfully. He noticed that the men looked away from the ladies then, and the ladles looked away from the men. "It's a good Christmas," he re marked, to break the rather depress ing silence. “I expect,” Ruby Green said, "it ^0 the best Christmas some of us rwill ever have. I congratulate you and Marjory. May you have many and even happier Christmases to gether." "May you all have,” the Million aire wished. "I think, you know. It depends a good deni on ourselves, whether we aet the right value on things and choose those which will really make us happy. ... Am I’ve ehosen tills funny kid .... And you are going to show us your present Quarters?'’ He emphasized the "present.” They and his Marjory had better take the big cave again, he thought. They walked over to the "Quar ters,” and then took a long ramble back round by the north shore and the hills. During the ramble they drifted In pairs. Richardson and Ruby sat down o» a rock at the corner of Flat fish Ray, and watched the green water lapping round the boulders. “It's good of you to sit here and talk to me,” he told her. "As you said, it's the Christmas of some peo ple’s lives; and I'm one of them! . . . . And, out of it, the part I’ll forget last will be sitting here with you.” "I dare say,” Miss Green ob served "I. too. shall reine.mlier It.” "But I Rhall remember it all my life,” he stated, "and the time that I was privileged to be raised out of my station by the company of a lady like you. Which will be onded when a ship comes—I hope for your sake it will be soon—and we leave the island . . . and one another . . . Sometimes, I think my heart will nearly break. . . ." "I’d break mine first!” cried Miss Green. "If you left me I—1 in sure that I shouldn’t. But, of course, if you want to go . . .?” "I gather that you don’t,” she oh served after an inarticulate inter val. "It will be a> comedown for you, my dear,” he said brokenly, "but I'll fight to rise, and make it as little comedown for you as I can.” "1 know,” she acknowledged soft ly. "I know. We’ll be all right. Don't worry’, dear boy. We’ll be all right.” They wore an hour late for tea, but so were most of the others. The lateness of Carter and Stella Raikes occurred in this way. They got lost in the bushy ground upon the unfamilur northeast ,and Miss Raikes thought that she saw a snake and was frightened and held to her companion's arm. They walk ed on for some time like this, and then she screamed and clung to him. "I'm so frightened;" she cried. ‘X'^riglitened of those little snakes!" ho protested. "No," she told him; "of something much bigger!" "Me?' 'he gasped. "Me!" she nod ded. “Missie, you haven’t cause to be. As true as God's In heaven, you haven't cause to be. I'll soon take you out of this. 1 know the way bettor than I made believe. It seemed like having you to myself, you see. . . . I'll take you out in the open. Then I’ll go.” “I—I don't think I want you to go," she confessed, still clinging to him. “I—I’m frightened of myself, tool!” Afterwards she confessed that she hadn't seen any snake, and she hadn’t been frightened at all. She had laid awake all night, and had made up her mind, "and I knew you were too chivalrous to ask me, and I'd have to help you out, and father will find you something better. He'll be wild at first, btit I can get over him—and you! Mind that! We'll get along all right somehow . . . You poor fellow!” Carter refused to consider him self a poor fellow. lie was luckier than the king of—"Well, any place that 1ms a king! You know more about them than I do, and you’ll bo able to teach me, end I'll learn better than you expect. J'd do any thing for you!” They were also an hour late for tea. Lane and Miss Brian wandered about rather aimlessly, and were unable to explain exactly where they had been. She made feeble at tempts at conversation. Ho only looked at her and sighed. Present ly she caught at him and stopped him. "Oh!” she cried. "Hon't keep look ing at me like that. Say it!” "I can’t,” he told her, "and you know what It is, and why I can't. . . . A poor sailor chap, and not fit to black your shoes. The girl put one soft little hand on each of his big shoulders, and looked him fairly in the eyes. "If you knew what I really think of you,” she whispered. "I don’t know what you want to say, of course, but ... I do! . , . You may say it!” They didn’t say anything very sensible after that; held to each olher; kissed; laughed like two chil dren; talked foolishly. Harry had 200 pounds left by his aunt, "and Interest, but I don’t know how much. Buy a ring for your finger, perhaps. Which one does it go on, lady-girl?" Molly had half share in a house, "and I can do housework, tioy, und I’ve never had very much —till now! So I shan’t mind being poor. Oh! You were a bad boy to make tne like you. But 1 don't care!” They also were very late for tea. The Millionaire and the Flapper were only half an hour late. They prepared the meal while they waited for the others. Then they sat down and talked about their future. She was to have exactly the house she wanted, ha told her, and furnish it just as she liked, and lie would teach her to drive u motor, and she should have her own little ear, and call it what she pleased. "Erie?" she suggested "But ] think 1 11 keep that nutne for you. You tlnd a name fur me. I tike things best when you do them for me; a very short name." 'Tat,” he thought. "Yes. That's It. I say. Eliot We'll be all right when we get off, but how about the others? Wliat are you going to do for them?” "What you tell me to, I expect.** "Of course! Tint you tell ms what to tell you!” "I think," he advised, "if I give the men a fair start and enough to marry decently on—nature will do the rest.” “Yes . . . That's someone coming, darling. Take your arm away. . . , I don't think It mutters though. Look at them! Wicked old naturo has been doing It . . . They're leav ing go, Eric. Bo you'd better . . , There's .Stella and Carter, too. This ought to he called Love Island . . . O! You naughty people . . . Molly! You, too! . . . Aren't we all happy, dears . . . Now we'll have tea. Eric, you have to be clever for both of us. Make a nice little speech." The Millionaire rose with cup in hand. "Love Island!” he proposed. “May vve soon have a ship to take us away, or a wreck to cast a parson ashore 1” Early In the New Year Providence sent a ship. There was no parson aboard, but they soon found one when they landed, and gave him four jobs! The Millionaire has bought a yacht, and, if buslneae will let him get away Ibis merry young wife says It will!) he Is tak ing them all a trip next Christman time to Love Island. (Copyright, 1122.) THE FOX By Oicen Oliver People who do not know me think that I am IS and shy and stupid and sentimental. I am not any of j them. I was two and 20 last fall. » My dressmaker keeps me young. ” She says that It suits me. Shyness goes with the dresses. It Is merely a superficial adornment. I am not stupid as people go. How could the daughter of "Hard Hardy,” the millionaire he a fool? Ask him. He knows his little daughter! As for sentiment, I may have had a leaning to that line; but I've been hunted through threo continents for my money. The fox can’t look upon the hunt romantically if she Is to escape. And 1 have. Last spring I got fairly sick of be ing a fox, and I spoke to Cousin Frank about It. lie looks a fool with his single eyeglass, but the eyeglass Is the fool, not Frank. When he takes It off he’s six feet of good looks and strength. ■Tull that thing out of your (eye,” I commanded, “and talk to me. I know you'll talk wisdom. You can’t help It, poor chap. But I'll not believe It Is wisdom while you wear that. When you get a wife she'll smash It for you.” He removed it unwillingly and ^J^ked at me. Somehow he can ^^iako me feel like a naughty child. "Thinking of marrying me?” he drawled. “Don’t be an ass,” I said. “Though I don't know that your suggestion is so asinine. It seems to me that the only way I can es cape being married for my money Is to marry some one who doesn't need It; somebody like you!” "Heavens!” he cried. “Of course, I’d be delighted for myself; but I must put up a fight for my eye glass!” "I couldn't help laughing. "Really and truly, Frank,” I said, "I'm hipped. Tell me honest. Am I so bad that no one would marry me for myself? Don’t chaff.” He lit a clgaret. i "Honest Injun, kid,” he pro f nounced, “you're quite nice. A man might marry you for your looks; and for several other reasons. But for one reason I'd do it myself.” "The eyeglass!” I shrugged my shoulders. "No,” he denied. "The reason is that I've always had a cranky fancy about my wife. I'd like her to ho in love with me.” "O, gracious!” I cried. "Would you! Now don’t chaff me, Frank, Please don't. That Is just what we all want. Yi’iat I do. Help me like a sport. You know I tried to go off Incog last year; and they all spotted me. All the hunters went incog, too! Well, this time I’ve got a plan that rt<4lly ought to lc to dodge the reporters and rest of them. Only you can netier be sure. They're so artful. I want you to turn on some people that you can really trust; to watch the men who hang around me— if any do—and report whether they have found out who I am. Then you can wire and let me know. See!” "I see,” he said; "hut a chap might be after you for yourself and yet not be the right one, you know. You mustn’t take up the first dls interestedly affectionate ass!” "As if I wouldl” I cried. "Well." he said, "Promise me to be sensible, and I'll help.” I promised, of course. Frank's word is always as good as the bank. So I made my preparations at once, and he arranged things; and then I went. He wrote that he believed that I had evaded the reporters. Anyhow I was at Mossydene sann torluin for a week, and no one made love to me. There was no one there that I wanted to. So I moved on to Wood Springs. I lived o na country farm there. The cows and pigs and chickens were friends directly; and so were the farmer and his wife. All the rustics tried to make love to me. Unfortunately they were simply Im possible, except the village school master. He was a superior young man. He had a taste for poetry and all sorts of culture, and a way of looking at you that was—O, a way! I wasn't exactly in love with him, but I thought it possible that I might be. I had told him that 1 was a poor orphan and was going out as a governess or something. But somehow, as 1 stood him up beside Frank (without the eyeglass) or father, he seemed outclassed. Still, I wasn't quite sure until a wire came from Frank in the cipher that wo had arranged. "Some leakage evidently taken place. Beware fair young man with rather curly hair and blue eyes. Suggest rapid move to E on list J,eave clothes behind, as If going out for short time only. Smith will send new outfit to E. I will call and pay landlady. Wire reply.” I wired that I would go; and I did. From E, 1 wrote to FTank, through the channel I arranged, thanking him. I said that I had never felt quite sure about the schoolmaster, and it was dreadful to think that people could be so deceitful. E was quite a lively place—Wa ter’s End, in fact—and there were a lot of young fellows at the board ing house. But they seemed to prefer girls who were freer In their ways than I; ready to let anything in trousers take them out. How ever, there was a nice old colonel and his wife, and they were kind to me; and their nephew came down for a week-end and stayed till Wed nesday, instead of going back on the Monday. He spent most of the time looking after me. He seemed to be quite a possibility. We all went to the theater on Tuesday eve ning; and he squeezed my hand. He toid me, when he said good-bye, that he should come down the next week-end also; and possibly the one after, if I was staying on here. I was Inclined to think that I shouldn’t be, cause somehow I didn't tolnk I really wanted to fall in love with him. You see, I felt that I was cleverer than he was, and stronger. The men of my family are real men; especially father and Frank (behind tho eyeglass.) You get them In a tight corner and see! Still I was bucked that Capt. Grayson was really gone on me for myself, until a letter earae from Frank. That was also a cipher. “Have ascertained that tall young officer, calliug himself Grayson, is a notorious adventurer. Presumably he has traced you, though unable to ascertain how. Wilson, dis guised as a hawker, will tell you how to get away while you arc Inspecting his wares. New outfit al ready at H. Am taking special pre cautins to prevent tracking this time.’’ Mr. Wilson—he was one of the detectives that Frank had engaged —picked me up in a fast n^otor the next day and drove me right off to H—which was Gaytown. He called at a village on the way and I went to a cottage—he had ar ranged it splendidly—and I dressed up as a young and rather country tied girl. Tho men simply ran after me as a flapper girl; and some of then) seemed quite nice men. It was a pleasant experience and made me think better of men as a class. Only they didn't fall In love with me, and I didn't fall in love with them. So after a fortnight I wrote (in cipher) to Frank: "Nothing doing. They take me for a kid. Move me on, and move Mrs. Dunstan off. Am afraid she’s going it with head waiter. Must have older outfit Why don't you come to eee me? I,cave eyeglass at home. I'll chap eron you.1” He wrote arranging for me to go to J, but pressed that Mrs. Dunstan should accompany me. However, she accepted the bead waiter and they decided to he married at once. That settled her. I had a maid Frank sent, Instead; and we went In a closed motor, and I changed to about 20 on the journey (awfully swagger!). I can’t make up older than 20. J was the hydro at Marley Moun tains, and I had quite a good time. There was a big. rough unpolished man, who had been a great traveler in wild parts and had made sonic money at the diggins. He had a wonderful knack of managing horses, and the dogs simply adored him; but he was awkward with la dies—almost rude. He was rude once wjth me: only once! I told him what I thought of him: and he thought over what 1 thought; and then he said: “You’re quite right. I am an uncivilized boor, as you say; but if you'll give me a few lessons in civilization I'll take them In all right.." So T set to work civilizing him, and he was a splendid pupil; only the more civilized he became tbc less I liked him. You sec. I could order him about Just as I pleased. Too c*-'* do that with the men of m 4 Of course, T can man in lots of things; and even Frank; but In some things I can’t; and in a few they can even manage me! I do like pigheaded men! Frank was pigheaded about my staying on at the hydro. Before I had nearly finished civilizing the rough man he came down in dis guise and said he was my guardian and took me out in a motor. He didn't take me back to the hydro, hut dumped me at Freshville (that was K). He had taken rooms there and planted a new outfit and Smith —my own maid—at the place. It was horrible cheek, and I had an awful row with him and said I wouldn’t atop. He aald he’d fetch the old men down to bring me home if I didn’t. I said 1 was of age— (he said, "Then behave like It!") —and father couldn’t make me go. "And," 1 cried. “If I get my hark to the wall I’ll fight father and you. and every one. So there!*' “Then come away from the wall!" he said: and he picked me up and carried me to a big chair In the middle of the room. I hit and kicked till I caught him one on the shins and saw him wince, though ho didn't eay anything. Then I wns sorry, because he’d always been fearfully good to me and, really, I rather like hint. You see, he’s the one I always tell alK>ut things, and 1 know T can trust him. "I’m sorry for that, Frank,” I owned directly. “Ever so sorry. But you shan’t bully me. I’m sorry, though." "That’s all right, kid,” he said. “I seem a brute, but you’re all the kiddie sister I ever had, you know ” He stroked my hair, "I won’t have you hurt, and I won’t have you do wrong. Kid, be isn't the chap for you.” "I know that,’’ I crumbled "Why do you take me for a fool?” He laughed and patted my shoul der and gave me a peck on the forehead—and we were good friends again. Freshville was fairly exciting. There was a boy who kissed me in the conservatory the second night. I smacked his face. O! It was such a beauty! (I mean the smack.) And there was a foreign count who made love so funnily. But I don't think he meant it. And there was a poet! O! He was a fool. His verses were himself, he said. They were almost worse, I thought. I wrote to Frank about him—cipher, of course. "At last,” I said, “1 am sure tbnt a man loves mo for myself alone." I really was sure, though I wouldn’t have accepted him (in fact. I had refused him four times In three days) if he had been the only man in the world. But it was so nice to think that people eould love me Just for my funny little self. 1 cried when I had Frank's cipher. "Afraid someone has betrayed us: possibly one of the servants, hut I cannot help doubting the detectives. The man Sprlngoder certainly knows.. Ho has unwittingly be trayed himself In the atrocious verses which you rend about ‘tb*» gold beneath the gold that's hidden. In your coppery yellow head. Your hair is not golden. If your secret has been betrayed to him it has been betrayed to others. The game la up this time. You had better re turn home and make a fresh start." I returned. I was inclined to think that Frank bad made a mistake about Mr. Springod'r. 1 could not believe that he was mercenary. I decided to make father buy about a thousand copies of his book when it came out. The real reason why I went home at once was that I had n letter fr» :Wp father. He said that he had bad a terrible hit over Deep Pea Fnlver sals. His managing clerk had let him In (Frank and I always said that he gave Carter too much au thority to pledge him) Also other things had gone badly; and we were "done as millionaires.” he declared; and he thought he’d take up farm ing. I hugged the old man for 10 min utes, and told him not to worry, be cause he’d make a hit at farming or anything, and anyhow he had a daughter worth at lenst $5,000 noo to him. He said. "From CO to 50." Then I went end saw Frank He quizzed me with the eyeglass Bo I took It out of his eye. "Well," I said, "here 1 am Back on your hands!” "Ah!” he said "So I see Do you know, kid, you've grown pret tier." “That means I was pretty be fore." I remarked. “You were,” he stated. "Well, ure you going out again—with th^ lantern?” There was some grumpy old phil osopher who did that to look for an honest inan. "No.” I denied. "I'm through with the lantern stunt. I've come to the tub. He ended by living In one. didn’t he? That's what I shall have to do!” "O, no,” he declared. “Not as my wife!" "But,” I said, “hut—don’t yon know about father?” He got up and shook me. ' Do you think I like you any the less for that!" be growled. "Ohh!" 1 cried. "Do you want to marry me because—you do!” You see, he'd never made that plain before. Clever men are so stupid in some things. "Exactly that,” he stated “And vou. little girl?” "O h h!” I said again. "I- I might, only—If you wanted me why did you let me go off and try and find someone elit 1 might have found him!” Frank and fnthcr both .~ I am * quick. I think 1 was stnarl time, anyhow. It was only the tini est bit of grin at the corners of his mouth; but 1 noticed it and saw through the whole business. "O!” 1 cried. You horrible, de ceitful. mean wretch! t ou le ast! They never found out at all' Di rectly there was anyone who took any notice of me your detectites if nlillrraed «n Kigbl >