Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 218, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 September 1910 — A CRAZY AFFAIR. [ARTICLE]

A CRAZY AFFAIR.

By Stuart B. Stone.

It was in front of the great, red brick, wall-inclosed building that Clayton, searching"'for Colonel Palmer’s country home, encountered the prettiest girl he had seen in his young li/e. She sidled away from him and it seemed to Clayton that she smiled. In quick, irresistible Impulse he bounded to her side. Then it was that she shrank back, with a look of pretty alarm, and said, coaxikgly, as if pleading with a spoiled child: “There,now—be a good boy and go inside!” “Go inside?” repeated Bob Clayton, puzzled. Then, glancing up, be saw the words, “Central Asylum for the Insane” over the big wagon gate. “Oh!” he murmured, his heart sinking at the discovery. “So you belong inside. You’re one of ’em?” She took half a step from him, glancing cautiously back. “Nb —that is, yes,” she answered, hesitatingly. “I m one of them, of course. But you’d better go in maybe they’ll have plum pudding for supper, or something else very nice.” “Poor girl!” murmured Clhyton, touched at the sight of unbalanced loveliness. “You see,%jy automobile’s broken down,” he added aloud, “I have to get it fixed before I can go an.’

“Yes—yes,” she answered, “you’d better get inside first, though. They fix automobiles In there—lt’s an auto factory.” “It Isn’t,” corrected Clayton; then reflecting, “that is, it Is, of course.” “Better go in,” urged the girl-again. They 11 just have - time to fix your machine before supper.” Then, eyeing him carefully, she started down the road. Clayton, aroused to her defencelessness, unprotected wandering, started after her. Her only answer wak shriek after shriek, and Clayton, l greatly alarmed for her, raced madly on, finally overtaking the girl. She drew back, frightened at his approach, but became calmer as he spoke in soothing tones. “Come—let’s go to the nice auto factory. I’ll take you, and maybe we can find a big balloon or a pretty airship!” She yielded readily to his coaxing “Will yov go, too?” she asked in hei beautiful, simple way, “if I go along?’ “Yes,” assented Clayton. “Come on.” Hand in hand, each eyeing the other, like bashful qchool children, they retraced their steps up the dusty road. At the big wagon gate the girl drew back. “Now,” she said, “you go in. It won’t be necessary for me to go any farther.” “Oh, yes," persisted Clayton. “Come on —before the plum puddihg is all gone.” Still hand in hand they sought the superintendent’s office. To Clayton’s nervous knock a cheery voice called, “Come in!” To the rosy, rotund man within, Clayton winked and whispered, “I’ve brought in one of your patients. I saw her wandering aimlessly outside and she attempted to escape.” The man stared at' him, openmouthed. “What do you mean?” he gasped.

Then the girl communicated with the superintendent, not so low but that Clayton heard. “I found this poor man stroking outside in the road. He chased me for a hundred yards ” The superintendent seemed Threatened with apoplexy. “You’re not—he's not era” he began. Then a door onened and a very familiar figure entered. “Why, Clayton,” explained the newcomer. “You here? Allow me to introduce my daughter, Miss Lynda Palmer, and my friend and neighbor, Captain Hyatt, who is superintendent here. They’re looking for you at the house.” “Miss Palmer,” bowed Clayton, reddening, while the superintendent smigr gered. “Mr. Clayton,” acknowledged the rosy-cheeked girl. Then, in an undertone of delicious confld'-nce, she added: “We’li go have the auto fixed now—before the nice plum pudding is served.”