Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 142, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 June 1913 — SERIOUSLY NIPPED [ARTICLE]

SERIOUSLY NIPPED

It Was No Time for James Henry Canfield to Think of Penitence.

By ERNEST A. YOUNG.

James Henry Canfield, as cashier of the Hepworth Trust company, detectr «d the financial ills of the bank’s trons for eleven months of the year with eyes that were hard, cold and hawk-like. • Then, during his August vacation period at mountain, seashore or homely farm-house resort, the afore-men* tinned eyes became dove-like while he made love to the summer girl. For seven seasons James Henry filled in the August love-making program without getting seriously nipped. He could not even recall the n&mef of more than three of the seven or eight summer sweethearts. Yet all the affairs had seemed serious while they lasted. He remembered their faces and ways much better. In one case it troubled him that the name had dropped from his memory—the one of the two years ago, up at the Lovejoy farm.

It was she who had sent her wedding announcement the following June. He lost the dainty engraved sheet the same day he received it, and for the life of him he could afterward recall only her married surname. He would npt have been sure the wedding notice came from that particular young lady but for the postmark and handwriting. These were the same aB those on an that brought him a blurry smooch intended to represent his own mahly figure In a pose beside the lane fence near the Lovejoy pasture. For she had a camera and snapped everything that came her way. “It wasn’t Margy, nor was It Edith,” debated James Henry when the image of this girl who had figured In the farm epißode persisted in haunting him. It was the end of July and his vacation would begin the next week. A poet card from the Lovejoy farm was inviting him. It wasn't much of a place, except for that girl. Probably, he told himself, he would not be thinking of that summer at all had she not the same as told him, in sending him that wedding announcement, that there had been a, chance for him. "She must have been engaged all the while,” he taunted himself by saying. “While I was flattered with the notion that she was—-er —a bit sore because I didn’t wind up by proposing, she was engaged to this what—d'ye—call—him Rochfort. A peach of a name, anyway; reminds me of a kind of cheese!”

“We’ll go up to the Lovejoy farm, at Ridgeford, this year.” he said to his mother, the morning after the card arrived. “Why to that lonesome place, James Henry?” Mrs.* Canfield demanded. “For eleven months of the year I have no chance to get lonesome,” he argued. “Besides, it isn’t the worst place if you want to loaf around, row a boat, fish, that sort of thing. Truth Is. I’m tired of seeing a lot of people. Society is punk. Say,” he suddenly added, “who was that girl? The one at the Lovejoy farm?” “If I’m not mistaken, there were five young women at the- Lx>vejoy farm ■while we were there,” Mrs. Canfield told him. “Do- you mean the one with the pale blue eyes and faded hair? Or the other blond who talked books and art —?”

“No, no!" snapped James Henry. “The dark one, perhaps, who nagged you—” ** “It doesn’t matter,” he again interrupted. “She wdn’t be there this year, anyway, for she is married. Husband’s name is—-Is Cheese!" He chuckled maliciously as he went down to the bank, leaving his mother wondering. “James Henry certainly needs to get away from business and society and take a complete rest,” she, decided, sympathetically. 7 They were met'at the Ridgeford railway station by the Lovejoy hired man.. with a two-seated democrat. While they were being hauled up the first long hill to the farm thjs man told them that a broken-down Unitarian minister, a young lady and the young lady's aunt were the only boarders already there. Even Mrs. Canfield was not sufficiently interested to ask for further particulars. To escape greetings and introductions, James Henry jumped from the seat of the democrat at the foot of the last hill and proceeded to stretch his legs along the footpath which he had helped to wear, two years before. The path ended at the pebbly shore of the pond, and there was the same row-boat, freshly painted. She wan in the boat, in the act of pushing off; but she waited for him with a bright smile of greeting. James Henry was old enough, and he had been In love times enough,, not to have his heart pound so ridiculously as it did when the boat rocked un-

der them and the pebbly shore receded. For she was rowing and talking precisely as if there had been no twoyear Interruption. They got out on Paradise Island, so christened by her, as he had been vain enough to believe, because of the blissful hours they had spent there together. By this time James Henry had worked himself into quite a; stats of feeling, and with a stage-villain smile, he shoved the empty boat out onto the receding waves. As he faced her she gave him a look, as If she were afraid

.be was not quite right in his mind. The stage villain smile was not reassuring, but she decided not to show any misgivings. _ “Doubtless you have a plan for getting me bach in lime for supper, Mr. Confleld?” she suggested. • “That isn’t worrying me,” *he replied, malevolently. “The wind may shift and drift the boat back to u* by the timp lam ready to go.” , “Oh, I would never have thought of that,” she contoMed. She seated herself on the ground as if she were perfectly consented to wait. “You probably do not care to recall the thirty-first of August, 1910, when you and I. were last together at this very spot?" said Capfleld. “And how black the sky grew, with yellow clouds that rolled over and over , like wreaths of smoke?” she prompted. “And how you rowed back with might and main because it lookef like a hurricane and I was frightened? But it wasn’t much of a storm,' aftet* all.” “It was enough of one to save mo from giving you a chance to laugh at me. I was on the verge of proposing to you that afternoon,” She was gazing out toward the boat, which seemed to have met a head-wind that whirled it around and around halfway between the island and,.shore.

“I will admit," continued James Henry, brazenly, "that it was not the first occasion when I contemplated proposing marriage; nor were you the first intended victim. But the other times I was restrained by inward doubts instead of by the interposition of a thunderstorm. And the other times I was glad afterward that I did not commit myself. With you, I meant to find another opportunity.” He could see the color flaming in her cheeks, while she kept her eyes upon the boat. He imagined she was praying that it might drift back so as to allow her a chance to escape. But he fplt that she deserved to listen to all he had to say. "I was looking forward to seeing you the next summer,” James Henry, went on, pitilessly. “You sent me that announcement the next June, and at the time I supposed I would be able to cast the episode out of my mind. I divided my August vacation between mountains and seashore and returned to work as a relief to my nerves.

"The rest of my confession is, that I decided to spend a month here this year, solely because I believed I would find where we were together, and living that season over again in memory than I could enjoy anywhere else, i hardly need to say I never dreamed of meeting you here.” "Why not?” phe asked. "I came last year, as you might have found out had you taken the trouble to — to—” "Acknowledge the announcement of your marriage,” Buppll6d''lsmea Henry in a frigid tone. <;■* “The announcement of my marriage!” she exclaimed. J “You sent it, didn’t you? Aren’t you Mrs. Roland Rochford? Have l—am I—?” “Yes, you have, and you are!” She sprang up and pointed at the boat while the wind blew freshly in their faces. “It is coming back,” she cried, gleefully. “The wind has Bhifted.”

It .was no time for'iames Henry to think of penitence, for opposite feelings were rampant. She did not try to escape from arms, nor did she even pretend she wanted Jo. “That was Nellie Vanston’s wedding,” she told him as soon as he would let her say anything coherent. “I sent you the announcement, to ha sure, for I knew she wanted you to knoW she got sorftebody after all the book and art talk she wasted on you. And to think you mistook her name for mine!” The boat’s keel scraped on the gravel at their feet; but they were slow rowing back. As they went up the footpath'toward the house James Henry abruptly paused. “We’re engaged now, aren’t we?” he pleaded. “Why, I suppose so.” “I Just wanted to put it that way to my mother, but —er—“ he laughed sheepishly, “truth is, if I was to be electrocuted for it. I oan’t recall your name! Actually, I’m in doubt betwixt Sibyl and Grace —” “You deserve never to hear it!” she cried. ' Mrs. Canfield met them at the door with both hands outstretched in greeting. “Marion Leslie, you dear!” she murmured. (Copyright, 191 S, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)