Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 269, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 November 1913 — LAURIE’S SCAPEGRACE [ARTICLE]

LAURIE’S SCAPEGRACE

By IZOLA FORRESTER.

Forest. Spring Lodge, had visitors. Laurie, riding up the winding mountain road on her black mare, saw the ascending pillar of smoke above the « trees and carried the news back to the village. “Anybody come on the night train, Walt?*’ she asked the express agent at the little wooden depot. -. Walt recalled two, but they were village people. He listened to her news with a shrewd smile. “Guess they must have run up in a machine. Which one would ye rather it was, Laurie?” Laurie flushed, and tpssed her head in much the same way as the mare did when she was restive. As though she cared which one came up to the Lodge! She knew what Walt meant. For two summers, and in the long hunting season, both of the Gregory brothers had made no secret of their reason for coming up to the Lodge. It was not the deer that led them, nor the partridge and quail. It was Laurie Carrolton, When she reached her own home a horse stood at the gate, unhitched. It raised "his head, whinnering to Vermont Belle. Very deliberately Laurie slipped down to the stable door. Standing within was Emmons Gregory talking to her young brother. "tt’s -so* mighty good to see you again, Lauriq,,’ he said, taking both her 'hands in his. / She drew them back. “d saw the smoke above the frees andtknew someone was there.” “And you wished it was not me.” Under the bantering tone there was an imderlying touch of bitterness. “4 didn’t wish at all. I only wondered who was there.” “Malcolm is with me and a few of the men servants. We expect more the end of the week. Will you ride with me along the river road after lunch?” It was on the tip of her tongue to say - no, but . Hardy forestalled her. He was only eighteen but he stood two. incites above Gregory’s head. “Mother wants you, Laurie,” he said witfi a side glance at his sister’s face. ‘Tm sorry, Mr. Gregory, but I can’t” “You mean you wont.” His tone was almost rough. "Shall I send Malcolmn down?” “You can both keep away,” Hardy spoke up suddenly, his face darkening with quick, boyish anger. “What’s it to Laurie whether you come or go?” “When you get past the cub age, you will' understand that the issue lies with hfcr, not you, lad,” smiled back Emmons, with aggravating courtesy. He raised his cap to Laurie, and went out to his mount. Laurie stood watching him ride up the road. Something in her quiet face, and the expression of her dark eyes checked Hardy’s hilarity. “No, I don’t, not specially, but you’d better keep out of it, dear. I can managed them both.” “You’ll have your hands full, then,’’ grymbled Hardy. - ~ She Bmiled then at 'his emphasis, but during the next few days his words, boyish and crude as they were, came true. The Gregory boys, as everyone around Mount Ranzer called them, had been left with plenty of money, and few restrictions. Their father had treated them experimentally rather than with any affection or real interest. They, were twins, and bad come into their inheritance at twenty-four, when their father died. Five years had been granted them under this will. If at the end of that time they had used their freedom recklessly, and had squandered their money, a trust fund was to be set aside for each, taking in all of the Gregory interests and properties and limiting the boys to a moderate income each. There was one clause in the will whjch had been held back, and was not to be told until the expiration of the live years or in the event of either one marrying. Laurie had always felt a certain responsibility in the matter. She was her mother and it wa» well known around Ranzer that Mollie -Carrollton could have married the millionaire even in her widowhood. They had been sweethearts long before he had found that fortunes grow from using other people’s brains for fuel. Yet she had chosen Laurie’s father, the local editor of the little four-page sheet, in preference. Laurie and Hardy remained to her after their father’s death. And oddly enough, the twins whenever they were at Mount Ranzer, had come to her with all their boyish scrapes. But now, in manhood, they fought their battle out alone. Malcolm had first right. He was the steadier of the two, and by far the better looking. Emmons seemed younger, some way. Hla hair curled at the edges, he was dark with tan and lean and muscular with outdoor exercise. He lacked Malcolm’s balance of character and ease of manner. And between the two was Laurie, winsome and womanly, fall of grace and earnestness. Only her mother seemed to guess at the struggle In her heart those last few days. The two brothers were not on speaking terms, yet neither would give an inch. Long rides they took oyer the mountain roads with while she laughed at them and tried to coax them back to friendship. “Choose one of us, and the other will stand Pkt on the decision, and be friends,”, Malcolm insisted. "But you must qhoose.” “He speaks for himself," Emmons

flung hack hotly. “I would. not be friends with him if you chose him.” That night he rode down to Laurie’s home. It was bright moonlight, a wonderful glowing orange-colored moon mounting slowly behind the ragged edge of woodland. And in its mellow light he standing on the veranda, both her hands resting bh Malcolm’B shoulders, and her face raised to him. Her back was towards him, but he knew every line of her figure, and the light seemed to die out of his life as he gazed at them. He leaned his head down on the old rock wall with a groan. Virginia Creeper covered it, but the vines had hardly one clinging crimson leaf now. And suddenly he heard some one speak his name, Laurie’s voice, a bit tremulous, and startled, “Emmons, what is it?” She put out her hands to him. “I was with Hardy down in the village.” t "Where’s Malcolm?" “I haven’t any idea. Why?” "I saw him there on the porch with you, just now.” “Not with me —with mother.” She laid one hand on his shoulder pityingly.' “You silly boy. Mother was just comforting him.” He caught her two hands close in his crushing grip. “I thought it was you, Laurie. Do you mean you’ve told him —” Laurie nodded. “Do you know what you’ve done, dear heart? I’m the scapegrace. Dad always said I was, and yet he was good to me. I’ve run wild with his money and my life, and now I lose it all and you too.” "Not me, Emmons.” Her face was uplifted to his, but he,, made no attempt to kiss her. “I told Malcolm I had made my choice. He wept straight to mother then. And she knows —I think she knew before I did myself." “But I may be cut off from every share in the old estate.”

“I’m not marrying the estate,” laughed Laurie softly. Half an hour later they stole into the shadowy living room where Mrs. Carrollton sat alone before the op6n fire. She listened to Emmons in silence while Latirie knelt beside her, her face on her shoulder. “It doesn’t seem fair to ask Laurie, to be my wife, though, on account of father’s clause in the will and I know It was put in to keep me straight.” “I happen to know what it says, Emmons boy,” smiled back Mrs. Carrollton, affectionately. “Your father read it to me. Both of you boys are dear to me, so It made no difference which one Laurie chose. The clause merely states that in the event of either one marrying Laurie an extra fifty thousand is added to his share, and the homestead at Mount Ranzer.” Slowly a dawning smile overspread Emmons’ boyish face. He slipped one arm around Laurie and drew her up to him. “Poor old Malcolm,” he said, with deep feeling. (Copyright, 1913, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)