Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 119, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 May 1915 — MARRYING ROYALTY [ARTICLE]

MARRYING ROYALTY

So Carl Said When He Wedded the Queen of Cooks. Mrs. Bliss came into the day nursery, her large rosy face growing a deeper pink with the exertion of climbing the stairs to the third floor. "Good morning. Miss Newton,” she smiled at the little nursery governess who was sitting with Bobby in the window seat. “I wonder if you and Bobby wouldn’t like to play today? We are going to picnic at the pine grove and —” “Oh, mother-honey!” Bobby flung his sturdy self at his parent. “Will there be lemonade and chicken sandwiches? And can I wear my new white Tommy Tucker suit?” “Yes, to everything,”, laughed Mrs. Bliss, kissing him and moving toward the door. “Can you Le ready in 15 minutes, Miss Newton?” “Of course we can, Mrs. Bliss! We wouldn’t miss a picnic for the world, would we, Bobby?” She jumped up and put away books and toys. “Come, childie!” They danced down the corridor- to Bobby’s room where nurse quickly put him into the much-admired suit. In the meantime Beth Newton brushed her red-brown hair and slipped into a dainty pale blue gingham frock, then the girl and the little boy went sedately downstairs to the front veranda where three motor cars were waiting for the merry house party that had filled the Bliss country home for ten days. Some of the girls and women came up and spoke to Bobby and nodded kindly to the little governess; one of them, Miss Nugent, tall, graceful, and carelessly kind in her manner, introduced Beth right and left, until presently the girl found herself in timid conversation with Mr. Carl Bellew, so many times a millionaire that no one troubled to remember exactly how many dollars there were and only recalled that he was just as nice as if he didn’t have a penny. At last they were off, Beth and Bobby tucked away in the tonneau of the last car with Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, the footman and the lunch baskets which overflowed on to the running boards and th‘e luggage carriers.

“This is jolly!” cried Bobby enthusiastically as they swept out of the driveway and turned up the rdad that led to the Pine Mountain. Beth smiled absently. Perhaps she was thinking that it might have been pleasanter if she had been in one of the other large cars among that merry crowd of girls and young men. But she chided herself sharply for the momentary discontent and was soon, her olrn accustomed happy self, enjoying the unexpected holidays to the utmost. a At the pine grove the picniw hampers were unloaded; James, the footman, built a fire and was then allowed to return home with the machines- They were to come for the picknickers at sundown. “One can’t have a jolly picnic with servants around,” Mrs. Bliss had decided. Leaving the fire to take care of Itself the party trooped through the pines to the glade where a waterfall tumbled among the brown rocks. An acrid smell of burning brought them running to the campfire. The fire had overcrept the boundaries of. its encircling stopes and had licked its way among the pine needles until it reached the four large hampers. There was nothing left of the food save blackened remnants, and of the hampers there remained only charred splinters. As the picknickers reached the scene the last soda water bottle exploded with a sickening report. “Seven miles from anywhere! groaned Mrs. Bliss. “And not a thing to eat!” added Mitchell blankly. “Or to drink,” mourned Mr. Mitchell as he grubbed among the ruins of the hampers. There was a murmur of discontent among the young people. Some of the men volunteered to walk back to the house and bring something to eat but the question was quickly decided when a few heavy drops of rain fell. “Where is the nearest shelter?” asked Carl Bellew. “It must be old Ned Blake’s shanty,” replied Mrs. Bliss. “At least it will keep us dry for awhile. Come, everybody!” Someone laughed a spirit of adventure into the, party and so they hastened down the slope until under the shoulder of the mountain they reached a long, weather-beaten shanty built against- a great rock that formed its rear wall. f Ned Blake was a hermit who gained a living by gathering herbs and berrfes in season. Repeated knocks upon the door brought no response. “The latchstring is out," suggested Beth Newton. Carl Bellew pulled the latch-string and pushed open the weather-beaten door. The poor furnishings were spotlessly clean and neat but the hermit was absent . . ft,' '•< S&* '• “We must find something to eat and we can pay Ned when he returns,” said Mrs. BBSs as she sank down in a cushioned Boston rocker, while the young people found seats on the rag-carpeted floor before the open fireplace. Soon Carl Bellew had a fire of hickory logs blazing on the hearth while Lillian Nugent and Beth New-

ton explored the pantry. Miss Nogent returned to the living room. “There isn’t a bit of cqoked food in the place—not even bread!" she announced. “There are flour and sugar and eggs and potatoes and some canned things—what can we do? Do any of you girls know how to cook eggs?" Miss Taylor confessed that she had made creamed eggs in a chafing dish at home —but —she shrugged her shoulders. The other women were silent Beth Newton stood m the kitchen doorway, her face pink with shyness; she looked distractingly pretty at that moment , “If you don’t mind waiting a half hour I believe I could prepare something fit to eat” she announced timidly. They applauded her enthusiastically and offered to help. She accepted Miss Taylor for an assistant in the kitchen, and Lillian Nugent opened the tiny cupboard and prepared to set the table for a dozen people from the hermit’s scanty store of crockery. Beth lighted a fire in the cracked old cookstove, Carl Bellew and Andy Smith carried firewood, and opened the cans of vegetables. Bobby danced in and out report-ing-progress. "Baked potatoes! Hot biscuits —um! Bacon —mother, they’re cooking bacon and eggs out there!” They were doing all those things, while outside of the frail shelter a summer rain drummed on the shingles and made the fire and the coziness more desirable. At last they sat down at two tables. They gave Beth a seat of honor, and no one told her of the dab of flour on her hair or the smudge of soot that became a beauty spot near her lively eye. With her flushed cheeky her 5 ruffled brown hair, her pale blue sleeves pushed up above her rounded elbows, Beth Newton was radiant. They were all so good to her, too! She smiled happily, too tired to eat. Her eyes met Carl Bellew’s and something in the man’s gaze brought a hot flush to her cheek. After that her eyes did not wander far from her plate. ' As a delightful surprise Beth produced a steaming apple puddihg with maple sirup, and in token of their gratitude Andy Smith hastily plucked a bunch of herbs from the rafters and solemnly crowned her with a wreath of catnip, the queen of cooks. By the time the dishes were washed and put away the sun was shining outside. The invaders had restored the house to order and Carl Bellew had pinned a note on the table cover. Inside of that envelope were folded crackling banknotes of such large denomination that old Ned Blake would never cease to marvel over the accession of riches that made his declining days more comfortable. They returned to the scene of the campfire, and all too soon the three motor cars arrived. Somehow Mrs. Bliss managed to smuggle Beth and Bobby into the same car with herself and Carl Bellew, and that night when she went to bed the girl assured herself that she had rounded out her perfect day. A few days later the party had broken up and the- picnic was forgotten by all save Beth Newton and Bobby—and, perhaps, Carl Bellew. His place was not very far away‘and he found many excuses for calling on the Blisses. When kindly Mrs. Bliss realized that it was her little nursery governess whom Carl Bellew wanted to see, she remembered her own days of wooing, and entered whole-hearted-ly into matchmaking. “Dear,” said Carl Bellew,one October day when he had received Beth’s answer. “J’ve loved you from the beginning, but when I tasted your cooking—” Beth’s hand pressed his lips in silence. She looked up at her splendid, gallant lover. "Ah, Carl,” she murmured. “I am such a humble little thing—so unworthy of you! You might marry a princess—or a queen!” Carl threw back his head and laughed. Then he gathered her closer in his arms. “I am going to marry a queen," he protested, “the queen of cooks!”