Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 244, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 October 1916 — A Roselit Romance [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Roselit Romance

By JESSIE ETHEL SHERWIN

(Copyright, 191£, by W. G, Chapman.) “Dear little girl,” spoke Roland York®, almost tenderly, “what a comfort you have been to me these long, lonely weeks!” "And what a friend you have been to us, Mr. YorkeZ quickirTFsponded the lissome, loyal maiden ht his side, “Why, If you hndn’t come along where would father and I be? He had lost his position and he says, now that you are going to leave us, we will have to move out to Dakota where his brother has a farm. And you’re nearly well, aren’t you?” prattled on the pretty lass joyously. “Father says it’s the fresh clear air out here. “And the cooking, Rhoda,” supplemented Yorke with a smile. “Why, you ure a regular little housewife. Between you and I, I have been cured.” “I am so glad I could cry, almost!” declared Rhoda. “And you’re going away,” and her lips quivered, “and we may never see you again, and you’ll forget us." He took the little brown hand in his own and his kindly eyes expressed a benison from a true man. “Never that, Rhoda ! This has been the sweetest month in all my life/ I was ill, worn out. Now —” “You’ll go back to the city and paint beautiful pictures, and some lovely princess will buy them, and you’ll get married and have a bride all in silks and satins, and —I hope you do. Oh! I hope you- are the happiest man in the world, just as you are the very best!” Anil here, bursting Into tears, the mountain madcap, as this dear child of nature was popularly designated, ran for the nearest thicket and vanished. “I declare!” uttered Roland, thoughtfully—more than that, with a sudden thrill. An unsuccessful artist in a money way, he had taken a vacation of necessity. The Burton home was small and rude. It had no luxury, yet lie blessed the hour he discovered it. The roses everywhere, the pine groves, (he pleasant shade, the home vegetables and cooking seemed to sing health to him. And Rhoda —she was a breath of vivacity. As though he were some cher-

lshed elder brother she hovered affout him, guiding him to the rarest beauties of the landscape, rowing him on the river, watching him in silent rapture when he painted. She even coaxed the soul-tempered Axel Burton to a smile with her winsome ways and won him from brooding over his loss of a position. Just now Roland Yorke woke to the realization of a salient tact. He* had met a being who liked him for himself aldne. There was no mistaking that rapt little face of interest, that outburst of tears. “I wonder !” breathed the artist to himself. He wondered if his reluctance to leave this fair sylvan scene and its little queen was born of a deeper feeling than he had suspected. He wondered if in later years, no matter what success came to him, he would not weary of hollow fame and long for the wild free life of this lovely paradise. And then he mentally counted cash and prospects and shook his bead slowly and dubiously. “You’re coming, aren’t you?” propounded Rhoda eagerly early the next morning. “See —I’ve- got fatfier’s best fishing pole, and he says this is biting day for every fish in the stream. It s down near the Hermitage where the best catches are. You can walk two miles, can’t you?” “Twenty, after that famous breakfast of yours!” asserted Roland. “And I’ve put up a fine lunch, and we’ll have a fine fry for supper,” ran on Rhoda. It? was at the end of a two miles stroll that they came to where the banks of the pretty stream formed a kind of natural wharf. ‘Here's where father used to love to fish,” explained Rhoda— “in the old

days, before his trouble, before Judge Wharton over there turned us away.” She indicated the towers of*a mansion lifting from a grove half a mile distant. “Fatherwas keeper there. The judge and his family were away,” narrated Rhoda. “One evening the housekeeper was taken suddenly sick and father ran all the way to the village to fetch a doctor. While he was gone someone broke into the library and stole a lot of the judge’s papers and some jewelry and money. They got away across the river in a skiff. When the judge got back he blamed father for disobeying orders and leaving the place unguarded, though the doctor said the housekeeper might have died if he had not come quick. Well, the judge discharged father from a position he had faithfully filled for over -tett-years-atjd we were-adriftl” “Was much of value taken?” “The judge says he didn’t care for the money and jewelry, but there w r as a little tin box filled with records and papers of no use to others, but of immense value to him. He has had detectives out and has offered five thousand dollars for the return of the papers, but he has never heard from them." There was a lapse of silence, for Rhoda had dragged a log to the shore as a seat for Roland and had arranged pole, line and bait with sportsmanlike expertness for her novice guest. There were nibbles and catches and at the end of two hours the fish basket was pretty well filled. Suddenly, as Roland pulled hard on his line, Rhoda exclaimed: “Oh, you must have a big one!” and. as the rod bent, amid her excitement she put out her hand to aid him. “Why, what is it I have fished up, anyway?” queried Roland. Slowly, attached to the hook, dangling and swaying, a small metal box came into view, the hook looped its wire handle. There it was suspended, swinging shorewards, lauded. “Oh, it’s the box!” almost shriekeid Rhoda, wild with excitement. ‘‘What box?” asked Roland. “Oh, I know it is! I’ve seen it before,” fluttered Rhoda. “It’s the one that was stolen from the judge, the one I told you about.” “You don’t mean the one they offer that big rewarft for?"

“Yes, I do! See,” and Rhoda, detaching the box from the hook, showed where its lock was broken. “The thieves probably saw no value to the papers and dropped the box in the river. Yes, the papers are Inside,” continued Rhoda, "and oh, Mr. Yorke, just think! you’ll get that five thousand dollars reward.” “Why should I?” challenged Roland. “You brought me here, you helped pull it In.” “And father may get his position back, now the papers are found!” exulted Rhoda. “Oh. you’ve brought nothing but good luck to us I” The gratitinje. the artlessness, the devotion of the sweet girl overcame Roland. He took her hand and kissed it like some knight paying his devoirs to a noble lady. Rhoda flushed and quivered. “I shall not go away tomorrow, Rhoda,” spoke the artist. “I am so glad.” “And I think I had better see this Judge Wharton about the papers at once." —' ———- “What did the judge say?” eagerly inquired Rhoda, when Roland rejoined her an hour later. “He says that your father can return to his life position—he insists on divTding - the "reward between you and myself. Rhoda, darling,” and Roland took her hand and drew her towards him, “I love the roses here, and the pretty brooks, and the grand old trees, and —you, Rhoda, most of all! Shall I stay?” No verbal reply was needed. She had nestled down into his brave, strong arms, joy, devotion, happiness in her lovely face.

There Were Nibbles and Catches.