Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 107, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 May 1918 — FICKLE FORTUNE [ARTICLE]

FICKLE FORTUNE

By WAVERLY JOHNSON.

Burton Wayne left the train, at South Junction and started down the roadbed back the way he had come. He had been dozing when the conductor called out Wadhams and had been carried five miles beyond his station. The rpadbed was stone ballasted and not easy to the feet. Way ne, glancing down the embankment, noticed that the right of way was bounded by a fence. Then came a strip about two hundred feet wide and then a traversible dirt highway, Wayne descended. He observed that this strip of land, extending for a mile or more, was of spongy soil not fit even for grazing, except where a little knoll presented, and upon this was a small house one story high, square and compact, an ideal of neatness and taste in the center of an inviting patch of worthless, useless ground. The house was painted freshly and it shone as a result of the use of excellent material and expert workmanship. Wayne was thirsty and noticed a well, turned from the road and as he went up a graveled path the apparent owner of the place appeared at the open doorway. He was a middle aged man, erect, active looking and clean appearing. He wore white duck jumpers and overalls and they were Immaculate. Like the exterior of the house he seemed just to have stepped from a paint pot. “Can I have a drink of water?” began Wayne, and paused, dazzled, as if all he saw was part of some moving picture. Another character In its ensemble .had appeared. This was a young girl of perhaps eighteen, a tin pall in her hand, headed for the well. She was a fitting and harmonious part of the pleasant prospect. Trim, graceful, arrayed in a pretty calico gown, she emphasized .the wholesome aspect of the environment, “Sit down, won’t you?” invited Wayne’s host, and moved towards a garden bench near “Bound for Wadham?” X “Why, yes,” explained\WTayne. “I slept past my station and wKlhave to foot it back.’<-. “Well, if you aren’t in a hurry-'I fancy we can -help you on your way. My daughter, Cora, will drive to Wadham in about half an hour. She’s taken up drawing at the college there.”

Just then the girl appeared with a glass pitcher filled with sparkling well water and a glass. Wayne arose and bowed politely and the manner of the girl, like that of the father, was friendly and pleasant. She left .them andAWayne heard her chirrtip to a horse’ grazing near a small barn outside of which stood a single seated gig. He glided into a general conversation with his host. David Bayle was his name. “You see, I was a painter, in the city,” narrated Rogers. “Not an artist — no> Cora seems to have all the genius in that direction. Scenes, mostly, mine, and big landscape stuff for pleasure parks, band stages and all that. We were cooped up and ft didn’t give Cora a show. A slick fellow came along and traded me this stretch of territory for my business. I took his word as to what you see here. He said the land was right at a junction that was the railroad key to the county and bound to be very valuable in time. Well,, he swindled us, that’s all, and w’e’ve made the best of it. I’ve got a little ready cash, but pining for something to keep me busy, and Cora is lonesome.” “How far do you own along the railroad?” inquired Wayne. , s “An even mile. There’s Cora. If yon won’t mind the jolting, it’ll be easier in the old gig than jramping it.” She was the pleasantest, brightest little fairy Wayne had ever met, this clear-eyed, dimpled girl, and by the time they reached Wadham, they were quite friendly. In, her simple way she told of her school life, her artistic ambitions, her hopes they could get rid of the land and settle in some less uncivilized spot. “It’s fate!” soliloquized Wayne. That same afternoon late, as he made his way to the place where Miss Bayle put up the rig. “It’s love at first sight!” he added, as si-.appeared. “I am going to ask you to drive me back to your home,” he told the young girl. “You see, I have some business with your father.” The “business” Wayne had worked up over long distance telephone. A big idea had struck him. “I represent the largest billboard concern in the world,” he told the wondering father and daughter, “and the minute I analyzed your layout here I saw a big speculation. Your narrow strip is ideal for putting up a whole raft of display, signs. Junction, hundreds of trains dally, gateway to the city—see? You, Mr, Bayle, shall superintend the painters,, and you* Miss Bayle, must sketch out some artistic scenic effects to catch the eye. I have phoned my house. Mr. Bayle, ans am ready to make a ten-year lease of your patch of ground at $3,000 a year. What do you say ?V. “Well, Td sell it outright for half J f that!” blurted out the honest old ellow. . “Never mind ttiat,” responded Wayne, “I want to see you g*t a fair and square bargain. You can move to town after that job is done and live as you want to.” e And by the time that came shout, Burton Wayne was a member of the Bayle household.