Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 213, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 September 1918 — VACATION ON FARM [ARTICLE]

VACATION ON FARM

By MRS. NELLIE GORDON.

(Copyright, 1»18, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) ' Murray Benton sat in the window of his club, gazing listlessly out at the hurrying crowds. The frown on his face deepened as he mentally reviewed the terse advice the doctor, whom hie had just visited, had given him. ' “Murray, lad, you have too much money for your-own benefit,” he had said. He was an old friend and was privileged to be frank. “Get away ftom the ‘bright lights' and your cronies and get into the country. Fresh air, regular hours and a bit of w’ork, too,” he added, with a sly twinkle, “are what you need. If you keep on at the rate you have been going I can’t answer for the consequences,” he finished, relapsing again into seriousness. “Bosh!” mused Murray, “Doc is a calamity howler. There’s nothing wrong with me.” But, even as he argued with himself, he realized that the doctor had told the truth. Being rejected from every branch of the war service at which he applied confirmed the doctor’s verdict, as well as the feeling of lassitude which he tried to fight off. His eye chanced to fall on a newspaper spread on the table near by, on which a large picture of Uncle Sam with arms outstretched pleaded, “Be a Patriot. Go to Work on a Farm.” The listless expression on Murray’s face changed to one of interest, and he exclaimed, “Why not?” and rushed out of the room, much to the amazement of the other occupants. « • • * ♦ • • At a desk in a tiny office in one of the downtown buildings sat a rather frail, pretty girl, eating a meager lunch and scanning a newspaper. A frown marred her forehead as she seemed to be doing some mental figuring. “No,” she decided, hopelessly. “I can’t afford a vacation, and Pm so afraid that I Won’t be able to stand the heat” She turned back to the paper, and fftr the first time she noticed the outstretched finger of Uncle Sam pointed straight at her, it seemed, with the words underneath: “Be a Patriot Spend Your Vacation on a Farm.” Renewed hope showed in every line of face and figure, as she reached for a sheet of paper to slip- into her typewriter. “Ruth Merton,” she told herself, •you are going to be a farmerette.” • • * • • ♦ • In the dining room of a tiny farmhouse Murray Benton paused to observe himself, resplendent in new overalls and jumper, before joining the new “boss.” Ab he started to leave the room he heard feminine voices under the window. “Farmerettes,” he sniffed, scornfully. But the conversation that floated up to him made him stand stock atlll. “Did you see the new arrival, girls?” laughed one. “Isn’t he a sketch?" “Looks like an affiliated string bean* doesn’t he?” “What’s he doing on a farm, anyways?” questioned another. “Doing women’s work, when he ought to be wearing khaki or blue.” So the anything but flattering comments flew fast and furious, while Murray, the most popular and sought after man in his set, listened above them. Suddenly one little girl, who had not spoken before, flashed up. “You girls should be ashamed of yourselves, making fnn of the poor chap. If you had looked at him you would have seen that he is in a run-down condition, not fit for active service. How do we know but what he Is here recuperating, so that he can join later on? Yon might at least have given him the benefit of the doubt.” And she walked away, head high and cheeks flaming, as her outburst was as much a surprise to herself as to her companions. As she walked down the little lane hurrying footsteps sounded behind her. As she turned she met the smiling eyes of Murray Benton. “Miss Merton (you see, I have found out your name from the ‘boss’), I want to thank you very much for your kind defense of an unknown. And I want also to tell you that you guessed right when you said I wasn’t fit. I’ve tried eyery branch, and they’ve thrown me down, so I guess that all Fm good for is ‘women’s work,’ as your friend said.” “Perhaps a summer out of doors will put you into condition again,” she answered. “I hope so,” he answered. "I de want to get into real service, but”— glancing at her in a manner that made her color very charmingly—Pm mighty glad that I happened to come here.” On a cool October day Doctor Grenville stood looking down on the busy street when a resounding whack on his shoulder made him wince, and he turned to see who his boisterous visitor was. At sight.of- the tall, bronzed young man in khaki, he gasped: “Murray Benton!” “Sergeant Benton, at your service,” laughed his visitor. The doctor then became aware of a second visitor, a charming, young lady, whose pink cheeks grew still pinker at the medical man’s wondering gaze. “Doc, I want you to meet Miss Ruth, Merton, erstwhile farmerette, and future Mrs. Benton,” and Murray Benton's eyes beamed with happiness, aa his sweetheart and old friend shook hands