Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 275, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 November 1919 — An Ideal Angler [ARTICLE]

An Ideal Angler

By E. B. B. REESOR

1 (Copyright.) When I stepped onto the John Jo Traddles' Veranda that Saturday irfternoon I looked around In amazement. Mrs. John Jo yvas there; but—where were tiremerry guests* who; T had been assured, would be with her to make a week in a never-before-heard-of summer place somehow endurable? A feeling of resentment overcame me as I rook Mrs. Traddles’ proffered hand, and, in the unfeeling way that gay society allows spoiled favorites to “speak their inmost minds, I responded “Has no one else come? Whatever have you asked me for?" This was not of the manner in which I had been brought up, but practice makes perfect, and after two years of constant study l found that I could be as insolently rude in a gushing way as any of the fashionables who for some freak had taken me up and treated mt* as one of themselves. “We have one charming guest. Trixie, dear,” Mrs. John Jo assured me. “He is out with John Jo looking over the fishing prospects.” And then, as she led tne to a lovely suite of rooms: “I hope you will not be dreadfully disappointed; but, for reasons, no one else came.” ■ss'Whom did you ask?” I questioned as I released my hatpins. “Let me see. There was the GoHghtlyS—they were five deep in acceptances for this week, and when lots were drawn they fell to someone else.” "Gone to the Parrots,” I said—really that glasswas a delight; I was pirouetting round to get a better glimpse of. myself—“ Glad I did not go. And who else?” “Freddy Pun. He had some moonlight entanglements. Made more proposals than he , Intended —so he confided to John Jo.” “Yes,” I said knowingly—l didn’t believe I would have to touch my hair—" Had to go to the mountains to get his brain clear. I was the one in the canoe. He does it very nicely, though.” "And then there w’ere the Will Wisps—Monty Bach and that little girl wTio plays his accompaniments; and—let me see—but I’ll show you the list. There come John Jo and Mr. G odwlir. Imustgo.”' “Godwin;” I exclaimed, arresting her flight. “What Godwin?” “Geoffrey Godwin;” she answered, in a shamefaced sort of way. “Really I could not help ft. He has simply fascinated John Jo, who said he needed a holiday and must come when the fish were biting. Do be nice to him. Trixie Troutout, for. to tell you the truth, he is an ideal man.” She brought out the “man” just as if ft were all in capitals, and he were something very great and big. “Of all people to ask the up-to-date Trixie to meet,” I muttered to myselfT “The Beatrice of early years might have had something in common, but now—” However, it was too late; and one of the Traddles’ contracted-for maids, busying herself about trunks,-claimed my attention for dress.consideration. Dinner passed off pleasantly .enough. John Jo Traddles can adaiw Himself to individuals ? ari<l.eii>3iylstknees injlisc^ibiinatejy; and as for his 7 wife, -she is aPpast iiiistress in bi l-nging diarnetricalTy opposites together. The Rev. Geoffrey Godwin had heard of me. 1..- w as pleased to inform me directly grace was spoken. I did not tell him that I heard of him often and often —I rather liked his voices Once it was that old cook of grandmother’s told about jelly and things I had conveyed surreptitiously to her—one must be decent to people who have been kind to them—l don’t care what anyone says to the contrary. And then that‘ silly, little, fussy muff of a seamstress went and told him of the night I helped her with the gown that “had to be finished for SunBut it is always the way. One’s sins against really good society invariably hunt you up and expose you before other people’s h-f Fed help. I turned it off as best I could; told the reverend that I had understood the confessional was sacred, and made other cutting remarks in the frivolous manner which I had acquired, and resented Mrs. John J6’s “You dear old Beatrice of a real woman!" Well, I was in for it. Not a frolicsome footstep sounded upon the veranda that night: nor did a motor even hesitate'-near by. Truly I was entangled, but I made up my mind I would never be caught -in that way again. Sunday was desperate. Poured with rain—blew furies. I thought of a long, tiresome day ln the hou§e —not a card, no billiards: neither Freddies nor ragtimes. AVeIL there are three hundred and some 8 odd days to g year, and it Is not absolutely necessary to be flighty upon every one* of them. At breakfast —fancy me down at a nine o’clock Sunday breakfast —Mr. Traddles said right out before the reverend: “Mr. Godwin is going to take the service at St. Saints. The auto will Be waiting for us at the door at precisely ten-thirty.” *•- It was like a sentence from child* good. Ifi prompt obedience I went ind changed my dress. A lot of people, all together, with

their minds on hymns and prarjer books, does bring out something comfortable in you; and rather after the midday dinner, as a natural result, the Traddles hunted out sacred music, and we sang and sang and sang, then read and discussed improvements in time-servers and sang again. Some way I felt really good and ' pleasant and loving all round —kind of In short frocks and hair ribbons. But as John Jo, with a distinct stoop of piety between his shoulders, led the reverend toward the library to look up "the—heathen in books iny lingers • strayed irresponsibly to dancing jigm•j es lb a t could not fa i 1 to get I nto ..hl&andshakethe Sunday humps out before he got there. everybody I thought of letters I owed tn people who really deserved them, and made myself comfortable in kimono and unbound-hair before seating myself at the desk that my room boasted-. - Then that wretched cat of the TradI felt sure It was shut outside a window somewhere, and. going through the main hall, I floundered down a darksome, alley-llke place, hunting for the thing. The sound seemed close beside me and as I opened a door out scudded the cat. What insane notion me step into the room I don’t know, but no sooner had I passed the threshold than-a wind from somewhere banged the behind me. When I turned to find it It was gone. I ran my hand along the wall to find the light button, but that was lost too. I shouted and banged and reshouted, but no one appeared. So I closed the window and tried to make a bee line for the door. With an “Allah be praised I” I turned the handle and walked boldly forth. I caught hold of something portieres, I supposed, but they were queer of shape and seemed to be hung on wires. Clothes, by all that was unpleasant, and—-men's clothes at. that. They seemed to stretch out and clutch at me.— Hastily I began again to hunt ror the right door. I found a handle, but it belonged to a bureau. Then I knocked against something furry—some of the Traddles’ bugs and caterpillars, I knew (they have a mania for horrors) ; and I shrieked as they' fell about me, and Imagined them crawling round from the upset box. More things tumbled over; more crawly things crept after me. In agony I reached high up out of their way, and something bit my arm. I yelled and yelled, and the thing bit harder the more I tried to get away and then came bouncing down upon ine. I could feel the blood trickling down my arm; but, not satisfied, it gripped and dragged at me, then fell to the floor with a thud and wriggled around my feet. I cried again in terror and gingerly put down my hand to push it away, but it would not budge and my arm was tearing. I knocked against something—a bed and Sank convulsed beside it. My last hour had come, and with fervency I began to say my prayers; and, in their midst, I gained strength to try and Fid myself of the awful something. It -was hard an stringy; that reassured me. I touched my arm. Yes, it was a hook, caught deep in the flesh. I had knocked a fishing contrivance down bodily and it was having its revenge. I could not get it out, so began with the litany, went on and on as far as “love, honor and obey:” and there I halted, could get no further, and kept muttering the words to myself thtit I wniiki never iiass._myJ-iPSr-

Then T heard a bound—someone was coining. I ’ tried to slfoufe'but it of rid use. tr Ebve, hotlor and obey was all Icould cry out. * The door was pushed noisily open;— far away from any direction I had even thought of, and a person almost danced into the room to the tune of that dancing-jig. stumbled over the fishline and said words inappropriate to the day. The jerk hurt excruciatingly, but I beiran to laugh. I laughed and laughed, and could not stop. Then, without the slightest warning, it turned into a howl of a sob, arid down came the deluge great, big. uncontrollable sobs that shook me and shook the room, and made the whole earth convulse. - T.lphT Was tT.tTiWi rm; ard' the reverend leaning over me, patting my head with “Poor little girlie” sayings while he disengaged the hook. Somehow I was unbound and led away. The aftermath of the sickening thutnpings of a two-days’ headache is the nearest to heaven that we mortals get. I lay quietly ifi a hammock on the upstairs piazzh —no one near me with the loveliest, the kindest, the most glorious thoughts chasing each other in a delicious abandon through my brain, and twinkling with good will and blessings about my eyes and mo uth—when along eame the reverend and caught them/ I was so peacefully happy in his arms (he had appropriated- me also), and I drank In the loveliness of his words and the comfort of his soothing. JI never knew just what happened; whether we were married before tea was served or whether it took place the following week. One thing is certain —Geoffrey Godwin, my Geoffrey Godwin—the ideal est man in the world, who lets me be as Silly as I like wit h soup and sewingsays that his wedding gift to me Is the pretty place he has bought down near the Traddles’. where the fishing is so good that a line will go off on its own hook and catch— But—lt will not do to repeat all that the reverend says. •