Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 278, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 November 1919 — An Ideal Angler [ARTICLE]

An Ideal Angler

By E. B. B. REESOR

"(Copyright.) When 1 stepped onto the John Jo Trad'Ues’ veranda that Sa turdav after noon I looked around In amazement. Mrs. John “Jb was there; but—where were themerry guests who. I had been assured, would be with her to make a week in a never-before-heard-oL summer place somehow endurable? -— A feeling of resentment overcame me as I took Mrs. Traddles’ proffered hand, and, in the unfeeling way that gay society allows spoiled favorites to speak their inmost minds, I responded to her cordial greeting: "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 I found that I could be as insolently rude in a gushing way as any of the fashionables who for some freak had taken me 4 up and treated me 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 tishlngprospects.” —— — And then, fl's she led me to a lovely suite of rooms: “I hope you will not be dreadfully disappointed; but, for reasons, no one else came." "Whom did you ask?” I questioned ns I released my hatpins. "Let me see. There was the Golightlys—they, were five deep in acceptances for this week, and when lots were drawn t hey fel Ito —someone else.” "Gone to the Parrots,” I snid — really that glass was a delight; I was pirouetting round to get fl better glimpse of myself—“ Glad I did not go. And who else?" "Freddy Pun. He had some moonlight entanglements. Made more pro-, posals 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 were the Will Wisps—Monty Bach and that little girl who , plays his accompaniments; and—let me see—but I’ll show you the list. There come John Jo and Mr. Godwin. I must go.” T, “Godwin!” I exclaimed, arresting her flight. "What Godwin?" "Geoffrey Godwin,” she answered, in, a shamefaced sort of way. "Really I could not help it. 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 It wer* all in capitals, and he were something very great and big. "Of all people to ask the Trixie to meet,” I muttered to myself. "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 adapt himself to individuals and circumstances lipand as for his wife.' she is a past mistress in bringing diaThe Rev. Geoffrey Godwin hail heard of me. so h'e was pleased To Inform me directly grace was spoken. I did not tell him that I heard of him often and often—l rather liked his voice. Once it was that old conk of grandmother’s told about jelly and things T had conveyed surreptitiously to her—one must be decent to people who have been kind to them—l don't* gate 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 ta 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 hired help. I turned it off as bes| I could: told the reverend that I had understood the confessional was sacred, and made other cutting remarks in the frivolous manner which I Jiad acquired, and resented Mrs. John Jo’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 in the house —not a card, no billiards: neither Freddies nor.ragtimes. Well, there are three hundred and some odd days to a Aar, 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 - G<> dwin 18 g° in S to take the service at St. Saints. The, auto will *e waiting for us at the door at pre<ll sei v ten-thirty.” It was like a from childhood. Ifi prompt obedience I went >nd changed my dress. A lot of people, all together, with

minds on hymns and prayer books, does bring out something comfortable in you; and rather aft?r-the midday dinner, as a natural result the Traddles 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 rourd —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 ihe heathen in books my fingers strayed .irresponsibly to dancing jignotes that could not fail to get into hi s toes and shake the S mid ay h u mps out before he got there. In this mood ofl good will toward t everybody I thought of letters I owed to 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 Traddles began. T felt sure it was shut outside a window somewhere/a nd, going through the'main hall, I floundered down a darksome, alley-like place, hunting for the thing. The sound seemed close beside me and as I opened a door out scudded the cat. What insane notion made me step into the room I don’.f know, but no sooner had I passed the threshold than a wind from somewhere banged the door 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 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. I Hastily I began again to hunt for the right door. I found a handle, but it belonged to a bureau. Then I knocked against something furrysome of the Traddles’ bugs and’eaterpillars. 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 gelled, and the thing bit harder the more I tried to get away and then came bouncing down upon me. 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 tearjng. I knocked against something—a bed, and sank convulsed beside it. My last hour had come, and with fervency I began to\ my prayers; and, in their midst. I gained strength to try and rid myself of the awful something. It was hard and 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 cpbld 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 worUs to myself .that I had vowed would never pass my lips. Then I heard a oouod someone Avas < coming.‘ ■ 1 IribQ, to shout, .put' it wns' ofJno use. ‘Tove, hdnor_andnpbgZ A was out. — The door was pushed noisily _°P ep ~~ far awTiv from anydirection 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 began to laugh. I laughed and laughed, and could not stop. Then, without the slightest warning. It turned into a howl of a soh, and down came the deluge—great, big, uncontrollable sobs that shook me and shook the room, and made the whole earth “ f turned on; wnd-there was" the reverend leaning over me. patting my head with “Poor little girlie” sayings while he disengaged the hook. _ Somehow I was unbound and letr away. ; The aftermath of the sickening thumpings of a two-days’ headache is th? nearest to heaven that we morI lay quietly in a hammock on the upstairs piazza—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 win and blessings about my eyes and mouth—when along came 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 bls words and the comfort of his soothing. I 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 idealest man in the world, who lets me be as Silly as I like wit* soup'and sewing—says that his wedding gift to me is the pretty place he has bought down near the Traddles’, where the fishing is so gqod that a line will go off on Its own hook and catch — But—it will not do to repeat all that the reverend says.