Jasper County Democrat, Volume 7, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 January 1905 — THE BADGE OF SERVICE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE BADGE OF SERVICE

By FRANK H. SWEET

c«rrH{fct, wm, k r Pruk a. swut

May Allyn stepped from the elevator with a bit of lace In her hand. She walked through the rotunda, looking to right and left among the massive pillars and drooping palms. There were few persons In sight Most of the guests were over on the beach, for It was the bathing hour. May went nearly across the rotunda before site found the object of her search—a woman In a retired corner reading a novel. “Here you are, mamma,” she exclaimed rebukingly, “and reading that novel, as I might have expected. Don’t you know the characters in it would stay exactly where you leave them If you should close the book for a few hours, and this glorious weather outside Is something of the present. But see here,” bolding up the lace for inspection, “do you think this will do?” “For what?”

“Oh, you know, mamma! I’m to be Betty the maid In the play we’re getting up and am to have the white badge of servitude on my head and wear a white apron and carry a broom or something. I’ve told it all over before, only your bead’s in that book. Do please shut It” The older woman obeyed, with a sigh, and took the bit of fleecy lace between her fingers. "No, it won’t do at all, May,” she said Instantly, a ripple of amusement breaking the dreamy quiet of her face. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” "But why?" with an air of disappointment “It Is so pretty." “Yes, and costly. Child, child, don’t you know that bit of lace is worth as much as Betty the maid could earn in five years. You must have something cheap to be in character.” “I don’t believe I have anything.” “No, I suppose not. You will have to try at one of the stores. You will need”— Mrs. Allyn’s gaze went inquiringly about the rotunda until it found one of the hotel maids dusting a plant. She waited until she caught the girl’s eye, then raised a finger. “I beg your pardon, my dear,” she said as the girl approached, “but my daughter here is to be in the church

benefit and will have to wear a costume something like yours. Would you mind my looking at your pretty lace cap a moment?” The girl removed it, with a pleased look. “This is exactly what you want, May,” went on Mrs. Allyn, holding it up critically. “You”— But May had snatched the little cap from the upraised fingers and placed It upon her own fluffy brown hair. “Now, let me have your apron, a minute, please,” she cried merrily, “Thank you!” as the girl complied, and she fastened the apron to her waist with deft fingers. “And now the dusting brush. There, mamma, how will this do?” with a flourish of the brush and a sweeping courtesy. The girl laughed, and even Mrs. Allyn smiled Indulgently as May danced away toward the middle of the rotunda, flirting the brush Indiscriminately over jardinieres and palm leaves as she passed. Soon pillars and palms intervened and concealed her from their view. Obunt l’Ortegan and a young American sculptor were Just entering the rotunda. They had known each other In Faris and met again on the steamer coming over, and now they had come to Cray Harbor together, not because they had latteh In common, hut they were acquainted, and all the people around were strangers. May did not notice them until they stopped beside her, with exclamations of astonishment and pleasure. “Mile. Allyn, ees it possarble!” cried the count rapturously. “Eet is in Paris that you vanish this three, mont’, and we nevalre know to where. Some say to Ital’ee and some that you fly back to heaven where they keep ze angels. But eet is heaven that you make anywhere. Now I know why the place here seem so beautiful—eet is the angel.” May laughed and gave him her hand. “Thank you, count,” she said, “I am glad to see you also. You are sure

to like It bore-even without the angel And you, too, Mr. Bethune,” offering ber hand to. the sculptor. “Can you not make a pretty speech like the count?” ”I am afraid not,” smiling down at her. "Only that lam very, very glad to find you here. Miss Allyn. ' Your presence will add much to—to our pleasure.” "Why, really, that does very nicely” She twirled the brush with a pretty, unconscious movement that caused the tips of its feathers to flick across one of the palm fronds near. The motion caught the count’B attention, and with wondering consternation his eyes went from it to her white apron and to the badge of servitude upon her head, and his sloping shoulders stiffened suddenly into protesting reserve. “Pardonnez,” he rebuked, “but eet is so hurry I am now. I will see. M. Bethune will tell you we have not reegister yet. I will do eet now.” May watched him hurry away with an odd look of inquiry in her eyes. “What’s the matter with the count?” she asked innocently. "Has be forgotten something?” Bethune laughed joyously. A moment before there had been both reserve and repression in his eyes; now they were suddenly eager, glowing, determined. “The count’s an odd sort of stick,” he answered, “and his visit here is confessedly in search of n rich American wife." He raised his hand significantly toward. her head, but for a moment she looked puzzled, then n quick, comprehending flush rose to her face. “Ob, that!” she said thoughtfully. “And you?” Bethune laughed again. He could not help It. "Can’t you see, Miss Allyn?” he demanded. “I fancied it was sticking out all over me. Over yonder I was a poor devil of an artist and you a rich heiress, and now—oh, May!” There was the soft rustle of silk moving across the carpet. May raised her finger. “Mamma Is coming!” she warned. “I don’t care,” impetuously. “I’ve got to speak now. I cim’t wait another day. Where can I see you alone?” She hesitated, then appeared to consider. “The maids and nurses usually walk on the beach at about 3 o’clock,” she said demurely. “I expect I shall be there.” At 4 o’clock two wheel chairs swept leisurely down the bicycle avenue and on past the Breakers toward the beach. It was the hour for Mrs. Allyn’s daily outing, and she preferred to take it in a wheel chair and leisurely. The occupant of the other chair was Count I’Ortegnn, and from the satisfaction on his face he had evidently discovered the mistake. As they turned toward the beach path they saw two figures approaching them only a few yards away. “There’s May now!” exclaimed Mrs. Allyn. “Suppose we wait a few minutes and speak with her.” The count’s face grew eager, and words of an elaborate apology began to form in his mind, but ns tbe figures drew near and he saw the expression on their faces as they looked at each other the apology died away and a Parisian oath, muttered under his breath, took its place. He merelybowed politely and then waited for Mrs. Allyn to give the signal to go on.

“MULE. ALLYX, EES IT POSSARBLE!” CRIED THE COUNT RAPTUROUSLY.