Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 March 1906 — AN INFORMAL AFFAIR [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AN INFORMAL AFFAIR

By A. M. Davies Ogden

The clams were Jist being uncovered, and a mingled o<Jor of seaweed, potatoes and other flings cooking busily away was borne deliciously on the breeze. LlttL* Mile, de Saint Cyr looked about ler. The long table spread under the trees was covered with a white cUth and piled with dishes. Overhead the leaves rustled freshly, and out beyond the sound, all blue and goll in the sunset light, rippled and splfflhed upon great gray rocks where th< Are curled away Into a wide feather it smoke. The French firl drew a quick breath of appreciation How beautiful America was! It vas her first visit to the United Statd. and on landing In New' York ille. de Saint Cyr had come directs to her aunt’s place on the Connecfcut shore. She was a young aunt only a few years older than Aline, and with a young and jolly husbflid. Aline found herself caught at <Ace into a round of gay outdoor life, » round which bewildered, yet charuid. Owing t> a breakdown of the motor car, theyfaad been a bit late in arriving at tH clambake. The guests were already eated, and Mrs. Redvers, the hostess, paade a hasty introduction of the' newcomers. She had rattled througba confusing number of names, then panted to some grimy, collarless young pen bending over the fire. “Ano those are the cooks and waiters,” tfe cried merrily. Mile de Saint Cyr eyed them curiously (is they brought over to the table great; platters heaped with steaming clami She never before had seen such untld waiters. Everything at her aunts had been conventional enough. Her<at last was America more as she had pictured It to herself. A young mar with flushed face, dark eyes and Bind dark mustache ran behind the chats. ‘Jauce, sauce!” he cried. He halted bythe girl, regarding her with evident approval. ‘‘Take some of this; It’s gOd," he said frankly. Mile, de Saint Cl looked at him in surprise. But perils this was American too. And the afce did look good. ‘fThank you,” she said gravely. The /’oung man ran on. But presently he returned. “The lobsters are ready,” he called, and there was rapid shifting of plates. How good everything tasted—the delicious chicken, the tender cqm, the hot potatoes and through them all the

faint, Indefinable saltish flavor of the seaweed! It was certainly great fun. And yet It was so utterly unlike anything the girl ever had known in France. Straight from a convent school, this sudden freedom a l’Americaine was at first a bit frightening. She ate demurely, watching the people about her with bright, curioUs eyes. The young man who had helped her to the sauce came back aud dropped into an empty seat beside her, bringing a well filled plate for himself. “I’m Just about starved,” he Informed her. “I’ve been working so hard all day!" Aline glanced about her. The other collarless youths were now also seated at the table, eating and talking busily. Perhaps this was the custom at clambakes. But how odd! “You are tired,” she said iu her sweet, sympathetic little voice. “I suppose you do not have to work so hard as this every day.” He laughed. “Thank goodness, no. Usually I am lazy enough.” Aline looked at him with a serious smile. “I am sure you underestimate yourself," she said kindly. “I do not see how any one In your—your profession” —she put It delicately—“can be very lazy.” An expressive shrug answered her. “Only too easy,” he returned. “It’s principally waiting, you know, especially for the younger ones, and that, although trying, Is not particularly fatiguing. But it's all the day’s work,” cheerfully. “Perhaps this afternoon’s

energy may help the average,” with a laugh. “It’s Labor day, you know." “Labor day ?” queried the girl. “What is that?”

“One of our American holidays,” be explained. “That’s why I am here today.” “Oh,” said Aline with sudden comprehension. So Labor day was apparently the equivalent of those fetes of the olden times when for once all classes mingled in friendly simplicity. What a splendid idea! But no wonder she had not understood at first.

It was growing dusk v Across the lawn the gardener’s children were setting off rockets left over from the last Fourth of July. The guests were mov-‘ ing about the grounds. Some had gone to the rocks, others watched the glittering trail of the fireworks. Mile, de Saint Cyr had crossed to where her aunt stood chatting with the hostess in the twilight of the pines. Suddenly came a s-s-swish, a flash, as one of the rockets, too powerful for the little hand which held It, exploded unexpectedly In the direction of the trees. There was a warning shout, a cry and Mile, de Saint Cyr felt herself caught and pulled forcibly away, while eager hngers crushed out a spark in the fragile laces of her gown. It was all over in a second, before any one else had time to realize that anything had happened, and Mile, de Saint Cyr stood trembling, half with fright at what she had escaped, half with anger at the indignity to which she had been subjected. For she—she, Aline de Saint Cyr—had been, for no matter how brief a space, in a man’s arms.

“Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously, and Aline knew It to be the dark young waiter.

But she could hardly speak. She was startled; she was angry, yet somehow not so angry as she felt she should be. She was shaking all over, but she tried to control herself, to utter a word of thunks. Her purse was at home; she had nothing to offer the man for having saved her life. She felt mortified. Perhaps If he could come to her aunt’s—

“Monsieur,” she essayed timidly—she could uot bring herself to call him purcon—"l—l repret I have nothing to reward you with except my gratitude, but later at my aunt’s house’’— ‘‘May I come and see you then?” he broke In eagerly. “I didn’t know whether you would want me to. But I am often here at my sister’s’’— “Why—why, my aunt”— stammered Aline. She was conscious of a horrible sense of embarrassment. Surely her aunt would not approve. Oh, what could she say? This was dreadful. “Bob,” called a voice from the shadows. The young man started. “Bother,” he growled. “Haven’t I done enough for Lucie today? I suppose she wants me to wash up.” “Lucie,” repeated Aline. “My sister, Mrs, Redvers,” impatiently. “She said ,it would be so much nicer and less formal If we boys did

the cooking and serving. So she let all her people off for the day. But I draw the line at washing dishes.” For one terrible moment everything wavered before Aline, her brain whirled. Then she faced him breathlessly. “What—what did you say your profession was?” she demanded tensely. “Why, the law,” surprised. “But,” still breathless, “you spoke of waiting”— “For cases, of course,” more and more surprised. “Oh, by Jove,” as a sudden thought flashed into his own mind. “I say, you didn’t think”— But Aline, her eyes very bright, set her chin hard.

“No,” she said determinedly. “I didn’t think. Wouldn’t you—wouldn’t you like to come and meet auntie?”

“I REGRET I HAVE NOTHING TO REWARD YOU WITH.”