Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 July 1908 — The REALAGATHA [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The REALAGATHA

BY EDITH HUNTINGTON MASON

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PICTURESBY WELL, WALTERS fS£Y aatxhzre WILSON

CHAPTER I. I never quite knew how ILwas that I took Vincent with me, except that w« both needed a holiday at the same time and the same kind of holiday appealed to us both. Vincent’s whole name and title is Lord Wilfred Vincent, for he is the younger son of the old duke of Totten. Men of his own age call him “Freddy,” but I call him Vincent or Wilfred, because I consider curtailed appellations undignified. Vincent is an artist—that is, he. calle himself one; his friends call him “a dabbler in art.” He doesn’t really \o in for it seriously, you know, but he did little sketches'of cows and that sort of thing rather well, I fancy. Sc we agreed that our alm was to find a Tittle old village, far away from London, and get rooms in some old farmhouse. My idea was that Vincent would go put and paint the cows while I would lie in the hammock and tfie old lady would bring me buttermilk. Wilfred had an idea that he, too, would like to spend a good bit of his time in a hammock, but with this difference, that the old lady's beautiful daughter was to bring him lemonade But I pointed out to him that the chief reason that I was running away from town was to get rid of the debutantes, and therefore he’d have to leave the fair ones out of our air castle.

I Our plan was just to bask in Nature, and we had six weeks to bask in. The foreign office doesn't seem to require much of Wilfred’s time and he doesn't do anything else except “dabble." Of course, being a younger son, he hasn't a shilling of his own, but the old duke makes him a comfortable allowance, because he dotes on Wilfred as much as he detests his eldest son, Edmund, the heir to the dukedom. So, when Vincent complained of feeling “all run down” it was easy for him to get six weeks off, although, as I tell him, he has been getting “six weeks off” ever since he left Oxford, two years ago. He isn’t 24 yet. Nevertheless, Vincent is one of the best little chaps in the world. I don't mean that he is undersized, for he stands six feet two in his stockings; but is so good natured, so jolly and amiable and straight—well—just naturally nice, don't you know—that everybody is “Just crazy about hitn,” as the American girl I met last summer used to say, and all the men, young and old alike, have gotten to calling him "little Vincent” or “Freddy” from his Eton days, just by way of endearment Of course, I’m much older than Vincent—to be more exact, there’s a matter of 12 or 15 years between us-—but I must say I can't help being drawn to him. I've known him ever since he was born, and then, you see, we’re both Oxford men, belong to the same clubs, and, of course, Terhune is as old a name as Vincent, even if it hasn’t any handle to it, and, if I do say it, there’s jjever.a dinner given in Lon; don town that Archibald Terhune Is not invited. But, somehow, in this, my tenth season, I became utterly weary of the limelight, the dinners, the balls, the match-making mammas (for I am an “eligible bachelor”), and, most of all, the debutantes, with their educated smiles and cultivated stares. I felt that I must flee from London to escape, and thus, as Vincent is always ready for a holiday, we -found ourselves one fine day well started on our jurney. We had taken the noon train for Kingsbridge, and changing there were to go on to Cuppstone, which an artist friend of Vincent’s had recommended to us as just the place we were looking for. "Jolly lark this,” said Vincent, after we had been some time on our yay; “only hope Cuppstone and Darner’s farm will be what we want. Graham cracked it up to the skies,” “That’s the trouble,” I complained; “when a thing’s talked up too much It'S sure to disappoint one.” "Walt till you see it, old.pessimist!” said Vincent, with a cheerful grin. “It’s got cows which provide butter-' milk and art, and I’ve got some lemons in my grip for the lemonade. The only thing that troubles me is the landlady’s beautiful daughter. I’m afraid she’ll be a minus quantity.” Then he put his feet across on my side of the carriage and lit a nasty, smelly, old pipe. That’s the worst of Vincent; he’s so young he doesn’t think how a thing like that may get on one’s nerves. But I wouldn’t hurt his feelings for anything, and so I had to let him smoke. About three o’clock tn the afternoon. when we had left the comfortable carriages of the main line for the ramshackle ones of the branch line, we came to a sudden stop In the center of a big stretch of 'meadow land. A few miles away we could see the spires and roofs of a little village, and, what was more noticeable, a big castle, that stood on higher ground some distance above the town, but not far from where the train had stopped. I asked the guard what the trouble was, and he told me that something was wrong with the engine and it might be a couple of.hours be* fore we could go ahead. Just as he finished his explanation Vincent, who had been looking out of Jhe window with great interest, sprang to his feet and shook my shoulder ex-

cftedly. "Look there! Do you see them?” he cried, pointing at the beautiful meadows with their winding stream and gentle slopes. x “See what?” I demanded somewhat testily, adjusting my glasses and surveying the landscape without perceiving anything of unusual interest But Vincent, in a fever of haste, was kneeling and unstrapping his golf clubs. “Hooray,” he cried, “Terhune, a golf course as I’m a sinner. Come on, we’ll have some sport. The old train’s due to wait an hour, anyhow." I looked again, and, sure enough, I saw that at intervals the close-cropped grass was dotted with little red flags like sparks of fire on a carpet of green velvet. Vincent has many fads, but I think he is keener on golf than anything else. I was disgusted with him. “Vincent,” I said with decision, “this is nonsense. You can wait till we get to Cuppstone to play golf. Graham said there were public links there.” “Yes, and he also said Hat it was the rottenest course he ever played over,” said Vincent with some heat. "I made him admit it. And this one is a beauty. A private one, I’ll wager. Look at that turf. It is just like velvet, my dear fellow—like velvet,” and he swept a practiced eye over the wide green slopes. Now, I am fond of the game myself within reason, and certainly the prospect was inviting, for I was tired of the confinement of the carriage and Vincent was most persuasive. I knew it was a foolish thing to do; the train might not stay so long as we expected and we might get left; and yet, as I say, it is hard to refuse Vincent anything. I unwillingly permitted him to get out my clubs. “Whose links are these?” I asked the guard. “Do they belong to the castle?” “Yessir," replied the guard. “They belong to Castle Wyckhoff, the family seat of Baron Wyckhoff. They’re ail dead now, though, all ’cept the Honorable Agatha, and she lives in the castle and owns all these acres, sir, all you can see,” and the guard waved his hand grandiloquently toward the imposing old pile on the hillside and the green .meadows stretching away far beltyw ft. “She must have money,” I said, reflectively. Vincent, meanwhile, was hunting in his grip for an a atrocious red coat he wears when he golfs. “Money?” Repeated the guard. “Money? Lor' bless you, sir, she 'as millions an’ millions. Her own father was Baron Wyckhoff, but 'e died when 'is darter were a little thing. ’E never 'ad a shilling, but ’er stepfather, that married Baroness Wyckhoff two years later, was H’amerlcan and 'ad more pounds than there is stones in that castle, sir, an’ arter ’is wife died ’e ’ad the place built up again. An* now they’re both dead, sir, and 'is

stepaaugnter, tne nonoraoie jusatua, as 'er title is, sir, is heiress of all his millions and 'er mother’s estate." "She ought to marry," I said, still reflectively, and without any personal meaning. The guard smiled knowingly. "There’s many a one arter her, sir,” he said; “but they don’t seem to make no progress against ’er stepfather’s Will.” K “Her stepfather’s will?” I repeated, with interest. “Do you hear that, Vincent?” But Vincent, his beloved coat at last found, was half out of the carriage. “Come on,” he shouted, “we’re wasting time.” And I, perforce, was obliged to follow him, although the guard’s story promised to be very interesting. 4 - After , we had played tfie first hole and I had won (I seldom win a hole from Vincent, so I was in a good humor) I told him what the guard had said. “So these grounds belong to the Honorable Agatha,” I concluded, “and I have curiosity enough to wish that we might behold this nfcysterious lady." But Vincent wasn't a bit excited; you can never depend upon him when he’s playing golf. "Bosh!" he said; “I’d rather play on her links than see her. If she saw us she might put us off. I’ll bet she’s a crabbed old maid. I’m surprised at you, Terhune, with your romantic notions. I thought you’d left all that sort of thing behind you in London.” I felt myself reddening slightly, though I knew Vincent didn’t mean anything, and was about to make some retort when he drove off unexpectedly, and I stopped in admiration of the clean, fast shot he made. It just cleared a natural bunker and sped on beyond. At that iflstant a discordant mixture of sound burst upon our ears, as that of a dog yelping and a vigorous scolding in a high but sweet feminine voice. With one accord we rushed up the gentle rise, ...nd in the depression beyond we beheld one of the handsomest girls, I had ever seen in my life. She was oending over a setter puppy and scolding him. The dog's yelps had subsided to a whimper and he was bolding up one of his paws as if he had been hurt. “I told you not to come, Rudolph," she was saying, “and I told you to keep out of the way,, and I told you you’d get hurt if you didn’t.” She was a tall girl, but beautifully

proportioned, and wore no hat cm her mass of dark hair. When we got nearer we saw that her eyes were big and black, her profile perfect, and her coloring delightful. Vincent capitulated at once and I let him make his Impression first He’s the younger and it always seems a shame not to give such a promising boy a chance. “I beg your pardon,” he said, advancing and baring his head, so that the gold in his brown hair caught the sunlight, “but would you tell me if these are private links and to whom they belong? I fear we are trespassing?” He said this just as If I hadn’t told him all about it The girl turned to him uncertainly; then she smiled a wide, jolly smile of good fellowship. I knew she would—they all do that at Vincent. "Was that your ball?” she said, not heeding his question. ‘l’m very sorry. It hit my dog." Vincent was all concern in a moment. “What a shame,” he said. "Did it hurt him?" and he knelt down to examine the doar’s naw.

"Oh, no, Rudolph’s all right,” she answered; "but it spoiled your drive, and I’m sorry for that," and then she, too, knelt on the grass beside the dog. I felt that it whs time to step forward. "My dear young lady,” I said—she couldn’t have been more than 20, so I did not hesitate to address her thus—“My dear young lady, will you please tell us whether we are trespassing in using this court? To whom does it belong?” You see, I had to pretend Ignorance to get more information. I have many of the Intuitions that go to make up a great detective, and I had a presentiment that this girl was none other than the Honorable Agatha Wyckhoff herself. This proved to be the case. As I addressed myself to her the girl rose with dignity and replied: “I am the Honorable Agatha Wyckhoff and I own these grounds. So, you see, you are trespassing.” But her tone was laughing and her expression not at all severe, so I promptly told her who we were, and we shook hands, the Honorable Agatha smiling at me somewhat the way she had smiled at Vincent, though perhaps a trifle more appreciatively. , "We didn’t mean to,” said Vincent, “and I hope you don't mind. You’ll forgive us, won’t you?” The girl laughed, and it was a .laugh that I like to hear, not the silly, repressed giggle of a London debutante. "She’ll very nearly do,” I thought, "even If she isn’t more than 20.” “Forgive you?” she repeated. "Of course I will. I think it’s great fun. I haven’t seen a new man for six weeks.” I was wondering what she meant by using the wprd “new” and waiting for Vincent to reply, when. Instead of answering her, he suddenly pointed over my shoulder with a look of horror. “The train,” he cried, “the train!” Sure enough, when I turned I saw our train had started and, although moving slowly, was well on its way to the little town in the distance. We were three-quarters of a mile from the tracks by this time, and of course pursuit was useless. “Left behind,” cried Vincent, dramatically, and burst out laughing. That’s just like him —he always laughs at everything. For my own part I couldn’t see anything funny about It. Here we were set down in a little town that probably did not contain an inn, while our luggage traveled merrily on to Cuppstone, all because of a foolish whim of his. The girl laughed, too, so there was no use in telling him what I thought of him then. “Well, what are we going to do?” I asked sharply. “Do?” echoed Vincent. “Why, with her permission, we'll play a game of gold with the Honorable Agatha, and then go on to the station, whatever its name is, and take another train for Cuppstone.”

“Its name is Wye;” said the Honorable Agatha, “the town of Wye, and that’s a very good plan. That’s just what we’ll do.” And it was just what we did do. And you should have seen that girl play golf! By the time we had been around the 18-hole course I felt a little fatigued —one has to keep in training to do that sort of thing at a minute’s notice —but Vincent and the Honorable Agatha seemed as fresh as when we started and proposed a race to the station. I told them to run on ahead and I’d meet them later, so .away they dashed, with Rudolph leaping and barking in front of them, never doubting that the whole thing was planned for his especial benefit. When I reached the station at last, instead of seeing about our train or telegraphing to Cuppstone about our late arrival, there was Vincent sitting on the luggage-truck with that girl, and, I am ashamed to say, he was holding her hand. When they spied me the girl tried to pull her hand away, but Vincent held on.

“That you, Archibald?” he called, as if it could have been anyone else. "Come on up here. We’ve been telling fortunes, and Miss Agatha’s hand is very Interesting.” “No doubt,” I answered, dryly; “but what have you done about telegraphing to Cuppstone. and what train have you found we can take?” “There isn’t any train,” said Vincent, as cheerfully as if he were telling me a bit of good news. "Only two trains a day run through Wye from London, and ours was the last. Anyway, your friend, the guard, thought we ought to get off here and put off all our luggage.”

I looked around in consternation and there were our boxes, ail piled neatly at the far end of the platform. “For goodness’ sake, Wilfred"—l call him Wilfred when I am angry—l •aid, turning on Vincent, who was again busy telling fortunes—"do take some interest. What are we going to do? Isn’t there a station master here who can tell us about the inns of this place, if there are any? I’m starring." Vincent looked up and again smiled that irritating smile of his. "Don’t get hot,” he drawled; “it’s all right The Honorable Agatha has invited us to the castle and she’s telephoned for the dogcart and a wagon for our luggage. Haven’t you, Angel?" he ended, turning his handsome bronzed face to the girl, with one of his best smiles, one of the kind he reserves especially for the fair sex. I frowned. Vincent really makes advances too quickly. "Why didn’t you say so at first?" I said, rather peevishly, as I sat down on the steps to await the dogcart which one could see already, a black speck in the distance on the winding road from the castle. The speck finally disappeared behind a clump of trees, and when it emerged and drew up at the station we saw what a stunning little turnout tt was. The horse was as fine as any you’d meet on the Lady’s Mlle, the harness was clinking and shinlna with ornaments, and the cart

and the groom’s livery were faultless. The Honorable Agatha mounted the box seat. “Christopher,” she said to the groom, "I’m going to drive. You’d better rfde back with the ’trunks.’" Then, before I had time to interfere, Vincent leaped nimbly up to the seat beside her and I was obliged to take the rumble with Rudolph, who leaped up beside me as if to his accustomed Beat - ?. was too anxious to get to the castle and get something to eat, however, to mind, and the Honorable Agatha proving to be as good a whip as she was golfer, we were soon winding up the last gentle slope that led to the big building. As we drove down the long avenue another dogcart approached us rapidly, and as it came almost abreast, to my surprise I recognized the young man who was sitting with the groom as young Murray Brancepeth. He saw us at the same moment and both dogcarts stopped. "Hullo, Murray!" said Vincent and 1 together. But he never paid the slightest attention to us. Instead, he jumped lightly from fils high seat and came around to the Honorable Agatha’s side of our cart. Reaching up he caught her hand. > “I don’t care whether you’re the real Agatha or not,” he said, his dark face flushed with the intensity of his feeling. "You’ve got to marry me some time. I’m not after money. I’ve some of my own and I’ll make some more. When you’re tired of this folly I’m coming back Good-by.” And he wrung her hand till the Honorable Agatha winced. Then he was gone in a rattle of gravel and dust. We couldn’t help hearing what he said and he didn’t seem. to care whether we did or not. z But we could hardly believe our ears. Young Murray Brancepeth, that gilded Idler, declaring himself the victim of a mighty passion, and, more astounding still, swearing that he would make some money! He, who had never done any work In his life besides that necessary to bleed his rich old uncle of his living expenses.

“What was It he said,” I thought, “about the ‘real Agatha’ and ‘folly?’’’ What did It all mean? As we drove up to the castle entrance two girls of about 19 and 20, I should say, came tearing around the corner, tennis racquets in hand, and shrieked aloud, evidently with surprised delight at seeing us. “Oh, Agatha,” cried the foremost of the two, a tall, brown-eyed, brownfaced sylph, with a profusion of wavy and very disorderly brown hair. "Oh, Agatha, where 4id you get them? I’m so tired of Brancepeth.” “Yes,” cried the other one, “where did they drop from? I thought yon were playing golf.” She was a jolly little thing, this second one, small, but plump, with fair skin and blue eyes, really very attractive. This was somewhat embarrassing to me, but Vincent stood there, utterly unperturbed, bowing with that easy grace of his, as the Honorable Agatha introduced us. But imagine our surprise when she presented each of those two young things as “the Honorable Agatha Wyckhoff!” “But I thought you were the Honorable Agatha,” I cried, unable to repress my astonishment. "So I am,” she answered, snflling, and we followed her into the house, silent but wondering. (To be continued.)

AGATHA FIRST.