Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 August 1908 — Seizing the Opportunity. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Seizing the Opportunity.

By J. LUDLUM LEE.

Copyrighted, 1908, by Associated Literary Press.

The Alders’ week end party was in full awing. The girls, in dainty muslins or smartly tailored linen suits, were strolling about, with the men In white flannels, making a charming picture on the green lawn and shodowy piazza. Mrs. Alder was swinging in the hammock, pushing herself back and forth with her daintily shod foot, while in a cozy armchair by her side sat Fred Marshall peacefully smoking his pipe. "It strikes my verdant young brain,” he began, “that’s it's about time those two people were married, settled down and lived happily afterward.” He pointed to a couple in the swinging seat under the maple tree. "Married!” echoed Mrs. Alder. “Married is the exact and, I believe, correct word,” reassured Fred. “You should understand the significance of the word, my dear Dolly. You’re married yourself, if I'm not mistaken." "Why, Billy Richards would never dare to ask a stunning girl like Martha Vandercook to marry him. The idea is preposterous!” said Dolly Alder as she gave herself a vigorous push. “Want to bet on it?" asked Fred. “My dear boy, it would l»e like robbing the blind. Billy Richards is a sort of tame cat to Martha. You can generally find him purring to himself in some corner, and in case she wants him he's very apt to stretch himself and come at her bidding, but marriage —never!” “I’ll grant you there's something of the feline in him,” said Fred. “He’s

slow and sure, but when he sees his opportunity he'll jump at It, all right and probably land his mouse. I’ll tell you what,” he continued—“l'll wager you six perfectly good pairs of gloves against a pint of half roasted peanuts that they marry within six months," suggested Fred. “Well, of course, in these hard times I cannot afford to throw away six pairs of gloves,” soliloquized Dolly, “but. frankly, I feel as if 1 were taking money from a child. However, the bet Is on.”

Harry Alder came from the bouse at this moment and went to the rail of the piazza, scanned the various groups of men and girls and at last cried out to Billy and Martha in their cozy corner. “I say, Billy Richards, It's time you had a bit of exercise, and I wish you would run the launch around to the public dock and get the tank filled with gasoline for our afternoon fishing trip,” he cried, with a merry twinkle in his blue eyes. “And, by the way. Martha, would you mind going along and seeing that he buys gasoline and not other spirituous liquors around there? Billy’s been awfully absentminded of late.” Billy stretched himself, and then Martha and he went down and loosened the little launch Barbara from her moorings aud were soon on their way around the point to the public dock. Martha made a picture at the wheel while Billy busied himself with the little engine. “Billy Richards,” said Martha, meanwhile steering the little launch in and ont between the larger boats that lay in the bay. “the longer I know you the more stupid you seem to grow." “Martha, my dear girl,” answered Billy, “men with great minds—great thinkers—are seldom great talkers, and I’d have you to know that because I don’t say things is no sign that I do Dot think them.” Billy’s chest seemed to expand with this statement Martha turned and looked at him Incredulously. “It may be that I have done you an injustice, Billy,” she said, “but as I recall the past seven years I look in vain for any great thoughts, deeds or speeches of yours. Surely great men say something—sometimes.” She let go of the steering wheel and turned to see the effect of her stinging sarcasm. It was a bad move, for they had -neared the dock, and the Barbara struck hard, throwing Martha down on her knees. Here was Billy’s chance to say some-

thing rather pertinent, but he let It pass, with the host of other lost oppor tunities. Billy was a wiser man than any of them thought. The boatman made them fast to the float, and Billy helped Martha out as he gave orders to have the tank filled. He then followed Martha up the runway which connected the float with the land. The tide was very low, and the sandy bottom was easily visible through the clear, shallow water. Martha stared down at some large black object in the sand. Billy stared too. “Why, It’s a stove/Martha',’’ exclaimed Billy. “Now. if we only bad that up here on dry land we could go to housekeeping right away. Eh, girlie, couldn’t we?” Martha clutched the rail. "Is this a proposal, Billy?” she asked in odd tones. < “I guess it is. dear—at least," said Billy as he put his sunburned hand over hers, “I’ve been trying to ask you for the past seven years, and now I’ve done it all of a sudden, with the kitchen furniture thrown in. What’s my answer?” Billy was eagerly waiting for the answer when a tall colored man dressed in black frock coat, white tie and vest and silk hat touched him on the shoulder. “Thar’s the stove, sir, and here’s the parson,” and with a low, sweeping bow, hat in baud, he bent his old back before them. The situation was irresistible, and all three, regardless of race, creed or color, joined in a hearty laugh. “I’m afraid the odds are very much against * me,” parried Martha. “It wonld seem that the only way out of It is for me to say ’Yes.’ Let’s go home and tell Dolly.” As a rule. Billy was not considered a charitable man, but he turned to the old colored preacher who had helped to shape his destiny and handed him a crisp yellow’ backed bill. “Treat the congregation to popcorn and lemonade, won’t you?” he said as he followed Martha down the runway. They were soon rounding the point and iu great glee they landed at the Alders’ float The house party awaited them on the piazza. Billy helped Martha across the lawn, over many imaginary stones and up the steps. His face had taken on a boyish look, while Martha was more beautiful than ever. “I wish I had a lemonade,” sighed Paul Westover. “All right," said their host “What will you have, Fred?” Fred glanced first at the young couple, who had just stepped on the porch, then slowly turned and looked at his hostess. Dolly Alder. "I lielieve I’ll take a pint of peanuts, if yon don't mind.”

“THAR’S THE STOVE, SIR, AND HERE’S THE PARSON.”