Jasper County Democrat, Volume 14, Number 53, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 October 1911 — Thorley’s Heart Trouble [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Thorley’s Heart Trouble

he Finds a Satisfactory Cure

By CLARISSA MACKIE

Thorley was convalescing after a long fever, and the sensible family doctor sniffed contemptuously at the suggestion of a change of air as afforded by some fashionable resort whether north, south, east or west. •‘You want to get near to nature. Of course I know that’s a hackneyed expression, my boy, but you do want to get as far back in the country as your pocketbook will take you and stay at some isolated farmhouse where you will not want to see anything save the cloud effects when the sun sets over the mountain peak or hear anything except the songs of birds and the blare of the dinner horn. Drink milk and eat eggs morning, noon and night. Sleep and rest and .walk and sleep, and I'll guarantee you'll be made Over again in three months!” "Where shall I go?” demanded Thorley helplessly. “Anywhere. Buy a ticket for the last station on the line and get off there and ask for board at the last house on the turnpike. It’s a long chance they’ll take you.” laughed Dr. Gregory as he turned to go. A week later Mr. Fred Thorley was uncomfortably established in a red plush covered seat in a dusty passenger coach which was one of three snaking their way slowly after an ancient and asthmatic engine. The single track road led from the junction where Thorley had boarded it straight into the country through rock ribbed crevices dripping with moisture and hung with ferns, past level daisy fields white as the driven snow, shooting into the dim arches of tall woods only to emerge near some highway crossing where the engine shrieked wamingly. There were tedious stops at tiny stations that looked like bird bouses, and these grew smaller and smaller until when they reached the termina) the station was not much larger than a sentry box. “Rosedale—all out!” yelled the brakeman, and he lent a strong band to help Thoriey's evident weakness. There was no other passenger, and when his one trunk had been dumped on the platform and the train had

coughed its way to a siding Thorley surveyed the rustic scene with some dismay in his town bred eyes. “And not a vehicle to be had for love or money!” he groaned after his interview with the sleepy agent. “Well, I’ll walk to the village. You say it’s only a mile and a half? I’ll send somebody after my trunk as soon as I find out where I'm going to stop.” The agent awoke suddenly to action. “There ain't no hotel here,” he said aggressively, as if questioning Tborley’s right to thus throw himself on the hospitality of Rosedale. “Any boarding houses?” demanded Thorley. "Any farmhouses that will take a boarder?” The man shook his head. “Ain’t heard of any.” he said indifferently. Thorley turned on his heel and walked down the sandy road which led away between tall growing oaks and chestnuts. The afternoon was advancing, and he was hot and tired and hungry. He abided himself for falling In with Dr. Gregory’s ideas. It would have been far better if he had sought a railroad guide book and picked out some good stopping place v Nevertheless there was a certain element of interest in the fact that he did not know where he was to lay his head that night. For the rather spoiled young man this was a novel experience. He passed a frame house freshly painted in a pinkish lavender, with green blinds, and he closed his eyes and shook bis head. The next house came to was a broad and comfortable one. painted white, with green blinds. Grapevines werfe trellised all about the house, and there were an old fashioned flower garden and rolling slopes of finely kept lawn. In an adjoining pasture a herd

of Jerseys showed dun colored against the green grass. Thorley lingered in front of the gate, eying the place wistfully. Here was the very place for him to recuperate his strength, r-d yet there was little likelihood that they would let him in. for it evidently was the home of a prosperous farmer—one who had no need to board an invalid young man. no matter how handsome and charming he might be. and Thorley was both of these. Still, he stood there watching the chickens scratching in the gravel and hearing the soft muffled nip of the Jerseys as they cropped the clover. Then came a surprise. A sun bonnet came down a shaded path that wound among thick syringa bushes and bobbed to a standstill before him. They stared at each other, stricken with surprise. “Well?” said the girl at last for she was the prettiest farmer’s daughter Thorley had ever seen, and he had held her brown eyes in his own delighted gaze. , • “Well.” echoed Thorley. “you see I’m looking for board at a farmhouse. I rather like the looks of this one.” “You do, do you?” she mimicked him, with dancing eyes. “Shall I run and ask Uncle Nathan if he wishes to take a boarder?” “Y'ou wouldn’t be so kind?” he cried excitedly. “Wait,” she called over her shoulder and was gone. Presently she returned and beckoned him into the house, where, in the cool recesses of a dim parlor, he concluded a most satisfactory bargain with the girl’s aunt. Mrs. Beek. a kindly, white haired woman, who took much interest in an account of his illness. The Beeks sent a wagon after Thorley’s trunk, and he was comfortably installed in a large front room, with a tire of hickory logs brightening the cool twilight. He saw the sunset glory above the mountain peak. He heard the song of , birds and the gentle lowing of the cowg. He slept in the hammock for hours, lulled by the sweet breezes that swept through the pines. He walked longer distances every day. regaining I health and strength as the summer advanced. In the meantime the pretty niece of the Beeks—Margie they called her—flitted around the place like a slim, bright eyed bird. Sometimes she read to Thorley as he lay in the hammock, and sometimes be read to her. but the themes he chose led by devious ways to the sweet subject of love, and whenever she gained a clew to the thread of his narrative she would fly away with flushed cheeks and eyes hidden behind a soft sweep of long lashes. , Then Thorley would not see her for ; a day or two. One day Mrs. Beek came out and sat in a big rocking chair near Thorley’s hammock and knitted busily at a scarlet shawl. i

“Margie is driving with Mart Bently,” said Mrs. Beek. as if this piece of news was not the most stupendous blow Thorley had ever experienced. “Mart Bently.” repeated Thorley. “Why. why?” His voice ended interrogatively. “I expect Margie likes to be with him. You know they were playmates when they were little.” said Mrs. Beek calmly. “I didn’t know,” said Thorley savagely. “Of course you eouldn’t be expected to know about it. I'm glad to see you looking so much better, Mr. Thorley.” ] she went on. “We pride ourselves that Rosedale has been the making of yon.” “It has, together with yonr good care, Mrs. Beek.” he said gratefully. “I hope you’ll run out often.” said Mrs. /Beek pleasantly. “Maybe yon have one of those automobiles?” ! “Yes. I have, and these roads are all right.” said Thorley. with rising spirits. “I suppose Miss Margie will be here all summer.” “I suppose so.” said Mrs. Beek. rising to leave. “Here come Mart and Margie now! They're a handsome couple.” Thorley did not stop to verify this statement. He turned out.of the hammock and strode across the lawn and down through the orchard, where he leaned against the fence which bordered a deep, rumbling brown brook. His rebellious heart was thumping angrily, strongly. He longed for the touch of Margie’s cool, slim fingers and. the glance of her soft, dark eyes. But very likely her fingers and her soft glances were for Mart Bently. the good looking young stock raiser, whose place adjoined that of the Beeks. Thorley did not hear a light step on the orchard grass, and it was not until Margie’s slim white clad figure appeared beside him that he knew he was not alone. He looked at her without speaking for a moment; then suddenly be turned and crushed her hands in his strong grasp. "Marjorie.” he said hoarsely, "how long are you intending to keep up the game?” “I’m only a farmer’s daughter”— began Miss Fenton demurely, when something in his eyes drove her to her last defenses. “Fred Thorley, you are the -very stupidest mortal”— “Why?” he broke in eagerly. “Because you don’t understand that I became a farmer’s daughter for your sake.” she finished, with her head on his shoulder “I was worried to death when you were ill. and I longed to do something for you and I was so jealous of that {rained nurse you had”— “Never noticed her looks.” said Thorley cheerfully. “So I told Dr. Gregory to send you down here, and I wonld be here to entrap you to coming to Uncle Nathan’s. and hasn’t it been the most delightful summer you ever spent?” she asked. - Thorlex's answer was not audible.

THEY STARED AT EACH OTHER.