Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 May 1912 — NEXT DOOR [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

NEXT DOOR

By Temple Bailey

(Copyright, 1(11, by Aaooclated Literary PTm.) Richard and his father had really never agreed. Their antagonism worried gentle Mrs. Cameron. She loved her son. and she loved her husband, and their continued quarrels mystified her. “Dick is a dear she would" say to her husband, and when he would grunt And growl she would venture, “Perhaps you don't understand him.” “Your father is a fine man,” she would tell Richard, and when the boy flamed and fumed she would sigh, "Perhaps you are too much like him. You both have the same high tempers, and that is the cause of all the trouble.” When the Chalmers came to live in the big house next door to the Camerons there was more trouble. Richard’s father wanted Richard to be nice to them. “There 1b plenty of money and Influence over there, and they have a daughter. You can’t do better than see something of her, Dick.”

“I know plenty of girls,” Richard asserted, “without having the one next door thrown at my head." ° “Who’s throwing her at your head?” the old man demanded. “Oh, dear!" Mrs. Cameron threw up her hands. “She really seems a very sweet girl.” “Well, I don’t care to know her,” Richard said. “It is bad enough to see her all the time. She’s either sitting on her porch or playing tennis on the side' lawn, and I can’t get away from her unless I stay away from home altogether.” He flung himself out of the room, and his mother looked at his father deprecatingly. “If he wouldn't be so positive about things, but he’s just like you; you never could stand it to have anyone tell you what you Ought to do.” “Well, he’s an obstinate young pig,” was the explosive response. “I'd like to see him marry that girl next door, Mary.” “She’s a nice little thing.” Mrs. Cameron agreed, “but if you want

Dick to marry her, you’ve got to take another way from the one you are pursuing now, Richard.” But Richard Sr. would not listen. "He ought to be made to do the things we want him to do,” he said. "You didn’t do the things your father wanted you to do,” his wife stated. "If you had, you wouldn’t have married me, Richard.” Her husband smiled at her. "We got ahead of the old man. didn’t we?" he said. "There, yeu see," his wife said earnestly. -'*You like the adventure of It, Richard, yet you’re expecting your boy to submit to a prearranged marriage.” i "That's right,” her husband said suddenly, "but seriously, Mary, my heart is set on this marriage." His wife nodded. “The best way will be to make Rlqjhafe think you don’t want It, then be* be crazy to do it." "I see." Mr. t Cameron rose and walked through the wide windows of the living room to the porch. Down by the sundial In the lower part of the garden Richard sat smoking and sulking. On the other side of the hedge a young girl played at tetherball. She was a lithe, graceful little creature with shininfe hair. A« his wife Joined him. Cameron said. “Can’t you suggest something. Mary?" * "Have you talked it over with Mr. Chalmers?” she asked. "Yes, and he Is pleased to death at the Idea. He says Dick’s just the sort of fellow he wants his girl to marry." Mrs. Cameron shook her head. "That’s like a pair of blundering men," she said. "We don't live in Prance, my dear. Young Americans are Inclined to believe that marriages are made In heaven, not In offices.” "I suppose,” he hesitated, "If Dick thought I didn’t want him to do It he’d move heaven and earth to do it" "I think he would,” she agreed. "Why don't you hatch up some polltteal squabble with Mr. Chalmers, and see how Dick takes ttr

*T can think of something bettor than that.” her husband growled. That night at the dinner table Cameron took a letter out of his pocket and tossed it over to his wife to read. ‘ “I call that something of an imposition,” was his statement. The letter was from Chalmers. It stated that the noise of the' automobile in his neighbor's garage was trying to his nerves. It waked him in the mornings He requested that it be stopped. “He might have put it more pleasantly," Cameron said. “I never knew him to be cranky before.” Young Richard looked up. “I gues It’s our auto,” he said, “and we’l make all the noise we want.” ; “That's right," said Cameron, “an! I will write him to that effect.” On of the correspondence grew a decided coolness between the two friends. Even Mrs. Cameron was puzzled to know if the trouble was a bona fldo one or merely the result of a plot. Richard, however, had no doubts. “Father certainly has a grouch on his next-door neighbor,” he confided to his mother; “but It oughtn’t to make him rudje to the girl. He snapped out such a gruff ‘Good morning' to her that I felt positively sorry for her.” The climax came when Cameron chased Dulcie Chalmers' white cat across the lawn. He threw a stone at her, carefully sending it in the wrong direction, for Cameron had a soft spot in his heart for cats Across the hedge Richard apologized later for his father’s act.

“I don’t know what Is coming over him, Miss Chalmerß,” he said. “I think he has a grouch against your father.” “They were such good friends,” the girl sighed. "It seems a pity, doesn’t It?” “It Is a pity,” Dick said. “But it needn’t make us any less good friends, need It, Miss Dulcie?” “Why, of course not,” she said. That wsb the beginning; but as C( summer went on the two young pe pie found themselves involved In most romantic situation. The tv fathers commanded that their ch dren give up all intercourse with each other. This led to delightful clandestine meetings; moonlight and starlight saw them whispering together in the garage or at the foot of the rose garden. The summer winds heard their vows, and the birds sang a chor us to their love song. When they were well out of sight and of hearing, Richard, Sr., would shake hands with old man Chalmer* across the hedge and they would chuckle over the success of their pretended feud. Ilut Mrs. Cameron wai worried. . V “The next thing you know, iwe’ll have an elopement, and 1 want Did and Dulcie married decently Is church." “What difference does it make, sc they are married?” her husband de manded. “It will make a whole lot of differ ence in their future,” said Mrs. Cam eron. “You and I ran away, Richard, because there was no other way out of it, but Dulcie has a right to whits satin and a wedding veil. I have always regretted that I didn’t have a chance to wear one, though I’ve, never regretted my marriage.” “Well, we’ll bring things to a head tonight,” said Cameron, laughing. The sundial was a pretty place for the lovers to meet. It was far enough from the house so that, after the shadows fell, it made a safe retreat. There was a stone bench, too, with a high screen of vines behind it, land here Dulcie and Dick’ plighted? vows unheard, unseen. Here the two irate fathers found them. “Dulcie,” said Chalmers, “wha( does this mean?” "It means, sir, said Dick, standin/ very stiff and straight, "that I warj to marry your daughter.” “Well, of all things,” said Richar( Sr. “You ran away with mother," said; the boy stoutly, "and I don’t think; you have ever repented your bargain.” “That has nothing to do with this! case,” said Cameron. "Why, it Is 1 preposterous that you should expecti to marry Dulcie Chalmers, Richard, when her father and I are Bworn enemies.” “Sworn enemies,” echoed Chalmers. It was at this moment that Mrs. Cameron crossed the lawn swiftly and! appeared before them. "Richard,” she said earnestly, doings up to her son, "you love Dulcie, donH you?” "Yes.” “And Dulcie loves you?” She took the girl’s hand in hers. “It Is very beautiful, but I think thsj most beautiful part of It will be that 1 these two stubborn men will become; friends again.” She turned to them. "Surely you) will make up for the sake of yourt children.” They were smiling in the darknesß, but Dick and Dulcie dld t not know. "I shall run away with her if you don’t consent, sir,” was Richard’s final statement. ; "A chip off the old block," chuckled Cameron. “Well, If you put It that way, I suppose I shall have to jsay ’Yes,’ Dick.”

Richard Sat Smoking.