Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 June 1912 — The Courageous Miss Stuyvesant [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Courageous Miss Stuyvesant

By F. G. AFLALO

"Well,” the girl was saying, “I believe in asking for what you want. We do that over in my country, anyway.” And the musical drawl, no less than the clear olive comiflexion and velvet eyes, left little doubt as to what “my country,” was, for she spoke and looked the Californian, with a dash of Spanish blood. "Ask, then, O fair! and thou shalt have even to the half of my kingdom.” No sooner had Spencer Lathom uttered the jesting words than fee realized, with a little bitterness, that his kingdom consisted tfr the pay he drew as special correspondent, in peace or war, of the Morning News, a comfortable salary for any bachelor who looks to Fleet street for his bread, but no more than poverty by Compaq Ison with Miss Stuyvesant’s millions; they might be dollars, but even so they made four hundred a year seem beggarly. They had stayed a little longer than usual in the water, and were late for breakfast. In the center of the room stood a table larger than the rest, and laid for eight, and to this there came an old gentleman, prosperous and rubicund, with hair as white as his waistcoat. On four of the eight plates, his own included, were little piles of letters, two of them surrounded by telegrams. Mr. Richard Bontine gave only casual attention to such correspondence as followed him on his holiday. His confidential clerk saw to it that he was troubled as little as possible; and moreover, one of the other partners was in town. Then, by the way of more interesting literature, he opened his just as his wife passed on to her seat behind the tea and coffee pots. As his eye roved from the paper to those yellow envelopes, he emitted a low whistle, “What is it, Richard?” asked the lady, who had also looked at the tele-

grams with the nervousness which the sight of them always caused her. “O nothing, my dear ; nothing,” Mr. Bontine gave a laugh that was a little forced. “Only another little kickup—er—in India. Quite a small affair, really!” A small affair! And there, staring him In the face, were those leaded headlines: Trouble in the Northwest Frontier. Hurried Dispatch of Troops. Russian Complications Feared. Cabinet Council Summoned. Of course! Those Infernal telegrams could mean nothing else. One was for Blake, Bobby Blake, who was to marry Pearl (the pearl these fond parents set above price) In October; the other for Spencer Lathom, who was to him as an elder son—Blake the soldier, who no doubt had to report Immediately for foreign service; Spencer the war correspondent, who would have, with all the risk and none of the glory, to go out to those pitiless mountain passes, perhaps to be sniped or knifed by Afridis. Silently young Blake read his wire, then handed it to his host, who, readlng it, laid a sympathetic hand over his eldest girl’s as she sat down beside him. Pearl did not need to be told. She was deathly pale, but carried herself finely. “Well,” ejaculated Mr. Bontine, “It’s d—. H’m, beg pardon, my dear. It’s hard lines, Robert. But duty calls, my boy, eh? And yours, Spencer? Same Job, I suppose^-what?” "Yes, sir,” was the reply, as the war correspondent scented battle. “And I’m off to Peshawur on Friday.” As a matter of fact, Miss Stuyvesant had no secrets from herself, and she was quite convinced that If she had to go through life without Mr. Spencer Lathom In close proximity It Wag not going to be her fault. She had been spending the London season at Clarldge’s with an effaceable chaperon, and having, a year or two earlier, been Pearl’s bosom friend at a Neucbatel pension, had gladly

spent August with her family by the sea. * . ■ As for him, he had been as & son to the Bontines ever since he could remember. They got through the meal perfunctorily and when It was over the two younger men went off arm in arm to the telegraph office, while Pearl went “to have a good cry” in her mother’s room. Dolores Stuyvesant walked a little apart. Her grief was deep also; but, as he had not given her the precious right to show it, she would keep It to herself. So she crept away to the deserted croquet lawn behind the hotel, and sat down on a rustic bench facing the sea. ‘ A heavy step crushed the gravel path, and hastily her handkerchief went to her eyes as she gave a very creditable imitation of a sneeze. Then she looked around. Old Bontine was looting at her with eyes full of sympathy. "Eh, my dear, it’s a bad business—what?" And he sat her. “Oh, dreadful, Mr. Botfly! So terrible for dear Perl. And she was so lovely about it. Oh, It —it—makes me bo unhappy!” “Yes, my dear, but she has to be a soldier’s wife and to get used to this sort of thing. It’s worse in a way for poor Spencer.” He was watching her narrowly now. She knew It, but could she keep the hot blood from mantling her cheek? “These war correspondents, you see, are non-combatants, and they run all the risks—eh, my dear, did you say anything?” For she had uttered a sound >hat might have been a sob. “Yes” he went on ruthlessly, “it’s such a pity, because he gets no glory. But it’s his living, he says, and he’s too proud to let me— Oh, bother!” he continued, as if struck by a sudden idea, “why can’t he marry? But it’s no use. The very fact of a girl having sixpence to bless herself with would choke him off, even if he worshiped the ground she walked on. He told me so.” He paused suddenly, half-frightened at the effect of his words. For she was leaning forward now, scarcely breathing, her great eyes fixed on his, as she said, almost inaudibly, “He —told —you so! When?” Then he dashed straight ahead. It was now or never! “Why, only last night, after you had all gone to bed, I chaffed him; only my little joke, you know, and he— Yes,” he concluded defiantly, “I meant to tell you this. It seemed a shame to let everything go wrong for want of a meddlesome old fool to put it right. You —you are not angry with me, my dear—what?” And, with a silent prayer that his Lavinia, to whom he had been faithful all their wedded days, might not at that dreadful moment be looking in their direction, he suffered her to press her cool young lips to his rosy old cheek. And still the August sun shone brightly, though this time we see it over London town. Yet smart cars and carriages rolled In and out of the Bide streets that led to the squares, and It was hard to believe that the great city was as empty as the newspapers would have their readers think itSo, at any rate, thought Spencer Lathom, as a minute before noon, he passed into the shade under the portico of Claridge’s and seat his name up to Miss Dolores Stuyvesant. Which accomplished, this ordinarily selfpossessed man felt so nervous that he actually contemplated seeking safety in flight and was only indeed stayed from making so ignominious a retreat by the vision that suddenly barred the way. “Ah, this is just lovely of you! So you got my letter, say?” “And here I am,” was the reply. “Come in right here,” she said, then hit her lip. "Now look here, Mr. Spencer Lathom, I’m going to say what’s in my mind. It’s a way we have in God’s country. And, whatever you may think of it, I know that you are a gentleman and will say nothing to anyone.” Not daring to think what this wonderful darling was going to say next, he could only feebly bow his assent. Very well then. Yo do —rather like me—don’t you?” Like her! Like her! He wanted to fall down and kiss her feet, but he was not going to tell this Dollar Princeßs what was In his mind. “You know you do! Why, you told Mr. Bontine so only the other night.” As his confusion became more evident, she grew calmer. It Is a way women have. "Yes,” she proceeded with deliberation, “you also told him that those blamed dollars of mine—which I can’t help a little mite, and which are rather nice after all —were in the way, and—o, Spencer Lathom, Spencer Lathom, I’m thinking you’re jußt a coward after all!” “But,” he stammered, white as a sheet. "But,” she interrupted, "I’m not anyway, noflme. Spencer Lathom, will you marry me?” She all but swooned. Then he caught her in his arms.

"I’m Going to Say What’s on My Mind."