Evening Star Newspaper, December 3, 1922, Page 74

2 The Terrible Yellow Cap and Sweater and the Story of Their Wearer After the Slave of the Lamp Was Called. ROM the delicate angular hand- | boX, “but T will ask you to excuse me writing and the formal yet|from meeting any of the young la- gracious phrasing of her let- | dles. ter, Andrew Campbell decided| Johnny grinned amiably and drew n his own mind that Mrs. Lovell must Andrew toward the clubhouse. Ue e a grande dame of the old school. | knew perfectly well what would hap- | ‘He wanted the money, heaven knows, | Pen. And it did. When the two men | but he had journeyed from New York | hove in sight they were pounced on -0 Greenfields to do her portrait in a by Caroline Manson. and. willy-nilly. | state of delighted expectation at the, found themselves part of her group. chance of painting such a type. He|Caroline, who was by way of being thought she would have snow-white | the heiress and beauty of Greenflelds, halr and a fine, worn face, full of ' beamed on him. | wrinkles, that expressed a noble| “You don’t deserve it sne sald to| character—so, mentally. he posed her | him archly, “but I'm going to take in black, with old lace. you round the links with me. It will| Androw had other expectations, too. | serve vou just right for being such a He felt sure that the Lovells would! Yive In an ages-old colonial manor | house with tall, white pillars and that they would have a brown-eyed | Aaughter, who would play around with him when he wasn't painting the mother. Andrew had been away from his native land for twenty years—and nls naive ideas were mostly gathered Zrom a family he had met one sum- ner at Freiburg. He wasn't really a, Zool. i When Andrew got off the sleeper | and beheld Greenfields as a hustling. grimy little city, and when he found ihe ancestral home of the Lovells to »e a mansard villa, and the only child | of the house a gawky cub of a son: | and when Mrs. Lovell herself turned sut to be short and bulgily fat and! insistent on being painted in purple | catin and diamonds—well, Andrew was as mad as blazes. | He settled down to his task in a tad state of sulks, and determined to | hustle the thing through. He was| turther outraged. therefore, to find | that Mrs. Lovell would pose for only two hours in the morning and for the | rest of the time he must be the Lov ells’ guest and be trotted about in 1ocal society. He stood = little of ft. then he jibbed and said he wouldn't be lionized. The Lovells were good- natured about it. But Johnny Lovell grinned at his mother. hermit.” Andrew smiled wearily, wondering meanwhile why large brunette wom- ! en are possessed to be kittenish. | “I'm so interested in your portrait | of Mrs. Lovell,” gushed on Caroline. | “I'm simply wild to see it. What| style are you using—real or impres- | sionistic?" | “I've tried to strike a note some- | where between Botticelli and Picas- | " replied- Andrew, darkly. i “Oh, that.must be wonderful:" de- claimed Caroline. “I shall look for-! ward so much the more to seeing it. I'd so love to have my portrait done.” Her tone Invited compliment, but, even with another commission iIn' view, Andrew remained silent. His silence was not noticed, however, for | thelr group had halted on the very edge,of the silver pool to watch the rlayers putt into the hole just be- yond. Caroline ran playfully out onto the boat landing to get a better view and_Andrew fell back a little, won- dering how he might get away. It was then he noticed a small. fair girl | in the group. She was standing very | near Caroline, and she was ostensi- ' bly, like the others, engaged in waten- ing the players. Her left foot, how ever, was busily pushing at a frag- ment of stone which welghted down | one of the shaky planks of the land- | ing. “wait till Caroline Manson gets * k x x i %hold of him.” said Johnny. Just that | \nd no more. In the meantime he of- | GUDDENLY—zszzzzst—splash! The | fered to take Andrew out In his car stone tilted off the plank, the and show him the sights of Green- delds. In impressive succession they view- «d the park, the Soldiers’ Home, the| the gasoline engine com- pany's five-acre plunt and several dozen lesser factories. They rode through street after street of decent, hideous little frame houses where iwelt the working population. Then <hey took a run through the residence section, with special emphasis on the Twlian castle of Joshua Y. Manson. Andrew regarded evervthing with 1f his thoushts could .ld have cemetery, settled misery. have been tabulated the run something iike this: “Poor creatures! “How unspeakably monotonous! ®low beautiful it mixnt be? #But how stupidly ugly it is! *No savoir vivre! No appreciation of the nuunces of “The worst of it is no one here sees ®That's the horror o! it That's the horror of i Andrew’s solid Scotch forebears made him see that the town wasn't. poor—but his artist's eyes ached at the unnecessary ugliness. He paid’ little attention when Johnny an- nounced: Now we'll go out to the country, * ® k * E turned the car out a wide street that will be called a boulevard some day. and let "er out in a raptur- ous burst of speed for a couple of miles. They flashed through a grove! of oak and pine .skidded 'round a wide circular driveway and stopped with & bone-wrenching jerk before an unin- teresting looking ex-farmhouse. Oth- | er cars were grouped at one side, and | some women in white linen were waving tennis rackets about in the| middle foreground. Farther back, | two gentlemen of uncertain vears sal- ! led forth to the perils of the bunker, while two morose caddies nt[end?d’ them with their golfing impedimenta. Johnny walked Andrew ‘round the| alde piazza out onto a wide, screened porch. There they stopped. and John- | ny looked at Andrew triumphantly. “Some view,” said Johnny. For the simple and Somewhat full facade of the Greenflelds Country Club gives not the slightest hint of the view from its back. then that the clubhouse is set at the | top of a long and generous. slope, leading down into a marvelously fair and peaceful valley. Here and there in the dimpling hills and dales clus- tets of trees have been spared, or a tangled copse of wild matlve shrubs forms a natural bunker that may well make the golfer approach the bail with cautious preliminaries. The turf 4s vivid living green, the trees are full-foliaged and robust. Loveliest of all, at the very lowest point in the walley lies a little pool, like a cup fo sllver spilled on the green. “Some view,” sald Johnny again. And he is right. “Some view,” murmured Andrew, and restrained himself with an effort ¢rom hugging Johnny Lovell and shouting with joy. For Andrew had ‘been thinking that he should never ‘be able to stick it out in Greenfields and finish Mrs. Lovell's portrait, but now he changed his mind with a hi- larious flop. Instantly when ‘the daily sitting ‘was over and Mrs. Lovell had creaked away to get into something In which she felt natural, Andrew seized his etchbook and water colors and hied himself to the country club to pre- werve the Corot quallties of its valley and make himself hated by every man #nd woman who golfed there. On the day of the ladies’ cup match ublic sentiment was so strong that !ohnny Lovell was forced to reason $ith Andrew. “Really, old chap,” he said, “you oan’'t be out on the course makin’ wour little pictures today. Some of Qhese suffragettes will land a ball fnto your ear, sure as paint. Come wup to the club with me and have a Scotch and meet some people. 1l've ®rders from Caroline Manson that if Snother day goes by and I don't Intro- #uce you to her she'll read me out #f Greenfields. She's a rippin’ girl [¥ou'll be crasy about her.” “I will take that Scotch,” sald An- [ reluctantly, closing his color R , | | t1y. ! persbn in any part: | hopelessly. plank tilted skyward, and Miss Caro- line Manson; with a shriek of horror, was dumped ungracefully shallow depths of the pool. She rose, spluttering and furious, to | her feet, and, assisted by many will- | ing hands, reached shore, and stood there, dripping and bedraggled. while | a chorus of “That rickety old land- ing” “Did you hurt-yourselt?” “It's a disgrace to the club, Better hurry into the clubhouse,” rose about her. Several sympathetic friends volun- teered to go with her, and Andrew, seeing an eventual chance to flee, tagged along. As they ascended the hill he pres- ently found himself walking almost side by side with the girl who had pushed the stone off the plank and given Caroline her ducking. Andrew looked at the culprit closely and ob- served, with inward mirth, that she was wearing a lagk of innocent con- cern. yet, in the depth of her blue eves he thought he detected some- ' thing of passionate satisfaction. An- drew decided that she had good fea- tures—but the vicious yellow of her | sweater was an inexcusable blot on | the landscape. He dropped back a step and joined her. “What did you do It for?" he whis- | pered. “I didn't do 1t,” replied the girl, ! startled—and the rising color of her | cheeks belied her. | “Naughty, naughty!” admonished | Andrew, wagging his finger at her. | “Where do little girls go when they tell storfes? I saw you push thazl Come, I'm | into the ( stone off the plank. And I should like to know why you did it. no telitale.” The girl 1ooked at him earnestly. They had now dropped 8o far behind the water nymph and her escort as to be quite isolated. “I did it.” sald the girl at last, “be- cause I am so sick and tired of being a gooseberry.” “A gooseberry,” sald Andrew blank- | _“I thought I spoke American, but | to me; I must confess, a gooseberry | is but a simple fruit, unpalable raw, perhaps, but delicious when served in tarts with whipped cream. Are you, | perhaps, contemplating an—er—culi- nary demise?”’ “Don’t be ridiculous,” sald the girl. | “A gooseberry Is just—just the odd “Still, 1 am mygatified” satd Andrew. | “You don’t look the least like an odd | |:erson to me, though I don't care for | One sees | the color of that sweater thing you're | You really are one, you know.” wearing. It doesn't suit you. too blonde.” “That's a part of it,” sald the girl “She helped me pick out my clothes. How did I know? And I thought I would have such a good | time—and father thought so, too—and | ever since I've been here I've been | made to feel unwanted—and—" | Her voice began to quaver pathet!- | cally. “Nix on the sob stuff,” cried An- drew. “I heard a chap say that to his best girl at the movies, but I never thought I'd get the chance to say it to a—to a—little gooseberry." “You're a perfectly hateful person, flashed the girl. “I dare say you'll g0 and tell Caroline I pushed her in. You're I THE SUNDAY 'STAR. WASHINGTON, D. ¢., DECEMBER 3, 1922—PART 4 GOOSEBERRY again—hist'—hist!—his He 1214 his finger on his 1ip and “hist- ed” in the most approved conspirator style. After she had gone he sauntered around to the front of the club and beheld Johnny Lovell, just approach- ing with his car. Andrew looked at Johnny's lank figure and indetermi- |nam features with more than usual | interest. Could it be he whom little! Gooseberry was interested in? As they ! skimmed along into town he tried out the situation cautiously. “What a pretty little girl that cous- IR f ) I colored cousin iInto a exquisite edition of yourself.” “It doesn’t sound as if it were | Come at 9:30, and tell all the curious true,” said Lucy satirically. “Your cigarette holder doesn’t look In the lease like a magic wand. And you could never pass yourself off as a magician to any child pro) brought up on Grimm and Andersen.” Andrew sprang to his feet and cut an amazing pirouette, ending with a fantastic obelsance. “Silence!” he thundered, “the slave of the lamp 18 near.” “Oh," “Oh, I've an| cried Lucy. sy Wiy *",M HE SETTLED DOWN TO HIS TASK IN A BAD STATE OF SULKS, AND DETERMINED TO HUSTLE THE THING THROUGH. nursing the soldiers, and.- half of all ] her. But I was wondering again—I'm the money you make you send back to France—" “Who told you that?” sald Andrew, blushing to his ears. “Johnny Lovell's one of our best little press agents,” quoth the goose- berry, sitting down at the most iso- lated table. “But 1 didn't tell him,” protested Andrew. “What a smirking cad the people here must think me.” o no,” sald the gooseberry. ‘They know you didn't tell him. They think you're a noble young man,” She eyed him mischievously. “Graclous,” muttered Andrew. “To think that T—say, look here, let's talk about gooseberries: I can't beliove “Well, I am,” replied the goose- berry with emphasis. “And I've been one ever since I've been here. I'm going to talk it all out and get it out of my system. You just listen to the story of my life, noble young man, and; then forget it. I came here to visit Caroline only after repeated in- vitations, and after she and her whole family had stayed at the ranch re- peatedly—and indefinitely. I didn’t want to come, but dad eaid I ought to see something of social life and be more like other girls. So here I am for the summer. And I'm stuck In a corner. I never get to talk to a really nice man or make friends with the girls I like. I'm told off to amuse Well, go ahead. I really shouldn't the possibilities, the very fat young care. men, the very thin young men, the “Tut,” said Andrew. “What a ram- | very young young men, and the very pant gooseberry you are! And, by the i old young men. The nice girls are way, what's your name? I dare say | Caroline’s intimates, and she never I met you down there, but I was in a | gives me & chance to cultivate any sort of stupor, as I always am when | real friends among them. She must 1 have to mest superfluous people. ' be the center of the stage all the H?-' 5 dl'":-e eopl | time—and she's the cleverest person bri r::, y|°“' n-;:'d the gooseberry, ! the world in keeping herself there. sreEaT dol Andmyname |y gon't want to be & Pig—but sho is Lucy Alloway, and I'm visiting | Caroline Manson, and she’s my cousin, | and I-come from out west, and I live | on a ranch with the angelest father ' that ever existed, and I just wish I | was back there again, 80 I do. I hate! this place.” “So far, 80 good,” sald Andrew. °T follow your narrative easily. But as yet I have not learned why you are a | gooseberry nor what the dutifes and pleasures of a gooseberry are. Let's g0 up into that pergola place and sit down and have some tea and you can tell me. I see that your unfortunate’| cousin and her sympathizers have vanished. Iam Andrew Campbell—" “Oh, I know that,” broke in the gooseberry, ‘“and you're & great painter, and you're painting the por- trait of fat old Mrs. Lovell, and you've had pictures in the salon, and you might share a little of her fun. And today when she seized you, when we'd all been dying to meet you, and handed me over to old Homer Nelson, why I just waited for my chance and dumped her into the pool. And I'm not sorry, no, not even if she finds ft out, for It would give me a chance to go home.” * *x ¥ % NDREW gaid nothing. and, after & moment, Lucy went on: “I know it was a mean, horrid thing to do— petty and spiteful—and I might havi hurt her quite badly, too, but I didn't think of that until afterward.” She looked across the teacups wistfully. “Are you disgusted with me?” she asked. Andrew gave a little start. “Lord, no!” he replied. *Tm rather glad you | patiently. a painter, you know, and Interested | in color—why you wear that raw yel- low sweater?” Lucy looked down at the brilliant garment. “But every one's wearing sllk sweaters,” she said, “and Caro- line sald that the brighter they are, the smarter they are. And she had a green one and she advised me to take the yellow one. I had to get a lot of new things when I came, of course. And everything I've got is wrong. I know that. Sometimes I think if I had awfully becoming clothes I might be able to—to attract people myself. I'd—I'd have more confidence. Good heavens, you must think I'm crazy talking to you like this. Thanks for the tea. I think I must be going.” “Wait a minute,” said Andrew. “Have you got any money? I mean to spend, now—say two or three hun- dred dollars?” “Why—why, yes,” stammered Lucy. “Then that's all right We'll send to New York and buy you & new out- fit I know a woman thers, who could buy a trousseau for an angel for $300. The trouble with you is that you've been putting Poiret styl on an early Victorian person. What you need to be {s demure—even a 1ittle languishing. Do you think you could langulsh a bit if properly dress- ed for it?” “I'd try,” announced Lucy deter- minedly. “If I could be dressed to look just right, so that people would notice me and get really acquainted, I'd—TI'd stand on my head if neces- sary.” Andrew looked at her keenly. “Will you tell me who he is? he asked, at last. “Wha-what?” stammered Lucy, blushing gloriously. “There's some man at the bottom of this, of course” explained Andrew, ‘*“You wouldn't be taking all this trouble just to get even with your cousin, or to make her friends be mildly Interested. Come, if I make you absolutely irresistible—will you tell me who he 187" Lucy dropped him a low mocking courtesy. “Kind sir,” she said, “if you make me absolutely irresistible I'll tell you who he is. In the meantime, only oame back to America because | did it, because your cousin really is of the war, and you only came back |seven different kinds of bore and then because you'd broken down'you saved me from an afternoon of don’t be too clairvoyant.” “Very well, then,” said Andrew, bow- ing with equal mockery, “since you want to be mean about it. And now listen. I'm coming to call on you this evening, and we'll make out your or- der for New York. In the meantime, wear nothing, but white, pink or pale blue sashes. Throw away that vile yellow cap and sweater, and wear & broad-brimmed hat of white with a white scarf, and & white sweater, if you must wear any, and, until I see in of Miss Manson's is,” sald Andrew. her the once over. Haven't noticed her ! except that she looks awfully queer— wears loud clothes, y'know."” “Where are your eyes, man?’ ask- led Andrew, his own eyes twinkling. | *“That girl's the most interesting type | I've seen for years. I'm going to make some sketches of her if she’ll let me.” | “Well, what do you know about that!” exclaimed the startled Johnny. “Think of me overlooking some- thing!" “And you mneedn’t plan to rush around there and call tonight,” went on Andrew, reading Johnny's mind, “for 1 have an engagement with her myself.” He jumped out at the veranda steps and left Johnny to take the car around to the garage in a state of gratifying vexation. * % % FTER dinner Andrew lit a cigar- ette and strolled down the street |to the stone mountain, where the Mansons and thefr little visitor dwait. He found himself, after ringing the Manson bell, seated in a long and dimly 1it drawing room on a most ;expensive chair, while Miss Caroline {sat near him, flashing her dark eyes on him and showing her perfect teeth while she said how flattered she was that he had called, and that she was {none the worse for her ducking, and that she adored art and had once taken drawing lessons herself. “Where's your cousin, Miss Allo- way? Andrew asked at last bluntly. “I really came to see her, you know. I want to make some sketches of her.” Jaw literally dropped. h into the pool was not so great a shock and sur- prise as this. She floundered about a I bit and finally managed to bring out haltingly the thought that Miss Allo- way was—er—somewhat fatigued by the day—and yet (as she detected in Andrew's eye the determination to leave If Lucy were not instantly forthcoming)—and yet—well, “she ‘would go and fetch her.” Awkwardly jand still amasedly Caroline got out iof the room, and Andrew indulged Limself in & slow and satisfled smile. Presently in came Lucy. “What did you say to Caroline?r™ she greeted him. ° “I told her,” replied Andrew, “that I had come to see you. So she sald she'd fetch you. But don't let's waste time talking about Caroline. Get some paper and a pencil. And, say, do you know you are & very lucky girl, little gooseberry? When I wave my wand—I shall have to use my cigarette holder, but that's just as good—you are going to change from la washed-out copy of your big bigh- 4 “Is she?’ replied the youth, with-' out interest. “I guess I'll have to give |1dea! tion dances they're going to have at the country club next week!" ‘Make a monkey of myself for these stodgy Greenfielder: cried Andrew. “A thought worthy of a gooseberry, indeed! But, stop! I, too, have an idea. I will dance, and you will dance with me and make your debut as a beauty in that very spectacular manner. “Oh, I—I couldnt you—you could,” mimicked Andrew. “You shall be Crinoline, a belle all in fairy white—we'?l steal a lot of the Russian ballet business— my word—it'll be fun. Is your hon- orable cousin by any chance going to appear?” dance with castanets.’ “Old stuff. Graclous heavens, we must get to work. Here, write what 1 tell you. “My dear Mrs. Molly: Here is a chance for you to distinguish your- for the worst-dressed little woman I ever saw in my life, in order to transform her into the best dressed, saving always your inimitable self. Listen, therefore, to these general re- marks—the details 1 leave to you. She is the perfect ingenue, blonde and blue-eyed and small. She is thin, too, but not & bony thin. nothing but white and pink and blue, all the most girly—girly and fluffy— wide-brimmed hats, with - flower look old-fashioned, but not old style; demurs, but supremely chic—you know. BShe will inclose her picture, her measurements and the actual needs of her wardrobe. Just one thing more: She must have & costume for a fancy-dress affair. Do you re- member Paviowa's sea-green flounces in the ‘Invitation to the Dance'? Copy it in white, with silver flowers.” “That's enough. She’s not & woman who needs a diagram of every seam,” said Andrew. “And now we must plan our dance. By the way—this gives me pause—how will we get on the program? “Johnny Lovell's chairman of the committee,” suggested Lucy after a !second’s thought. *Then, it's done,” said Andrew. “Do you know that Johnny would be call- ing on you this evening if I were not here? I told him you were beautiful and that 1 was going to make some sketches of you, and he began to feel that he had been missing something.” *“The big idiot,” shrugged Lucy. “Abal That eliminate Johnny.” cried Andrew. ‘“Well, he's a good sort, but with no taste for goose- berries. I'll have him put our dance on the program, and tomorrow morn- perly | shook hands, | forgot to ask you if you could dance.” i returned Lucy demurely. ‘ BY | SOPHIE KERR perfectly | room into studio for me, and there'siyne gudjence recognized themselves a good floor and heaps of room.|gang their friends. Loud applause greeted the films that showed tbe sportsmanship of the club; then the “fairy golf” film came on, and the world at large beheld Joshua Y. Ma: son losing his siltk hat and his tem- | per simultaneously, and batting fu- jriously at his toy balloon wtih his umbrella. It did not please him Ereatly to be thus exploited as a hu- morous feature, and Joshua Y. war glad when the movies were over and | the stage cleared for the rest of the entertainmnt. First came the two Leslle girls in their mandarin coats and danced the that I'm making sketches of you.| And get that letter off first thing in | the morning.” He rose to go. “That letter,” sald Lucy, as they is golng tonight” At the door Andrew paused for a moment. “I say.” he exclaimed, “I “I think I shall do well enough,” * % % % ITH nothing of misgiving, Andrew made overtures to Johnny Lovell | for a place on the program. “Call 1t.” he commanded, “In Crino- | mean to wear a hoop skirt. Call it | known “partner” on the program, An- You must dance in the exhibi-. She must wear | lines,” by Andrew Campbell and part- ner. No, by Jove—they'll think I ‘Petit Divertisment'—I'll write it out, for I doubt that any printer that lives could spell it” He had meant to say that he doubted “that Johnny could { spell it—but why speak peevishly to a chap who wants to be a good sport, | no matter how hopelessly. Having placed himself and his un- drew applied himself to the very nec- essary duty of getting the dance into definite existence. Mrs. Lovell, mere, was pleased and excited at the pros- pect of participating in the prepara- | | tion of the greatest sensation in local | | soclety in years, and she became a | smiling, 1interested chaperon. The { 1ittle gooseberry appeared promptly every morning at 9:30 o'clock—osten- !sibly to be sketched—nearly driving Caroline into & frensy—and all went merrily. Of course, there were difficulties. It was soon seen that the “Invitation to the Dance” was far, far beyond the ability of the Greenfield orchestra. Hence, after some moments of acute | despalr, Andrew substituted “Loin Cu | Bal” with Its crisp and sprightly ! melody. With.this as a background, | he arranged a frolicking little dance, | utilizing the long-forgotten polka mazurka and some spirited steps that he had learned in France among the | peasants. He chalked the positions ion the floor and commanded the little | gooseberry as sternly and uncompro- misingly as any ballet master. To be sure, she was an apt pupll. And the delightful prospect of being a beauty and a sensation all at once before the very people who had so carelessly | overlooked her lent zeal to her steps | and gave her an unfaltering patience. | After a very few mornings of prac- !tice, 0ld Mrs. Lovell sat at one side, | a mass of admiration and wonder- | ment. And as the last rehearsals ar- | rived her enthusiasm mounted to ex- | cessive heights. ! . “How I wish I were young and elim again,” she sighed. “You two have made me discontented.” i “I'll make you slim,” sald Andrew, ! “if youll dance for an hour every morning.” | “Ah, no,” she retorted, “there's no { telling what devilment I might be up |to 1t I got my figure back. Quit it, ”'0“ rasc; For Andrew had selzed her and bors | {her off willy-nilly into an Irresistible | | waltz. She stopped, breathless, and. | | clutching at her heart, her gray pom- padour awry, but a light In her eye that had not been there before. “Well, if Miss Alloway falls you.” she declared, “here's a partner that's ready for you." ! And Andrew felt a stir of shame in | his heart that he had ever inwardly | mocked at her purple satin and dia- monds. He even went so far as to | promise himself that he would m!mi into her portrait less of her fleshl- | | ness and more of her spirit than was | visible to the onlooker. * % x % IKE magio fruit, golden and glow- ing, the yellow lanterns hung! from the surrounding trees and among the vines of the porches. The | night was warm and still, and through the velvet blue darkness the August | stars shone distantly. But the won- | iderful brooding “hush—sh” of the! ! summer night was lost in the confu- ! iston of motor horns and pufing en- | | gines, of gay greetings, of little femi- | !nine shrieks and deeper masculine | volces. For this was the annual sum- | mer fete night of the country club, ! and Greenflelds and all her sister | towns had sent their eager crowds. The big assembly room of the club was filled with chalrs—frail gilt chairs, that most people looked at! doubtfully before they ventured to, | sit—and on the little stage there was nothing to be seen but a huge white Screen. This was for the moving | pictures of all the latest country club events. 1 tennis matches, and another of the first of the golf matches—for the last | were not yet played. There was a film of the club lawn party, where |fairy golf had been played, with | closed umbrellas for sticks and toy self. I want to buy a lot of clothes balloons for balls, and with the Sage through Lucy’'s platoon of ad most outrageous hilarity throughout. Greenfields looked forward to the fete and to seeing themselves and their fun on the screen with the same delight that baby looks at himself in the mirror. They settled themselves jon the gold chairs for a beautiful | time. After the movies would come the ; exhibition dances—local talent most- 1y, though a pair of small-town pro- fessionals had been dug up from | both sprang : There was a movie of the | “Yes, she's going to do & Spanish )och) porse show: another film of the.| JORRNY would have followed them. tatao. They were pleasantly received The two unearthed professionals foliowed and did the stereotyped max- ixe. Young Willle Harmon followed the professionals with the sailor's hore- pipe he had been at such pams to learn when the dramatic society gave “Pinafore.” His round face was beaming when he made his bow and retired. The professionals danced again—the tango, thiy time, very gracefully and with some pleasing variations. DBut there was nothing in the tang> for Greenfields to get excited about. They warmed up, though, when Caroline Manson came on with her castanet: for her Spanish dance. The last turn, “Petit Divertissement —Andrew Campbell and Partner,’ made every one look a little closer &t the program. Oh, yes; he's the artist who's staying at the Louells. Who's dancing wiht him? No one seemed tc know, The orchestra began to play the airy melody of “Loin du Bal.” and out on the little stage there danced & beau and belle of long agn. Andrew had begged Mrs. Lovell to put frille at his wrist and his shirtfront, hac donned black knee breeches anc buckled shoes, and a high black stock and with a make-up box touch of whisker before each ear. But no one looked at him, for beside himw danced a Fragonard shepherdess, & deliclous blond sprite in a foaung marvel of white tulle, laver after layer of it, filmy, floating, looped with garlands of silvery flowers touchec with delicate pink. Looped on her arm by pinky silver ribbons was & wide hat that scattered flowers as she danced. Her head was wreatheC with clusters of yellow curls that nodded shameless coguetry with every step her silver slippers so airily trod Greenfields gasped and gazed, and gasp- ed agafn, And in the back of the assembly room Johnny Lovell and the faithfu’ retainer of the program committee fel: themselves burn with delicious anguish “Say, who is she?” moaned the faith- fulful retainer. “It's Caroline Manson's moaned Johnny in return. “Not the Kitle mousy one?” demand- ed the faithful retainer, awestruck. “Yep,” replied Johnry. “Some peach!’ They stared, fascinated, spellbound. Meanwhile, the shepherdess and her partner were footing it merrily. He 1aid his arm around her walist and thereby made Johnny's and the faith- ful retainer’s hearts contract with bitterest envy—and they swung leis- urely around the stage. He released her with a whirl and they danced vis-a-vis, she alluring. he pursuing. melting from one pose to another with perfect ease and with an ap- pealing, playful gayety that made the dance a game. Their hands met there was a final twirl, the shepherd- ess smiled rapturously at the audi- ence, and, with a sweet high note of the music, they vanished. Oh, my dears! What a semsation ‘What applause! What imperative, de- manding hand-clappings! The shep- herdess and her partner at last re appeared, bowing their thanks. The various members of the pro gram committee came straggling black to help clear the floor for the general dancing. They looked in vain for their leader. He and the faithfu! retainer were standing at the stage door, eagerly awaiting the appear ance of the shepherdess. And when at last she appeared they forward, programs in hand. She smiled at both, but she took the arm of the faithful retainer Mr. Andrew Campbell, who was = step behind her, had the thrill of see- ing his shepherdess, alias Gooseberry. floating away by the side of a tal. youth with regular features, which were now wearing a look of abject | admiratajon. “Who cousin,’ is he?” asked Andrew as “Frank Smith. the nerv | murmured Johany. * X X & T {s now somewhat past midright |1 After a great deal of difficulty Au- | drew had succeeded in forcing a pas Oh, mirers and had borne her away fron them, ostensibly for the last hesita tion. Instead of dancing. however. he led her to & secluded corner of the | veranda. ! *I promised to make you ab-so-lute- ly {irresistible” remarked Andrew {“Did I keep my word?" | "Lucy gave a sigh of fullest content. | “I belleve you did,” she said. “And you promised to tell me who he 1s” went on Andrew. “Dia I wreaths, sashes, fichus. She must! gome boarding house, where they “Yes, you did. And I demand his name. Have a care and do not anger me, or I may change you back into a forlorn little unripe gooseberry.” Lucy laughed. She put her head on one side and looked at Andrew teas- ingly. At this moment Mr. Frank Smith bore down upon them. “You mustn’t stay out here in the night air, Miss Alloway,” he com- manded. “Let me take you in—or | were spen@ing the summer. And | Johnny Lovell had gone around hint- Ing so_strenuously about a sensation! | There was really a great deal to ex {pect this evening. Johnny and hi cohorts, each decked With a splash {of scarlet ribbon across his whirt | front to show that he was & member { ot the program committee, were hus- | tling about getting every one settled and trytng to begin the show not imore than thiry minues late. They ! atood aside and mopped thelr stream- ! ing brows, as the lights finally went !down and the buzz of the moving { picture machine rose above the vojces of the talkers. “They're off.” said | heaved a mighty sigh. | “Tm going outside and have a cig.” | announced & second. Two of the others moved to accom- | pany the lover of the weed. but one | of them, a nice clean-cut chap named | Frank Smith, moved a little impor- tantly to John's side. “I'll stick around.” he sald, “in case there's anything to be done.” Lucky for him and for this story that he had a sense of responsibility. * ¥ x % Johnny, and ing we'll begia to practice. TI'll swear Mrs. Lovell to secrecy and she can chaperon. They've made the music of laughter, as one after another movies went off amid shrieks | racher thinks it winked at him. find you & scarf, or something.” He stood before them, and it was quite evident that he would stamd there indefinitely unless she camec with him. Andrew looked at his de- termined, boyish face and then Lucy. It was clear that she liked be- ing commanded, and ltked even more this good-looking young man who commanded her. Andrew chuckled. “You're quite right,” he said. “I'm very thoughtless and selfish. So T1; let Miss Alloway go with you, Smith, and I'll stay outside a little longer I want some air.” And as they swept happlly away, with eyes only for each other, Andrew looked out across the valley and be.] held the silver poo! shimmering 4 the moonlight. It may have been s passing cloud _that darkened f¢c waters for a moment, but Andrew (Copyright. Al Rights Ressrved.)