Evening Star Newspaper, August 17, 1930, Page 82

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, AUGUST 17, 1930. To Have 'Em To Hold 'Em By H. 1. Shumway. Being the Improbable Story of an Impos;iblc Vacation Upon a Mythical Island. ERALD BRATTLE was saying good- by to his Aunt Abigail Brattle. There were no tears. Aunt Abigail never shed them. They sat in one of the high, enormous inside- shuttered windows of Aunt Abigail's house. «“Be sure and pack your rubbers,” she said. «I know that's supposed to be a joke—but wet feet in a foreign land is no joke. I'd pack two pairs. A 10-months’ cruise is a long one.” “They're in aunt,” replied Gerald. “I guess 've eve! g g “Ygrr merg::ilnneg kit? Don't forget that.” And for the dozenth time, “Yes, indeed,. Ger- ald, I think this trip will be the making of you.” Gerald gazed fishily at her. “Aunt Abigail, there are times when it is best to face the truth. T've been doing a lot of thinking. I don’t think this trip will make any difference. You and I Bt Jut! " Notbing of the Kind!” “put, tut! Nothing of 3 . “Aunt, you. don’t know. Why, in the office they call me Mr. Drattle and sometimes Mr. 1 am—or wasn't—even hnportx‘n; know I'm a dud.” “You musn’t be downhearted, Gerald,” “No Brattle ever struck his “I'm not 12 years.” He stood up and looked out through the window. He did, indeed, look something like he'd said, a zero. Not bad or good looking, not tall or short, not thin or fat. Even his descrip- tion has to be in the negative, G!R.ALD never received eight months of his paid-for ten-months’ cruise. Ome day, while the old S. S. Blenuria was moving along her rolling way in the South Pacific, a storm came up—and once up, stayed up. Gerald may have been, as he had said, a zero, but he certainly got a good high mark for the way he accepted his fate. Almost calmly he waited for what might happen. And things didn’t Jook any too good.—~ For three days the old Blenuria rode it out, a gallant last gesture. She was leaking badly. She had been blown miles off her course and the end looked near. It came at the end of a terrible night. Gerald never was clear about the details, He remem- bered getting into a madly tossing lifeboat and being pitched out of it afterward in the dark. But he had a life preserver on and, magically, the sea became quite a bit calmer. Gerald paddled easily, looking about in the coming dawn for anything. The sea seemed empty, terribly empty. Not a sign of anybody else or any boats. And then a most heartening sight came. A bit of land, sticking up like a gray tuft in the half-light. He struck out for it. But the sea was not empty. Ten minutes after seeing this bit of land, he sighted what Jooked like a gir]l, swimming, and supporting herself by a plank. Gerald reached her side. And was surprised to find it was two girls! It was something of a struggle, but they made it about an hour later. Utterly exhausted, the three of them threw themselves on the warm sandy beach of the island and slept. Gerald was the first to wake, some 10 hours later. He sat up, dazed, wondering. Then the picture crashed into his senses. Here he was, Gerald Brattle of Boston, one-time clerk, stranded on a hunk of land miles and miles from any place at all! Castaways! He laughed aloud. One of the girls stirred. Then she struggled to a sitting position, rubbing her eyes. “What—what—where are we?” she asked, bewildered. “Well, we're alive—and on an island,” mut- tered Gerald. “That’s all T know.” The other girl suddenly awoke with a shriek, began laughing hysterically. “Hi!” called out Gerald. that!” He crawled over to her; pulled down her hands, which were clawing at her face. He held her—tried to calm her—and marveled at him- self for his first performance of the kind. But she persisted in her shrieks. “‘Steady!” he ordered her. “This won't do. Come out of it, Or—or I'll sock you!” Her cries seemed witless. Something had to be done. So he gritted his teeth—and swung his open hand across her face. “Shut up!” he' commanded. “You mustn't do mewm.mw Suddenly, with a fluttering sigh, she flung one arm around his neck and snuggled up against him! Mr. Gerald Brattle of Boston was just a little bit surprised. It was the first time he had ever been in such a position. Yet, without any real thought about the matter, his arm went around her. He looked over at the other girl. He crooked a finger over at the brunet who was staring at him, lips quivering, and spoke. “Come over here, baby! Come to papa!” And the girl crawled over to him. Into the haven of his other arm she snuggled, sobbing a little. Mr. Gerald Brattle of Boston sighed—a little . “I'm from Philadelphia. Oh, can't we do something-—signal or—something?” “Sure,” grinned Gerald. “Call out ‘Hello’ Gerald gazed fishily at her. “Aunt Abigail,” he said, “both you and I know I'm a hopeless zero.” as much as you wish.” Then he turned to the other. “And you?” “Me? I'm Daphne Whitney, New York,” she replied, hardly looking at him. “But—" she looked at the expanse of sea, “what of it?™ Gerald cleared his throat. “Now, we've got to get to work. Miss Pollard, you gather wood.” Miss Gerald had taken a new leaf out of the book of life, and, patterning after he knew not what, he proceeded to act his chosen role. He thrust his face close to that of the rather exotic-look- ing brunet. “I said-—gather wood! meant.” The black eyes flashed into his. go to blazes!” Gerald swung his hand—and once more he'd struck a lady. “It'll save time, baby. I'm not arguing any. The next time—I'll really sock you!” And that’s what I “You can Then came Daphne, ing wildly. She flung herself on Gerald. “Oh, my running darling!” she cried, “we’re saved! But you’re mine, just the same. Nothing can separate us!” “No?” inquired Madeline, coldly, “How about me?” of this life-preserver fabric to make a line. It may take all day—or two days—but once we get a line—we eat!” The blue eyes of Daphne, which had never been cowed by any man before, stared saucily into his. Daphne, now the sea water was out of her silky, silver-blond hair, was terribly pretty., - Mr. Brattle had never seen anybody like her before. Gerald drew her toward him—and kissed 1 “Now go ahead and make that fish-line!” T!-m three worked all that day. Madeline had much to learn about gathering wood. “Never,” advised Mr. Brattle, “carry one piece of wood when you can handle three.” 5 “There's only one thing I'd like to do with a piece of wood,” muttered Madeline—and her biack eyes burned. “Break it over your head! I hate you, you big bully!"” Mr. Brattle said nothing, but he was tickled pink. Big bully! Never had be been called anything even remotely suggesting that! Daphne wasn’t much better with her fish- line. But she did manage to present about 12 feet of rather knotty-looking coarse duck line, which Gerald examined with a critical eye. “We need about twice as much more. And it seems weak. Better weave it into & three- strand braid. Can’t afford to lose that hook.” “What! Begin all over again?” snapped Daphne. “You heard me!” And so life began on Parasol Island. Some- how things got straightened out. There was m water. And quite a number of excellent Gerald tried out his line with a snail for bait. He caught a fish. And another. By the fifth day resentment had disa) . Madeline was almost friendly. And Daphne then Daphne and Madeline were several ounces short. It was late one afternoon, some two weeks after they had become involuntary Parasolians, that Madeline eame upon Gerald, who was fishing from a small promontory. She sat down rather shyly. “I—I'm sorry—I was so rude to you,” she began. “I mean in the beginning. I didn’t understand.” B Gerald looked at her out of the corner of And went on A hand stole onto his red, brown arm and “Well—you aren’t still eross with me, are you?” “No, I'm not cross with you,” he smiled. here. And I saw you kiss Daphne onoce.” Gerald’s heart felt like one of the fishes he sometimes got on the hook. It flopped around and tried to get out of him. He looked around at her—and was lost. $ He kissed her. He kissed her a good deal. She seemed to like it. That was funny when. he remembered the young ladies in the office.. He tried, but he couldn't recall any of them. ever looking at him as if he'd been anything save office furniture. Just Mr. Grattle or Mr. Jattle or somebody. But this! It was only two days after this that the blond. Daphne came upon him while he was trying to. cut through a tree with a sharp piece of a big sea-shell. He turned at a sound and saw her. She same nearer and stood swaying in front. of him, looking up into his eyes. “Do you—dislike me so awfully much?” she whispered. “I—dislike you? Dislike you? Dislike you?™ “Well—you—you are so distant, Once— you kissed me.” . He dropped his sea-shell ax. He had one little moment of terror when he saw those won- derful, rounded arms stealing up around his neck—and after that it seemed like a dizzy dream. * Two months went by. There was no serious trouble on Parasol Island. They had plenty of fruit and fish unlimited. At the highest peak of the island Gerald had rigged up a pole and hoisted a flag laboriously woven out of reeds. It might be seen from the sea—if anybody ever got out there. But in six months not a single ship had they seen. morning Gerald stood staring moodily through a clump of bushes. “Darn it, I want a swim,” he muttered. If I try the pool, Daphne will be there. And if I take a shot at the cove, Madeline will be sure to—" “Oh, there you are, honey!” called a voice behind him. It was Daphne. She came to him, eyes glow- ing. She flung her arms about him and kissed him full on the mouth. “My old Growly Bear!” she murmured, en=- twining her fingers in his now long auburn tresses. ‘“Was oo out hunting for your ‘ittle Daphne girl?” But Gerald had plunged through the under- growth. He struck off for the cove. Doggone it! He couldn’t bathe, eat—or even breathe by himself. Either one or both of those cloy= ing wrens were parked by his side every living minute. He rushed down to the cove, preparing to shuck his trousers. But he stopped short. “Madeline!” “I knew you'd come,” she breathed, coming to him. “Darling one, kiss me! I've waited two long, interminable hours for you!" He sighed—and kissed her. Her arms stole around his mneck, clinging fondly and closely. “Buddenlymm he jumped. Madeline looked wup “What's the matier, my big sweet boy?” she whispered. “A ship!” he cried, in a choked, dry volee. “Look! She's topped away out therd! Seel! 'n:?d’!n seen my signal on the hill. We're saved!” And then came Daphne, running wildly. “Gerald,” she sobbed, clinging %o him wildly. Continued on Sizteenth Page