New Britain Herald Newspaper, June 15, 1929, Page 13

ER name was Lois Kayne. And ohe was a lovely thing to behold, and perhaps even lovelier to But Lois had & way of her own. ways and always she had a way of own. Nobody could panic Lois— could threaten. cajole, argue, or reason Lois out of ber qwn She was a thing of all things—you mever mw one girl as versatile and so sccomplished: she played the piano exquisitely, she danced delirioualy, she swam like a speckled brown, she wrote passable poetry, she had social personality, she wielded a wicked tennis raquet and she was a shark at bridge. who didn't fall 3 in love with i Lois on first | sight, fell on second sfght. Whatever any man admired and desired in a frail, Lois % had more of it than He had ever dreamed any girl could have of it. She was the most popu- lar, pursued, hunted, wanted, proposed-at and panted-for girl you could imagine, Lois didn't play hard-to-get. She didn't have to play it. She was the antithesis of man— crazy—except if you mean that men who tried to grab her off drove her crazy. She knew how to handle them, too. 8he was rarely harsh and never crude. 8he could register whatever effect she chose without recourse to loud talk or pronounced action. Lois was a girl of the world, s big-leaguer, & big-timer, 8 big-towner and s big-shot. When she met Barry Latiff, who also thought himself the last word in “appeal,” Lois knew her stuff. They contacted at a wesk-end party in the home of Lois's divorced and remarried mother, who, fighting to keep and feel young, loved s houseful. At times the assemblage took on a heterogeneous aspect—maybe even a polyglot set-up, For Mrs. Kayne-Preters, wife of the Amesiean represehtative of a foreign monarchy, moved in circles that were international. ,Sometimes mamma’s movements were not symetrically circular, but zig- sagged 8 trifle. For the mater was : not averse to the red wine when it was good and red and the red-eye when it was red and good. For her husband had diplomatic privileges and it was all within the law, Maybe that was why she had- married Serge Preters «=there surely could be no more plavsible explanation — if you knew Serge. Lois wasn't exactly what you'd &1 goofy over her stepfather. But she ducked fusses when she could, and she was not her mother’s keeper, though her mother was the trustee of s hand- some inheritance estate that was to be Lois’s when ehe became thirty-one. Meanwhile the girl indulged her mother in such diversions as ssemed to tickle her impulses, including Serge, baecardi, twe-eent bridge (which she played abeminably), week-ending and canoe ing. ! New, canceing happened to be up Lols’s alley. Since ehildhoed she had reveled in all manner of water sports —swimming, boating, surf-riding, fish- She Was a Nymph in a Canoe, and make it take a joke when it was at its most roughneck and braggadocio stages. Her own canoe, with her name on it, had been fashioned by the Indians on the nearby reservation. Shabby, shot-to-pieces and bleary as they had become, these children of what was once a wise and proud and predatory tribe, they still had enough Indian {nstinct in them to know nature and how to best it—all mature except hu- man aature—white huinan nature. Lois had learned much from the Algonquins. And she had taught them plenty, in veturn., For a girl who had all the city eraces, she was an amazing outdoor wow. Barry, just to be contrary, scarcely knew & cow from a goat, and took marked pride in that he was strictly a sidewalk product aad didn't know how to swim, climb meuntains, track ani- mals, transact intercourse with Indians, or blaze trails. To him that wide-open- spaces business was a pain; he was a metropolitan snob. So he fell in love with Lois's eity side. Only when he was invited to the country house did he find out that she was a pathfinder. deer-siayer and bearcat. ~ He tried to put his skyscraper and apartment-bouse propensities up to her insuch & way as to make him ap- pear blass. But Lois knew ss much sbout that engle as he did, too, s0 he didn’t “create an impression.” She was emly serry for him—that he was a half man; eity-broke exclu- sively. It was Lois, hewever, who invited Barry to & week-end. She rather liked him. And he was likeable. Handsome, eultured, polished frem rubbing against the sharp granite edges of townlife, he wa3 0o dumbbell or hick. And if ene — “Bet,” he took her up. “Let’s go.” They started, and, despite Barry’s much longer limbs, by the time they passed the designated tree the girl was a full ten feet in the lead. He was puffing and lagging. She didn’t stop or let down, but executed s semi- parabola into the air and down, like @ dolphin, into the fast river waters, @She swam aguinst the current, which was swift and strong. Barry watched her, then walked down the steps and united Lois's canoe. He had done some paddling and he decided he'd go out after her and tease her. “Good bys, Barry. It seems a terrible, et po didn't care to go fn for the nature line out in the recreation retreat of the Kayne-Preters’ menage, no one forced one. There was plenty of indoors— cards, ping pong, necking, dancing, drinking, sleeping, reading, radio-wor- shiping, or what have you that you crave? The lodge was a hangout for all sorts of folks. No one had to be athletic or aesthetic or anything else, once asked out. They coul@ all write their own tickets. Lois, just the same, divided her time and interests her own way. If it was too cold for tenderfeet to swim. that didn't stop .her; if no one else could manage a craft in that maelstrom, she went slone; if Lois craved fish, she put on the dear old hipboots and went a-angling. Nobody had to do anything in that place. Hospitality was broad- minded. Lois had her saddle horses. Usually Central Park-trained equestrians took her for a ride. She didn't laugh—out loud. Her horses understood her in nine languages. But she didn’t make the to-be-stiff brokers and consuls and bankers and bluebookers feel their un- importance. She helped them unob- trusively and guided them over roads as soft as she could select. Thus, since she (nterfered in no- body’s choice of pastimes, she felt that she should be allowed her own prefer ences and predilections. But Barry, being by mature s general manager, thought she should stay around the house and entertain him. Though she had invited Barry, he was not her per. sonal guest; it was her mother's house and her mother’s home, and all guests were free ahd equal. Thus, when Barry declined a sugges tion to go in swimming, because Spring was pretty early for him to risk a chill, cowardly thing to do.” Lois proceeded to skin into her’ one- piece jersey bathing suit nevertheless, He saw her coming across the veranda and he hailed her. “] wish you wouldn’t go fn the water today, Lois,” he argued. “I think it far too cool.” “Perhaps it is—for you. used to it.” “] can't see what pleasure you derive from it except to show off that " But I'm YOUu——— Of all people, Lois Kayne was rare- ly accused of showing off, being a “beach - walker,” as the term goes. She raised her eyes in a bit of sur. prise, “Why, Barry!”" she exclaimed. “Don’t be like that. Do you mean | want to show off my hardiness, my overhand stroke, or my girlish lines?” “I've seep demonstirations of all three, Lois. And they should be ex- hibited whenever reasonable. But 1 still think it is far too coel for water stuff today.” “Ta-ta,” chirped Lois. “I'll just take 8 running leap into it and see who's right.” “If you must be mulish, you lovely thing, I'll stroll to the beach with you.” “Better put on your coat, then—the wintry winds may whistle through that very becoming shirt.” “Go en with you. You are positively impudent and what you need is the sole of mother’s slipper.” “Well, if you think you can apply it, chase me. I'll race you to the end of the pier. You give me from here to that tree, both starting at taw, and if you can lay your hand on me before 1 dive off, you win—] won't g in” ‘ Omrgess. 133, isternstionsl Fastore Survien, ina. Grest Brilale Rights Reserven. The first swish of the tide as he dipped in his lone paddle filliped it out of his hand. Lois, turning, siw. She started after the canoe, downstream, and caught up with it She knew the trick of getting into a moving canoe without upsetting or foundering it. The water was too deep where they were to settle the whole di- lemma by turning the craft over and giving Barry a swell ducking. He reached to “help” her in, and almost foundered everything. “Wh—why didn't you swim for the paddle?” he asked. “We can't catch it with nothing to steer us.” “l—} f—forgot—I d—didn’t th— think . . . Oh, Barry, this is awful! The water’s fifty feet deep here and we're being carried around a bend where we'll go over a steep waterfall and turned upside down-—and you'll be drowned.” “C-can’t you swim after the oar?” “Too late — couldn't 'et/to you quickly enough now—} don’t know what to do. [ can save myself, but ] ean't handle you in such water as this and get you ashore. Good-bye, Barry —it seems a terrible, cowardly thing to do, but there’s no use of both of us getting killed.” “D-don’t leave me—don’t leave me Lois. 1 couldn’t swim a foot out here midstream.” The canoe was bobbing and leaping as it approached the turn. “B-Bar-r-ry,” she stuttered, “are there any l-last words? Any mes- sages?” “D-don’t leave me, Lois!” “] ean’t do you any good and may get sucked under, myself. 1'm going to j-jump for it.” She tore herself loose from his hold and, in a dive from the dead center of the boat, in 8 way that none but 8 practiced water-nymph could master, she cut the water. Barry saw her head come up. She was swimming beside the hoat. “Try for the oar, Lois,” he screamed.\ “Maybe there’s time. There it is, shead.” “Can't,” she blubbered, ly keep up with the boat.” “Grab the canoe—can't you hold it back?” “Hold it buck how?” “I—how should 1 know? Maybe there's & way.” “Can hard- Try. “There’s no way. Water's getting deeper now and faster. The falls are beyond that next big bend. Barryl What shall I say to your mother?” He didn't answer. He was staring ahead. “Take your shoes off—quick—you have no chance to swim in them.” He tore off his sports oxfords and in his panic threw them overboard. “Your shirt!” she cried. Every little bit helps—your trousers—" He was ripping his shirt to bits and fighting the trick buckle of his belt. The oar was zigzagging tauntingly out of reach. The canoe was near the deadly turn. He bent to speak again to Lois. She had disappeared. He tried to stand up but the inexpert at- attempt tumbled &im on all fours. When he managed to see again, Lois was climbing into the canoe with the paddle. “What the—but you said—" “Don’t be a city dude, Barry, dear boy—or if you must be, don't try canoeing in this water.” “You’ve been—you've been razzing me?” N “Showing you & good time, I believe is the vulgar expression. Now I'll have to paddle you back against this wicked current, so I'm in for a good time, myself.” “It's & good thing your sense of humor gave out when it did. Suppose you'd delayed too long and I'd really have been carried over that waterfall.” “There {sn't a waterfall within @ hundred miles of here.” Barry was a sight, barefoot, shirt- less, when they walked up the path at the house in view of many week- enders. " Barry was wild all afternoon. But he felt better by midnight, for Lois had apologized—and said “Yes.”