The evening world. Newspaper, December 17, 1914, Page 21

bs * f BER The Be Story of By RALPH H (Coprrigiht, 1912, by J, B. Lippincott Company.) SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS, Tom Larter loves Bet Chanton.” Cal, Chanton, hates Tom because th father once dened the Colonel in @ railroad eal, Reeyl ia urged by her father to marry Montague Reqnewore, a midfle-agel financier, whom she fegarde merely as a friend, The Ohardons, on their steam vacht Unaweep, put in at Langport arbor for « brief stay, ‘Tom, in @ motor boat, lass followed them from New York and moo hie eraft near the ‘echt; Early nest morning, hile he is swimming, be meets Berl, Together (my swim out to the grecline cow in the id titere talk over the obstacles to their arauree Tom her father will bis comment to thelr marriage, and the brain. to discover some way vlonel's opposition, ‘The lovers viet, ty wight. & queer little island im the bar. bor, There, to their surprise, ther seo the Cotemet and Requemore exploring the place, Crouching im the aldows, Tom and Beryl are unseen by the othem, T wispy clouds of pink and dove-gray trailed themselves along the horizon. There was a breath of wine in the air as Tom plunged overboard, a zest and tingle that had been lacking the day before. A cool breeze ruffled the water with spreading catspaws and made the reflections of the white hulls and nodding masts break and dance. They met near the Unaweep's bow and went off together, like a pair of happy dolphins, straight across the harbor to where the long pier of the yacht club stretched forth to meet them from the yellow beach at the Neck, There; with an upturned tender sheltering them from the breeze, they sat on the float while the water slapped and gurgled beneath and said &@ great many things, unique and un- heard of things. As, for instance, when Tom discov- ered that Beryl's eyes were just the exquisite snade of brown of the sea- ‘weed that swayed at the edge of the rocks beyond. “But it looks a little green to me,” ehe said, doubtfully. “Never! A sort of golden-brown it 1s, dear, with coppery lights in It where the sun strikes.” “ont” “They're the most beautiful ¢ the world, Beryl.” “Nonsense, Tom; they're very home- ” “They're wonderful!" he declared, stoutly. “There were never any like them!” “Well, I'm glad you think them— pretty,” she sighed. “Only you must not say so any more or they'll get conceited.” “TN bet lots of fellows have told you the same thing,” he said, jealous- ly. ‘“Roquemore, for instance.” She laughed merrily. “Think of Mr. Roquemore saying a thing like that “Well, others, then.” “Um,” said Beryl, tantalizingly. “Have they? Have you ever—cared very much for any one else, Beryl?” “Not--desperately,” she replied. “When? Who was he?" “He? Ob, Tom, must it be only one?"* “They say there's safety in num- bers,” he grumbled. “Well?” “Well? she repeated, demurely. “Aren't You going to tell me?" “Do you want to know?” Hy nodded. “Well, Tom, ‘Browne “But he's been married for years: “This was a long time ago,” she re- piled gravely. “Oh! Did he—ever kiss you “only once; and I was tremendously Proud of it. “Proud of it!" ‘Terribly, It was at riding school 4 he was there looking as handsome as a god, And when I came out of the ring he lifted me from my pony and kissed me.” “Your pony? How old were you?” Beryl thought gravely, “I think eleven.” “On! Well, Vil forgive him that. 1 dare say I'd have done the same thing myself if I'd been in his boots.” “1 don't think they were boots. T think he wore leggings, Tom; those piittee things. e i And who was the next?” he de- manded sternly. “Tf think that was my last grand passion until I fell in love with my music teacher, Tom, He was an Adonis, with a beautifulssoft brown beard and perfectly wonderful eyes. His name” She thought deeply. AtTant; “Tom.” she exclaimed in hor- ror-stricKen tonés, “I've forgotten. his Bame! isn't that awful?” “Fierce,” responded Tom dryly. = wonder if the original Adonis had toiled finger nails, Tom, This one ad. bt was his one imperfection “And did he—er—kiss you, too? *-"“No," sho pighed. “You see, I was grown up then, almost fifteen, I fancy. Besides, he never guessed my feelings for bim. And, besides again, there webs, the-the finger nails, CHAPTER VIII. HE sun came up the next morning looking like a great rose-gold salver, while little in there was Frazier e “] nee, And since then?” SJust the tinlest, weeniest little ‘Mirtations; Tom.” sat'And no kisses?" ny ‘exclaimed in magk . ie, danciag: * ee. The Harb ENRY Bish woarracce t ++ sot Bho electel> encanta eciee eipeereait temo: or of Love st Love the Year “Of course hot, not if ite just— just in fun," she agreed, watching his discontented face out of the cor- ners of her eyes. Bery!'s smile faded. “I suppose you have never Kissed any one defore, 2” she inquired with suspicious got nothing to do with i “Oh; what's sauce for the gander isn't sauce for the goose? How many girls have you kissed before me, Tom?" “Very few,” he replied shortly. “Few? How many ise few? Three? A dozen? Fifty?” “That's absurd, Perhape—three.” “Or four, maybe? Were they nice, Tom?” F “L don’t remember, They—they meant nothing to me. Sometimes a fellow has to kiss a girl; she—she ex- pects 4 ‘ “Really?” remarked Beryl coldly. “Did I seem to—expect it last night?” “I didn't mean you, you know, he replied severely, “You—you're the very first girl I've ever loved, Beryl, and that's the truth.” “Am I, Tom? Her voice melted and,she slipped @ little cool hand into his. His, however, was unresponsive, “What's the matter, Tom?” she whis- pered, “Nothing, only—oh, I suppose, I'm a bit jealous of—of thoge others.” _ “Tom, there weren't any others,” she said softly, “Truly?” “Only Frazier Browne and the mu- sic teaeher. I suppose, Tom, dear, I was just—just waiting for you.” “You darling those other kisses “I never said so. It was you. I never cared much for kissing—even girls. It always seemed sort of-— sort of messy, you know. Of cour: ‘when mamma was alive—sometimes I kiss daddy, but it’s generally on top of his head; we play that it. makes the hair grow.” “And you don’t care for kissing?” he asked. “I didn’t say #0,” she replied, smil- ing @ Nttle and blushing a Iittle. “! aaid I didn’t use to. I—I think one peraon’s Kisses are—are rather nice, Tom. “Do you? Then"-—— “Tom, not he: Why, there are a hundred windows watching us! Look behind you.” “They can't see us. windows are empty." “That doesn't matter. Windows are just like eyes. They can see, Tom. And—and it’s time to go back.” “Not yet, dear, It isn't seven, I'm sure.” “Oh, it must be; we've been here a long, long time.’ “Does it seem eo?” he asked with a laugh. “No, but I know it must be. And do you know, sir, that you very nearly quarrelled with me? And this is the first day of our"—— - “Engagement? BAt you teased me, you wrete! “I know, me?" “What do you think?” She examined his face intently ard pretended to be in doubt, frowning deliciously the while. Finally she sighed and shook her head. “You— you look terribly stern and unforgiv- ing, Tom.” “I'll forgive you anything you ever do, sweetheart,” he said, “Will you, Tom? 1 wonder She looked thoughtfully at him. “I sup- pose you'll be a good deal like every other husband, Tom-—afterward; only I shan't ever know it.” She laughed softly, “Folks are funny, aren't thoy? “Are they?” he asked, not following her thoughts. She nodded, “Yes, Every girl thinks her own husband is the best in the world, and like as not her friends think he's quite stupid or un- interesting or boorish. That seems funny, doesn't it? “And you'l be like the rest of them?" he laughed, “No, there'll be a difference, Tom. They'll think theirs the best; I shal know mine js!" They said goodby under the wide stern of a black-hulled schooner, and, since @ khaki-clad youth, sadly lack- ing in discretion, watched them curi- ously from the deck of a distant ca! boat, they sank together for an in- stant and kissed down there witb the woo-0-o of the sea in their ears. And Beryl came up panting and flushed and swam off hurriedly with a little whispered "Goodby, dear. In the white church steeple on the hill the bell boomed seven, On the catboat the youth in khaki chuckled and winked at the morning world. T it. Later he meant to run ashore and spend a hailf- hour with the public ir. It ‘was warm in the cabin he cried. “And Besides, the It was mean. Forgive CHAPTER IX. HE Colonel waa in the cabin going over his mail and Pencilling memoranda on oe ime Sal om - P Sete nnnannenes |The Smile Tha auite plainly on deck, where Beryl and Monty Roquemore were occupying ad- dacent chairs. Roquemore, a morning paper across the knees of his immaculate white serge trousers, leaned forward and tapped the end of a mongrammed cigarette against a thumb-nail. He was somewhere between thirty- @ve and forty years of age, was slightly bald, tall, thin, and good- Jooking in an aristocratic, ciiilly sort of way. ; He was a lawyer, and a smart one, Of good family—it traced itself buck to Crecy where an heroic Roquemore was knighted on the fleld of battlo— Monty had started in life with not much more than a careful education and an aristocratic name, He had Made excellent use of both and his rise as a corporation lawyer had been rapid. * "To-day, atill a bachel.r, he occu: pled, with two unmarried sisters, a handsome residence on Fifth Avenue, and was believed to stand, financially, about midway between a Mercedes MNmousige and a steam yacht. He wore a short Vandyke beard and a well trimmed mustache, and had ey that fell just short of being black. He had two distinct sets of manners, one for his equals and one for his inferiors. ‘The former, modelled after the best English style, were quite perfect. With the others we have nothing to do. “You were gone so long that I was worried,” he was saying as he placed the cigarette in his mouth and drew forth a gold match case. “Surely you ‘6 not swimming all that time?” ‘No, not all the time,” repliod Beryl. Monty lighted the cigarette, looking questioningly above match, art of the time I floated.” ‘Ah! Even so it must be something of a test of strength and endurance to remain in the water so long. You must be as clever a mermaid as you are charming! I fancy I could find a bathing suit here in the village, Would you object to initiating me into the pleasures of before-breakfast bathing’ ‘Oh, you wouldn't like it, Monty. The very cold and the hour's very ‘Surely no colder than I got in my bath,” be replied with a smile, “since ' it came from the same ocean. As for the hour, well, you really mustn't think me a sluggard because I stay abed here until breakfast time. I've been used to early rising all my lite. I flatter myself that I often do a day's work before most men are down to breakfast.” “But work is different.” “Different? In what way?” “There are lots of men—you, Monty, are one of them, I think—who would get up at five o'clock every morning to make money but wouldn't think of leaving their beds at any such time for pleasur: ‘That's rather hard,” he replied with a smile, “But I'll own that there's some truth in it, But pleasure is compara- tive, Beryl. To enjoy your society I'd up at—what is the earliest hour one can get up?" “Never Evening. Warld Daily Magazi “You're unkind,” ho responded, Placidly. “I shall get that bathing suit, anyway. Perhaps you'll relent.” “That's something I never do,” she said, carelessly. “Please don’t say that," he replied, earnestly, ‘There's one thing I want you to relent about. You know what I mean, Beryl?" "I don’t think so, Monty. Do I?” “I hope you haven't forgotten, T refer to what I spoke of in June; I believe it was the fourteenth.” “The fourteenth of June?" Beryl frowned thoughtfully, “Something you want me to relent about?” He laughed humoringly. “Come now, you really haven't forgotten, you know. Shall I refresh your mem- ory?” , “Ie you think it’s worth while.” “It Is distinctly worth: while,” he replied, with emphasis, ‘Whether, however, I am choosing my occasion well I can't say. I asked you to—ah— do me the honor of becoming my wife, Beryl. Had you forgotten that?” “No, but I thought that was all settled, Monty.” “T hope not. You sald ‘no’ on that occasion, It is a woman's privilege to say no, and it 1s also her privilege to change her mind.” “That's a privilege, Monty, T shan’t avail myself of.” “Piease don't say that, Bery!. There are so many excellent reasons why wo should marry.” “Reasons, Monty? Do you think that people marry each other for rea- sons?” “Undoubtedly thére are plenty of marriages without reason,” he ac- knowledged, smilingly. “Let us show the superiority of the other kind. The reasons I spoke of-——" “Monty, there's one great big rea- won why I shouldn't marry you; I don’t care for you that way.” “T understand,” he responded calm- ly. “But, while I don’t quite believe in marriage without love, I have known so many, many cases in which love has followed respect and liking. With similar tastes and views—" “Monty, I don't propose to marry any man because his views are like my own, I—I don't care what his views may he. ‘I don't care what his tastes are, as long as he has a taste for me, I like you well enough, Monty, but I haven't the least inten- tion in the world of ever marrying you. Now let's forget all about It. Besides, Monty, I'd make the worst possible wife for you. I-~I'm too Yoo flippant; I don't take things serl- ously enough.” , Monty smiled kindly, “Let me be the judge of that, Beryl," he said. “What you term Mippancy"-— There were sounds at the side and Tom came along the deck, Monty was surprised and hid It, He was also displeased, and hid that. Beryl wes glad and didn’t hide it Monty dis- covered @ disquieting something in the manner in which she greeted the vis- itor, The two men shook hands, Tom accepted @ cigarette from a ready came and seated himself, The acrap- ing of the chair turned the Colonel eyes to the deck and they fell ‘on Tom. “Well, weil!” he exclaimed heart ne, Thursday, t Came Back (:2%t2h:.,) By Robert Minor | ‘Daddy, this is Mr. Lawicas. my father." “I'm very glad to meet you, Col. Chardon,” responded Tom, arising and holding out a brown hand, The Colonel stared a moment. Then the hand which he had half extended dropped to his side and he bowed stiffly. “How do you do, sir?” he said. He shot an accusing look at Beryl, “I had not—er—anticipated this honor, Mr, Lawiess.” “I have known Miss Chandon for some time, sir, and had the pleasure of meeting you for a moment at your house in the Spring.” “Hm; I-er—didn't get your at the time, sir, Staying here’ “My launch Hes over th “Going to be here long “Possibly, It depends on—circum- stances, This 1s a fine looking yacht, Colonel.” “She answers my purpose,” replied the Colonel atiffly. Monty excused himself gracefully and retired to the cabin. Beryl was smiling, but there was an anxious quality to the smile. Tom, politely defferential, remained standing, as the Colonel made no move toward rating: himself. ‘ ‘Tako Mr. Roquemore's chair, said Hery) ‘Thank you, stay.” “Sorry to hear that, Colonel, as I came aboard with the hope that you could spare me a few minutes of your time.” Tom, name IT am not going to “What, sir? Wanted to see me?” “Yes, Colonel.” "IT decline, Mr. Lawless. In fact, sir, I intend to be quite frank with you." Tom bowed and smiled. you will, sir, “L hope I intend to be quite frank with you.” “Eh? Very well, sir, very well! Then let me tell you, sir, that you are not welcome aboard my ya my house. “Daddy “I'm sorry to hear that, Colonel,” sald Tom, courteously. “May I hear your reasons, sir?" “You may, sir! Your father"—~ “Daddy, please!” begged Beryl. “Remember that Mr, Lawless ia on your yacht, that he's your guest.” “Not through any invitation of replied the Colonel, “How- 1 haye no intention of forgetting the—er—courtesies due to a guest, even an unwelcome guest, I was about to say, sir, that your father was a damned rascal,” Tom's smile deepened. Colonel?” “All! God bless my sou!, Isn't that enough?” “Quite, with regard to my father,” replied Tom dryly. “I was prepared to hear something of the sort trom you, sir, as 1 was aware of your— prejudice, But what I'd like to know now, Colonel, is whether you have any other reasons for your attitude toward me," “I have, air, plenty of them.” » “E think it would be much nicer it you beth sat down,” observed Beryl sweetly. The Colonel grunted, glanced Irresolutely at a chair and seated himself in it stiffly upright. Tom sat , down and viewed the Colonel inquir- nt or in “Is that all, ember. ala: left me very well off, Colonel.” “I presumed that you had inherited his money, sir.” “Exactly, and without going into uninteresting details, Colonel, I may say that T fave more money than I honestly know what to do with. If Tl had more it would embarrass me, What I have is 2 good deal of a nuis- ance. I could get along junt as well “Your father*— “One moment, Col. Chardon,” inter- rupted Tom firmly. “You have given me your opinion of my, father. Pri don’t elaborate, sir, You see, Colone! ~and Tom smiled engagingly—"you and f, air, are going to be very good friends some day. So don't let's say things that are unnecessary and tbat we'll be sotry for.” The Colonel stared. “Friends! No, sir! I refuse, sir; absolutely “LT hope you will reconsider, Colonel,” said Tom politely. “And now, I wish you'd tell mo what there is about moe personally you don’t approve of.” “You're an Idler, sir, a man of no— no standing in the community! A spender, sir! ‘That's all you ure, a ‘ependet!”” Grafting that, Colonel, for the sake of argument, is there any other ob- jection? Anything on the score of birth, breeding, morals”: “I know nothing about your morals; I care nothing.” “But it seems to me, sir, that morals are of more importance than indus- try. ’ “LT mean, sir, that they do not inter- est me,” fumed the Colonel. . “L nee, Then you prohibit me fr. your yacht and your house becaure, os 1 understand you, Colonel, my father was a damned rascal and I am not oc- cupied in some business. I've got It right, haven't 12" “TL refuse to argue, Mr, Lawle! said my say——" “Then you surely won't deny me mine," smiled Tom, “Now, as regards my father, Colonel. You say he was a rascal, That ts your private opinion of him, I think that if you will take the trouble to talk to others who were associated with him either in business or private life you will discover that your opinion is far from being the gen- ! I've eral one, But that is beside the mat- ter, however, for you surely can- not hold me responsible for my father's delinquencies.” “Like father, like son,” retorted the Colonel, who was by this time taking a genuine interest In the argument. “Come, come, Colonel,” replied Tom, shaking his head gently, “your next indictment disproves that. You aceusé me of idleness, of being a spender. My father was never that. He began work at the age of sixteen, if { remember correctly, and never could have been termed @ spender, whatever his other faults may have been, You say that you have no interest in my morals, sir, and yet, you see, they do concern you, for you are accusing mo of being like my father, whom you believe, honestly, 1 am sure, to have been @ rascal, “{ make no such accusation, air! I don't say that you're a rascal, I don't know, Ido say that you are probably like your father, and that he was a rascal, Perhaps you are merely worthless.” But tho Colonel said that without conviction, and Beryl emiled to her- sel “Then you were only discussing probabilities,” said Tom. “Il may be @ rascal because my father was, in your opinion, Why not be charitable and give me the benefit of the doubt, Colonel? Since 1 am not like him in industry and thrift, why, perhaps, I'm not like him at all! Now, in regard fo the other indictment, I wonder if You happen to know that my father e ’ ‘have Beknowledged, but I haye a on one-tenth of it. You think I ought to engage in something, @ profession or @ business, sir. To what end?” “Why, why, damn it, eir, to the usual end! To acquire—er—position and influence and—and honor.” “At all events not wealth? Po- sition and influence do not interest me much, Colonel Chardon, since I take it that they would be of upe chiefly in procuring wealth, which, I don't need. As for honor, why, yee, I'd appreciate that. But to engage in business With orfty that in view— frankly, I can't quite seq it, eh?” “Idieness,” replied the Colonel sen- tentiougly, “is dangerous, especially to a young man. The Lord meant ua all to work, te employ our talents, sir. The Idler is the butterfly of society, Mr. Lawless. Ho is of no‘benefit to his fdllow''creatures, of Iittle use te Bimesif. An honest cocupation is a> @ eafeguard, sir, against the—er— temptations of life.” “Agreed, Colonel. And yet ‘pray imagine an occupation,-no mater how honest, that lacked any incentive save that of keeping out of tempta- tion! Wouldn't It be & pretty Joylese aort of a thing?” Work afd pleasure, Mr. Lawless, are totally different things.” “Pardon me, Colonel, but theyre not;' at Teast, not usually. Not to you, for instance. AJl work that's worth while oontains more or lesa pleasure for the worker. That's where my difficulty comes in. I would like to have what you term an honest occupation if it carried with it some degree of satisfaction, But to engage in business merely for the sake of being busy, not caring whether to- gay’s work, was good or bad, doesn’t Appeal to me. You see my difficulty, air?” “Certainly,” replied the Colonel, ine terested in spite of himself. “There must be a goal; I'll acknowledge that. You say you have as mitch money as you want. Very well, ait; but that need not kepp you'from making more. If you éan’t ume tt there are’ plenty of worthy charities Inthe country.” “Take It away feom. one man to give it to andther? laughed Tom. “I fear that incentive would be too weak to satiety, me.” He kaled We brows and was allent a moment. What I'd like to find, Colon e sald, frankly, “is something big, with an object to it; something the doing of which would bring its own satisfaction, ite own pleasure, I'd ike to have built the Panama Canal re- flectively The Colonel almost smiled. “Besides,” continued Tom, barking back to the Colonel's proposal, “make ing money 1s far too easy nowadays. An a matter of fact, it’s getting harder to. apend it than make it.” “‘Hiess my soul!” exclaimed the Col- “Have you ever made any, calmly, “IT thought ao,” the Colonel grunted, “Try it, young man, try it! Then come and tell me the same thing—If you cant" “You don’t agree with me, Colonel? Do you mean that given fifty thou- sand dollars and @ few brains @ man can't double it In three months?” “I'm, perhaps; sometimes; but he’s got to have the brains. “Certainly, A man's got to have brains to 46 most anything but and sleep. No, money-making isn't any longer a science, Colonel. I've watched my possessions pile up and double on themselves, and that with. out any real effort on my part.” “Poppyock! Money-making is a science, sir, and always will be, Give fitty thousand dollars each to lx men. Give them a year's timo, How many of them do you think will show a profit at the end of the year?” “All of them if they've got horse sense,” replied Tom, “Of course, th! are plenty of fools in the world, and it's kely that one of more of the six would belong to that class, Their $50,000 would go to the others, In our country, Colonel, we have a habit of considering the ccumulation of wealth the one grand, final accom- a plishment, You ana I know, sly, that making money 1s no .criterion of brains." * know nothing of the sort, sir!” declared the Colonel irascibly. “What about the men Who ‘haven't the $50,000 to'start with?” “They get if they aren't actual fools, Colonel,” “You talk like most men who have never. tried it," sald the Colonel. “Young man, I'll wager you that if you hadh't $50,000 you couldn't get it in five years! I'll wager you, sir, that I{ you were 4 poor man you'd stay BO’ erhaps you're right, Colonel. I've neyer tried to make any money, as 1 ‘Stroiie hugoh thats could do ft." Matep ag sin ery 4 Mimpty ear P $ NEXT WEEK’S COMPL THE EVENING WORLD 2 Britz of Headquarters By MARCIN TE NOVEL BARBER see how much you've made at of a month!” Colonel, that's’not a bad idea! you what we'll do, sir, We'll have start without capital and make in a week, or try to, that is get my shortéomings and invite a t dinne If -b lose+wait; case I'll give you my. word, te; away from your house pte “To start without aapitai © inquired the Colonel suspiciously. . .+ »» @ 5); allow me a dollar for tuck.” © * T'll allow you ~ hundred, aii, Colonel, ‘Oh, come, air, not a hundred! "A hundred dollars, Mr. Lewieta, — And you're to show ten t! ww “Ten thousand.and one hundred, air, to be exact,” replied Tom. “Veey “And if you win, alr, by the Lord Barry, you may come to dinner as” ‘They shook bands solemnly. “And now,” said Tom, “as I want ~ Good morning, Colonel. Good morm-— ing, Beryl." ‘ “Er—by the way, you sald you waat- @d to see me about something?” © things have turned out I'll wait Jater in the week.” CHAPTER X. HAT afternoon an acqident Please don’t smile; it re was an accident, pure Gnd the landing from luncheon at te Neptune Arms and very deep 15 | the sloping gangplank up w! he ‘was laboring with gase on the cleats, are ridiculously far apart. Tom ealé: “I beg your par——Bery!! ‘Tom! ¥ After! whioh they blocked the traf- way)'amd caty-onme to themselves _ when a’ stout lady carrying a the back.. Then they: went up Gangplank and got out of the way., “Well, that's funny! Bo’m I!” “Bat you were going down to thé Beryl. * “Ye—es, you eee I—I'4 forgotten the Where shall we go first? What's your Ist?" He pulled a crumpled piece of from his pocket—it happened the Hello—and gravely read: “Chocolates, roses, baby pockets to-morrow and start ‘out Tom looked interested. “By little wager, just between friends, succeed, Colonel, why, you're te yacht and--your daughtet"*” “Absolutely, if you ligq, take your wager!” exclaimed (ie ae makes it too easy.” Lm .. the end of a week.” a good, Colonel, it often as you like, str!” that dinner, I think I'll make a start. “Good rhorning,” réplied the Colonel. “I had @ question to ask, sir, But = c 1 happened. aesthn simple. Tom, returning to— thought, literally ran into on which, in these days of narrow *“And Beryl sald: “Quite my pete and: umiled tn a supreme happy of wesbing hurtled into, Tem “I'm going shopping,” said Beryt, float when I ran ecrose you,” laughed shopping. You jogged my “What's on yours?’ “ sales alip for provisions hairpins and—er—afternocon tea,’ my list isn’t lke that at AM, plaster, a Mexican hat,isame sort of | 8 dow! for flowers and a chart of port Harbor, I shop together’ “Baddest thing I know! Which first?” “The chart, because that dy; then the plaster; that then the bowl; that's for weep; and lastly, the hat, for mich.” “Very well, dear. The chabtery is at the next corner.” . t “Aad the bowl I shall buy. there.” Beryl's gaze went up to second floor of a tumble-downa bulld- ing across the narrow court. A of wobbly steps led to it and a Bradleyish sign displayed a lobster and the inscription: af Lobster Pot—Souvenirs and After- noon Tea, “? “Good! That's where we'll have our tea,” declared Tom. ‘But I haven't tea on my list.” "And you haven't any list.” "In my mind.” “Then put down ‘Tea with my sweet- heart,’ That's simple. Ho for the” chartery They climbed the stone-strown lage, Tom gallantly assisting her ‘er the slightest excuse pi and found the little shop where chron- ometers and sextants and conipasses | eered out from behind a dusty wip- |)” peer , Bas ale “Please be sure that it shows the depth of water,” instructed Beryl ag the little man in the black skull-cap displayed his wares, ' “What are you going to do?” asked Tom, leaning as near as he could. get” to her on the counter, “Change we anchorage?” tae 4 “No, it's @ mystery,” she confided, sinking her voice appropriately. “Hi, tell you about it—at'tea.” RS “Now for the surgeon's 4 ald, Tom ag they emerged ang © flattened agains: the shop Wet 9 drag go be ee Ne