The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1895-04-03
DISAPPOINTMENT.

Smuggling CLOSELY IN q Tiny Day on bnB
shore of Long Island sound is one of the
most romantic little villages in America.
The beautiful lawns of the old family
homesteads stretch down to the very wa
ter's edge, and the shore is dotted with
white sails and moving, restless rowboats.
Tho breakers come In with ceaseless, even
movement, making fluffy foam like the
lacy embroidery on baby's frock. Huge
steamboats,, Veritable palaces afoat. put
sturdily and calmly along, pushing up a
foamy spray of water and leaving behind
a tumultuous tempest of boiling rapids.
Picturesque clam diggers. with their enor-
nous forks and rakes, tramp along tho
beach. their queer figures standing out in
sharp contrast with the crowds of jolly
bathers, who splash and shrek and tum-
BILE around with the agility of mermaids
playing at hide and seek.
Down the box edged walks of one of the
sleepy old mansions came Beatrice Rad
cliffe. After her came Tom Darrows. a
handsome fellow and the idol of the pet
ticoat portion of the village Tom and
Beatrice were excellent friends, a distant
link of relationship giving them cousin
~ affection. They rowed together, played
tennis together, walked, drove and sang
together-in fact. they were the most con-
genial of companions. This day they had
D16uuGQ 6uOEu GACuISlOn dLOAg tu0
shores of the sound. They were going in
Tom S canoe, and Beatrice had taken her
guitar with her.
1.-THE sound looks as If it were singing
lullaby today. the waves come in with
such calm regularity" Beatrice remarked.
Tom laughed softly, and fitting back
his white yachting cap looked smilingly
at his pretty companion. You always
were sentimental little puss,' said he.
A.
first thought was whether or not the
founders would bite day like this
'Lullabies and founders, - unused Bea-
trice. Il suppose if I were to mention
that the sky looked like a blue velvet jew
ell case you'd remark that the sight of
few clouds reminded you that you needed
a new macintosh that you should or
der dozen pairs of overshoes." Then aft
er pause she continued: Il often wonder
how men ever write poetry or ro1nances. 1
think that is certainly woman's work.
Men are such prosaic creatures. - They
reached the little landing place. Tom help
ed Beatrice into the canoe, and they pad
died away, the easy motion of the waves
making rowing comfortable. Beatrice be-
gan to sing some old college song.
Il wish you'd stop that, Tom said i'm
patiently. II want to talk to you"
Beatrice ceased singing and made
mock bow of subInissiveness.
II received telegram from father to-
day." said Tom. ''He wants me to go to
Omaha at once. His confidential clerk is
i'll, and he's in fix. Says he won't trust
his business matters to a new man. II
can't tell you how sorry am" said she,
with queer little sob, that she considered
very weak and silly. 81 think-I think''-
Then she took up the guitar, and in or
der to hide her unhappiness at the dismal
! prospect of a farewell she began to twang
the Instruments strings. After few mo-
! ments of that she said: Let's land here.
] The beach is SO sandy, and they say the
! shells are beautiful. -
Tom drew the canoe toward shore and
helped Beatrice out They walked along,
and both felt a loneliness almost indie
scribabIe. They chatted about the past
and tried to talk cheerfuIly of the future,
| but through all their talk there was a feel
| ing of unhappiness that coming parting
always sends before it. As they returned
| to the boat, Tom picked up a large she'll
that was beautifully colored with the tints
of an opal and having the smooth face of
pearl. He gave the shell to Beatrice.
1t was twilight when they reached the
| little landing place and walked up the box
edged pathway. At the door Tom took
Beatrice's hand and said: II didn't tell
| you before, but leave at 8 tonight. My
trunks are already at the station, and I'll
not see you again before train time. So'
here he pressed her hand tenderly-"li lit
tie woman, I must say goodby, and I do
hope that next summer we'll repeat this
happy one, although of course Wen meet
before that time.
And with that he turned and left her
standing there in the doorway. AS she
heard the dying echoes of his footsteps on
the gravel walk she stretched her arms
out into the gloom of the falling twilight
| and whispered, 'Oh, Tom, dear, / can t
bear to have you go away!'