The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1895-07-18
DISAPPOINTMENT.

Smuggling closely IN tiny bay on 1ns
shore Of Long Island sound 10 one Of shs
most romantic little villages In America.
The beautiful lawns Of the old family
homesteads stretch down to the very va
tors edge, and the shore Is dotted With
white sails and moving restless rowboats.
The breakers come in with ceaseless, even
movement making fluffy foam like the
lacy embroidery on baby's frock. Huge
steam boats, veritable palaces afloat, pun
sturdily and calmly along, pushing up
foamy spray of water and leaving behind
. tumultuous tempest Of boiling rapids
Picturesque clam diggers, with their enor-
nous forks and rakes, tramp along the
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, .
handsome fellow and the idol of the pet
ticoat portion Of the village. Tom and
Beatrice were excellent friends, distant
link of relationship giving them q 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
planned a short excursion along the
shores of the sound. They were going In
Toms canoe, and Beatrice had taken her
guitar with her. e. .,1j-..s' -. u %$
"The sound looks as If 1t 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.
"Now, when I looked at the water my
first thought was whether or not the
founders would bite day like this. I" f.,
"Lullabies and founders, " unused Bea-
trioe Il suppose If were to mention
that the sky looked like blue velvet jew
Ell case you'd remark that the sight Of q
few clouds reminded you that you needed
q new macintosh or that you should or
der dozen pairs of overshoes. Then aft
er pause she continued: II often wonder
how men ever write poetry or rolnanoes. ]
think that Ia certainly woman's work.
Men are such prosaio 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.
II wish you'd stop that" Tom said i'm
patiently. Il want to talk to you." )
Beatrice ceased singing and made q
mock bow of submissiveness.
II received telegram from father to-
day." said Tom. ''Ho wants me to go to
Omaha at once. His confidential clerk Is
i'll, and he's in a fix. Says he won't trust
his business matters to new man." II
can't tell you how sorry am" said she,
with queer little sob, that she considered
very weak and silly. II think-I Think
Then she took up the guitar, and in or
der to hide her unhappiness at the dismal
prospect of farewell she began to twang
the Instruments strings. After few mo-
ments of that she said: Lets land hero.
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 loneliness almost indie.
scribable. They chatted about the past
/ and tried to talk oheerfuily of the future,
but through all their talk there was feel
ing Of unhappiness that coming parting
always sends before 1t. As they returned
to the boat, Tom picked up large shell
that was beautifully colored with the tints
Of an opal and having the smooth face Of
q pearl. He gave a. shell to Beatrice.
It 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 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-''lit-
tie woman, must say goodby, and I do
hope that next summer We'll repeat this
happy one, although Of course we'll 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 60 away!"
"This penholder," wrote Beatrice to
Tom just before the great day of holly and
good will, Twas made of the shell that
you picked up on the beach that day when
you told me so suddenly that you were
going away. trust and know that you
will value it for it's pleasant associations
am going to Omaha soon to be brides
maid for my dearest friend, Ethel Stod-
dard, and of course will expect you to call
on me, you wretched, neglectful man!
Please don't give this penholder to your
best girl" ,....
New Years had passed when Beatrice
arrived at Omaha. Ethel was to be mar.
ried the first week in February. There
was deal of flurrying and fussing when
Beatrice greeted her friend, and the house
was atmosphered with the general air Of
unrest that invariably precedes marriage
ceremony. Ethel's letters to Beatrice had
been brief and spasmodic, and the name
of the bridegroom had not been mention
ed. He was always ''dear boy" and my
sweetheart In Ethel's letters. So the
very day that Beatrice arrived there were
loads of secrets to divulge and gossip I'M
measurable to be told. g.5%,s
''Oh, the queerest thing happened, "
Ethel dubbed almost before Beatrice had
removed her hat. 'Some girl sent the