Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1896-07-20

NFINpz'SyA tef ssid., A"ftfe'isR Mr.. sPi%D1 goIa
ley had sent his only son to Oxford to
add to the family ton and through
him had picked up lot of snowy and
useful acquaintance.
Several of these were to be of the
Henley party, for Mrs. Skimpley de-
lighted in varsity men. They were
go "chick," she said.
And it was to Abercrombie-
familiarly known as Crumbs of
Magdalen that the particular adven.
ture befell, which it is my present pur-
pose to relate, though, as the sequel
will show, Miss Vernon was not wholly
uninteresting in the episode.
When young Frederick Skimpley
had been written to at college and told
that he might bring a couple of friends
to the houseboat party he at once in
vited Abercrombie and Wedgewood.
He wrote and said so, mentioning that
Abercrombie, fine oarsman, was the
glorious possessor of three blues, while
Wedgewood, who was poetically in
clined, had won the Newgate.
But Tuesday morning had brought
letter from her SOD, saying that of
his two friends only Crumbs could
come, and that he himself could not
get away until Thursday.
Mr.. Skimpley was decidedly chag-
rined at the news, for Frederick would
have at least been able to talk about
his noble friends ct the 'versity, while
doubtless the other absentees would
have been able to contribute somewhat
to the general enjoyment in the same
way. Still, there was Crumbs
"And whichever is Crumbs?" ejacu-
lated Mrs. Skimpley to her spouse
over the breakfast table. "f do wish
Fred would not use those vulgar slang
terms"
"It isn't slang" explained her hus-
band. "Down ut Oxford they all call
each other by short names OF that sort.
You've been there, and ought to re-
member these things"
81 thought it was the correct thing
to say up at Oxford" retorted Mrs.
Skimploy, OTIS much worse to forget
that than the other"
"Quite right, Marie" replied Mr..
Skimpley, ''you had me there, dear.
l must remember that confounded
thing, for it so rifles Fred when for
get it. Though why up I'm hanged
if ] know"
'1t doesn't matter why, SO long rs
it's the correct thing" said Mrs.
Skimpley, sagely; "but if it is Aber-
cromhie, is he the blues man or the
poet?"
"Look up Fred's letter, that'll ex-
plain it" advised her husband, light
ing his pipe, and going out to look at
the weather.
Mrs. Skimpley looked everywhere
for her sons letter, but it was not TO
be found So she was still in doubt
whether Mr.. Abercrombie was the poet
or the athlete, when her guests began
to arrive.
None OF them needs any special
mention, except Miss Vernon, who was
a tall girl, with hair of goldeny brown,
clear complexion and good teeth.
She was Mrs. Skimpley's niece, and
could now very properly be regarded
as poor relation.
They were all sitting chatting under
the awning over the roof of the house.
boat when q skiff was seen approach
ing, in the stern of which sat q gentle
man IN very immaculate boating cos
tune. Something told them that this
was Mr.. AbercromEie, and SO it proved
to be.
As he stepped aboard Mrs. Skimpley
noted particularly that his trousers
were baggy, that his shirt was of
white silk, and that in the buttonhole
of his college blazer was beautiful
blush rose.
However, the elegance of Mr.. Aber-
crombie's get up, coupled with the
fact that his face was extremely pale,
was quite sufficient to convince her
that it was the poet and not the ath-
lete that stood before them.
''I am so delighted you have come,
Mr.. Abercrombie," she said, "but we
are SO disappointed that neither Mr..
Wedgewood nor Frederick can come
with you. Let me introduce you
and the introductions were made, Mr..
Abercrombie bowling to everybody
with a grace which Mrs. Skimpley
afterward declared was poetry itself.
"Have you ever been to Henley be.
fore?" asked the hostess.
"Yes, many times" replied Aber.
crombie, slight look OF surprise pass.
ing over his face.
II suppose you find the river in.