Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1901-11-14
COUSIN
CLARA
BY FRANK n. SWEET.
Copyrights, 1901. by Authors s-yndie..s.)

eiatIye eye is something of the
speculation of the artist calculating
perspective and distance.
AS he nears the arch he glances up
TO note the time. The two hands OF
the clock are pointing directly over
mead, as though clasped in entreaty to
the vertical sun. The young man fol-
lows the custom of the place and takes
out his watch to compare time. As
he e SO he notices the white square
at his feet.
The addres is up and boldly writ
ten:
Robert Leighton, artist,
Ecole de Part,
Rue st. Hilaire,
Paris"
with a quick movement he rescues
the envelope from its position.
Strange impossiblei" he says,
wonderingly, and, oblivious of the peo-
pie who are passing him on the side
walk, he reads the superscription
again and again, his face growing more
puzzled and i~ncredulous with each
perusal.
1T is certainly meant for me-" he
says, at last; but how in the name of
all that is inscrutable did it happen
to be lying here? 1t was evidently on
its way to the post office, for it is not
postmarked; and it is just as evident
that the writer is somewhere in this
interesting little town. I wonder who
1t can be? / did not know that / had
an acquaintance in all New England,
and certainly not one who knew my
Paris address. / was sympathizing
with myself as being a stranger in my
own land; and 10, and behold here I
am publicly displayed on the sidewalk
of this enterprising resort. in less than
two hours after my arrival. Well,
c'est pour moi, SO 1 will open it."
He stands aside and raises his hat
as two ladies pass. He does not know
them by name, but they were in the
same Pullman from Kingston, and one
of them had bowed in acknowledgment
of his services in raising a car win
dow. He waits until they have gone
by, and then follows as far as the
shadow of the arch. A small boy whirls
around the corner with an armful of
newspapers, and he buys one mechan-
ically and thrusts it into his Pocket.
When the sidewalk is again clear he
takes out a penknife and opens the
letter.
1t is brief. but does not go far to
solve the mystery:
"Narragansett Pier, July 1, 1901.
"Cousin Robert Leighton: Your uncle
directed IN his will that all his paintings
and curios should be forwarded to you. I
did not know your address. or would have
written before. Please let me know how to
send. Cordially,
YOUR COUSIN CLARA"
"The interest deepens," he thinks,
as he folds the letter and carefully
places it in an inside pocket. "Who is
Cousin Clara? Which of nv uncles is
it who has made me custodian of his
paintings? 1t cannot be Uncle Charles,
for he has boys of his own, and would
scarcely ~bequeath his treasures away
from them. Uncle Will and Uncle Tom
are both sea captains, and would hard
~ know a painting from a chrome:
and. besides, 1 saw them in Liverpool
only a few weeks ago. I wonder if it
can be the old East Indian whom Aunt
Helen married? He never saw me, but |
/ was always a sort of favorite with
Aunt Helen. Perhaps she commune
Gated some of her liking to him. But |
where does Cousin Clara come in, and
how did she get my address?
It is a hopeless muddle, he tells him |
self, with sudden irritation, and he will
forget the whole matter. But he does
not. As he crosses Exchange place he
chances sharply at the different faces. |
In the search he finds himself watch |
ing the passing groups of ladies, won
dering which one of them may be |
Cousin Clara, and if she has missed the |
n I-- L-1E = 1
to the arch and keep watch.
Instead of standing apart, as is his
custom, he seeks the largest and most
talkative group and skillful1y absorbs
himself into it. He is a good conversa-
tionalist and a sympathetic listener,
and the coterie cordially accepts him.
Now and then fresh material is added
to the gossip, as new arrivals take the
places of those who fall away. He
listens attentively to the i~ntroductions
and tries to catch each name. At
length he hears some one say Clara"
and he thinks his quest is to be re-
warded; but to his disgust the owner
of the name is a dumpy little girl of
ten, and he turns away in vexation.
OF course, he tells himself, impatiently,
there are probably a hundred CIaras in
the place.
The heat has called out an unusually
number of bathers, and the tents
scattered along the beach and the
in front of the lighthouses are
all filed with good-natured spectators.
He walks back and forth under the
awnings with curious interest. The
scene is Enthusiastically American,
and he has been away from home long
to feel a keen zest in its nov
Presently a young lady coming down
the plank walk drops her handkerchief,
and he hands il to her with a slight
bow. As he does so he looks into the
same brown eyes that had thanked him
morning in the Pullman.
When he returns to the hotel for
lunch. an hour later, he finds the same
eyes on the opposite side of the table,
they are so pleasant to look into
that he cannot forbear a second
glance, and is rewarded with a look of
recognition.
He has never been much of a society
man; but time drags heavily after a
days, and he is glad when a new
: couaintance introduces Miss Stanton.
she is very pretty and unusually bright
and we'll informed, attributes which he