The new age. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1902-190?, 1902-11-15
The Face
In the Sand
BY JOHN J. A'BECKET
Copyright, 1901, bp A. S. Richardson


watching the slow, green waves break
with the conviction that she was deriv-
ing new strength for her settlement
work. If only some of those poor east
side youngsters could have a little of
! this sea air too! But they would reap
| the benefit of all she got, and there
was comfort.
At which stage of her reflections she
paused to look with smiling curiosity
at something in the sand. 1t was the
profile of a young girl fashioned very
cleverly out of the damp material. As
she continued gazing it grew On her
that the features were quite like her
own.
| 1t was a mere coincidence, Of course.
| She didn't know anybody in tie place,
finding all the company she needed in
Miss Cunningham. After their break
fast she would get her friend to walk
that way and see how the sand image
affected her.
The waves of the incoming tide were
almost tapping it, but her companion
caught sight of the alto rilievo mod
| eled from the unstable material and
stopped to look at it more closely.
"why, Margaret" she exclaimed aft
er a moment, raising her eyes TO the
others face, ''it looks like you! Turn
your head. There! Now take off your
hat. Yes! 1t is a fair likeness of you.
Who in the world can have dene itT'
at is enough of a likeness to merit
this" returned the other, stamping the
delicate profile into oblivion. ut is
piece of impertinenceT
In the sun parlor of the casino that
afternoon she noticed a man regarding
her. There was a contented, well fed
air about him which she did not like
although he was a good looking man
in his heavy way. Earnest, practical
interest in the thin poor made her a
little intolerant of stated idleness. At
dinner that evening she caught his eye
upon her again as he passed Ter table.
She averted her face. Miss Hartwell
was very pretty girl, but a fhstidious
one, with no taste for a seaside fiirta-
ton.
"That is Burlington. the sculptor"
she heard a woman remark to her
neighbor.
That face in the sand! Her face!
This was the man!
Miss Hartwell got a note from her
brother Tom that day saying he could
not come before the end of the week.
"You girls want a man to fetch and
carry for you. You mention half a doz-
en- women you have met and then COM
plain that the place is restful, but a
little dull Here's your chance.
hear that Hammond, a Boston man,
classmate of mine at Yale, is at At
lantic City. He is good fellow-rich,
family, brains-but is shy of girls. l
shall make him miserable by sending
him a note OF Introduction to you and
Miss Cunningham"
A day or two later the young fell
low presented the note. He was a
charming young man. From an ac-
quaintance he rapidly developed into
an acquisition. He was quiet and dig
nified, not shy. Miss Hartwell got to
like him very well. TON is a good
athlete, but not strong on analysis of
character" she laughingly said to Miss
Cunningham.
Miss Hartwell had not encountered
her face on the sand again and was
reaping nothing but health and pleas
ure from her vacation, especially since
young Hammond had become such an
interesting part of Ii. Then one morn
ing she came upon it again. AS before,
1t was early morning. She stamped
it out even more emphatically.
Her brother arrived that day, and
she Immediately confided to him how
much annoyance the sculptor was &C.
casioning her. Tom lost no time in
getting after the man, who denied all
knowledge of the matter.
81 came here for rest and amuse-
ment, and the last thing l am likely to
do is to make faces in the sand. I
work in more durable material"
But the likeness was unmistakable,
and you are the only sculptor here"
urged Tom doggedly.
THAT may be. 1 had nothing to do
with 1t. My word should offset a mere
suspicion. l do not know your sister,
but If she is the young woman 1 think
you can assure her that | will not
model her face in the sand" the man
Concluded sarcastically.
Miss Hartwell was incredulous when
she heard her brothers report. 81 don't
like the mans face" she said
'That doesn't prove he did yours in
the sand, Maggie" returned her broth
er reproachfully. II gather from his
remarks that he doesn't like your
face"
Miss Hartwell tossed her head. Tom
was so easy going. She might catch
this man at his work. Then she knew
she could count on Tom. She strolled
along the board walk, occasionally ap-
preaching the rail and looking down on
the beach, for the next two or three
mornings early. But she saw no one.
Perhaps he had been frightened off.
III she could only catch him!
The next morning she did. There,
crouched down on the sand, working in
It, so absorbed that he never glanced
around, was man. He and she were
almost the sole persons abroad at that
hour.