Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1908-08-20
CHAPTER 1.

/
age call him Freddy" but call him
! Vincent or Wilfred, because / con-
slider curtailed appellations undignified.
Vincent is an artist-that is, he calls
| himself one; his friends call him "a
dabbler in art" He doesn't really go
in for it seriously, you know, but he
did little sketches of cows and that
sort of thing rather well, fancy. So
we agreed that our aim was to find
little old village, far away from
London and get rooms in some old
farmhouse. My idea was that Vincent
would go out and paint the COWS while
l would lie in the hammock and the
old lady would bring me buttermilk.
! Wilfred had an idea that he, too,
would like to spend good bit Of his
time in hammock, but with this diff
| ference, that the old lady's beautiful
daughter was to bring him lemonade.
But l pointed out to him that the
chief reason that l was running away
| from town was to get rid of the
debutantes. and therefore he'd have to
| leave the fair ones out Of our air castle.
Our plan was just to bask in Nature,
! and we had six weeks to bask in. The
foreign office doesn't seem to require
much of Wilfred's time and he doesn't
do anything else except "dabble." or
course, being younger son, he hasn't
shilling Of his own, but the old duke
makes him a comfortable allowance,
because he dotes on Wilfred as much
! as he detests his eldest son, Edmund,
the heir to the dukedom. So, when
Vincent complained of feeling "all run
down" it was easy for him to get six
weeks off, although, as l tell him, he
| has been getting six weeks off" ever
since he left Oxford, two years ago.
He isn't "a yet.
Nevertheless, Vincent is one of the
best little chaps in the world. I don't
mean that he is understood, for he
stands six feet two in his stockings;
but is so good natured, so jolly and
amiable and straight-well-jus natur.
ally nice, don't you know-that every
body is Just crazy about him." as the
American girl ! met last summer used
to say, and all the men, young and old
alike, have gotten to calling him cit
tie Vincent" or Freddy from his
Elton days, just by way of endearment.
OF course, I'm much older than Vim
cent-to be more exact, there's a mat
ter of IL or Is years between us-but
must say l can't help being drawn
to him. I've known him ever since he
was born, and then, you see, we're
both Oxford men, belong to the same
clubs, and, of course, Terhune is as
old a name as Vincent, even if it hasn't
any handle to it, and, if l do say 1t,
! there's never a dinner given in Lon
don town that Archibald Terhune is
not invited. But, somehow, in this, my
! tenth season, | became utterly weary
of the limelighr, the dinners, the balls,
the matchmaking mammas (for l am
an eligible bachelorO, and, most os
all, the debutantes, with their edr-
Gated smiles and cultivated stares. /
felt that / must flee from London to
| escape, and thus, as Vincent is al
ways ready for a holiday, we found
ourselves one fine day well started on
our jurney. We had taken the noon
train for Kingsbridge, and changing
there were to go on to Cuppstone,
which an artist friend of Vincent's had
recommended to us as Just the place
we were looking for.
Jolly lark this" said Vincent, after
we had been some time on our way;
"only hope Cuppstone and Damer's
! farm will be what we want Graham
| I'm RI tho SlyiaS I"
That's the trouble" | complained;
when a things talked up too much
! it's sure to disappoint one"
wait till you see it, old pessimist!"
said Vincent, with a cheerful grin.
It's got COWS which provide butter
milk and art, and I've got some lem
ons in my grip for the lemonade. The
only thing that troubles me is the
| landladys beautiful daughter. I'm
afraid she'll be a minus quantity"
! Then he put his feet across on my
side of the carriage and lit a nasty,
smelly, old pipe. That's the worst
I of Vincent; he's so young he doesn't
think how a thing like that may get
on ones nerves. But l wouldn't hurt
his feelings for anything, and so had
to let him smoke.
About three o'clock in the after
noon. when we had left the comfort
! able carriages of the main line for
the ramshackle ones of the branch
! line, we came to a sudden stop in the
| center of a big stretch of meadow
land. A few miles away we could see
the spires and roofs of little village,
| and, what was more noticeable, big
castle, that stood on higher ground
some distance above the town, but
not far from where the train had
stopped. l asked the guard what the
trouble was, and he told me that
something was wrong with the engine
and it might be couple of hours be-
fore we could go ahead.
Just as he finished his explanation
| Vincent, who had been looking out of
the window with great interest, sprang
| to his feet and shook my shoulder ex-
citedly. Look there! Do you see
them?" he cried, pointing at the beau
tiful meadows with their winding
stream and gentle slopes.
See what?" l demanded somewhat
testify, adjusting my glasses and sur
veying the landscape without perceiv-
ing anything of unusual interest.
But Vincent, in fever of haste, was
kneeling and unstrapping his golf
clubs. ''Hooray," he cried, "Terhune,
golf course as I'm "a sinner. Come
| on, we'll have some sport. The old
| tIVin's due to wait an hour ANYHOW"
l looked again, and, sure enough,