The Penn's Grove record., 1912-04-19

Y thO S'o ANO" AO1A C0PAOo
pulled out of Bel Air it left on the
station platform six husky. happy col
lege boys from the north. After one
glad Yell to rouse the adjacent vii
lage, they took counsel together as to
where Brooke lived, how to reach
where Brooke lived. and what to do
when they had found Brooke.
He said he'd meet us with a trap,
or something at the station" Brix-
ton said. Said his place was down
along the Chesapeake shore"
Tidy little green bungalow, set in
a nest of trees" sang Tip, the kid OF
the lot. place where no female OF
the species ever intrudes her archly
lifted nosetip. Place where we may
wear u bathing toys all day long,
and no man may say us nay. Place
where food is cheap and plentiful, and
we may hunt the merry piscatorial
game by day or night as the mood
seizes us. Rah for Brooke!"
Good old Brooke. Fine old boy!"
chanted the rest in chorus, when sud
denly by common consent, they ceased
and stared at the far side of the sta
ton platform. There was a trap, a
black and yellow affair, very smart.
very practical, a mode of conveyance
that bore the hallmark of Brooke all
over it. Even the horse bore it, a
deep chested bay, with a reaching
nose, and impatient feet, neither
bobbed nor checked up, just all
horse" as Tip said.
The crowd discussed not the situa-
ton. Here was Brooke's equipage.
Somewhere on the horizon line was
Brooke. They made a rush for the
trap, and piled it up with suit cases.
A lone ~pickaninny watched them with
attentive curiosity, from the edge of
the platform.
"Er-say, boy, do you know where
Mr.. Brooke is?" called Brixton.
He didn't ONE on dis train, sah."
"Oh, he didn't? Then this was sent
to meet him. Who drove it?"
"Ah did, sab"
You shy eyed chocolate drop,
watching us elope with your boss en-
tire turnout. Come and drive US to
the place where this trap belongs"
The boy obeyed, and the trap
swung around down the side road,
over a little bridge, and into the shore
country. Finally, when the wheels
began to sink In sand, they drew up
before a broad low cottage, mostly
piazza.
tbs a winsome spot, ana home
like" said Tip. Tune up, lads"
Whereupon the long drawn out and
sonorous yell of their home college
broke on the still, hazy afternoon.
we will bide a wee until Brooke
arrives. Maybe We'll get supper for
him. I'm starved now. Let's rustic
for supplies"
The boys going back with the
trap" announced another. Hi, there,
where you going?"
Have to meet de next train" came
back a waVering reply. They stood
alone on the curving shore. No signs
of life appeared about the cottage.
Setting their suit cases on the veranda
the boys followed on to the kitchen
by a united and harmonious impulse.
THE icebox is damned with truf-
f1es and trifles. Also, one cold
roast ham, and ONE remains of fried
chicken. also"
Brixton stopped, as a center rush
swept over him towards the ice box.
h feast was spread on the top of
the ice box for convenience in han
ding. "A buffet luncheon" said Tip,
blithely. Isn't Brooke the fine old
boy? 'Rah for Brooke once more"
Richly the shout swelled out on
the air. As it died away, Brixton
held up one finger.
Anybody hear a sound above?"
Nobody had. There didn't seem to
be any above-garret, attic, or other
wise. After the feast, the boys played
college melodies on Brooke's guitar
and mandolin and lounged around on
the couales. Then Tip proposed a
swim. Suits were hauled out of the
luggage, and arrayed like a line up of
animated barber poles they went down
TO the shore. leaving their clothes at
the outage.
And while they splashed in the
beautiful waters of old Chesapeake,
suddenly Brixton said cautiously:
Look at the dormer window"
There were two dormer windows to
the cottage. They had not noticed
them before. White muslin curtains
futtered from them, and just beyond
was a face. a girls face, looking down
at the swimmers with mirth and anx-
iety. too. Brixton at once stopped his
side stroke, and started in shore, but
the face vanished. Counsel was held.
Tip recalled that Brooke had said he
had a pretty sister. In fact. as Tips
memory warmed up to the tax put
upon it, he remembered that Brooke
had said he had the finest sister In
the world. and the best locker, too.
Blonde or brunette?" queried Farms
less, sarcastically.
Medium" Tip swung back prompt
ly.
She's probably unprepared for our
coming" Brixton said. Maybe TAX
ing a siesta, and wakened to find a
bunch of blooming dolphins cavorting
In her front aquamarine garden, so to
speak. I'm going to apologize"
Your clothes are on the ice box"
Tip put in cruelty. You're a picture
in that green and pink outfit. Try
wireless"
IF t'were done when it were done
then t'were well it were done quick
ly." chirped Randy Phelps, the col
lege bard. go on, Bixy. Don't mine
MYSTERY OF I