The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1912-10-30

II will kill ner love on the spot and
she won't suffer for II afterward. /
suppose ii will" He started for the
door and paused. one hand on the
knob. Shall have it on your" he
asked with a smile. I'm broke
Bartlett tossed him a bill. lis that
enough
Yes said the Watermelon and
slipped II into his pocket.
Have one with me before you 60,
said Bartlett, pushing glass and the
bottle across the table.
The Watermelon filed his glass and
raised IL. ITO Billy" said he.
ITO Billy's happiness amended
Bartlett.
Maine is q prohibition state, but
the Watermelon had been there be-
fore and knew just where and how
to obtain what he was looking for.
With the bottle in his pocket, he
sought the beach and made his way
UP II 10 some secluded place where
he could drink in peace and out OF
the heat OF the sun. A sea-gull new
wheeling gracefully by to the distant
cliffs, the waves. long, purring, foam
fiecked, ran indolently up the gleam-
ing sands, broke with a gurgling
splash OF seaweed and tumbled stones
and ran back TO meet the next one.
The ocean stretched limitless before
him and behind rose the rocks, hid
ing him completely from the sight OF
land. With a grunt OF dissatisfaction,
he sat down and drew the cork OF the
whisky bottle.
he
around the headland until il streamed
unchecked upon the Watermelon,
sprawled. drunk and warm anu dirty
in the lee OF the rocks. The com
bined heat OF the sun and the poison
he had in him, called by courtesy
whisky, grew unbearable, and he
rose In drunken majesty TO fnd some
cooler place. The sun would soon
have thrown long shadows on the
beach, but the Watermelon could not
wait for that He must get cool at
once, and In the waves splashing.
gurgling, laughing, breaking at his
very feet, he found q suggestion.
Where could one get cool II not In
the sea itself? A steam yacht far
away like a streak OF white. waS seen
creeping slowly landward, but the
Watermelon did not trouble about
such a thing. He began TO undress,
solemnly, stubbornly, with ~ one
thought to get cool.
The yacht, Mary Gloucester, was a
gay little bark, all ivory white and
shining brass work. A brightly striped
awning covered the deck, there were
large, comfortable chairs, with many
colored pillows and ribbons and
chintz, and daintily arranged tables
to assuage ones thirst and offer cool
Ing bodily comfort on hot day.
The Mary Gloucester was named
after a poem OF Kipling's, and her
owner was explaining this fact, es-
conced gracefully, II solidly, In a
many-cushioned chair. her feet bit
awkwardly on the rest before her. a
ian in one hand and small. fat,
white, woolly dog on her lap, his
fore feet on the railing, his mouth
open and his tiny red tongue Tapping
MOSTLY from between his teeth.
Whom do you love the more"
asked Berthe Van Baalen, "Kipling or
this angel child?" and BERTHE sought
TO pull one funny white ear near his
hand. But the little dog snarled
angrily and snapped sharply at the
hastily withdrawn fingers.
"Ah, the duckems, naughty man
shan't tease him." crooned the lady,
Shaping at BERTHE with the fan, white
the little dog turned again to the sea
Yes, indeed. Mrs. Armitage," said
Henry Bliven solemnly. Tell us
truthfully. whom do you love. the bet.
ter. Kipling or the blessed duckems ?"
DO not hesitate or seek to spare
either OF their feelings" urged Berthe
Mrs. Armitage laughed, fat. content
ed, placid. oh. you silly boys. com
pairing a poet and a dog. blessed