News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1913-04-09

in him, called by courtesy whisky
drunken majesty to find 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, gurgliag,
laughing, breaking at his very feet,
he found a suggestion. Where could
one get cool if 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 thing. He heeau
to undress, solemnly, stubbornly, with
the one thought to get cool.
| 4
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 cooling
Oll d lOI udys
The Mary Gloucester was named
after a poem of Kipling's, and her
owner was explaining this fact, en-
sconced gracefully, if solidly, in
many-cushioned chair, her feet a bit
awkwardly on the rest before her,
fan 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 moist
ly 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 fluffy white ear near his
hand. But the little dog snarled an
grily and snapped sharply at the
hastily withdrawn fingers.
"Ah, the duckems, naughty man
shant tease him." crooned the lady,
Shaping at BERTHE with the fan, while
the little dog turned again to the
sea.
Eyes, indeed, Mrs. Afmitage," said
Henry Bliven solemnly. Tell us
truthfully, whom do you love the bet
ter, Kipling or the blessed duckems p
Think" warned BERTHE, before
you answer. Kipling, "a great poet,
author of sentiments that will stir
mankind for all ages, sentiments that
will ennobie, strengthen
DO you know" confessed the
widow with the gleeful naivete of
child, 81 like Kipling because he's SO
bad. He says such wicked things"
She nodded and glanced audaciously
from one youth to the other.
Henry reached YEARLY for his glass
on the table beside him and BERTHE
Van Baalen sighed heavily. you
women! You make us bad. Don't
you know you do? You want us bad,
so we are-anything to please you
beauteous creatures"
81 don't want you men bad, just
poets" explained the widow, tanning
herself slowly, cheerfully.
Henry waved the depression aside.
Nov, tell us frankly, truthfully, black
and blue, cross your heart, do you pre-
fer small dyspeptic, overfed, snap
ping bundle of cotton wool which is,
for the sake of euphemism, called a
dog, to one of the greatest minds of
the day."
"If l threw my blessed pet over,
would you go after him, Bertie?" de-
manded the widow, to whose mind a
question of grave import had just pre-
scented itself. Henry, would you?
You know how love my dainty little
kitty kit, would you save him from
cruel death for me? For my sake?"
mo HARM" said Henry with feel
ing, shall befall the angel child while |
live to protect it-her-him."
For your sake" said BERTHE, 81
would die"
There was a splash, a gurgle and a
Mortified scream from the widow, as
with a sudden lurch of the boat, the /
little dog lost his balance and fell /
overheard.
"Oh, my precious, my lamb" cried |
the widow. ''Bertie, save him for me-"
Eyes, yes" declared BERTHE, hanging /
over the rail and watching the strug-
Cling dog in the water below. "Yes,
yes, certainly" !