Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1915-10-14

Vale Benson was fishing off Bass
Rocks when the brisk little motor
boat whisked under his very nose
and darted away around the point.
There goes Miss Sindbad, the
sailor" he chuckled at the nickname
given to the saucy owner of the
launch. "And, by Jove, she's run
ming off with my line!"
The reel was spinning merrily and
the line sang tune as 1t ran faulty
after the vanishing boat. Wales
hook and sinker were caught in the
propeller of the water craft.
| Hi, there!'' he shouted.
Miss Sindbad did not turn around
Hi, there! Miss Sindbad!" he
yelled in desperation.
The brown head turned, the boat
swung wide circle and came about.
The line slackened as the boat ap-
preached and paused rochngly at his
| feet.
A pair OF big, brown eyes looked
up into his.
"You called me?" she asked sternly.
"Why-why, yes-yOu are running
off with my line" he explained, point
ing downward.
"Oh--I didn't know am very
sorry Can you come down and get it
OFF," she asked crisply.
''Tll try" He clambered down the
rocks and stood beside her, realizing
| with a little shock of surprise that
! the girl was wonderfully good to look
at; she was rarely lovely under the
delicate coat of tan. A brilliant color
flushed her cheeks.
It took him half an hour to dis
entangle the line from the propeller;
this was quite unnecessary, for, as
she patiently explained to him. If he
would only do thus and so it would
come off: but Vale obstinately failed
to do thus and so, suddenly becoming
very dense.
At last it was of and Miss Sindbad
was free to pursue her way. During
the half hour Vale had learned that
she lived in the red-gabled house at
the extreme point.
RED Cables" he muttered, staring
after her. why, that is where
Freda Frake, the writer, lives. sup
pose that is her secretary-or, by
Jove, it's Miss Frake herself! Doesn't
look as though she could write such
strong stories as I've been buying
from her for the past ten years. Ten
years! Why, ten years ago Miss
sindbad must have been In pima
fores. AS Freda Frake's publisher l
hereby appoint myself committee of
one to call upon her. 1t is my bounden
duty!"
Quite contented at this prospect.
Vale resumed his fishing and did not
feel a aualm of disappointment when
he trudged back to the hotel with an
empty basket.
All that evening he dreamed OF Miss
Sindbad's brown eyes and flushed
cheeks, of the dimple in her chin and
the soft curve Of her face. How low
able she was! And to think that she
should turn out to be Freda Frake,
that mysterious writer of fascinating
romances whose stories he had eagerly
bought fo- his magazine, but whose
personal identity was a mystery to
him and his staff.
Tomorrow" he told himself, II
will call upon her. Who says there Is
no romance in this workaday world?'
When the morrow came 1t was
nerfect October day, with the ocean
a-smother of white foam under a
clear blue sky. The wind blew
freshly and the walk out to the end
of the point brought the young pub
Usher all too soon at the end OF his
journey.
high stone wall and the gate was
opened by a servant in livery, who
directed him along tagged walk to
nergola. where purpling grapes
were hanging in the sunshine.
Seated at table under the vines
was an enormously stout woman
writing rapidly in leather-covered
book. She glanced at the card the
servant placed before her and rose
with a cordial smile.
"Mr, Benson! have always hoped
to meet you some day." she cried
with outstretched hand.
Miss Frake?'' he faltered.
yes. OF course-but how could you
know me?" she laughed. Sit down
here James. serve tea at once"
An hour later Vale took farewell
If the popular authoress and without
one glimpse of Miss Sindbad he left
Red Gables and wendell his way down
to the shore.
Wal
ing me she lived at Red Gables?" he
muttered resentfully as he passed a
group of cosy little cottages on the
sandy slope.
He glanced casually at the last one
and stopped abruptly. 1t was white
pointed cottage with red roof and
window boxes glowing with late scar
let geraniums. On the gate was the
neat sign, "Red Cables and coming
down the steep steps was Miss Sind
bad herself, white duck hat on her
brown head, her dark eyes dancing
with pleasure.
$50 this is Red Gables!" exclaimed
Vale, and then at her amused glance
he went on recklessly i've been
calling on Miss Frake-I thought you
lived the1e!'
"Such a pity-and such differ
ence" she sighed. We're not bit
literary at our Red Gables-just plain
everyday folks"
81 like everyday folks" interrupted