The Mount Holly news., 1916-01-18
BY cLARIssA MAcKIE.

| rough intonation of the natives, and
his words were carefully chosen. The
Orths and their friends acknowledged
that John Dunston was quite "superi.
or" to his station in life.
If Isabel admitted it, she gave no
| utterance to her thoughts. Her atti.
tude toward Dunston was as coolly i'm
personal as it was toward Trapper Joe
or Hank Pike. If anything. it was a
little more pronounced in hauteur, due,
perhaps, to self-rebuke for secret In
terest in the young man.
Good morning, Miss Ortiz" Dun
ston lifted his hat as he arose from the
pebbly beach.
| Good morning, Dunston." returned
Isabel. ''Do tell me what that bird Is
that little black mite. with touches
Of red and the pearly breast-hear
him?"
Chez hee-che-e-e-e-e-el
Dunston looked up into the thick
tangle of tall elderberry bush.
That's a redstart. CHEEKY little
beggars, aren't they?" he asked as he
bent to the canoe and arranged the
cushions.
"Yes." said Isabel. Are you ready
for me7"
Just a moment-therei" Presently,
Isabel was leaning among crimson
cushions while Dunston's strong arms
were sending the paddle in flashing
/ g.. i - -sI n. 81
from the blades in silvery drops.
Isabel watched the rhythmic move
ment of the paddles and frowned a
little when she discovered that she
had forgotten the beauty Of the morn
ing, the song of birds, the ripple of
the lake, everything. in the fascina-
tion of watching Dunston's strong
arms as they rose and fell with each
dip of the paddle.
Turn your head to the left-don't
move suddenly-you will glimpse q
deer" whispered Dunston.
Isabel obeyed. For an instant she
saw the beautiful brown head with
soft startled eyes fixed on the canoe
and Its occupants Then 1t vanished
and there was a crashing of under
brush along the shore.
Isabel laughed in sheer delight.
Wasn't it lovely?" she asked impuls-
lively.
Dunston's reply was amazing.
Why, you are real girl after ALT"
he exclaimed. and immediately bit his
LID with ANNOYANCE.
Isabel blushed to her fair hair. In
her aston ,shment at the guides out
burst she forgot their relative posi-
tions and spoke quite naturally.
"Of course am real girl. Don't
l always act like one?" she questioned
curiously.
Il beg your pardon, Miss Orth," he
said contritely, 'but-somehow, 1t
seems to me that you take your pleas
ures rather seriously for a young
girl"
Il am twenty-four." admitted Isabel
frankly, "and pm never so stiff and
disagreeable as l am when in your
company, Dunstonl"
Dunston concealed a smile. Miss
Orth's naughty demeanor masked
very agreeable simplicity.
Il am sorry" he said humbly. Per
haps / could change places with
Hank. Mr.. Luttrell has asked me If
could not break my contract with
your father. Hank is considered the
best guide in the Loon district. and
know he would be glad to come back
to your father"
mol" cried Isabel sharply. "You
cannot go. Dunston: my father would
not like it. You are bound to Orth
cottage until November"
Dunston bowed his head in ac-
knowledgment, but his brown eyes
showed golden sparks as If some fame
burned within.
As was customary on pleasant days,
the guide took Isabel to certain tiny
island in the lake, where hammock
swung under tree. At sundown he
would come after her and their silent
trips to and from the camp and the
island held a growing significance be-
cause of the girls quite unnecessary
aloofness and the mans cool indiffer-
ence beyond the mere performance of
his duty.
Isabel never forgot that she was
Henry Orth's daughter, and John
Dunston never failed to remember that
she had relegated him to his place
and he never presumed.
The canoe bumped against the moss
grown logs that served as a landing
place and Isabel, disdaining assist
ance, stepped ashore and received her
books and little lunch basket from the
guide.
"You will come for me at sunset,
Dunston?" she asked.
Eyes, Miss Orth,' was his terse re.
ply as he padded away.
Isabel went up the path to the ham.
mock and fell to day dreaming.
Strange to say, her thoughts had moth.
ing to do with her host of friends, her
devoted family circle. or several In
sistent suitors. They persisted in
dwelling upon John Dunston's hand
some eyes, his well-knit form and his
rather grim young face.
"Of all the idiotsl" Isabel's eyes
flashed at her own weakness. What
does 1t matter who he is-it cannot pos
sibly interest me. am going to marry
Freddy Moore-I've quite decided to
answer his letter this evening. Let
me see, honeymoon yachting in the
West Indies. How l shall adore IT.
and Freddy is a perfect deari"
A vision of Mr.. Freddy Moore,
plump, fair, pink-cheeked and blue
eyed, painting breathlessly in her
wake as she explored the unknown
delights of foreign countries. had
rather a dampening effect on Isabel's
enthusiasm. She frowned and picked
up book.
Noon came and went. The dainty
lunch was disposed Of The book was
nearly finished. She closed her eyes
and fell asleep. Almost Immediately
she awoke to the low rumble of thun-
der The sky had darkened and from
the northwest black clouds had piled
to the zenith. obscuring the sun. The
air was heavy with portent Of the COM
ing storm and birds few to cover, ut
tering sharp, uneasy cries.
Isabel sprang to the ground and
pushed back the locks from her hot
cheeks. What should she dof There
was no shelter on the island and she
was afraid of thunderstorms.
Where was Durston? He might
have been miles away with her father
and. although recognizing the an.