Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1916-05-26

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newspapers but he had to pay stiff
fine"
THAT might be worth looking up,
too, ruminated Average Jones
thoughtfully.
He turned to his telephone in an
swer to a ring. "All right, come in,
| Simpson" he said
The confidential clerk appeared.
Ransom says that regular black bee
| ties are out OF season. sir" he re-
ported. "But he can send to the
country and dig up plenty OF red-and-
| black ones"
THAT will do,'' returned the Ad-
Visor. Tell him to have two or three
hundred here tomorrow morning"
Thus is was that, on the morning
after this dialogue, clean-built
young fellow walked along West Six
teenth street He was rather shabby
looking. On the evidence of the band
box which he carried, his mission
should have been mental; but he bore
himself wholly unlike one subdued to
petty employments. His steady, gray
eyes showed a CLINT OF anticipation as
he turned in at the gate of the high,
broad, brown house standing back,
aloof and indignant, from the roaring
encroachments of trade. He set his
burden down and pulled the bell.
The door opened promptly to the
deep, far-away clangor. A flashing
impression of girlish freshness, vigor,
and grace was disclosed to the caller
against background of interior
gloom. The girl glanced not at him,
but at the box, and spoke trihe i'm
patiently.
IF it's my hat, it's very late"
1T isn't, miss. It's the insects"
"The what?'
THE bugs, miss
He extracted from his pocket slip
of paper, looked from it to the num-
bered door, as one verifying an adj
dress, and handed it to her.
From yesterdays copy of the Ban
ner, miss. You're not going back on
that, surely" he said somewhat re-
proachfully.
She read, and as she read her eyes
widened to lakes of limpid brown.
Then they crinkled at the corners,
and her laugl arose from the mid
tone contralto to high, birdlike trill
of ioyousness.
1T must have been uncle" she
gasped finally. HE said he'd be quits
with the real estate agent before he
left. How perfectly absurd! And
are those the creatures in that box?"
"The first couple of hundred of
'em, Miss Ackroyd."
The girl looked at him with suspi-
cion, but his face was blankly inno-
cent. e
I'm not Miss Ackroyd," she began
with emphasis, when querulous
voice from an inner room called out:
Whom are you talking to, SYLVIA"
"a young man with boxful of
beetles returned the girl
Average Jones mutely held up the
box in one hand and the advertise
ment in the other.
Every WELL" said the girl, in demure
tones, though lambent mirth still flick
cred, golden, in the depths Of the
brown eyes IF you persist, I can
only suggest that you como back when
Judge Ackroyd is here. You won't
find him particularly amenable to hui
NOR, particularly when perpetrated by
a practical joker in masquerade.
discovered" nurmured Average
Jones.
II don't ask any real reason for
your extraordinary call" pursued the
girl with CLINT of mischief in her
eyes, "but auntie thinks you've come
to steal my dog. She thinks that of
everyone lately"
"Auntie? Your dog? Then you're
Sylvia Graham. l might have known
it,
IT don't know how you might have
known it. But am Sylvia Graham
if you insist on introducing me to
yourself
Miss Graham" said the visitor
promptly and gravely, "let me present
A. v. r. E. Jones, a friend"
mot the famous Average Jones!"
cried the girl. THAT is why your
| face seemed so familiar. I've seen
your picture at Edna Hale's. You got
her blue fires back for her. But
really, that hardly explains your be-
ing here. in this way, you know"
Nothing simpler. Once upon time
there lived crack-brained young Don
Quixote who wandered through an age
Of buried romance piously searching
for trouble. And, twice upon time,
there dwelt in an enchanted stone
castle in West Sixteenth street an en-
chanting young damsel in distress"
I'm not damsel in DISTRESS in
terrupted Miss Graham, passing over
the adjective.
The young man leaned to her The
half smile had passed from his lips,