The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1918-11-19
In Tidy
Lane
e>0
BY DOROTHY DOUGLAS

81 like it already!" exclaimed Alice,
as her eager city-tired eyes grasped
the vision of Tidy lane with its row Of
small cottages neatly lining the street.
"Isn't it good to get a sniff of country
ARP
"GloriousI We both need change
from city dust. l get so sick of the
office every day and a cooped-in fiat
every night l hope the cottage is pos
sible-it will be so disappointing after
coming way out here in Long Island"
Helen Randolf absorbed deeply the
freshness of the avenue OF shady trees.
She was tired, frightfully tired of the
strain of her editorial duties on one of
the big magazines.
eyes, l hope so, but the cottage itself
doesn't amount to much. | can make
anything in the way of a shack com
Portable for us two so long as there
are q few walls and roof
Both girls were eagerly scanning the
small houses in search of No. 8.
"Number nine must be the black
sheep that has wandered from the
fold" laughed Alice 1.-THE tidiest part
of Tidy lane doesn't seem to have any
number nine. Oh! could that darling
one over there possibly be itf"
The advertisement for the small cot
tage in Tidy lane had read SECLUDED
but not Isolated"
Number nine certainly was isolated
1t had rambled off the other houses in
the lane and found for itself seclu-
sion that made the hearts of the two
tired city girls jump with sheer joy.
Number nine lay in the heart of a
small grove Of pine trees and had set
tied itself down there for all the
world like bit of the landscape that
had been created, not built.
''It's too good to be true" Helen said
as they made their way back to the
city to pack up and take the first train
they could manage back to Tidy lane.
81 love the way it's gone off by itself
and nestled in those smelly, healthy
pine trees"
sand shall have few chickens In
that little coop, and you viii come
home tired every evening from the Of
fee and will be waiting for you with
good things to eat" Alice was delight-
ed to the extent of child over q big
blue-eyed doll
II hope you won't be lonesome all
day, dear. You know 1t will be q
change for you from seeing 80 many
people in the city"
II couldn't be lonesome If l tried In
that cute little cottage and Tidy lane
villagers to study"
So 1t was that the two fast friends
found themselves happily ensconced
in number nine out In sunny, fragrant
Long Island.
Daily Helen Randolf took the train
| to the city and the editorial chair she
was filling while the editor was away
| fighting for Uncle Sam. And each day
Alice Winter fitted more joyfully into
the small cottage with It's quaint sur
roundings. The furnishings had been
a bit cold, but they were so no longer,
The garden had been trifle lacking in
color, but few geraniums and sweet
peas cheered 1t all up.
The owner of the small cottage had
gone with the American expeditionary
force to France. Alice realized that he
could not object to the few shrubs with
which she had ornamented the garden.
II hope he will come back to his cozy
nest" she said by way Of a little
prayer for the soldiers safety.
"You mustn't hurt your back digging
SO much" admonished Helen often
when some new shrub greeted her upon
her return from the city. "You are
not accustomed to that kind of work"
my digging" she cried excitedly
the next evening when her pal re-
turned, "has unearthed a mystery.
Look hereI" She held up substantial
! tin box. 81 started to put in that n.y.
drangea this afternoon and was prob
ing round for a soft spot to dig in and
finding one came upon this box"
Buried treasure? suppose it is
some child's pirate box. We used to
bury them as children" Nevertheless
the girls were both interested.
"Child nothingr' exclaimed Alice.
"It's full to the gait of manuscripts.
Short stories. And look at the note
that was on top!"
Helen took the quite newly typed
| note and read its contents. Farewell
to fame. Mother raised her boy to be
q soldier-nOt a genius" The note was
signed ''Philip Cheyne" and contained
no more information. The many reiec-
ton slips from all the New York maya
zines, however, told all the tale that
was necessary.
"Poor KID" laughed Helen, her edi-
torial brain busy with the contents Of
the stories. She was Swimming them
swiftly with the trained mind of a
reader. "Goosey,n she said lovingly
to Alice, Il suppose you hadn't even
looked at these stories"
II wouldn't know a good story from
bad one If / got your whole big
salary for it," laughed Alice. "Are
they all so bad as that?" she inquired
sadly gazing at the number of rejec-
ton slips.
"They're pretty bad.p commented
Helen, "except the plots, and they are
rather unusual. But Philip Cheyne
knows no more about the feminine ma
ture than you do about stories, His
women are appalling. They never lived
and never could live. Her voice trailed
off In the maize of critical reading that
after Mrs Wilson PROLONGED her
toilet completed, Betty still primped
before the mirror. She must look her
very best, she thought, and later stolid
I'll Pasoans found a second turn of
the head we'll worth while as the fair.
skinned northerner motored by.
AT the fort Betty wondered WHY
the soldier on guard assumed such an
aggressive position as she smiled her
prettiest and asked to be directed to
the proper location. ut seemed" she
afterward told her mother, "as If he
was afraid l wanted to snatch his
rifle from him. Robby's tent necessi- |
tated long climb on foot through a |
sandy, uphill stretch and 1t was a |
rather brcathless Betty who stopped
before the tent TO which she had been
directed. As she saw no one. she mo-
toned to her mother, laboriously max
ing the ascent, to wait below.
Betty walked few PAGES of. She
could see no one In or ubout the font