The Topeka state journal., 1922-12-29
E0ening Story
The Return of the Thief.
BY A. w. PEACH

d a. W. III
It was perfectly evident to Preston
Drew that, while he had been absent
from his summer cottage in which he
held forth in full array as bachelor,
somebody had strol1ed in, noted his
typewriter on its convenient stand, and
departed with the machine
His sense of humor had often saved
him during rough days as free
lance writer. but it disappeared at the
present situation. That typewriter, an
old comrade of many a year. was IN
profane hands-calrnly taken while he
had been out for a swim.
AS he changed from his wet swim
ming togs into his flanneIs. his wrath
mounted. His cottage was detached
from others at the lake; he seldom
locked $the door while busy outside,
for he considered his neighbors REL
> able, altho he saw little of them
about asking them if they had
tswiped" his machine. There was
nothing to do but to order another
typewriter and wait precious days un-
til it reached him.
He wrote the order, jumped into his
car, and rolled alorg to the little
center whereAthe postoffice was To-
Gated and the various stores where
supplies were purchased. He stopped
in the postoffice\ to look over the
bulletin board with its odd array of
notices, and suddenly his bump of
hunor bumped him slightly. He wrote
a notice and pinned it on the board. |
The notice read: IF the person who
stole my typewriter will call again, 1
will give therl or him or her the
stand that goes with it. Preston Drew,
Gray Ledge Cottage"
-'It won't get rise but I hope the |
sinner who sees it will get a bit of in |
flammation of the conscience. any |
way" he muttered to himself as he |
rolled cottageward. Ht would at least |
start some discussion among the re-
sort folk and lead perhaps to the |
thiefs finding it necessary to keep the
machine under cover.
The next day found him with time
on his hands. He went fishing in the
morning, leaving his cottage door ,
open. When he returned the Stand /
was still there. In the afternoon he |
started tinkering with his canoe
which had sprung a minor leak.
AS he was busy he glanced across
the bay and saw a canoe coming in. ,
A sharper glance told him that it vas
being driven by a dark haired GIRL
whose smooth shoulders were sending
the light canoe along at a steady pace |
as her arms drove the paddle deep.
he watched her with interest, for
there was. grace and skill in every
Suddenly she swung inward, and it
dawned upon him that she was COM
ing to his dock. I'm not interested
in girls, but this specimen" he adj
Vised himsef, and promptly began to
remove some of the CRIME of his toll.
The canoe came closer and he saw
the fair face of it's owner lifted to
mark, a landing.
In a few moments it came beside
the dock and he steadied it, looking
down into as pretty eyes as he had
ever seen-dark brown and long
lashed.
She smiled in a slightly embarrassed
way and said in voice that was music
to his ears:
'I wonder if may have the type
writer table which I understand you
Offer
He saved himself from falling off
the dock by grabbing the edge. DazedI
he certainly was. If feathered angel
had appeared, making sim lar re-
quest, he would not have been more
He started to say something, but
only suffered The faint laughter in
her brown eyes was the last upsetting1
factor. There was nothing TO do but
retreat He stumbled up the dock to
returned. He handed it to her serene
", gradually gathering his faculties
and making up his mind to play the
game, as his notice lad brought him
lust What he suggested.
She took the table with a cry of
pleasure, ISM it little dear?"
1T is or wa3 a little dear to me-"
ne replied. Il hope you will find it
She nod ed 'I know I shall, and
hank you, very much"
''The pleasure is all mine" he
started to say. but reversed his words
ind said, THE pleasure you Will have
With it is worth the trouble to come ]
or it, I kope,'
She turned the canoe with a grace !
ul swirl of the paddle. looked up at
him with brown eyes that were a bit
puzzled and something else, and de- .
parted.
He looked after her long Con
'ound it, there's 4 girl I could tumble J
nto love with. She either had an ,
immense amount of gall to swipe that
typewriter and then return for the '
able, Orwell, hang It, there's some
MYSTERY in it." At the point, she