Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1924-03-19

yOuInIul as ueT UuuSultT Lucy.
MIR. RICE ancient inva-
lid. tired of being TOSSED by women.
MAUVE, his granddaughter. slim,
lovely, poised and cool, who rather
ignores the Rover.
The Girl Was a Problem
For a week this represented the
daily program; and by the tenth day
of motor instruction and casual
conversation and meals on the
veranda and garden pottering. it
was no longer "Laverock' at every
turn, but my boy and Archie"
The Rover himself had ceased to
regret his camp, ceased to miss old
Smith. The bull terrier could wait.
Archie Laverock. emerging from the
inevitable periodic reaction in which
he took no interest in women, was
beginning to be interested in this
girl Mauve.
She was a problem. She was not
to be summed up, as he had at first
summed her up, as n well-turned-
out. plain headed efficient stick of Il
girl. Anyhow. it is not safe to bank
en- any woman who looks like "a
pukka stick" as the Arrant Rover
knew. Some butterflies are specially
gifted with the power of resembling
olASho NilNl ~ NV NIlCAl
for preening wings. Had she
wings? If not what made her able
to play Beethoven like that?
Constantly he puzzled over her.
If she had it lin her" to make such
music, what did she live on? A girl
like that has to live on something.
She couldn't live on batams, or be-
gonias, or training servants. Could
she just live on her piano? She
couldn't live on scenery. Nor on the
society of any of the people she
would meet in that neighborhood-
from what the Rover had seen of
them.
One afternoon q carload of callers
drove up from a house about ten
miles off. Mr.. Rice Mathews, from
his armchair in the far corner of
the veranda, glimpsed them at the
bottom of the drive, and prepared to
flee. Archie. who was enjoying Il
that they were old family friends
"Duds," murmured the old gentle
man. Il don't know why you smile,
Laverock. That is how they are to
be described. l will have tea in my
room, Mauve-"
Grandfather, you know how they
wrote to give you the choice OF
Thursday or Friday; and you said
might say Friday"
1T seemed u long way off, then,
Tell them / am not so well. l am
not, when l see them. came
across a verse about them this
morning in this" He ragged u
slim volume of verse librcs from
under his cushion. Il must read it
to you, Laverock--wait-ah here
it's. This
why should we heed your miser-
able opinions,
And your paltry fears?
Why listen to your tales and mar
ratives
You amble amiably all the dull DAYS
or your unnecessary lives"
But even as he finished the line.
these Philistines were upon him: the
car drew up before Rios, and he
was caught, forced to go out and
greet the arrivals.
These, to Arches first glance,
We're a collection of ladies of the
same age, having all the same OBJ
long faces, the same hats and cx-
pensivc fussy boas. - Presently
he discovered they We're u mother,
two aunts, and n daughter.
The daughter was u girl Of "set
figure" untroubled. complacent, not
much older than Miss Rice Math-
ews. last to leave the car was a
washed out man of about twenty
eight, already slightly bald, with
pince-ncz and a nervous laugh. y
The sort of man, Archie considered
that no woman would ever look at.
However, it appeared that he was
or, GO trfo1 ff,I A 4 Us
ter. She called him Bubbles; APP
parently when he was a little boy
he had been distinguished by a
likeness to that dreadful picture.
All these people obviously re-
garded Mr. Rice Mathews as mildly
mental. Conversation during tea
consisted of their begging him to
give up this wild idea of learning at
his age to drive a motorcar until
lis granddaughter drew them off to
talk to her about bees-which they
did in voices that would have
rendered any topic uninteresting.
Archie, handing tea-cake with his
customary charm of manner, won
dered how the Rice Mathewses had
survived more than one visit from
these deadly people. " =
They turnd, from this bee-talk,
down an even longer lane of bore
dom. This was talk-much talk
about Lionel in Persia" Some
nephew or cousin. The Rover
thought that Lionel" was probably
an admirable regimental officer.
Possibly quite a good chap if one
knew him. But, oh. his relatives
and this monotonous record of his
doings in that-instan and this-in-
stan. Enough to make any one
loathe the idea of ever meeting