The guardian. [volume] (Boston, Mass.) 1901-1960, 1939-02-18
SHORT SHORT
STORY
Complete in This Issue

dropped in one day to purchase a
sailor boy to do police duty atop
his private garage. One glimpse of
Jill, and Jack bought a small navy
of sailor boys.
1t was almost a fortnight, how
ever, before he plucked up enough
courage to invite Jill to go riding.
Jill was willing, but her father was
skeptical.
Better stick to your own kind"
was his simple logic. 'These city
fellers are all right in their place,
but when they take up with a poor
little country girl, no good can come
of it."
At length the old man, too, was
won over by Jacks steady brown
eyes and Jill experienced the first
thrill of her lifetime.
Jill couldn't dance; she didn't as
pire to wear Partisan gowns; but
she was real, and she knew the
rough coast-country as a mariner
knows the seven seas. Under her
guidance, Jack piloted his car over
miles and miles of sand dunes.
Together they 'picnicked" in quiet
coves, together they swan in sum
kissed bays, and Jack marveled at
Jill's deXterity and fearlessness in
the water. She was a graceful, I'M
tanned gull, that describes her, and
in the privacy of his room, an en-
chanting young bachelor found him
self whistling, I'm Failing in Love
With Someone"
Jill never guessed that Jacks
friendship was of a deeper nature
until the afternoon they discov-
cred the hill The girl had sighted
big liner, and with childish glee
was picturing herself aboard it,
bound, perhaps, for foreign lands.
Jack hadn't even seen the steamer,
but was content to gaze upon the
delightful contour of Jill's wistful
little face.
Quite abruptly, he seized her in
his arms and cried: "Jill, 1 love
you, I've got to have you, say you
will be mine always!"
The girls surprise overpowered
her emotions; she had no sense
of joy or dismay. "I'n see," she
said, and her voice sounded far
away.
October came, and Jacks return
to the city was imperative. Upon
his last day in Seaport, he called
with the car to take Jill for a final
spin. When she joined him, she car
ried a tiny white windmill under
her arm. "Please take me to our
HILL" she exclaimed, as she seat
ed herself beside him. 81 want to
stake my claim"
Jack wondered all the way to their
destination, but he asked no ques-
tions. When they reached the top
of the hill, Jill produced two nails,
and with the aid of a stone she
fastened the windmill in a branch of
a sturdy oak tree Then, with a
piece of red crayon, she wrote,
"Jack and Jilr' upon one side of
the windmill.
whats the big idea?" asked
Jack, impatiently.
"Im going to let fate decide our
destinies," Jill replied, solemnly.
"Two months from now I want
you to come back to Seaport. If our
names have weathered the storms,
if they are still clear and distinct,
why, I'll be yours for always. But
if"
Just two months later Jack re-
turned to Seaport. The roads were
snowbound, almost impossible, so
he and Jill made the trip to the
hill on snowshoes. The inscription
on the windmill was as clear as the
day Jill had written it.
No one saw the lovers embrace.
Nothing broke the silence save the
intermittent whir Of the little white
windmill. And no one, except
Jill, knew of the tramp she had
taken the day before, for the pur-
pose of retracing the words, Jack
and Jill.
Which only goes to prove that,
city girls or country girls, there's
a little bit of schemer in them all.