Judge — June 13, 1914 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

eee I heard Mrs. Linton ask him whether it was going to rain. And she'd never no- tice him if he wasn’t nice." “Well,” Alice sup- plemented in triumph, “T heard one of the other 5 lifesavers call him Ar- thur. Arthur Douglas! It’s a pretty name!"" It was hot that after- noon, and, somehow, sketching did not appeal. UNE) _ So they accepted, with a half-guilty joy, the sug- gestion of Alice’s mother that they all attend the exhibition drill at the life- savingstation, They went. They thrilled as Arthur, in dark blue, performed his part in the breeches buoy exercise, and they were still more entranced when Arthur, in white duck, helped to pull the surfboat wagon to the strand and took his place at the oars, They held their breath and clutched at one another when- ever the boat was capsized, and when it had returned, and Arthur, his wet suit clinging to his statuesque lines, flashed his boyish smile and his beautiful teeth at them on the way back to the station, their cup was full. But on their homeward way the girls often drifted a little apart and pensively regarded the sand or the horizon, That evening was un- necessarily lovely—one of those embarras de riches affairs, where a great, pinky - yellow moon glimmers above the sea just as an enor- mous red sun sinks be- hind the marshes; a kind of evening unset- tling to very youthful hearts, Jeanand Alice took a little walk on the beach after dinner, and were filled with vague yearnings tinged with sadness. But, then, art students expect to feel that way; suffering is ever the price of tem- perament. They were both startled as Arthur met them, at the curve of the inlet. He was on patrol, with clock and Coston light slung picturesquely over BEGINNING EARLY “* Gee whiz! that’s a fine catch, my lad! “* What, this? Why, this is only the bait. I ain't been fishin’ yet.’” one shoulder, his profile sternly beautiful in the tender moonlit dusk, his form a sol- dierly reminder of his perilous calling. They looked after him wistfully, when he had touched his cap and passed on; but this time they did not talk about him. Neither could help the fleeting ONE WOMAN AND ANOTHER Gladys—Jack really has a soft spot in his heart for me. Muriel—How do you know ? Gladys—He says he is always thinking of me. Muriel—Why, a man doesn’t think with his heart, ‘The soft spot must be in his head. thought that the moment might have held richer romantic pos- sibilities had she been walking alone. They were a little late at bathing time next morning, but Arthur Douglas was still in the surf, giving his kindly aid to a stoutish lady and three small children. Regretting their tardiness, they gazed with sinking hearts. “Some one from the hotel, I suppose,’’ murmured Alice, “though I don't remember see- ing them. I do believe they’re coming out! Maybe, after they’re gone’’—— “Perhaps,"’ Jean hoped tentatively. ‘‘But, see—he's walking up the beach with them. I wonder whether he'll come back.’’ They dropped upon the sand, frankly for- lorn. Two men, standing near them, were also looking after the retreating group. “Who's that going up the strand with Art Douglas?’’ asked one of the men casu- ally. “Just his wife and kids,”’ the other replied. ‘‘They’re staying at her sister's, up near the station; came down on the train last night.’” comicbooks.com