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Newspaper Page Text
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THE BLUE BIRD
By Florence Lillian Henderson.
"You won't amount to much,
Nephew Donald, if you keep on this
"Uncle Gregory," retorted the re
calcitrant and discredited Donald
Baird, with a whimsical twinkle in
his merry eye, "I found out long ago
that I was an odd fish, not much good
except to knock around the world,
work hard and keep cheerful. Here
you insist on my remaining a land
lubber. I don't fit in. Let me go back
A Tossing Light Directed Him.
to the blue and bounding billow again
and make me happy."
Old Gregory Baird shook his head
dolefully and groaned. He was very
fond of this erratic relative of his.
When Donald returned from running
away to sea after a voyage around
the world two years previous, the
uncle had set down his foot hard.
"Here is a comfortable home and
yndugh to last out several lifetimes,"
1" had observed. "I'll leave it to you
. i "I pert if you obey me and be
have yourselves. If you don't, I'll cut
the rebel off with a penny."
And sonot that he thought of the
money, but because he loved and re
spected the old man, Donald hung
around the Baird homestead, half
bored to death and longing constant
ly for the rollicking breezy life on
the ocean wave.
"It's all right, your studying navi
gation and trigonometry, and all
those sailor-like' gimcracks," now
spoke Uncle Gregory, "but all you
need to do is to find some good Wo
man for a wife, settle down here, run
the estate and enjoy life."
"I've yet to see the lady I'd take
for a mate!" laughed Donald. "I'd
rather be free to rove as I please and
busy myself about the village here,
even if all I find o do is to spin "Sea
yarns tor the boys and girls and
make toy boats for the little tots."
"You're wrong there, Donald," in
sisted the old man. "Every man owes
it to himself to settle down and raise
a family. Now look at your cousin,
Rupert dresses well, goes into the
social swim, and has got in with the
high-up Miss Myrtle Caruthers set at
Silver Lake. Shouldn't wonder if he'd
marry her. Don't you see he's got a
purpose in life?"
"I don't," answered Donald blunt
ly, "if he's just posing to be stylish
and marry for money."
. Donald was a general favorite in
the village. He was going home one
lowering, blustering afternoon after
making some wonderful kites for
some poor school children, when he
noticed people running towards the
"What's up?" he inquired of a
"Don't know, but big crowd down
yonder. I see an automobile. May
be it's a smashup."
As Donald neared the square he '
noticed the machine in question. It
contained the driver, the most beau
tiful young girl he had ever seen, and
her maid. The latter, held an empty
bird cage, and like her young mis-