The Caldwell tribune. [volume], July 01, 1910, Image 2

About The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928

Image provided by: Idaho State Historical Society

                
By
Edith
Huntington
Mason
&
"jj^ The
Real Aglatha
- "A
Picture» by
Weil
Walters
Frey
Campbell
Alesnire
Wilson
G
Copyright, 1W7, bj a. C. McClurg & Co.
CHAPTER I.
I never quite knew how it was that
I took Vincent with me, except that we
both needed a holiday at th ■ same
time and the same kind of holiday ap
pealed to us both. Vincent's whole
name and title is Lord Wilfred Vin
cent, for he is the younger son of the
old duke of Totten. Men of his own
age call him "Freddy," but I ca!l him
Vincent or Wilfred, because 1 con
sider curtailed appellations undignified.
Vincent is an artist—that is, he c:il!s
himself one; his friends call him "a
dabbler in art." He doesn't really go
in for it seriously, you know, but ha
did little sketches of cows and that
sort of thing rather well, I fancy. So
we agreed that our aim was to fin -1
a little old village, far away from
London, and get rooms in some old
farmhouse. My idea was that Vincent
Wv ..Id go out and pa:nt the cows while
I would lie in the hammock and the
old lady would bring me buttenrrlk.
Wilfred had an Idea that he, tor,
would like to spend a good bit of his
time in a hammock, but with fhis dif
ference, that the old lady's beautiful
daughter was to bring him lemonade.
But I pointed out to him that the
chief reason that I waa running away
from town was to get rid of the
debutantes, and therefore he'd have to
leave the fair ones out of our air cast'".
Our plan was just to bask in Natura,
and we had six weeks to bask in. The
foreign office doesn't seem to require
much of Wilfred's time and he doesn't
do anything else except "dabble." Of
course, being a younger son, he hasn't
a shilling of his own, but the old duke
makes him a comfortable allowance,
because he dotes on Wilfred as much
as he detests his eldest son, Edmund,
the heir to the dukedom. So, when
Vincent complained of feeling "all run
down" it was easy for him to get six
weeks off, although, as I tell him, he
has been getting "six weeks off" ever
Bince he left Oxford, two years ago.
He isn't 24 yet.
Nevertheless, Vincent is one of the
best little chaps in the world. I don't
mean that he is undersized, for he
stands six feet two In his stockings;
but is so good natured. so jolly and
amiable and straight—well—just natur
ally nice, don't you know—that every
body is "just crazy about him," as the
American girl 1 met last summer used
to say, and all the men, young and old
alike, have gotten to calling him "lit
tle Vincent" or "Freddy" from his
Eton days, just by way of endearment.
Of course, I'm much older than Vin
cent—to be more exact, there's a mat
ter of 12 or 15 years between us—but
I must say I can't help being drawn
to him. I've known him ever since lie
was born, and then, you see, we're
both Oxford men, belong to the same
clubs, and, of course, Terhuue is as
old a name as Vincent, even if it hasn't
any handle to it, and, if I do say It,
there's never a dinner given in Lon
don town that Archibald Terhune is
not Invited. Hut, somehow, in this, my
tenth season, I became utterly weary
of the limelight, the dinners, the balls,
the match-making mammas (for I am
an "eligible bachelor"), and, most of
all, the debutantes, with their edu
cated smiles a:.id cultivated stares. I
felt that I must flee from London to
escape, and thus, as Vincent is al
ways ready for a holiday, we found
ourselves one fine day well started on
our jurney. We had taken the noon
train for Kingsbridge, and changing
there were to go on to Cuppstone,
which an artist friend of Vincent's had
recommended to us as just the place
we were looking for.
"Jolly lark this," said Vincent, after
we had been some time on our way;
"only hope Cuppstone and Darner's
fa? in will be what we want. Graham
crocked It up to the skies."
"That's the trouble," I complained:
"when a thing's talked up too much
It's sure to disappoint one."
"Wait till you see it, old pessimist!"
said Vincent, with a cheerful grin.
"It's got cows which provide butter
milk and art, and I've got some lem
ons in my grip for the lemonade. The
only thing that troubles me is
afraid she'll be
Then he put his feet across on
side of the carriage and lit a nasty,
smelly, old pipe. That's the worst
of Vincent; he's so young he doesn't
think how a thing like that may get
on one's nerves. But 1 wouldn't hurt
his feelings for anything, and so 1 had
to let him smoke.
About three o'clock in the after
noc n. when we had left the comfort
able carriages of the main line for
the ramshackle ones of the branch
line, we came to a sudden stop in the
center of a big stretch of meadow
land. A few miles away we could see
the spires and roofs of a little village,
and. what was more noticeable, a big
castle, that stood on higher ground
some distance above the town, but
Sot far from where the train had
landlady's beautiful rta.ii»>>»*>,- î- ° !
a minus quantity 1 " !
f„.„ ... y \
j
j
|
stopped. 1 asked the guard what th#
trouble was, and he told me that
something was wrong with the engine
and it might be a couple of hours be
fore we could go ahead.
Just as he finished his explanation
Vincent, who had been looking out of
the window with great Interest, sprang
to his feet and shook my shoulder ex
citedly. "Look there! Do you see
them?" he cried, pointing at the beau
tiful meadows with their winding
stream and gentle slopes.
"See what ?" 1 demanded somewhat
testily, adjusting my glasses and sur
veying the landscape without perceiv
ing anything of unusual interest.
Hut Vincent, in a fever of haste, was
kneeling and unstrapping his golf
clubs. "Hooray," he cried, "Terhune,
a golf course as I'm a sinner. Come
j on, we'll have some sport. The old
I train's due to wait an hour, anyhow."
I looked again, and, sure enough, I
j saw that at intervals the close-cropped
I grass was dotted with little red flags
j like sparks of fire on a carpet of
I green velvet. Vincent has many fads,
but 1 think he is keener on goif than
I anything else. I was disgusted with
him. "Vincent." I said with decision,
"this is nonsense. You can wait till
we get to Cuppstone to play golf. Gra
ham said there were public links
there."
"Yes. and he also said that it w^s
the rottenest course he ever pi? 1
over," said Vincent with some heat.
"I made him admit it. And this one
' is a beauty. A private one, I'll
wager. Look at that turf. It is just
like velvet, my dear fellow—like vel
vet," and he swept a practiced eye over
the wide green slopes.
Now, I am fond of the game myself
within reason, and certainly the pros
pect was inviting, for I was tired of
the confinement of the carriage and
Vincent was m"st persuasive. I knew
it was a foolish thing to do; the train
might not stay so long as we expected
and we might get left; and yet, as 1
say, it is hard to refuse Vincent any
tiling. I unwillingly permitted him to
get out my clubs.
"Whose links are these?" I asked
the guard. "Do they belong to the
castle?"
"Yessir," replied the guard. "They
belong to Castle Wyckhoff, the family
seat of Baron Wyckhoff. They're all
dead now, though, all 'cept the Honor
able Agatha, and she lives in the cas
tle and owns all these acres, sir, all
you can see," and the guard waved
his hand grandiloquently toward the
imposing old pile on the hillside and
the green meadows stretching away
far below it.
"She must have money," I said, re
flectively. Vincent, meanwhile, was
hunting in his grip for an atrocious
red coat he wears when he golfs.
"Money?" repeated the guard.
"Money? Lor' bless you, sir, she 'as
millions an' millions. Her own fa
ther was Baron Wyckhoff, but 'e died
when 'is darter were a little thing. 'E
never 'ad a shilling, but 'er stepfather,
that married Baroness Wyckhoff two
years later, was H'american and 'ad
more pounds than there is stones in
that castle, sir, an' arter 'is wife died
'e 'ad the place built up again. An"
now they're both dead, sir, and 'is
stepdaughter, the Honorable Agatha,
as 'er title is, sir, is heiress of all his
millions and 'er mother's estate."
"She ought to marry," I said, still
reflectively, and without any personal
meaning.
The guard smiled knowingly.
"There's many a one arter her, sir,"
he said; "but they don't seem to make
no progress against 'er stepfather's
will.'
"Her stepfather's will?"
with interest. "Do you
I repeated,
hear that,
Vincent?"
But Vincent, his beloved coat at
last found, was half out of the car
riage. "Come on," he shouted, "we're
wasting time." And I, perforce, was
obliged to follow him, although the
guard's story promised to be very in
teresting.
After we had played the first hole
and 1 had won (I seldom win a hole
from Vincent, so I was in a good
humor) I told him what the guard had
said. "So these grounds belong to the
honorable Agatha," I concluded, "and
I have curiosity enough to wish that
we might behold this mysterious lady."
But Vincent wasn't a bit excited;
you can never depend upon him when
he s playing golf. "Hosh!" he said;
Id rather play on her links than see
» ' Sh ® 88 w us she m 'S ht Put us
on. I 11 bet she's a crabbed old maid
im surprised at you, Terhune, with
your romantic notions. I thought you'd
left all that sort of thing behind you in
London.* 1
I felt myself reddening slightlv
though I knew Vincent didn't mean
anything, and was about to make some
retort when he drove off unexpectedly,
and I stopped in admiration of the
clean, fast shot he made. It just
cleared a natural bunker and sped on
beyond.
At that instant a discordant mixture
of sound burst upon our ears, as that
(l,, g yelping and a vigorous scold- i
UMrh" 8 but sw «' t feminine voice. |
J" °" e acoor d we rushed up the
gentle rise, . nd in the depression be
>ond we beheld one of the handsomest
girls I hau ever seen in my life. She
was bending over a setter puppy and
scolding him. The dog's yelps had
subsided to a whimper and he was i
hoiding up one of his paws as if he
ij "\ . ' t0l(I yo " not to
come Rudolph, she was saying, "and
o jou to keep out of the way, and j
told you you a get hurt if you didn t." ,
ohe was a tail girl, but beautifully j
mass'of dark hair "° °" h * r
mass of dark hair When we got near- 1
we saw that her eyes were bisand |
Vincent cagiiiulaiad at once and I
impression first.
He s the younger and it always seems
a shame not to give such a promising
boy a chance.
"I beg your pardon," he said, ad
vancing and baring his head, so that
the gold in his brown hair caught the
sunlight, "but would you tell me il
these are private links and to whom
they belong? I fear we are trespass
In«?" He said this just as if 1 hadn't
told him all about it.
The girl turned to him uncertainly;
then she smiled a wide, jolly smile ol
good fellowship. I knew she would—
they all do that at Vincent.
"Was that your ball?" she said, not
heeding his question. "I'm very sorry.
It hit my dog."
Vincent was all concern in a mo
ment.
"What a shame," he said. "Did it
hurt him?" and he knelt down to ex
amine the dog's paw.
"Oh, no, Rudolph's all right," she an
swered; "but it spoiled your drive, and
I'm sorry for that." and then she, too,
knelt on the grass beside the dog.
I felt that it was time to step for
ward. "My dear young lady," I said—
she couldn't have been more than 20,
so I did not hesitate to address her
thus—"My dear young lady, will you
please tell us whether we are trespass
ing in using this court? To whom does
it belong?" You see, I had to pre
tend ignorance to get more informa
tion. I have many of the intuitions
that go to make up a great detective,
and I had a presentiment that this
girl was none other than the Honor
able Agatha Wyckhoff herself.
This proved to be the case. As I
addressed myself to her the girl rose
with dignity and replied: "I am the
Honorable Agatha Wyckhoff and I
own these grounds. So, you see, you are
trespassing."
But her tone was laughing and her
expression not at all severe, so I
promptly told her who we were, and
we shook hands, the Honorable Agatha
smiling at me somewhat the way she
had smiled at Vincent, though perhaps
a trifle more appreciatively
"We didn't mean to," said Vincent,
"and I hope you don't mind. You'll
forgive us, won't you?"
The girl laughed, and it was a laugh
that I like to hear, not the silly, re
pressed giggle of a London debutante.
"She'll very nearly do," I thought,
"even if she isn't more than 20."
"Forgive you?" she repeated. "Of
course I will. I think it's great fun
I haven't seen a new man for six
weeks."
I was wondering what she meant
by using the word "new" and waiting
for Vincent to reply, when, instead of
answering her, he suddenly pointed
over my shoulder with a look of hor
ror. "The train," he cried, "the train!"
Sure enough, when I turned I saw
our train had started and, although
moving slowly, was well on its way
to the little town in the distance.
We were three-quarters of a mile
from the tracks by this time, and of
course pursuit was useless.
"Left behind," cried Vincent, dra
matically, and burst out laughing.
That's just like him—he always
laughs at everything. For my own
part I couldn't see anything funny
about it. Here we were set down in a
little town that probably did not con
tain an inn, while our luggage traveled
merrily on to Cuppstone, all because
of a foolish whim of his. The girl
laughed, too, so there was no use in
telling him what I thought of him then.
"Well, what are we going to do?" I
asked sharply.
"Do?" echoed Vincent. "Why, with
her permission, we'll play a game of
gold with the Honorable Agatha, and
then go on to the station, whatever its
name is, and take another train for
Cuppstone."
"Its name is Wye," said the Honor
able Agatha, "the town of Wye, and
that's a very got>d plan, That's just
what we'll do."
And it was just what we did do. And
you should have seen that girl play
golf! By the time we had been around
the 18-hole course I felt a little fatigued
—one has to keep in training to do
that sort of thing at a minute's notice
—but Vincent and the Honorable
Agatha seemed as fresh as when we
started and proposed a race to the
station. I told them to run on ahead
and I'd meet them later, so away
they dashed, with Rudolph leaping and
barking in front of them, never doubt
ing that the whole thing was planned
for his especial benefit.
When I reached the station at last,
instead of seeing about our train or
telegraphing to Cuppstone about our
late arrival, there was Vincent sitting
on the luggage-truck with that girl,
and, I am ashamed to say, he was hold
ing her hand. When they spied me the
girl tried to pull her hand away, but
Vincent held on.
"That you, Archibald?" he called, as
if it could have been anyone else.
"Come on up here. We've been telling
fortunes, and Miss Agatha's hand is
very interesting."
"No doubt." I answered, dryly; "but
what have you done about telegraphing
to Cuppstone, and what train have you
-
found we can take:
"There isn't any train," said Vln
cent, as cheerfully as if he were tell
ing me a bit of good news. "Only two
traius a day run through Wye from
London, and ours was the last. Any
way. your friend, the guard, thought
we ought to get oft here and put off all
our luggage."
I looked around in consternation and
,here were our bo *es. all piled neatly
at the far end of the platform.
"For goodness" sake, Wilfred" I
call him Wilfred when I am angry—I
said, turning on Vincent who was
bu " fortunes-" do £
some Interest. What are we going to
do' Isn't there a station masfer heîe
who can tell us about the inns of this
Vincent looked un Tn!l i '
nt get hot, _ Jie drawled; U« all a
right. The Honorable Agatha ha« In
vited us to the castle and she's tele
phoned for the dogcart and a wagon for
our luggage. Haven't you, Angel?" he
ended, turning his handsome bronzed
face to the girl, with one of his best
smiles, one of the kind he reserves
] especially for the fair sex.
j
I frowned. Vincent really makes
advances, too quickly.
"Why didn't you say so at fh-st?" 1
said, rather peevishly, as I sat down
on the steps to await the dogcart which
one could see already, a black speck
In the distance on the winding road
from the castle. The speck finally dis
appeared behind a clump of trees, and
when it emerged and drew up at the
station we saw what a stunning little
turnout it was. The horse was as
fine as any you'd meet on the Lady's
Mile, the harness was clinking and
shining with ornaments, and the cart
and the groom's livery were faultless.
The Honorable Agatha mounted the
box seat. "Christopher," she said to
the groom, "I'm going to drive. You'd
better ride back with the 'trunks.' "
Then, be".ue I had time to interfere,
Vincent leaped nimbly up to the seat
beside her and I was obliged to take
the rumble with Rudolph, who leaped
up beside me as if to his accustomed
se«:. I was too anxious to get to the
c?. tie and get something to eat, how
ever, to mind, and the Honorable
Agatha proving to be as good a whip
as she was golfer, we were soon
winding up the last gentle slope that
led to the big building. As we drove
down the long avenue another dogcart
approached us rapidly, and as it came
almost abreast, to my surprise
recognized the young man who was sit
ting with the groom as young Murray
Brancepeth. He saw us at the same
moment and both dogcarts stopped.
"Hullo, Murray!" said Vincent and I
together.
But he never paid the slightest at
tention to us. Instead, he jumped
lightly from his high seat and came
around to the Honorable Agatha's side
of our cart. Reaching up he caught
her hand.
"I don't care whether you're the real
Agatha or not," he said, his dark face
flushed with the intensity of his feel
ing. "You've got to marry me some
time. I'm not after money. I've some
of my own and I'll make some more.
When you're tired of this folly I'm
m
S»
) ;
AGATHA FIRST.
After
coming back for you. Good-by." And
he wrung her hand till the Honorable
Agatha winced. Then he was gone in
a rattle of gravel and dust.
We couldn't help hearing what he
said and he didn't seem to care
whether we did or not. But we could
hardly believe our ears. Young Mur
ray Brancepeth, that gilded idler, de
daring himself the victim of a mighty
passion, and, more astounding still,
swearing that he would make some
money! He, who had never done any
work in his life besides that necessary
to bleed his rich old uncle of his living
expenses.
"What was it he said," I thought,
about the 'real Agatha' and 'folly?'"
What did It all mean?
As we drove up to the castle en
trance two girls of about 19 and 20, I
should say, came tearing around the
corner, tennis racquets in hand, and
shrieked aloud, evidently with sur
prised delight at seeing us.
Oh, Agatha," cried the foremost
of the two, a tall, brown-eyed, brown
faced sylph, with a profusion of wavy
and very disorderly brown hair. "Oh,
Agatha, where did you get them? I'm
so tired of Brancepeth."
"Yes," cried the other one, "where
did they drop from? I thought you
were playing golf." She was a jolly
little thing, this second one, small, but
plump, with fair skin and blue eyes
really very attractive.
This waft somewhat embarrassing
to me, but Vincent stood there, utterly
unperturbed, bowing with that easy
grace of his, as the Honorable Agatha
introduced us. But imagine our sur
prise when she presented each of
those two young things as "the Honor
able Agatha Wyckhoff!"
"But I thought you were the Honor
able Agatha," I cried, unable to re
press my astonishment.
"So I am." she answered, smiling
and we followed her Into the house!
silent but wondering.
CHAPTER II.
The Inside of the castle gave every
evidence of enormous wealth and
Ü^'T 1" h " n our bla ' *
a brisk, elderly lady came down the
(To be Continued.)
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