MISS ANYBODY.

Bruce Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 6, 2 August 1909, Page 4

MISS ANYBODY.

A BEOKEN VASE AND A SHATTERED HEAET.

By John Barton Oxford. Brophy, 'swimming leisurely shoreward against the ebbing tide, watcned sharply the bobbing red cap_ of tho girl who swam in the same direction some dozen yards ahead of him., In the shallow water near the shore, a host of noisy bathers splashed _ and screamed ; but Brophy and the girl in the red cap were the only ones who had ventured out to the rafts. It was a long swim back, especially with the tide ebbing strongly, and Brophy noticed that the girl's strokes werq becoming shorter and her rests were growing more frequent. . Presently, with a few determined strokes, lie was beside her. The beacb was yet a long, hard swim distant. • "You shouldn't have tried it," said Brophy.quietly, "especially with tho tide against you coming back. You .are tired out. Can't I help you ?" The girl gave him a glance of cold disapproval from her grey eyes, and then, without a word, struck out, resolutely. Brophy shut his teeth at the rebuff and swam doggedly in her wake. But a few yards further on the hirl's distress was so evident that he again quickened his own strokes. "You'll not make it," he declared. "You'll have to let me help you, whether you want to or not, for, as usual, the lifeguards are flirting down there by the pier, and you might go under 40 times for all they'd know of it., Put your hands on my shoulders; I'll help you in." She looked him over thoughtfully, as if she were taking his measure, murmured "Thank you," a breathlessly, he thought, and the next minute her hands rested lightly, on his big shoulders, and Brophy was talcing them through the water with his strong, clean strokes. When they reached the shallow, tho hands were withdrawn from his shoulders, and the girl, linding her feet, waded beside him to the beach. She was decidedly attractive, Brophy decided. Her mouth and chin were firm and resolute, but the upturned nose gave a certain piquancy to her small, round face. From beneath the bathing cap a single strand of copper-col-oured hair strayed rebelliously. "Thank you. You were very good," she said, as they reached the bearh. Then, she walked briskly towards the bathing pavilion. A half-hour later, as he strolled aimlessly along the beach, he saw her sitting in the sand; a green parasol was raised above her head and an open book was in her lap. As ho passed her, she looked up from her book. A twinkle of recognition came into the grey eyes ; a hint of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Her head was inclined in a half-nod.

Brophy lifted his hat, fully intending to walk on ; but somehow his feet refused to carry him further. Ho stood looking down at her, somewhat embarrassed, somewhat uncomfortable, but with a certain distinct pleasure taking sudden and unexpected possession of him.

"I—l hope you are none the worse for the swim," he stammered awkwardly. "Not a bit," said she. Brophy looked doubtfully at the sand beside her. A slow red crept into his face.. It was a homely, good-natured face —the sort of a face to inspire confidence. "May I sit down ?" he suggested. The girl looked at him again, with that same measuring glance she had given him in the water ; then she smiled and inclined her head in assent.

They talked—rather haltingly at first—of the weather, 'the water, the crowd at the park ; and Brophy, his eyes ostensibly on the ocean, but in reality covertly scanning the girl beside him, was aware oi a most pleasing sense of contentment. "I was just going to lunch at the cafe," he said, tentatively, at length. ''l'd like—that is, if you don't mind—--1 thought perhaps you'd come too." The girl laughed. "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'll go on one condition—that you'll let mo pay my own way." "Oh, all right," Brophy laughed, "I'll accept it. My name—" The girl held out a warning hand. "Don't spoil it all," she said lightly. "\ou are Mr Somebody and lam Miss Anybody, and this is the country of anywhere. We can have a jolly time for the rest of the day, if you'll leave it like that."

Brophy grinned his amusement. "1 agree. Come on, Miss i\.nybody," said he, jumping up and helping her to her feet.

Brophy had never spent such a wholly enjoyable time in his life as that afternoon r proved to be. After dinner they went the round of Willow Park's varied and hair-raising amusements ; they strolled together on, tho beach ; they watched the bathers tumbling about in the surf; they shared peanuts and popcorn and amazing, sticky confections done up in gay-col-oured paper. And every time her gay laughter rang out, or her nose uptilted in, that wholly adorable fashion, Brophy was aware of a strange and growing disturbance in the region of his heart. The roofs and towers were outlined with twinkling lights, when the girl announced she must return to the city.

"You'll let me go back on the train with you-—as far as the station, at least, won't you ?" Brophy urged. "As far as the station," she conceded.

'All the way up, the impending parting with her loomed like some great and portentous disaster in the background of Brophy's mind. But _ it was hot until the train was pulling into the gloomy station that he broached the subject uppermost in his harassed thoughts. "Look here. Miss Anybody," said he with conviction, "I thought this afternoon the way we planned it would be all right. But it isn't. You must let me see you again—you must.' The train had come to a stop; the passengers were filing out of the stuffy cars. The girl's face took on a beautiful colour. ''Well ?" she challenged ' over her shoulder, as she moved before him down the crowded aisle. "Let me call," said he. "May' I?" s< oh, yQB/i B hQ laughed, *'if you

like." ' "Where ?" said- • Brophy, eagerly. "What is the address?" ; They had reached the platform now. The girl's head was turned from him. "At home, of. course," she answered, with a nervous giggle. "And homo—where is home ?" Brophy pleaded. "In the country of Anywhere," sho mocked. At that moment a card-case slipped from her belt and landed on the platform at their feet. Brophy bent to pick it up, and as he did so, his eyes fell on a bit of paper with a name and address upon it, which had jolted out of one of the pockets of the little leather case. He crushed it in liis hand as he handed the card-caso to the girl. "Thank you," she said. "It has been a splendid afternoon, hasn't it ? Good-bye, Mr Somebody." The next minute she had slipped into the crowd and was gone ; but Brophy was smiling serenely as he unfolded the bit of paper in his hand and read : "Miss Elizabeth Carter, 22 Thorndike street." It was written, in ink on an ordinary bit of note-paper. In one corner, in pencil, was the further information: "Wed., 5.30." Brophy chuckled delightedly. "5.30 Wednesday, is it ? No fear ; I'll be there, Miss Anybidy alias Elizabeth Carter.'''

Still chuckling, .he stalked out of the station with quickened pulses, and a feeling that he had been suddenly elevated to the clouds. The display in a florist's window caught his eye. Brophy entered and ordered with discrimination.

"Send them to Miss Elizabeth Carter, of 22 Thorndike street," he instructed : "the roses to-day, the* pinks Monday, the violets Tuesday, and the orchids Wednesday."

It was just 5 o'clock Wednesday afternoon when Brophy left the office of the Electric Switch Company, of which he was head bookkeeper, and caught a car that would take him past Thorndike street. At precisely 20 minutes past the hour he stood in the vestibule of an apartment-house, with a chuckle of anticipation at the card over the bell of Suite 8, which bore the name : "T. F. Carter."

He rang the bell and pressed his ear to the tube. "Who is it ?" came a faint voice presently. Brophy grinned. "Mr Somebody," he replied. "Who ?" the voice inquired. "Mr Somebody," Brophy repeated, raising bis voice. "Oh, is it you, Tom?" The smile died a swift death on. Brophy's lips. "No, it is not Tom," said he. "It is Mr Somebody, otherwise Edward F. Brophy." "Whom did you wish to see ?" the voice at the other end of the tube inquired with some asperity. "Miss Elizabeth Carter. Is she in?"

For answer, the latch on the vesti-bule-door began clicking its invitation to be opened. Brophy pushed open the door and went up the stairs three at a time. At the top of the third flight a door was open, and framed in the doorway stood a girl. "Is Miss Carter in ?" Brophy panted.

"I am Miss Carter," said the girl. Brophy fumbled his hat and stared his incredulity. "Did you have a message for me ?"

Brophy ran his hand through his hair. He coughed. Then he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out a crumpled bit of paper. "Maybe you can tell me something about this/' he suggested, holding it out to her.

The girl took the paper and glanced at it.

"Oh, yes, I see," she said. "They have sent you. Step in. please." Utterly bewildered, Brophy followed her into a cosy living-room, but scarcely, had he done so when the bell in the hall whirred.

The girl stepped to the tube in the hall.

"Yes ?" Brophy, heard her call. "Who ? Oh, it's you, Tom. Come up." He heard her open the door and the sound of. footsteps on the stairs. "Did you get my letter, Tom ?" he heard the girl say to the newcomer. "I'd_ never, never in the world have forgiven you or written you to come if it hadn't been for what you did. It was perfectly dear of you. They came every day. Oh, you needn't—look so innocent. ■ I'm talking, of course, about the flowers you sent. The first ones came the very day we had the till—not an hour after you left the house."

"Aha !" muttered Brophy under his breath, so the truth began to dawn. "Go into the den," the girl was rattling on, "and smoke if you like. There's a man."

The next minute the girl entered the living-room, bearing in her arms a large Canton vase, one side of which was badly shattered. Before Brophy could protest she had placed it in his arms.

"AIT the pieces are inside," said she. them to be sure not to have the rivets shown. And ask them to drop me a line when I may call for it.'

"But—but " began Brophy]., Before he got any further in his stammering protestations, however,. the bell was. whirring again. Again the girl stepped to the'tube in the hall.

<( "Well ?" Brophy heard her say. "Oh, yes.—The man has just called for it—What ? You didn't send any man ?—Well, he is here, anyway, and I have just given him the vase.—(Perhaps you'd best come up and see about it."

Brophy, listening, felt the hot blood in his cheeks. What sort of a mix-up was he in for, anyway ? He set the vase on the floor and squared, his shoulders.

Then someone came through the door, looked at him, gasped, and crimsoned beautifully, and. Brophy jumped to his feet, and stood there beaming beautitudes ; for there was the girl of Willow Park ! • "It's all right, then, is it, Miss Dolan ?" the other girl was saying. "You sent him, did»you ?" "No ; I didn't send him; but it's all right." She stepped towards the vase at Brophy's feet, "I'll take it back with me."

Brophy grinned. "I hatf best carry it, It's pretty, heavy/?' tojl

The beautitudes were still radiating from his countenance as he followed Miss Dolan in the hall and che door of the Hat closed upon them, leaving] them there alone.

' "Well ?" she said, shortly, and with a flash of lire in her eyes.

Brophy began to laugh. "Let's begin at the beginning," said he. "It was this that made all the trouble." _ He drew the bit of paper from his pocket and held it out to her. She glanced at it with a puzzled frown.

"Where did you get it ?" she asked. "It fell out of your card-case at tho station." said he," "and I thought ■ —- 1 "What was it you thought\?" sho asked, coldly. "That it was your way of letting me know who you were and where you, lived," said he. "I'm glad, though, now, that I was wrong," he- ended, thoughtfully. Her face was very grave, but in tho grey eyes that looked at him steadily was something very like a twinkle.

"And you came up here to-day expecting to find me ?" she asked. "More than that," said he, boldly. "I've Sent up flowers every day. to sort of pave the way for the event." Her lips curled. She caught her breath.

"Go on," she commanded. "But the flowers I sent weren't wasted," .he explained. "It seems they served to patch up a row between. Miss-Carter and Tom, whoever he may be ; or at least they will patch it up, if he has the good senso to keep quiet, as I've no doubt ho has."

She was plainly struggling to keep down her mirth.

"Well," she said, "you had better give me the vase now." <• ■ Brophy gripped it more tightly. "Never/' he declared. "Anyway, not until this matter is cleared up a bit farther. My name is Brophy Edward F. Brophy." The girl smiled. She drew the card case from her belt, and opening it, silently handed Brophy a card.

"The China Mending Shop. China, Bric-a-brac, and All Fragile Wear Made as Good as New. Mary K. Dolan, 178 Travers St."

"Now give me the vase," she said. "You'd best let me carry it foryou," replied Brophy, leading tho way down. At the corner, where they waited for a down-town car, he drew out the cardi he had slipped into his pocket, and fell to studying it with an absorbed frown.

" 'Ail fragile ware made as good as\ new,' " he read, musingly. "I think I've something that needs the attention of your shop," he obesrved. "Yes ?" she asked.

He looked at her gravely, and then came a step nearer. "Ever since that day at the park," he said, in a low voice, '""yes. ever since the minute you put your hands on my shoulders when I was swimming in with you, my heart has been busted into moro smithereens than any bit of China you ever mended. It strikes me it's up to you to mend it. Will you please '!" "I have never undertaken any work of that kind," she said, her head turned from him, "but I suppose perhaps—l might,try."