NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
AND REMINDER 
Vol. XIIl 
—$——— 
Manchester, Mass., Friday, July 23 
No. 30 
The White Beach Icicle 
By HELEN CHRISTENE HOERLE 
T was one of those warm, sticky afternoons in late July, 
when even thinking ‘becomes an effort. The broad 
verandas of the White Beach Country Club were crowde‘l 
with young people, while a few of the more ambitious 
ones sported rather listlessly on the tennis courts or 
ambled leisurely over the golf course. 
In one corner of the veranda a group of young chaps 
in white flannels lounged indolently. To look at them 
ene would never have imagined that they were arranging 
the famous Tennis - Club’s - Annual - Entertainment - for- 
Worthy - Charities program. 
Young Harrison’s brow was wrinkled thoughtfully. 
“That makes ten numbers. Of course we can count on 
you for a dancing stunt, can’t we, Tom?” 
Thomas Rutland, Jr., stretched his long limber legs 
and grinned. “I’m the one, only and originial imitator of 
our friend Vernon. It’s really awfully decent of you 
fellows to ask me, considering 
“Oh, cut that,” Harrison interrupted. 
you, Tom, the same as ever.” 
“Why don’t you give in to the pater, pretend to, any- 
way,” a man in gray tweeds asked curiously, “she may 
Le deucedly pretty.” 
~ Tom frowned. “It isn’t the girl, it’s the idea. Would 
you consent to marry a girl you had never seen just 
because you father thought she was the one and only 
girl in the world for you? I couldn’t sée it and can’t yet, 
I don’t like girls anyway, and I don’t want to get married.’ 
“VYou’ve never been in love, thats plain,” Jack Gray- 
son, the big tenor, sighed rapturously. 
“No, I haven’t, and at present I don’t want to,” Torn 
exclaimed impatiently. ‘“I’d rather be making my little 
twenty-five per as dancing teacher at the Claremont than 
be married to the best girl in the land.” 
“We want 
“Hear, hear,” his chum Dick Lisle shouted, “but I, 
bet you'll get tired after a while and any girl will look 
good to you as long as father approves and opens the 
purse strings.” 
“Will you please discuss Tom’s financial and_ love 
affairs at some other time and place?” the chairman 
pleaded, “but do let’s get this program doped out now. 
Who will your dancing partner be, Tom?” 
“Miss Garrettson,” Rutland’s eyes twinkled mischiev- 
ously. 
“Miss Garrettson,” twelve dismayed voices echoed. 
“Exactly, either I dance with her or I won’t dance 
ut all.’ Tom’s voice held a note of finality. _In.reality 
he had no intention of asking Miss Garrettson, but when 
he saw that the men took his suggestion seriously, he 
cetermined to carry the joke through. 
“Good heavens, you are not serious, Tom,’ Tony Har- 
rison glanced up in dismay. “I guess I had better strike 
your name off now. She'll never consent to do it, that 
Teale.” 
“T’ll bet you anything you say that she won't,” Dick 
Lisle offered magnanimously. 
“T need a new pair of tennis shoes,” 
gested, tentatively eyeing his footwear. 
“T’m on. I need a new pair myself,” Lisle grinned. 
“Poor Tom, it’s a shame to take them from you. They 
Rutland ‘sug- 
will make an awful hole in your next week’s twenty-five.” 
“Tl risk it,” Tom laughed. “I “ 
““Fere comes Miss Garrettson now,’ Grayson cried. 
“7 will bet you ¢ 
“A new pair of pumps, thanks,’ Tom laughed over his 
shoulder as he swung himself over the veranda rail and 
bounded lightly over the smooth lawn. 
The: men watched with pardonable envy the lithe 
figure with the well trained muscles rippling lightly under 
the sun-browned skin, as with surprising rapidity he cov- 
ered the distance between the club house and the little 
figure in stiff blue linen. 
“Good afternoon, Miss Garrettson.” He smiled his 
newly acquired professional smile. “I’m wondering if you 
will help the boys out with the entertainment next week.” 
Miss Garrettson’s brown eyes stared amazedly at and 
then seemingly through him. 
“Why—why, I'll do any- 
thing I can for you, to be sure, Mr. Rutland.” 
“That’s bully, I knew you would,” he agreed enthusi- 
astically. “Will you give a dancing number with me?” 
Miss Garrettson’s racket fell from her trembling 
bands. ‘“Why—why, I couldn’t, Mr. Rutland. I simply 
couldn’t dance before all those people.” 
“Oh, yes, you could,” Rutland assured her. “I sup- 
pose I could tell you that you are the best dancer at the 
beach this summer, but you know that without my telling 
you. I’m not going to cajole you. I just want to dance 
with you, that’s all, and no one else.” 
His blue eyes gazed down almost shyly at the blue- 
robed figure at his side. The great masses of copper 
shimmering hair were piled up loosely under the big floppy 
hat of white straw. Her brown eyes were almost too 
large for the piquant little face and the red mouth was 
decidedly kissable, Tom decided. 
Miss Garrettson, although one of the most fair, was 
also one of the iciest young women who had ever sum- 
mered at White Beach. It was her very frigidity of mai- 
ner that made her the more desirable, although the least 
accessible of any of the young women at the shore. The 
masculine contingent stood in terror of the bewitching 
Miss Garrettson, longing for her smile the while; the 
girls secretly and openly envied her looks, clothes and 
dancing. 
“Well,” she said suddenly, after two or three minutes 
of silence, “what will we do, a hesitation, one-step or fox 
trot?” , ; 
“Tet’s shock them,” 
twinkling eyes, elated at 
bizarre.” 
“T should think you had shocked people quite enough 
for the last six months,” she returned stonily, though with 
a suggestion of a smile in the corners of the rosebud 
mouth. Rutland felt an unquenchable desire to kiss her. 
“T guess I have, and am making twenty-five a week, 
and room and board in consequence,” he laughed good- 
naturedly. 
“You talk as if you think you are worth more.” 
was smiling broadly now. 
“I’m not, but the good old cognomen of Rutland seems 
to be worth money,” he replied seriously, then laughed 
Tom suggested boldly, with 
her consent, ‘‘do something 
She 
