They Were Where
They Had No
Business to Be—
But They Were
Not There on Business
ALONG the nxidtown bridle
paths in the Big Burg,
the Law was Officer Ho
mer Berryman.
A fine, handsome mili
tary figure was Office)
Berryman. Heads of police depart
ments pick with meticulous scrutiny
their most presentable men Mr mount
ed duty; and of the mounties, only
the cream would be detailed to prance
along -the lanes where the elite of the
town, many of them excellently trained
horse riders themselves, would gaze
upon the Law.
Many a man as well as many a maid
wife and widow turned to gaze at Of
ficer Berryman. His animal, like him
self, was the last word. His uniform
gave to his sternly dignified presence
a snap and authority which no civilian
millionaire or retired cavalry general
could command there. He looked rare
ly to the right or to the left, but saw
everything with the turn of his eyes
under the official visor.
He turned even more rarely to the
right or the left, but he turned com
pletely around every time Mildred
Copeland rode by in the other direc
tion. As every good bridle path officer
should do, Officer Berryman rode coun
ter clock-wise; that is, he rode in the
direction facing that from which tbi
equestrians rode—except, of course,
when for some official reason he found
it necessary to pursue a rider.
Mostly, Mildred rode alone. She
straddled a spanky little mare, spirited,
fast, and proclaiming in every fibei
that she was no livery-stable hireling
Indeed, the'Copelands had no need to
hire horses. The only thing they ever
hired was servants.
Now’ and again. Officer Berryman
would imperceptibly but definitely
pinch his brows together in the shadow’
of the "peak of his cap, and that was
when Mildred did not ride alone; and
m
-
m
that was when she
rode with an athletic
young man whose
togs bespoke in their
unstudied effective
ness that quality
which only the rich
can buy and only the
top-notch tailors and
haberdashers can sell.
The young man
was Alfred Laidlow
Briggs III. The tall
thoroughbred that
carried him carried
one of the most his
toric names in the
land, and the heir to plenty.
Young Briggs did not live in the
Big Burg. His family had a home
there but at just this time was in resi
dence at the summer estate some hun
dred miles away. He belonged to clubs
in town into which he was born, so it
was not for lack of a friendly pillow
that he spent most of his time away.
His mother, the dowager queen of the
Briggses, was ailing, exacting and re
gally arbitrary. To her there was no'
sun, there were no stars where her
Alfred was not.
Surely, therefore, it was not for the
lack of an interest to keep him in the
city. But it was only by subterfuges
that he could rush to town to hover
about that aforementioned interest—
which was. of course, Mildred Cope
land.
They were not formally engaged. In
all honesty, they were not even in
formally engaged. That is, he had
never specifically asked her and surely
she had never even inferentially asked
him. They had never kissed. They
had ridden together and they had
danced together, they had lunched to
gether and they had bumped cocktail
glasses. No more.
On the particular afternoon which
brought about the incident herein to
be chronicled, he had telephoned Mil
dred that he would speed in if she
would go horse-backing with him that
afternoon. She heartily said that she
certainly would go horse-back riding
with him.
Officer Berryman rode and rode un
til far past noon in the hot sun of a
sizzling day, and then knocked off for
a bit and a sip, showing disappoint
ment. He had not seen the one girl
for whom he would turn that stern of
ficial head on that majestic official
body. Mildred was as a rule a morn
ing rider
There They Were at the Top of the
Hill, and Such Goings On! Officer
Berryman Was a Stern Man. And of
All People—that Girl—!
Officer Berryman glowered not only
because he had missed his daily sight
of her but because such early absence
usually presaged that he would see her
later—but not alone. There would be
someone else along.
Right well did Officer Berryman
know who Miss Copeland was and who
young Briggs was. He knew everybody
at sight who was a regular rider of
his beat
Being flirted at was no rarity in his
life. Not only the stoutisb divorcees
and the jaded matrons made obvious
passes at this attractive minion of the
law, but many a desirable debutante,
actorlne and college girl gave him the
age-old business. Officer Berryman
knew that he must let such things
pass him by. The least bit of a smile
and his hand touching his cap in salute
was all that he allowed himself in
bending from the scrupulous attitude
of duty. And that, you will admit,
isn’t bending very much.
He had often wondered how he
would behave If Mildred Copeland •
should misbehave . . . but then, he
couldn’t imagine that she would do
anything like that.
At home, amid humble surroundings
such as befitted his civil service social
status and his income of $200 a month,
stripped of his regalia and grounded
off his horse, he often sat in the rocker
in slippered feet or lay in his bed and
did his wondering.
The one thing about which he won
dered most was: “Am I in love?’’ It
struck him as such a ridiculous quan
dary to even wonder about—he, a cop,
and she—well, she was who she was.
Of course, there had been famous
cases where beautiful heiresses had be
come infatuated with handsome cops;
yeah, that's why they were famous,
like all other miracles that he had «
heard of.
Down in the heart over which he
wore his shield on duty he knew right
well that he was in love. But coppers
as a class are secretive, and Officer
Berryman wouldn’t even admit any
thing to himself.
We have wandered from the after
A Bird With Plenty of Nerve
■PEIS is the tale of a half-starved robin that fell out of its nest and.
^virtually, into a lion's den, and liked it. Mrs. W. D. Owens picked up
the wabbly waif, took it home and fed it. Not having had any previous
experience with man and beast, the robin proceeded to take things as a
matter of course, including the two big dogs and three cats that were
on the place.
Perched gn Mrs. Owens’ finger, it soon was pecking away at a bowl
of cereal. Toots, a fluffy feline, inquiringly poked her nose into the
bowl and received a penetrating peck where it hurt most. When she
made as if to administer a resounding thwack with her paw in retaliation,
Robbie ruffled its feathers like a fighting cock, ready to fight it out. It
was Toots who backed down.
There were similar experiences with the dogs—and Robbie now comes
and goes as he will. He has the run of the house, and a lot of respect
from the furry friends with whom he shares it. Robbie and Toots posed
for this photograph. And they say birds have no nerve!
I —' tat
f*€gL/’ \bo'
Beware the Beak! This
Cat Has Plenty of Re
spect for the Tiny Robin.
Above: The Owner of the
Brave Birdie.
Copyright. 1936, King Features Syndicate. Inc.
Mildred Copeland
noon on which we set out, but—being
on horseback—we will return at a
gallop.
Alfred and Mildred had jogged into
the park at just about the time when
the most deadly glare of the summer
sun had paled. There were still hours
of daylight ahead. But there was a
puff of a breeje and the riding condi
tions along the path that day w#re
delightful.
Yet, they didn't ride far. As they
came to a turn in the path, Alfred
pointed up to the top of a high knoll
There was no path leading to it and
the entire surface of the elevation
was covered with grass—grass which
we Americans have long been taught
to regard as sacred in our public play
grounds.
“You know, Mil, ever since I was a
kid riding this old ribbon,” said Al
fred, "I have had a passion to ride my
horse up that hill—the one with so
much grass.”
“How strange. I have nursed that
yen for years, and made up my mind
I would do it some day if I had to go
to,jail,” said Mildred and she laughed
prettily.
Alfred looked
around quickly.
No one was in sight
Then he turned
back to Mildred
‘Let’s’” he whis
pered.
"I'm game," she answered.
And in a common resolution they
pointed their horses’ heads up the hill,
and there they were!
“Let’s dismount,” he suggested, and
she assented.
* * *
Officer Berryman rode slowly up
the bridle path. His all-seeing eyes
saw all. And they saw something
that almost knocked him off his
horse . . . what was this? A viola
tion; A—wow! It—was—that—Cope
land girl; that — that — with that
Briggs fellow . . . The Law would—!
But the Law didn’t do anything.
Violation it certainly was—perhaps a
half dozen of them. Those horses up
there in the grass; those people up
there on the grass . . . she in his lap
and in his arms . . . she cooing, "yes,
darling, yes. Why didn’t you ask me a
long, long time ago?” . . . and then be
crushing her in his arms and kissing
her right there where he had no busi
ness to be at all and neither did she
and neither did they. Oh, what was
the use? The Law didn’t know what
it was talking about or thinking
about. What could or should it do
in a case like this?
This was a narrow bridle path, one
way traffic. It took Officer Berryman
about an hour to negotiate it, and it
was about half an hour later, when
coming toward him, their horses in a
walk and their boots almost touching,
he saw Alfred and Mildred. Officer
Berryman had never been undignified
on duty, and it surprised him no less
than it did the young riders when his
hand came up to a sharp salute ami
he said:
“Congratulations, Mr. Briggs.'
With that he spurred his horse and
flew on. He was out of sight in an
instant.
"That’s the freshest cop I ever met,'’
chortled Mildred.
“And the smartest,’’ giggled Alfred
boyishly.