Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1871-04-28

shy and silvery above the pink, and Mrs
Pursalls voice addressed them from an up
per window on the subject Of damp"
"trapesing," to use the language of the
same authority, in wet grass of evenings
to search out glow-worms-all these and
similar pursuits had made II n time of en-
chantment. Phil was an old playmate and
neighbor; nobody thought much of their
being together, but Polly thought great
deal. And the last day of all, when she
supposed him gone, he had stolen away
half an hour before train-time, and sur
prised her in the cool well-room, her
sleeves rolled up, her slender waist envel-
oped in white apron, making pies-all
unconscious of his proximity. That last
visit stood in bold relief from others for,
| lingering there outside the window, words
had been half said, half looked, which she
never could forget, though, at the time
half frightened, she had pretended not to
understand them. And at last he took to
teasing her about the pies, as she daintily
rolled her paste, and Jagged the narrow
strips for edging. Wouldn't she make him
one-all of his own-at Thanksgiving-tim
oh yes, he was sure she would, though she
gave no promise; he should come in the
evening for it. And then the time came
for him to go. And leaning through the
window-Polly colored now as she thought
of it-he had softly kissed the little brown
wrist and departed, his last words being,
"If you love me, Polly, don't forget the
pie" l am afraid it was too late for that
"if"
For, dreadful as it seems, the Pollies of
real life do not always wait, as the books
say they should, until decisive word has
been spoken before yielding their hearts.
! Love comes unseen, unsought, as the sun
comes or the dew; eyes ask, and looks ask.
Prudence tugs feebly at the bolt, but her
strength is weakness; open flies the door,
and Cupid takes possession for bliss or
bale. Which, in our Polly's case, it was to
be remained to be shown. She feared moth
ing, poor child. Phil loved her, she was
sure, and all the hopeful sky was bright
with early dawn.
"If YOU love me-" The words SO light
ly spoken hummed round her like a song,
rs she drew from its hiding-place Phi's
pie. Such pie! Crisp as frost, foam
white, except where heat had kissed it in
TO brown, with edge so trinity, so exactly
cut, and middle adorned with wondrous
twirl of paste, embodying the initial "P."
"a marvellous pie Ia pie to make the
mouth water, and put an appetite under
the ribs of Dyspepsia. Long and lovingly
did Polly gaze on this chef-d' guUre before
committing it to the topmost shelf in the
pantry, and then, rapidly restoring all to
its pristine tidiness, she fled up stairs for
there was hat to be trimmed, and, house,
keeper though she was, Polly was no less
girl-a girl of eighteen, and what was
more the prettiest girl of eighteen in Co
haset. Something was due to this eminent
position.
So, shut into her room, she sat adjusting
the killing little feather on the new "tur-
ban," turning now and then to survey the
effect in morsel of a looking-glass, and
by-and-by, as the drifted gold began to
gather round the sunset, a sound came on
the wind-the distant shrek of a locomo-
tive. The train had arrived at 1.-THE juno
tion," four miles away. Far above the
woods she could see the dim blue smoke.
Down went the new hat, and lovely smile
parted her lips. That shrek meant-Phil;
and question if Beethoven's finest sonata
could at that moment have seemed more
musical-so true it is that at times we lis
ten with an inward ear to which all sounds
are melodious if they suggest the thing we
love.
Phil had come. The thought awoke with
her next morning, and lent its spring to
the many small businesses which ushered
in the day. 1t was for him she rubbed the
crimson apples till they shone, heaped the
grape clusters so tastefully, and crowned
the vases with chrysantheums and gay
leaves. The candles she inserted in the
tall, plated branches should brighten the
room when he entered the noble hickory
logs should warm, the polished andirons
please his eye. She lent her whole heart
to the icing-Phil liked loaf cake. And if
ever the spirit of Lady Mary Wortley's
sentiment was carried out-if ever room
ceased to be room, a dinner a dinner-it
was now, when, transmitted by tender al
chemy, the old farmhouse took on higher
meaning, and Mrs. Pursalls nuts and ap-
pies became indeed "the refreshment pro-
vided for beloved one"
All things in order at last, merry party
set off for church. Father, mother, broth
er James, his wife and child-first INSTALL
ment of the family gathering-and in the
midst Polly. The sun shone crisp leaves
rustled under foot in all Cohasset was no
blither face than that crowned by the new
turban, as our little maid took her seat in
the gallery front row as one of the village
choir. How everything seemed to smilel
She loved the world; beloved the Governor
for arranging this delightful day-this day
which made so many people happy; which
brought Phil home.
1t was early. The melodeon was play
ing low, droning voluntary; the green
curtains were half drawn-plenty of chance
for the choir to peep out and to whisper, a
thing all choirs like to do.
''I say, Polly, where did you get that
feather?" asked her neighbor. "I only
wish somebody would give me one. It's
just elegantv'
"Mother bought it," said Polly, her eye
on the door.
"Who are you looking for? Your mar
There she is now. What good looking
woman James's wife is, isn't she ?"
81 suppose you have heard the news,
PollyG" broke in another whisper from
behind, "rhe news about Phil Ralston ?"
mo. What do you mean9" with sudden
interest.
HE came up last night you know and
what do you think he brought with him
but wile The old folks didn't know
word about it. Wasn't ita fine Thanksgiv-
ing surprise?"
"How did you hearH" asked Polly, faint
| ly, with white lips.
"Steve saw them--our Steve, you know.
He came in the same train, and there was