The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1873-10-29
Autumn Leaves.


thorne cried out, ecstatically.
For the little tables was covered
with gifts of red leaves and yellow
leaves, and leaves veined with
blood; and Mrs. Estcourt was bend
ing over a half-fnished wreath she
was fastening upon a handsome
screen of Bristol board.
eyes, Autumn leaves" she an
swered, looking up mith a smile as
she shook back the thick brown
tresses from her pale forehead
'sDo you think any one will buy
them p
Mrs. Haythorne shook her head
obviously.
"They are beautiful, Helen," she
said; "but 1 suppose they may be
classed with the merely ornamental
articles for which there is compar.
atively no market
Helen Estcourt sighed. She was a
pale, lovely woman, with dewy red
lips and eyes full of deep, liquid
lights like forest pools; and Mrs.
I[aythorne's kindly heart ached for
her as she gazed.
"But I will take pair for my
mantel-piece, Helen,' she added
cheerily. "And, perhaps, some
one else will see them, and leave
an order with me-"
"Oh, I hope they may" Mrs.
Estcourt answered, with an eager
flush on her cheek; "for I need
money so much" And she sighed
sadly as she bent over the radiant
leaves.
x 4 * 4: K
A belt of Autumn woods, glori-
Gus with tinted foliage, and the
scharlet berries Of the hawthorn
a slope Of green grass where the
sunshine sleptin golden brightness
and u little scarlethooded damsel,
ten years old, with a basket on her
arm, like Red Ridinghood of yore.
Crack sounded the sharp report
of gun; and little Lillian Estcourt
dropped her basket, as a tall, bronze
faced man crashed his way through
the woods and laced her, rifle in
hand, and game-bag swung lightly
over his shoulder.
"Hallo !" quoth Mr.. Brian Bev-
erly, quite as much surprised as
the little girl herself, "where is the
wolff"
"Sir?" faltered Lillian.
"Where is the wolf I say"
"There are no wolves in these
woods, sir" Lily answered, quite
seriously.
"And YOU'RE going to see your
grandmother, eh ?" with little
pat Of butter and a loaf of white
bread"
"No, sir" said Lillian, secretly
thinking the gentleman must be
crazy. "I'm getting Autumn
leaves for mama."
"Oh!" said Mr.. Beverly; 81
thought you must be Little Red
Riding-Hood."
"I am Lillian Estcourt," said she,
solemnly.
"Do you know" said the gentle
man, lifting one of her sunny ring
lets with his finger. 81 was very
near shooting you? I took you
for robin red breast"
"Lily retreated in some appre-
hension, eyeing the double-barrell-
ed gun as She did so.
sI shouldn't like to be shot, y
said she.
"Probably not" assented Mr..
Beverly. "IIallo! you've got the
little basket full"
eyes, quite full,' said Lillian,
with innocent pride. "Mama will
think they are very pretty.". -,
"What does she do with them p
said Mr.. Beverly. "Make fairy
gold!"
. "No, sir" Lillian answered, again
puzzled. "She makes hand-screen
to SELL"
ooh, that's it, eh? Well, l can
take you where there's tree with
leaves as red as if they had been
painted in vermillion. Give me
your hand, for it's a rough road. :,
Once or twice, as they walked
along. Brian Beverly caught her e
earnest brown eyes fixed intently
on his face.
"Well," said he at last, "and
what do you think Of me, Little
Red Riding Hood? ?"
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