American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1876-07-15


Margaret made no answer; she shook
and turned the pillow under her moth
cr's head, changed the foot-rest, and
went to the well and drew for the inva-
lid a glass of water from the 4" coolest
corner"
"Thanks, DEAR" she said.
Forgive me, MOTHER" said Marga-
ret, wistfully, as she took the glass.
EYES," was the reply, trifle impa-
tent; but tell me what he looks like. -
"How can I?" she replied. 81
never can describe people, mother"
"You could describe Gomez well
enough when you first saw him." was
the reply.
"Well," said Margaret, the bloom
deepening on her rounded cheeks, "he
has black eyes, 1 think"
els he tallP''
"N-no," hesitated Margaret, 81
think not"
"Is he handsome?"
"Yesi" she answered promptly
at least all the girls think sou
"Do you think SOP"
"Y-yes," she hesitated again, "I
think so, mother. There comes Gomez. -
Gomez was a "Greaser," dark
skinned and understood. His devotion
to tall, fair Margaret Lily was the joke
of the neighborhood, and very funny to
all but the two chiefly concerned.
Margaret was sorry; and Gomez, know
h<r oh I<s he
Princess of the Moon, was in despair.
Nevertheless, he had accepted with de-
light an offer to milk the COW, attend to
the kitchen garden, and do odd chores
about the little black house; did he not
by that means see his divinity twice q
dayP
Margaret handed him the milk-pail,
and proceeded to build the fire for sup
per; dreaming over her work the pleas
ATTEST dreams that had ever risen in her
heart to make her happy.
Ralph Cranbourne's queer smile
would have broadened and fingered il
he could have known; her face looked
so full of peace that Gomez sat upon
the well-curb to smoke his cigarette,
where he could watch her; he always
liked to watch her cooking supper; per-
haps he dreamed queer dreams, too.
Sometimes Margaret caught a glimpse
of his black eyes, and turned back to
her labor with vague uneasiness; she
wished for moment that they lived
nearer the little town, or had nearer
neighbors where they were; for Gomez
did not bear the best of regulations,
and was suspected of riding at night in
strange company for an honest man.
When supper was ready she wheeled
in her mothers chair, and Gomez came
to the door, said in a brief s'adois, -
and departed.
"When does the ball come off P'' ask
ed the mother.
"Next Friday"
"Are you going ?''
elf Mrs. Mill can come to stay with
you, would like to-"
"What will you wear P'
"I have little enough" replied Mar
garet, shut must make that little do. -
your white dress ?''
She nodded; then sighed, "H we
were not SO poor"
"You'n have beaux enough, {" answer
ed the mother, and, strange to say, the
words grated on Margaret's ear, and
she managed to change the subject.
Yet it was true enough; the limp
white dress-starch was not an article
in common use at Last Chance Diggings
chung to her shapely form, and made
her look goddess-ike in the eyes of her
admirers; to the contrary, notwith-
standing, Miss Tompkin's remark !:
"That dress looks like rag"
The women who sat upon the rough
benches around McKinstry's barn bore
little love to Margaret; her only de-
fender was Matte Holmes. Years ago,
when little Joe had walked out nearly
to the end of the dizzy plank which had
been used in some primitive way for
raising hay into the barn loft, Marga-
ret's eyes and Margaret's smile had won
him back, and the spring of gratitude
bubbled up in Mattie's heart ever after /;
all the more because little Joe had sick
ened and died the summer after and no
one could do aught for him again.
When Cranbourne first met Margaret,
and evidently felt the charm of her
eyes, Matte told him this story, and it
fingered in his memory, SO that every
time he saw her there were moments
when he fancied that he saw in her face
the same look which had coaxed the
little boy back from his perilous place
when one startled word would have
caused his death.
| At the close of the ball Cranbourne
asked Matte how her friend was going
to get home.
"Father and I are going home with
her," was the answer.
"Won't do as well?' he asked,
coaxingly. "Your father doesn't want
to take that long walk
"Of course you will,' said Maggie,
delighted. "I'l tell pa.''
Margaret's cheeks and eyes lighted
up alike when he asked her, and a
smothered thought went up from her
heart to heaven-albeit McKintry's
barn was hardly the place to pray in
f" Thank you, my Father.'
And when, the walk over, she went
into her tiny room, she fell upon he1
knees with feeling that she never
dreamed of before. "Oh, my Father,
if it could be!'