Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1878-08-01

toward you. Dld you ever see any
thing 50 horrible Fennel ?''
He took her hands; she hardly
glanced at him.
Darling" he said.
She snatched her band away in
sudden impatience.
Don't !" she said. 81 wis you
wouldn't, Fennel."
"But l love you."
81 cannot help it,"
lie regarded her solrowfully. She
took her shawl from the grass and
put it on.
ut is chilly here, and late I am
going home, she said.
He walked silently at her side out
of the woods and across the wide
fields Of Growers Tract. Never
was there more hopeless lover than
rennell Gould. 1T the farmhouse
door he said, Goodnight, Ber-
trode." She bowed, and he went
over the hill in the warm gray twi:
light, curSing his cruel fate rs lovers
have cursed their fates before.
Through u succession of hot days
the month went out. Before it had
passed, Bertrode was taken sick
miserable i'll of fever. She suffered
wearisomely, but little could be
done for her. 1t was a slow fever
which must burn out its course.
She was thirsty continually, and
suddenly in the midst Of her suffer
Jugs, the spring which had supplied
her with cool water grew dry, and
all other water tasted warm and
brackish to her fevered lips.
''If only had some ice, mother 7"
she moancd.
II know, dear, but there is no ice
in less than twenty miles"
Too i'll to express her misery, the
f evered girl feI! asleep, to dream of
the old yellow Grover Tract stage
straining its way over the heavy
sandy roads to Northb0ro', the only
place where there was m ice house
there to procure for her a great
green block of the refreshing ice she
coveted.
ut will be so nice !" she muir
INJURED in her sleep. MY throat is
parched and it will cool my drink SO
deliciously -
\ cricket sang in the heated wall
and woke her. She heard the stage
trundling over the hill.
elias it come mother ?'' she ask
ed.
"What, dear? you are dream,
ing. Wake up, and drink scme of
this nice iced lemonade"
''Ice, mother Where did you
get it ?"
Fennell has been to Ncrthboro,
for it. He's very kind to you, Ber-
tie, dear"
"lt's refreshing. How long have
l been asleep, mother ?"
''All the afternoon, and I really
think you look better, Bertie'
BertrOde turned on her pillow and |
fell asleep again. In the morning
she was better, but not we'll. The |
pale lips were still parched-the
mouth so long feyered, tasteless.
She relished only the drinks, iced |
and cool, which her mother prepar-
ed.
One day she said
f. ow is it that that ice lasts
so 20
"Why Fennel goes to Northboro
for fresh !piece every other day. |
The weather is SO warm that it
melts very fast.''
"But it's haying time. How can
he be spared ?''
'He goes at night after eight |
O'Clock, 1 don't see how he can do
it when he works in the field until |
he is ready to drop"
Then Why do you ask him moth
er ?''
Goodness, child! 1 never asked
him | guess l didn't It's his own
service. 1 never dreamed o9 asking |
him.
Bertrode, bolStered up in bed sat
silent awhile.
"Fennel's very kind" she said at
last but l DON'T like to tax people
so. Mother, if L am better to-mor-
row can't ride out ?''
"Perhaps So"
Tomorrow Bertrode was feverish
again. Nothing passed her parched
lips but a yellow peach, rareripe,
that was wonder to the neighbor-
hood.
"Where did it come from, moth
er ?''
''Fennel brought it."
The next morning, when she |
awoke, a gust of spicy GOODNESS
whitfield into her face.
"What is that ?'' she cried.
starting up.
Just pitcher of sprays from the