Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1878-02-17
loud and deep, filed the modest apart
ment-Los dageles fCa1.l Herald.
AUTUMN LEAVES,
4 T,Iensnnt T;t,f. Sto

4 Pleasant Little Sto,y.
Autumn leavesm Mrs. Hawthorne
cried out, ecstatically.
For the little table was covered with
drifts OF red leaves and yellow leaves
and leaves veined with blood; and Mrs.
Estcourt was bending over half-fnshed
wreath which she was fastening upon a
handsome screen of Bristol board.
" Yes, autumn leaves,n she answered,
looking up With smile as she shook back
the thick brown tresses from her pale
forehead ! Do you Think any one will
buy them?"
Mrs Haythore shook her head dubious
They are beautiful, Helen" she said,
" but suppose they may be classed with
the merely ornamental articles for which
there is comparatively 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. Haythorne's kind
ly heart ached for her as she gazed.
" But | 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-
80, | hope they may" Mrs. Estcourt an
sweret, with an eager flush on her cheek
for need money so much''
), And she sighed sadly as she bent over
the radiant leaves.
A belt Of autumn woods, glorious with
tinted foliage and the scarlet berries of
the hawthorn; slope of green grass
where the sunshine slept in golden
brightness; and a scarlet-hooded damsel,
ten years old, with basket on her arm,
like Red Riding Hood of yore.
Crack. sounded the report of a gun,
and little Lillian Estcourt dropped her
basket as tall, bronze-faced man crash
eel his way through the woods and faced
her, rife in hand, and game-bag swung
loosely over his shoulder.
Hello quoth Mr.. Brian Beverley,
quite as much surprised as the little girl
herself Where is the Wolff;
''Sir?" faltered Lillian.
"Where is the wolf, say2'
"There are no wolves in these woods,
sir, Lily answered quite seriously.
"And you're going to see your grand
mother, Ell? with a little pat of butter and
a loaf of white bread"
"No, sir, said Lillian, secretly think
ing the gentleman must be crazy I'm
getting autumn leaves for mamma
co." said Mr.. Beverley, II thought
you must be Little Red Riding Hood >
81 am Lillian Estcourt," said she, sol
emily.
DO you know" said the gentleman
lifting one of her sunny rlnglets with his
finger, Il was very near shooting YOU
took you for robin red-breast."
Lilly retreated in some apprehension
cycling the double barrclled gun as she
did SO
81 shouldn't like to be shot" said she.
'Probably not, assented Mr.. Beverley
Halo. you We got the little basket full
Eyes, quite FULL said Lillian, with in
nocent pride. mamma will think they
are very pretty"
What does she do with them?n said
Mr.. Beverley. "Make fairy gold?'
mo, Sir, Lillian answered. again pllz-
Zled. .o1ie luakes hand-screens to SELL
20, that's it, eh? Well, l can take you
where there's tree with leaves as red as
if they mad been painted in virmilion
Give me yo VI hand, for it's a rough
road"
Once or twice, as they walked along
Brian Beverley caught her earnest brown
eyes fixed intently on his face
"Well, said he. at last, and what dc
you think Of me, little Red Riding
Hocd?',
81 think you arc very kind" returned
the small physiognomist.
You don't regard me in the light of :
wolf, then?'
Lillian shook her head as she skipped
along by his side.
cor she CRED, suddenly, as they drew
near the edge Of a steep ravine, at whose
bottom a noisy stream gurgled ovel
brown, messy stones, "what lovely rec
vine! can get some of those leaves,
! know
''stopn cried Mr.. Beverley, suddenly
as he noted the almost perpendicula
rock over whose gray lodges the scarle
vine hung in wild graceful festoons; Blu
he was foo late.
Little Lillian Estcourt had sprung for
ward her foot slipped on the deceitfu
green moss; the vine to which she instinc
lively chung gave way with cracking
wrencbing sound, and the next instan
she had vanished from Brian Beverley
terrified vision.
Only little heap Of clothes lay on th,
bank of the rivulet below, with the scar
let hood making blot of vivid color no
unlike pool of blood.
He called, but she did not stir, and
with chattering teeth and pale cheeks, hi