The Newtown bee., 1879-04-15
HELEN

"Helenn called a fresh, girlish voice. 'Oh, here you are! Just like you, for all the world! Poring over your books by light suited only for owls eyes"
 It was true; the only illumination in the large low-ceiled farm kitchen eman- ated from some smoldering embers in the large old fashioned fireplace; and as Helen rose at her friends voice, and went with her into the family sitting-room, her eyes had dazed, bewildered look for q moment as though her mind had been far away.
 "Why, under the sun, Hclen," asked her aunt, "don't you study in here in- stead of getting off by yourself, and spoil ing your eyes reading by firelightp Such pranks put me out of all patiencer
 Now, auntie, don't scold, said Helen, coaXingly; then turning to Mattie, she asked: What is it, Mattie? something pleasant, know by your looks?"
 Mattie's black eyes sparkled.
 '1ndeed, Helen, you guessed right. MT. Marron asked me to let you know. We're going to have a straw ride to- morrow night, if the weather is fine, and will be after you at seven o'clock. So be ready, sure"
 Helen's face had frightened at the mention of Mir. Marron's name; but it clouded again.
 "Why did he not come himself with the invitation, instead of sending?" she asked
 "Oh, Milly Dutton's arithmetic is all in muddle, and she asked him to come to the house tonight and help her. Since MT. Marrons been our teacher some of the girls need lots of help!'' was Mattie's satirical reply.
 Helens red lips set themselves together with sudden resoluteness:
 "I shall not go," she said.
 "Now, Helen, don't say that Archie Marron cares more for the tip of your little finger than for Milly Dutton's whole body; but she's always doing things to get his attention. He can't rebuff her, you know, for that would be rude".
 |" shall not enter lists against her, said Helen, quietly. Mattie knew it was useless to say more. Helen was as firm as she was gentle when she thought her. self in the right. "Tell MT. Marron am engaged" she continued "and so I amp holding up her well-worn Latin grammar.
 "Yes," said Mattie, as spitefully as such a good-natured girl could speak " 1 suppose you'll be at your old tricks! One would think you meant to be judge or minister, or
 50 I would if I could," answered Helen, soberly; "but as those profes- sions are not generally accessible to us, l mean to be teacher"
 Helen was an orphan, and dependent on her uncle. Uncle Amos entertained secret scorn for '' bookworms," as he called them. By him Helens literary proclivities were considered an unfortu- nate inheritance from her father. He had been a scholarly man of fine abili- ties, marred, however, by an utter lack of that practical common sense without which one stands but poor chance of making his way in the world. Helen, however. differed widely with him in this. While inheriting his brilliant talents, she had also qualities which called out her shrewd old uncle's respect, so that he was really fond of her.
 Of late, however, Helen had been liv- ing in a world peopled with sweet and tender fancies for the future. Mir. Mar ron, handsome, young college student, had been appointed master of the village school, and had singled her out by va- rious kindly attentions as his favorite pupil, so that the advent upon the scene of a pretty but frivolous young girl, who was an adept at filtration, and who man. aged to monopolize him completely, at first caused Helen sharp, keen pain. She was so little used to the ways of