Fayette County herald. [volume] (Washington [Washington Court House], Fayette County, O. [Ohio]) 1860-1???, 1879-11-13

/ j y
cake, too. Suppose you frost couple
of the loaves for tomorrow evening,
and put the others away in the tin.
You must be sure and wrap them up
well. Did you ask anybody to come in
the evening besides the Watsons and
JimP'
"No, ma a'am-that is--yes," began
Polly, flushing and futtered. " mean
/ didn't ask; but when Phil Ralston was
here in the summer he said he should
drop in if he could, and told him we d
be happy to see him. That was what
l meant, mother"
40, WE'LL" replied Mrs. Pursall, too
intent upon the pies to detect the weak
points of this lucid explanation, that
was so long ago that very likely he's
forgot all about it. But Philip is al
ways welcome, anyhow"
Polly said nothing. In her secret
soul she did not believe Phil had for
gotten.
How distinctly she remembered about
that promise! All through the short
vacation, so vaguely alluded to as ain
the SUMMER" they had been together,
Phil and she, gardening at the rate OF
a mignonette seed to twenty minutes
conversation; bOtanizing," Il. (heaven
save the rnark! Polly hafdly yiShe@3the
difference between pistil and pistoD {;
dawdling at the gate under the pink
sunset till the moon rose shy and sill
very above the pink, and Mrs. ,PursalPs
voice addressed them from an upper
window on the subject. of "damp;'' "
g trapesing,'' to use the language of
the same authority, in wet grass Of
evenings to search out glow-worms-
all these and similar pursuits had made
it time of enchantment. Phil was an
old playmate and neighbor; nobody
thought much of their. beng together.
but Polly thought a great deal, And
the last day of all, when she supposed
him gone, he had stolen away half an
hour before train time, and surprised
her in the cool well room, her sleeves
rolled up, her slender waist enveloped
in white apron, making pies-all un-
conscious of his proximity. That last
visit stood in bold relief from others;
for, lingering there outside the window,
words lad been half said, half looked,
which she could never forget, though,
at the time halffrightened. She had pre-
tended not to understand them. And
at last he took to teasing her about the
pies, as she daintily rolled her paste,
and Jagged the narrow strips for edg-
ing. Wouldn't she make him one-all
of his own-at Thanksgiving time, for
instance, for he was coming home thenP
o, yes, he was sure she would, though
she gave no promise; he should come
in the evening for it. And then the
time came for him to 60, And leaning
through the window-POlly cOlOred
now as she thought of it-he had softly
kissed the little brown wrist and de-
parted, his last words being, If you
love me, Polly, don't forget the pie"
l am afraid it was too late for that " il. "
For, dreadful as it seems, the Pollys
of real life do not always wait, as the
books say they should, until a decisive
word has been spoken before yielding
their hearts. Love comes unsOught,
unseen, as the sun comes, or the dew;
eyes ask, and looks ask. Prudence tugs
feebly at the bolt, but her strength is
weakness; open flies the door, and Gu
pid takes possession for bliss or bale.
Which, in our POlly's case, it was to be,
remained to be shown. She feared
nothing, poor child. Phil loved her,
she was sure, and all the hopeful sky
was bright with early dawn.
/" If you love me-" The words so
lightly spoken hummed round her like
a song, as she drew from its hiding
place Phil's pie. Such pie! Crisp as
frost, foam-white, except where heat
had kissed it into brown, with edge so
trinity, so exactly cut, and middle
adorned with wondrous twirl of paste
embodying the initial 6 Pa marvel
GUS pie!-a pie to make the mouth
water, and put an appetite under the
ribs of Dyspepsia. Long and lovingly
did Polly gaze on this cbef-d' Ce~Vre be-
fore committing it to the topmOst shelf
in the pantry, and then, rapidly restOr-
ing all to its pristine tidiness, she fled
upstairs; for there was hat to be
trimmed, and, housekeeper though she
was, Polly was no less girl-a girl of
eighteen, and what was more, the pref
test girl of eighteen in COhasset. Some
thing was due to this eminent position.
So, shut into her room, she sat ad-
iusting the killing little feather on the
new /" turban," turning now and then
to survey the effect in a morsel of look
ing.glass, and by-and-by, as the drifted
gold began to gather round the sunset,
a sound came on the wind-the distant
shrek of locomotive. The train had
arrived at The Junction." four miles
away. Far above the woods she could
see Che dim blue smoke. Down went
ihe new hat, and a lovely smile parted
her lips. That shrek meant-Phil;
and question if Beethoven's finest so
nata could at that moment have seemed
more musical-so true it is that at times
we listen with an inward ear to which
all sounds are melodious if they suggest
the thing we love.
Phil was come. The thought awoke
with her next morning, and lent its
spring to the many small businesses
which ushered in the day. 1t was for
him she rubbed the crimson apples till
they shone, heaped the grape clusters
SO tastefully, and crowned the vases
vv;tb obyvsanth euourns and paV leaves