Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1881-01-06
Gales arto Skettbes.
HOW CHERRY rHereHr OF IT.

ticed tho group of girls on the steps until
as they moved aside to let her pass. she
caught fragment of their conversation.
Melted lead is lots of fun-runs into
such queer shapes, you know, and tells
what his occupation is going 10 be"
''Oh, apple parings are better They al
most tell the NAME" interrupted another.
Throw 'em over your shoulder. and
they'll fall on the floor all curled mp. and
make the initials as plain a can be Why
saw-Tiush -
The last word was due Ia her own near
approach, and she walked on. smiling
family at the idea Of consulting such ora
cles to decide her future. and settle the
question that vexed her.
She had promised. rather YEARLY, when
John Aston asked her the night before
that she would think OF il. She might
have thought with rosy bushes and swift
glad heart-throbs if it had happened in a
different way-if he had come as a stran-
ger to Glenville, and there had been the
romance of first meeting, the sweet sur
prise Of acquaintanceship growing grad
ually warmer and dearer until there came
the sudden knowledge that, though Two
TO the world, for the worlds work. sake y
they were leach unto each. rs in God ,
sight, one"
For, Cherry acknowledged to herself,
she did like John. Of course" That vas
the trouble-there was so much of course
about it. Why she hal known him ever
since she could remember. They had
built mud-oyens and hunted winiergreen
together. and he had whitfield horrid wood
en- dolls for her with his jackkniie. And
now he had asked her 10 be his vile.
Asked her in Just one Of their familiar
commonplace chats by the little back gate,
without even the glamour of ght
over them
She was keeping her promise most
thoroughly. Aunt Barbara helped her to
begin It's fuliilment at the breakfast table.
'Heard some one come home with
YOU last night. Cherry. Was it John ~
ton?''
.'Yes'm," said Cherry, meditatively.
Most folks think you two are keeping
company"
Most folks certainly thought correctly
last night
You amt dumb when you don want
TO be, cherry You know what mean
well enough, said Aunt barbara with Il
sagacious nod of her head. You two
don't go together 80 much Tor nothing.
Nom; it's for company, generally
answered Cherry, serene "
Yes and you've lea ned pretty well
how many it takes to make company.
Well. | don't know but you might do
worse"
Cherry's worn kid boot began to tap
uneasily on the carpet under the table.
ITO be sure he's not a rich rs some.
but then no more are you, continued
Aunt Barbara, considering the matter in
its pros and cons. You'd have to begin
plain. but that wouldn't hurt you; YOU re
both common folks. You could easy
make a rag carpet OF evenings between
this and Christmas ; and unbleachcd mus
lin has come down three cents a
Aunt Barbara :" intcrposed Cherry.
We'll. what now?' demanded Aunt
Barbara with an injured air. Il didn t
know rs it was any great crime to be plan
ming what's best for you
NV whole life has been nothing but
rag carpet and unbleached muslin. I'd
like a change ~ burst forth Cherry, storm
ily. And there's no use in planning for
what never will come.
Dear me. what a flare up Many bet
ter folks than YOU haven't Jared ~ well
all their lives, Charity Holmes"
That was true enough. but Cherry YVES
in no mood to hear ii just then Besides
she couldn't endure her full name it al
WAYS made her feel like an orphan asy-
lum." she said; and she made no answer.
but began gathering up her school-books
and papers in silence. Our thoughts are
very like our bodies in this. that if they
start of on wrong train in the morning
they are scarcely likely to have arrived at
a proper destination by night. Cherry :
wandered to the ends at the earth that
day.
She knew what Johns proposition of a
little home meant-a quiet wedding in
that quiet little village, the settling grave
" i'm some plain little house. and then II
monotonous round of homely cares and
duties. year after year. for a lifetime. Just
the rag-carpets and unbleached muslin
that Aunt Barbara had begun TO enum-
crate in her distressingly practical way
the way that often made Cherry re-
helliouslv remark to herself that she
didn't believe she should ever want to
see paradise itself il once Aunt Barbara
had described il tn her. What other life
did Cherry expect She could not have
answered only there arose vague bright
dreams of far-off lands.-ot grand old
mountains under the glow of foreign skies
days ofwandering amid rare old paintings
and marvellous sculpture, and glorious
nights filed with music. the tinkling Of
fountains and odor Of flowers unknown.
There was one narrow door ofpo>sbility
opening from Cherrv'> life towards these
kingdoms of the world and the glory of
,hem"-a door which Miss Fosilby's hand.
yellow. withered and glittering with
diamonds. held the KEY. Mss Fosilby.
or at least her house and grounds. We're
the pride of Chenille. Stiff, stately and
bristling with ostentatious costliuess. they
were complacently pointed out to every
new conner. And Miss Fosilby had met
and talked with Cherry. and. attracted by
the bright young face. had graciously in
timated tina; she had sometimes thought
she should like companion. and how
would Cherry like to live with her. and
travel with here
That last was the charm. for Miss Eos
ilby visited mountains or lakes or falls
every wear. and sometimes strayed even
to those older glory-haunted lands which
Cherry saw only in dreams. Should she
try to make the dreams come true? John