Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1882-08-29

whose business it was to rent 1t, closed
it and left it to loneliness and creeping
decay.
No one ever went there now but Miss
Lefty, who had occasionally crept through
the gaps in its hedges to gather roses
from its struggling bushes, or TO sit with
her sewing long summer afternoon un-
der the shade of the vines of the neg
Neglected back porch, reviving memories of
the old days when Lucy Hedges had been
her dearest girl friend, and Jim her op-
enly acknowledged boy-lover.
And now Jim's hand was on the gate,
and his childs step already upon the
porch. His ready key soon turned the
latch, and they both stepped over the
long silent threshold and disappeared from
her sight.
Blue and shaking with cold and ex-
citement, Miss Lefty turned from the little
window and crept back to the warmth
and dumb comfort of her fireside.
"Oh, mercy me oh, mercy me. oh,
mercy me :" was all she seemed able to
say for at least five minutes.
"To think that he has come back, at
last, after all these years, to his old
home :"
II wonder if he remembers :"
Then she began to remember, with
distinctness that was vivid, short, sweet,
interviews and sly, stolen kisses under
the moon or caught at between those old
foolish games that the young folks Of
her time used TO play at their merry meet
ings.
Il wonder-if he remembers" she
murmured over and over again, as she
rocked steadily in an aimless, dreamy
maze, back and forth, back and forth,
before her little stove. Then it all came
back TO her suddenly, that that was long
ago; that both were older now; that
everything, including themselves, had
changed with time, and that she was
wasting precious moments.
She caught up her work again with
energy, but found to her dismay that she
could not set stitch. Her hands felt
cold and nervless, and refused to obey
her will for the first time since she could
remember.
What a goose am - she calculated
and then, trembliugly -
Perhaps l had best change my dress
and do my hair. don't suppose he'll
call ; bu, then he might, and it's best
be ready, anyway
She slipped into her little room near
by, and hurriedly threw on her best
dress, neat black alpaca. And then
should shes No. Yes. Well, just
once And on went the pretty bright
blue bow that was so becoming, and that
she had never worn but once-to their
church fair
Then she damped, just little, the
pale locks over her forehead, that they
might draw themselves into soft waves,
for her hair had that rare gift of natural
curl, when it did not have the crimp
teased out of it by her usual severe NOR
tifcation of such fiightiness as we'll as Of
everything else pretty, as though they
were unbecoming maiden who was
self-supporting and spinister.
She was really surprised at the result,
and smiled at herself as she added
white apron, without which she would
hardly have felt sat home" she thought.
Il should at least like to look some
thing as did then,' she apolo5ized to
her glass, "in case he comes to see me-"
She was ready at last, and went out
and sat down. But not to stay. She
could not rest. She could not be still.
She must move. Up and down, up and
down she paced, wringing her hands.
"Oh, could bear it when l did not
see him. But have seen him now, and
| cannot. | cannot love him yet
Oh, James, James Oh, how can bear
it,
All this she moaned, although she
knew all the while that she was foolish
to give away so to feelings which ought
to have been dead within her long ago.
"It is wrong, all wrong in me, l know"
she sobbed, Historically. "He belongs
TO some other woman, now, and has for
gotten me, or l would have heard from
him, just once, in all these years.
She started. She had not heard any
one click the gate, but surely, there was
tap at the door.
Hastily wiping her eyes, she glanced
out of the window, and saw her old low
er standing toying carelessly with the
gate, whilst the haired child knocked
at her door.
With the glow still on her cheeks, and
i =, L. L.. a.a.la.a..I ILL IN