The Dickinson press., 1883-10-20
COUSIN ROLF.
BY HELEN FOREST GRAVES.

0P
1t was a brilliant July day, with skies
ofcloldless blue, the air scented with
clover blossoms, and the brook wend-
ing its melodious way.under green mass.
es of peppermint; and Mr.. Carey, who
had walked a long distance, and had
just fallen into a doze, under the re-
freshing shadow of a gnarled old APPLE
tree, started ealvanically up at this un-
gentle address.
"Ma'am." said he, 'I assure you 1 am
not trespassing; l."
But his apologize words were cut short
by the rafting ola stout stick on the stone
wall, close to him; and in another mo-
ment a billigerent-looking red COW,
came %plunging through the high grass.
directly toward his haven of refuge.
He started to run, but his foot catch
ing in the gnarled root of an ancient
tree, he fell headlong. The COW execu-
ted hurdle leap over his PROSTATE
form, and vanished in a clump of hazel
bushes; and a resolute, bright-eyed wo-
man. of some forty odd years, came to
the rescue, with a Tapping sunbonnet
tied over her ears, and the stick bal
anced across her shoulders.
Don't strike" pleaded Mr.. Carey.
"I'm getting off the premises as fat as /
trespassing."
Desire Welland blushed very prettily.
as she pushed back the sunbonnet. and
endeavored to adjust her luxuriant red.
brown hair, which had broken loose from
its pins.
wasn't you | meant at all, sir: it was the
cow who had got into the cabbage patch.
Did l hit you with the stick? But 1
v dreamed of any one but Bossy be.
ing there. Oh let me run home and get
the camphor bother"
Slowly, Mr.. Carey raised himself to a
sitting position and then to a standing
posture, slowly he felt his knees, elbows
and collar-bones.
"I'm not hurt" said he-"not to sig
nifty, that is. 1t wasn't your stick,
ma'am; it was the roots of this old tree.
It's enough to startle any man; don't you
see; to hear himself called-an old
scamp"
"But it wasn't you I meant" breath
lessly cried Desire "it was the old COW.
Won't you let me run up to the house
and pet a capcine plaster? Oh, do"
Desire was fair to look upon, in spite
Of her forty summers, with big black
eyes, a laughing cherry mouth, and
cheeks just Drowned with the healthful
hue of mountain breezes. MI. Carey
felt himself gradually softening as he
looked at her.
emo" said he, ct don't care for a
capcine plaster. But I've walked a good
way, and I should like a bowl of coffee
if it's handy"
ooh, pray come up to the house them"
said Desire; "its only a step across
the orchard. Oh, that cow. that COW!
after this!"
Perhaps" said Mr.. Carey, solemnly,
us he e%ndeavored to straighten the edg-
es of his hat, "you know a family by
the name of Welland who live here
abouts. Two old maids who manage a
farm all by themselves. Very peculiar
females, l am told"
Desire stood still and began to laugh,
while the deep crimson suffused her
cheeks.
why" cried she "It's me and NAL
vina. We are the Welland girls"
1t was Mr.. Carey's turn to flush and
lock awkward now.
"Oh!" said he. "Well. it don't mat
ter: I've business at the Welland farm
that's ALL"
'Isn't it strange that things should
gate into the dim. 8 hadowy orchard,
where scarlet lilies grew in the tail
grass, and robins darted in and out of
the dropping boughs. "There's the
house. You can see it now. Malvina
and ] have managed the farm eversince
father died. Philo-that's our brother
has a house and an estate ofhis own,
and his wife don't want any single rela-
tions. But we've done very we'll every
n says. There's the place. And here's
Mal7lna!'
Miss Malvina Welland was diligently
hoeing sweet corn in a mans hat and
boots. She was a tall, Amazonian sort
of female, with high cheek bones, hair
cut short, and a masculine a of lean
. ing on her hoe. She looked sharply
around at the sound of footsteps.
SIS it the e hired MANI" said she.
"ihen Desire, you may tell him that
we don't want help that comes at this
time of day. I'll have no eight hour
men on my place."
"Oh, Malyina, hushl It's a gentle
man on business"
In came brother Philo from the back
yard, with an augur in his hand.
"Eb?" said brother Philo, a wrinkled,
hard-featured man in q blue overall.
and boots that looked as though they
might have been carved out of lignum
vitae.
Business? 1t amt a sewin' machine I
s'pose? or a new patent reaper, nor any
of these labor savin' humbugs? Be-
cause"
"It's about your Cousin Rolf" said
Mr. Carey "Paul Welland's son. He's
come back from Australia. He reques-
ted me to come over here as ! hap
pened to be passing this way, and see
ing him a home"
At these words, Mrs. Philo Welland
emerged from the currant-bushes,
where she was picking the sparkling,
ruby-colored fruit to make jelly. For
Mrs Philo believed in picking her
neighbours fruit before she began or. her
own.
ga home, indeea!" said Mrs. Philo.
cts what l always told you, Philo! says
I, that man'll be sure to come back
some day, poorer than poverty, says 1.
And he'll expect us to take care of him
then. But we've worked a deal too
hard for our money-me and Philo-
and if he wants to be supported, let him
just go to the poor house. Paul Welland
always was a rovin' creetur', and Rolf
amt no better, I'll go bail!"
MI. Philo Welland screwed up his
ia ,e into an expression of the utmost
caution.
"P'r'aps you're his lawyer, sir?" said
he.
MI. Cary nodded.
81 act for him." said he.
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