The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1884-10-17


fifty miles distant, beyond which the
deacon's little journeys seldom extend.
"N-no," says the old man, hesitating-
ly, "well.go East, Mirandy. What
would We say to New York;" &c,
father, nor she cried, turning away
and hiding her burning face in her
hands. Not that couldn't"
"Ye don'tneed to act so, Mirandy, he
says, gently. "Would / ask We to do
anything We hadn't ougbter do? Well
go ter yer Aunt Libby's, my pretty;
she'll be right glad to see We fer yer
mothers sake" Then in a low tone and
hurriedly. "Thar's many things might
hev happened-maybe he went away an
never got yer letters-thar's no tellin'
-'pears as if would be more comfort
able like to know fer sure-an' thar's
that new reaper l was wantin, raising
his voice, I'll be dead sure to get a bet
ter bargain up to New York. 1 kinder
hated dom the job in Jacksonville;
faint much of aplace, anyhow. Kin ye
be ready in the mornin,' MiraRdy!" And
the deacon assumes an air OF pleased an
ticipation. Miranda's heart throbs Wild
ly ;she tries in vain to crush the unreason-
ng Joy which fills her. and gives, against
her will, lightness and buoyance to her
steps and brightness to her dark eyes.
She spends the first part of the nightin
hasty preparations, and afterwards,
with no thought of sleep, sits at the
open window OF her room, her head
buried in her hands, dreaming, perhaps,
less Of the future than OF the past.
In the gray dawn of the next morn
ing father and daughter are already
on their way, and the evening of the
second day finds them in New York.
Aunt Libby receives them with open
arms, and to Miranda the evening
passes like q dream. Long afterwards
little scraps of conversation and anec-
dotes of her dead mother came back to
her, and when she tried to recall them
more fully the stufty, third floor parlor
of a second-class Brooklyn boarding
house rose before her, and she saw
again Aunt Libby's angular figure and
kind, searching black eyes.
In the morning she wakes late from a
heavy, dreamless sleep, and goes down
stairs to find the deacon preparing for
a day in the city. He calls her aside,
and, without u word, she puts into his
hand a scrap of paper upon which she
has written the address Fitzgerald gave
her. Her hand trembies u little as she
does SO, but otherwise she is outwardly
calm and composed. The deacon CLAN
ces at her with a look of tender anxiety,
which soon changes to relief. That's
right, my pretty" he says, true grit's
what does it, Mirandv, under all sar-
c~umstances." And then Aunt Libby
comes in, and the deacon remarks that
he is "as like as not to hev a 'tarnation
lot o bother about tibet reaper, and meb-
be he won't git back afore supper-time."
Aunt Libby promises to "show Miranda
round" And soon the old man leaves
them.
Somehow the day, which has seemed
interminable, draws to a close, and to-
ward evening Miranda is seated by the
window, a small cousin on her knee. for
whose benefit she is i%mprovising a fairy
tale. Each nerve in her body thrills
with intense though suppressed excite
ment. What is it that she expects she
hardly knows and will not ask herself,
but at every football on the steps out
side she starts and clasps her hands
more tightly together. A bright flush
is on her cheek, her eyes are large with
expectation. The fairy-tale in nearly
ended: $50 you see. after ALL" Miriam
da is saying, "the knight came back to
the princess"-there is a step ontside,
the door opens, and the deacon comes
malone. "Hev ye-hev We had a
pleasant day, Miranda?" he begins Ter
vously.
Miranda puts the child off her knee
and he runs out OF the room. Then,
What is it, father?" she says, quietly.
The deacon gives a little uneasy
cough. "Thet friend as we was speak
in of the other day." he says, slowly,
"he's-married, Mirandy."
She stands for a few minutes looking
into the dusty street. Then she turns;
the flush has faded from her face: she
is very white. 81 went shopping this
morning with Aunt Libby, father" she
says, in q strange, hard voice, "and we
bought this" taking a parcel from the
table, "for Liz. Do you think she will
like it?"
The deacon chokes down something
i'll his throat. II know'd ye had true
grit, Mirandy, he says.
"Hush," she answers, and kisses him.
The next day they go back to Romulus.