The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1885-08-26
INTERESTING STORY.
LINNET'S LADY-APPLES,

Such pretty apples !" cried Linnet Des-
soir, ecstatically. "With red cheeks, lust
as If fairy pencil had painted item, and
delicious, bloomy streaks here and there
should like to copy them on plaque or
panel or something, if only one could be
sure of reproducing those delicate tints of
rose and white !"
Well, l declare 7" said Rose Hebron.
the country cousin, whom she was visiting,
laughing with merry, thrush-like laugh,
as the two girls sat on moss-enameled
boulder under the boughs of the lady-apple.
tree, with here and there yellow leaf fut.
tering dreamily down at their feet Who
would dream of such a poetical description
applying to the apples that grow in Squire
Sandtord's orchard ?"
" Wasn't it good of him to allow us to
gather them ?" said Linnet, trimming the
side-leafiets off lovely brsnch of yellow
golden-rod.
:" shall not believe that they are abso.
iutely ours, though declared Rose, Gun.
III see them in the old apple-bin at home.n
why not2"
Oh, Squire Cedric is SO eccentric y
Rose answered, carelessly.
"Cedric2 Is that his namep"
:" Yes. Isn't it an odd old relic of the
saxon times ?" laughed Rose.
It's very romantic name," remarked
Linnet, wrinkline her brows in pretty con-
sideration of the epithet.
He isn't romantic" observed Rose.
Isn't he? But why not ?"
He's so old Thirty, at least /" Rose
responded, with an emphatic nod Of The
head.
Horrid ogre !" said Linnet who was in
her seventeenth year. "Come, Rosey, lets
go home. Pm as hungry as a cannibal
Gathering apples is such hard work |"
She skipped ahead, with her yellow tres
,es floating behind, like stray strands OF
sunshine, and her white dress rustling over
the drifts of perfumed leaves that carpeted
the path.
Rose followed, with affectionate eyes of
admiration.
What is the difference between mo and
Linnet ?" she asked herself. my dress is
white also; my hair is as golden as hers.
Why is 1t that she is like q dancing sprite-
l, plodding human being?"
Poor little Rosy She did not realize
that Linnet Dessoir had grown up in IN
altogether different atmosphere that Lin.
net had unconsciously modelled her dres,
from the graceful robes which her father,
the artist, kept to drape his iay-fgures
that her eye had been trained, her taste cul.
tured, in every possible point
He's only poor, struggling artist !"
Farmer Hebron had been won't contemptu.
ously to observe, when he saw his brother.
in-law's name among the lists specially hon.
ored by the Academy of Design.
I" Hes good fellow enough" Eugene
Dessoir airily remarked, when his agricul-
tural connection happened to be mentioned.
But he hasn't an idea beyond his own fat
cattle He don't live; he only vegetables p
Linnet, however, the bright, motherless
young beauty, was great fayorite of the
kind-hearted Hebrons; and when she had
so enthusiastically admired the beautiful
pink-and-white lady-apples on Squire Sand
lords tree, Mr.. Hebron had gone 80 far out
Of his way as to ask the squire for barrel.
"Just to please the little GIRL" said he.
"She thinks q deal Of pretty things"
"She is quite Welcome" said Squire
Sandford, with formal politeness. "f you
will send barrel to the tree tomorrow,
Mr.. Hebron, 1t shall be filled for your
niece"
And when the squire said this he pictured
in his minds eye the aforesaid niece as n
romp of eleven or twelve, with shingled
hair, freckles and prefer naturally long
arms and legs.
All night long Linnet Dessoir dreamed OF
the lady-apples, and when the sun lose, n
sphere of rubbed fire, above the eastern hills
she jumped out of bed and dressed herself
with haste.
az can't sleep another minute" said she.
" It's just the very sort of morning to walk
out across the woods and look at the lady
apple-tree, with the little spring gushing
out SO close to its roots, and the blue asters,
and thickets of golden-rod, by the stone
fence. won't wake Rosy. Rosy was up
late last night, putting labels and brandy
papers on the ounce jelly. I'll let her
sleep, and go by myself"
But Miss Hebron was no more Of lag
gard in the morning than was her city cou.
sin. At seven precisely she knocked at Lin.
nets door, but the bird had flown.
How provoking I" said Rose. " But I'll
follow her. She must have gone to try to
make that sketch of the old messy rock
close to the lady-apple-tree l wonder If
she knows that my father has pastured Ajax
in the adjoining field2"
Ajax" was savage, beautiful bull,
who was at once the pride and torment OF
Farmer Hebron, and thrill of terror came
into Roses heart as she made oil speed te
follow the dewy track of Linnet's footsteps
over the grass.
As she reached the belt of woods close to
the apple-orchard, she paused in dismay at
Me sound of a sweet, high-pitched voice.
IT'S Linnet |" she involuntarily exclaim
ID. "And she's scolding somebody. Deai
me, whom can it be? Surely not Ajax!"
You are a thief /" she could hear Lin
net exclaim-" a robberl Lot that barrel
of apples alone, say. ! don't care whether
you are Squire Sandford or not. That bar
rel of apples is mine p
And as Rose drew near, she could see
this dimpled young Amazon resolutely de.
Tending the barrel of apples, with her sin
gle strength, against Squire Sandford and
his stoutest farm laborer. Ha ~.
She stood there, with one slight hand laid
OF the red-cheeked fruit, which was brini.