The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1885-10-07

the gentleman into the parlor we have
already been introduced to, with a de
mure little courtesy and the words al
will send mother" Martha left him.
In few moments a comely, rosy
checked woman came hurrying into the
parlor with:
GOOD afternoon, sIr, Martha tells me
you have letter for me from an old
| friend"
eyes, from my mother" and the
gentleman held toward her the letter.
Having read it through, interrupted
with ordinations such MS "Bless me
Who'd have thought it'll" Mrs. Dun.
can, her pleasant face deepening into a
smile calculated:
so you are little Paul Dorsey. Myl
how time flies. When / last saw you,
you were only little shaver. It must
be nigh onto fifteen years ago. And to
think of Lucindy's remembering me all
these years and sending her son to see
me. Not that | have forgotten her--not
a bit. Only with cne thing and another
one hasn't time to think much of old
days. You see your ma and / weEt to
the same academy, and we thought a
sight of each other; only somehow after
both of us married we sort of drifted
apart. Your ma she married a wealthy
city man, while got welded to we'll
to do farmer, and so gradually we each
went our own way. Not to forget each
other though, as you see, and now, my
dear, excuse the liberty, but it comes
natural like, being your Lucindy's son,
I'll send one of the men down to the vii
lage after your trunk, and you'll Just
stop along with us and be as welcome as
my own son, if had one, and Marthy
and / will do our best to make you COM
Portable" and motherly Mrs. Duncan
laid her hand with an approving pat upon
Paul Dorsey's slightly STOPPING should
ers, while he, coloring somewhat, en-
deavored to thank her for her warm hos
pitalty, but was cut short with
''Bless you, it's no put out. we have
lots of room, ind it viii be real pleasure
to me to see Hucindy's son making him
self to home in my house."
And thus it was that Paul Dorsey be.
came guest at Willow Brook Farm.
That evening after her visitor had re-
tired Mrs. Duncan observing to her
daughter:
"Poor young man, he hasn't bit of
appetite. l don't wonder Lucrdy is
fretted about him. She writes that he
is always that taken up with books, that
she can hardly ever coax him to go
about a bit with young folks and enjoy
himself. I've been thinking Marthy, if
you was just to kind of make believe
you need his help now and again about
the garden and such, it would do him a
sight of good, and he'd never suspect it
was for the sake of his health" and Mrs.
Duncan laughed, low, pleased laugh,
at the thought of the deception, while
Martha exclaimed:
"Why, motherl you are getting to be
a regular consuirator. But am afraid
it won't work, he's $3.50 odd"
Paul Dorsey had been told to make
himself perfectly at home; so the morn
ing after his arrival he withdrew from
the breakfast table to his own room, and
forthwith commenced to unpack his
books preparatory to good days study.
Everything was at last arranged to his
satisfaction, but somehow his thoughts
were strangely wandering this day, al
though not a sound disturbed the cool
quietness of his surroundings. A pair
of blue eyes seemed to glance mockingly
from the musty page he fain would mas
ter, and he caught himself repeating
aloud the old-fashioned name Of
"Marthy," which took unto itself the
sweetest of sounds by reason of its con-
nection with so pretty an owner. Sud
denly, with a thud, the book fell from
his hand, as, exclaiming: "By Jove
that's her voice." Paul Dorsey, with one
stride, was at the window making sad
havoc of the dainty dimity curtains with
clumsy hands.
Martha, accompanied by tall stalwart
fellow, was passing down the garden
path, her infectious laughter floating
merrily upon the balmy air as she
chatted away to the young man at her
side, who appeared 10 be enjoying the
subject under discussion as much as her
self. AS they disappeared from view
Paul, with rather a blank look, resumed
his seat and sought to apply himself to
his interrupted task, but not with the
old ardor did he work, and for the first
time that he could remember, he lis
tened anxiously for the bell to summon
him to luncheon.
The days slipped into weeks, and still
Paul Dorsey remained guest at Willow
Brook Farm, and it became no unusual
sight to see him obediently following
Martha's directions concerning the up
roofing of certain weeds, or the fasten-
ing of some vine more securely about its
support. An honest, bronze tinge had
replaced Paul's once sallow complexion,
and the books-well, they had become
secondary, a more potent charm having
outrivaled them. Mrs. Duncan con-
graduates herself upon her happy fore
thought that was working such change
in her friends son, and Martha admitted
with slight blush, that Mr.. Dorsey
was getting to be almost as handsome as
her cousin Joe-her beau ideal of manly
beauty heretofore.
The sun burned scorching hot upon
the broad gravel path just outside of
the farms pretty parlor but within that