Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1885-07-09
NED's KEEPSAKE.

A bright June afternoon is drawing TO a
close. Margery Orme sits on the kitchen
porch hulling strawberries, while her foster
brother, Ned Parton, cleans and polishes a
pair of ivory y-handled revolvers, which were
the gift of an uncle who went 10 Australia
when lad and made fortune in the gold
diggings. Coming back TO his native coun'
try after twenty years absence, he felt the
usual disappointment OF wanderer In the
changes that time had wrought, and returned
TO the land that had smiled upon his ambi-
ton.
Before sailing he gave each of his remain
ing relatives a keepsake. Considering his
wealth, the presents were thought meager
by rome of the recipients, and Ned's revolv-
ers are priced most of all.
They are of little use In his quiet life, but
he is proud of their superior workmanship,
and keeps them in excellent order for the
sake of the lonely old man so far away.
Sometimes he dreams of wild Australian
scenes and longs for a life OF adventure, but
now he is evidently not thinking OF anything
distant. His eyes wander often In the drec-
ton of the rose-scented lawn where young
lady of the blonde type is gently swaying in
hammock and reading novel. A middle
near the hammock. keep ng q notnerfy
watch over the fair-ha.red beauty, who does
not once look at the pair on the kitchen porch.
"How beautiful she isl'' Ned suddenly ex-
claims.
II suppose you mean Miss Atherton," says
with closely cropped brown curls toward the
lawn, and savaeey crushing luscious berry
between her thumb and finger. Il would
like her looks better IL she didn't snub
me So"
Don't be spiteful, Margery. OF course
her WAYS are different from ours. She has
always been used TO refined society Ned
says, apologeticaly. Margery does not reply,
and he continues; II never cared much about
being rich before, Tut ! feel now that
Al. -.1...1 al henNy
always done. III / only had thousand dol
lars OF ready money 1 could buy share In
the new silver mining company that has
made Robert OakleyIs fortune. Two years
ago he was as poor as am Now he Is likely
to become a millionaire. IL / could have a
little luck of that kind, I don't believe Mrs.
Atherton would frown as she does now when
Florence speaks to me. After all, can't
blame her for wishing her daughter to dis
courage the attentions OF country FELLOW
like me, who possesses nothing except bit
and, what is worse, has no prospect OF any
thing better"
There is a movement on the lawn. The
elder lady, satisfied with her daughters de.
mure behavior, has gone into the house.
The graceful blonde slightly changes her po-
sition, and a glance from her lovely orbs
falls smilingly upon Ned. 1t is the invitation
he desires. One revolver is thrust into his
pocket, the other left carelessly on the steps,
with an old silk handkerchief with which he
has been rubbing the dangerous toys. In a
moment he is occupying vacant chair by
the hammock.
Margery moves little more in the shade
of the morninR-glory vines that partly cover
the porch, and bitterly wishes the summer
gone and the boarders back IN the city.
"Come, Margery, it's time to lay the cloth
for supper" calls the CHEEKY voice of Mrs.
Burton.
"Yes. mother" answers Margery. BY this
most endearing name she has called the kind
lady since she, a forlorn little orphan, found
a home and friends beneath that hosptable
roof.
Ned does not appear at the supper table
Margery sees him 90 away, looking moody
and reckless toward Clintonville, village
three-quarters of mile distant.
Alter the supper dishes are washed, and
everything put in order for the night Mar
gerry JaKes her garden hat aud goes out into
the cool twili1ht. Margery is tired and lit
tie inclined TO be discontented with her lot.
She is ashamed of her brown hands, cotton
dresses, and thick shoes. She wishes she was
far and slender, and had silks and musins
French kid slippers, and gloves that
would reach to her elbow. The hardest house
hold tasks have been cheerfully taken upon
her young shoulders, and she never thought
them menial, until Florence Atherton came
with her supercilious airs and made her feel
like u servant. She would not have cared
so much IL Ned's manner 10 her had not
changed. They had been like brother and
SlSJeT, Wlt0 just bnuOe Oh warmer uUeCtlOn
unex pressed i'm their hearts; but now he
seems to have forgotten her In his admira-
tion of Miss Atherton, whose influence Is
making different man of Ned. Florence Is
fond of ridiculing "slow, innocent country
youths" and Ned has lately cultivated the
habit of playing billiards and drinking wine,
with a set of wild young men known as the
"young bloods" of that locality.
"He Is trying to be arlstocratlc," Mar
gerry sarcastically thinks, as she looks anx-
iously up the dusty road that leads to the
village. She sees n figure In the distance
and hopes IL may be Ned coming home.
Quickly uniatching the gate, she goes out to
meet him, thinking that she would try 70
hide his folly from his mother I'm case he had
been drinking.
The man she meets proves to be Barney
Preen, n sort of half-witJed fellow who drift
ed into Clintonville few years before from
whence no one knew. He had found work at
n livery barn, where no was kicked by n
vicious horse. The accident resulted IN a
severe attack of brain fever, which left him
''soft I'm the head" people said. He IL are
pulsive-looking object, instlnctively Stunned,
but considered perfectly harmless. lie has
large head, long body. short legs, pale,
haRgard face and light sinister eyes, over
hung by shaggy red brows that nearly met
over tho bridge of his nose, and match in
color the unkempt hair on his head. He still
hangs about the village stables, sleeping in
the hay at night and begging cold victuals
from the hotel and other houses where nc
occasionally does odd Jobs. For n day or two
se has been employed mendinR old hnrness