Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1885-09-17

gentleman held toward her tho letter
Having read it through, interrupted
with exclamatlons such as "Blcss
me u
Who'd have thought 1T !" MIS-.
Duncan, her pleasant face deepening
into n smile circulated +:
$50 you are little Paul Dorsey. My!
how time flies. When ! last saw you,
you we've only little shaver. 1t 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 I have forgotten her
not bit. Only with one thing and
another one hasn't time to think much
Of old days. You see your ma and |
went to the same academy, and we
thought sight of each other !; only
somehow after both Of us married we
sort Of drifted apart. Your ma she
married wealthy city man, while |
got welded to q well-to-do farmer, ald
so gradually we each went our own
way. Not to forge5 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 mehdown to the village after
your trunk, and you'll just stop along
with us and be rs welcome rs my own
son, if had one, and Marthy and |
will 10 our best to make you comfort
able," and motherly Mrs. Duncan laid
her hand with an approving pat upon
Paal Dorsey's slightly STOPPING should
ers, while he, coioring somewhat, Ell.
deavored 10 thank her for her warm
hospitality. but was cut short with
'Bless you, it's no put out, we have
lots of room, and it will be real pleas
ure to me to see Lucindy's son making
himself to home in my house,"
And thus iJ was that Paul Dorsey
became a 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. I don't wonder Lucindy is
fretted about him. She writes that he
is always that taken up with books, that
she can hardly ever coax him to go a.
bout bit with young folks and enjoy
himself. I've been thinking Marthy,
il 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, a low, pleased
laugh, at the. thought of the deception,
while Martha exclaimed {:
"Why, mother you are getting to
be regular conspirator. But am a.
fraid il won't work, he's $3.50 odd"
Paul Dorsey had been told to make
himself perfectly at home SO the
morning after his arrival he withdrew
from the breakfast table to his -own
room, and forthwith commenced to un-
pack his books preparatory to good
days study. Everything was at last
arranged to his satisfaction, but some
how his thoughts were strangely wan
deriDg this day. although not sound
disturbed the cool quietness of his sur
roundings. A pair of blue eyes seemed
to glance mocklngly from the musty
page he fain would master, he caught
himself repeating aloud the old fash
ioned name of "Marthy,'' which took
unto itself the sweetest Of sounds by
reason of its connection with so pretty
an owner. Suddenly, with thud. The
book fell from his hand, as, exclaiming:
"By Jove that's her voice, Paul Dor
sey, with one stride, was at the win
dow making sad havoc of the dainty
dimity curtains with clumsy hands.
Martha, accompanied by tall, stall
wart 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 to be enjoying
the subject under discussion as much
as herself. 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 listened anxiously for the bell to
summon him to lun cheon.
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 concern
ing the uprooting of certain weeds, or
the fastening of some vine more secure.
ly about its support. An honest, bronze
tinge had replaced Paul's once sallow
complexion, and the books they
had become secondary, a more potent
charm having outrivaled them. Mrs.