Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1885-05-21
have no happy homecoming. Perhaps
she should feel still and lone hearted,

And the lady you lived WITH" re-
sumed Nellie, aching to get at the Sc
cret OF Miss LovelPs poverty, "was she
poor?"
"No; quite well-to-do, rejoined Mar
garet. Then becoming suddenly conf
DENTAL, she added, "but her wealth
never did me much good"
Il should think not" said Nellie,
warmly, feeling her risibilities on the
move. II should not have worked my
finger-ends off for her then"
1T was not quite so bad as that" an
swered Margaret, deprecatingly.
well. pretty near, l guess" said
Nellie, with an affirmative toss of her
sunny head.
Both girls laughed merrily. The
one had come nearer the truth than she
really guessed, and nearer than the
other felt at liberty to confess.
They had grown to be the best of
friends In short time, as girls some
times do; and Nellie was daily wishing
in her little warm heart that Miss
Lowell had really come to stay for
ever"
One day Uncle Cyril came home
from the village with his pockets full
OF letters, and greeted Margaret with
such kind, happy smile that the hot
bushes suffused her face.
Would you come to the library
moment, Margie, please?" and she fol-
lowed him, feeling instinctively that
Aunt Lucinda was mixed up in this in
terview some way. One thing re-
assured her: Uncle Cyril was not dis
pleased with any news he might have
heard. She sank into the first chair
she came to, and sat trembling like a
culprit. The faint roses had all died
out of her cheeks, and she laced her
fingers in suspense.
Uncle Cyril sat down and said, pleas
Margaret, how would you like to
live here-always?
"Oh. if 1 couldp she said, huskily,
and the big tears rolled down the pale
cheeks.
You can, Margie; 1 am more than
willing. Indeed, have thought of
asking you to stay ere this, but did
not know but l should be interfering
with Mrs. Maynard's plans, or yours,
perhaps. To-day i received letter
from her, stating that 1 might keep
you If 1 like. Now that am at liberty
1 would love to tell you of my plans,
and find out whether they find favor
with you"
Margaret looked up, with the tears
still in her eyes, and Uncle Cyril con-
tlnued
"How would you like to live here
at home, have your own pony and car
riage, and plenty of pin-money, and be
Miss Lowell, of Saybrook-that's the
how is it ?"
"Oh, Uncle Cyril; you're too kind
too kind, and Margaret hid her face
in her hands and sobbed softly. Il
thought 1 might find situation with
your help, so L came to you; but if l
may stay, I'll try to please you, uncle;
1 will try hard"
well, WE'LL" said Cyril, with a
tremor in his musical voice, al am not
hard to please, Margie, and we shall
be the best of friends; so it is settled
from to-day. You are Margaret Lowell,
of Saybrook, instead of Mag, of the
Maynard kitchen"
He ended almost bitterly, and
Margaret looked up inquiringly.
"Never mind, Margie," he continued,
softly, perhaps know more than you
think / do, yet what Lucinda was
pleased to say in her letter does not
affect our lives in the least. We will
get along nicely together, and the years
will go smoothly. happily by, and there
shalt be nore to say you nay in Cyril
Belknap's home. You need friend
and so do /, and Uncle Cyril ended by
taking her hand in his and saying,
owly: Welcome home, Margie."
So Margaret was really at home in
that great sunshiny house, and the
years that rolled by in happy content
over Saybrook wrought a magical
change in the once friendless, homeless
girl. At twenty-one she found herself
tall, graceful, woman, with dark wavy
tresses, and her refined soul shining
through the beauty of her lovely, plead i
ing eyes. This, with the flush of per-
feet health on her fair face, rendered |
her beautiful, and she could scarcely
believe herself to be the pale, hungry
eyed girl set down at this hospitable |
door five years before.
In all those years Uncle Cyril had |
been the most indulgent of guardians |
and a most excellent companion. How |
careful, considerate, and kind he had |
always been. She thought of all this,
and more, the day he took her |
note of acceptance of the position |
of teacher in the village schools with |
him to deliver it to the Board of Di-
rectors. He had educated her, he had |
given her beautiful home; she had q
phaeton and pretty pony, all her own,
and grand piano stood in the drawing |
room "for Margie." How we'll she re.
membered the day it came home, and |
how she began to say she was not |
worthy of such kindness, when he cut |
her speech short by putting his hands
over his ears, and exclalming, in mock |
indignation, ~No more, Miss Margie, as
you love me-"
There was one thing more, however, |
to think of, and it worried her exceed |
ingly. When she told him of her ac-
ceptance of the offer of the situation as
teacher, and that she wanted him to |
see to it, he took the note with wide
open eyes, and fairly gasped, why,
Margie, are you not satisfied with your
home-with me?" She had replied,
."More than satisfied, Uncle Cyril, yet
/ feel as il / should do something for
myself. 1 can never repay you one
1.-THE of your kindness and care"
He had taken her note with q
strange, worried look on his handsome
face, and seemed disheartened over
it. She wondered why. Did he dis
like the idea of her teaching so much |
"Home again. Maroia." he said. civ /