The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1885-03-18

ons srd surroundings which have made
these things doubly bard 20 bear-of all this
she is silent. She tells her story quietly and
| steadily, and the D. aeon listens without
| word.
By and by he says slowly: 'I've bin
thinkin' for some time, my pretty, of goin'
| on trip somewheres-jist you and me
| together. Would you like 1t, MIrandy2"
She looks up in surprise, puzzled at his
manner and almos. wounded that he seems
| to take so little interest; then seeing that he
| is waiting for an answer, she says, trying to
feigD cheerfulness: "Yes, father, very much.
| Is it 10 JacksonvilleP naming place fifty
miles distant, beyond which the Dsacon's
little journey seldom extended.
mo" says the old man, hesitatingly, well
go east, Mirsndy. What would ye say to
| New York;" 20, father, no." she cries turn
ing away and hiding her burning face in her
| hands. mot thst-I couldn't"
aye don't need to act so, Mirandy," he
says, gently. Would ask We to do any
| thing We hadn't oughter do? Well 60 to
yer Aunt Libby's, my pretty; she'll be glad
| TO see ye for yer mothers sake" Then in
on tone and hurrisdly: "Thar's many
| things might have happened-msybe he
vent away and never got yer letters-th ar's
| no tellin-pssrs as if 'tweuld be more CON-
| fsItable to know fer sure-an' thsrs that
reaper was wantin', raising his voice, "Pll
/ be dead sure to get better bargain up in
New York. I kinder hated doin' the Job in
Jacksonville; faint much OF place anyhow.
| Kin ye be ready in the mornin', Mirandyp
and the Deacon assumes the air of pleased
| anticipation. Mr1ldy's heart throbs wild
| ly she tries in vein to crush the unreason.
| ing Joy which fills her and gives, against her
4 will, lightnsss and buoyancy to her steps
and brightness to her dark eyes. She spends
| the first part Of the night in hasty prepare.
rstions and afterward with no thought of
II eli cft u OF ho nf har
| her head buried in her hands, dreaming, per-
hsps, less of the future than of the past.
In the gray dawn of the next morning
| father and daughter are already on their
! way, and the evening OF the second day
| finds them In New York. Aunt Libby re-
ceives them with open arms, and to Mirandy
| the evening masses like dream. Long az
| terwsrd little SOAPS of conversation and an
| ecdotes of her dead mother came back to
| her, and when she tried to recall them more
| fully, the stuffy, third floor parlor Of sec
end class Brooklyn clearinghouse rose be-
| fore her, and she saw again Aunt Libbys
| angular figure and kind, searching black
| eyes.
In the morning she wskens late from a
heavy, dTeamless sleep, and goes down stairs
| to find the Deacon preparing for day in the
city. He calls her aside, and without
word, she puts into his hand a scrap of pa
per upon which she has written the address
little as she does 30, but othersise she is
| outwardly calm and composed. The Deacon
glances at her with look of tender anx-
| iety. which soon changes to relief. "Thets
gbt, my pretty" be says, true grits what
| DOES j., Mirandy, under all circumstances"
And then Aunt Libby comes in, and the
Deacon remarks that he is as like as not to
hev 'tarnation LOT o. bother about that
reaper, and mebbe he won't git back afore
supper time" Aunt Libby promises to
show Miranda around" And soon the old
man leaves them.
Somehow or other the day, which seemed
| interminsble, draws to close, and toward
evening Miranda is seated by the window, q
| small cousin on her knee, for whose benefit
she is improvising fairy tale. Each nerve
| in her body thrills with intense though sup
pressed excitement What is it that she ex-
poets che hardly knows, and will not ask
| herself, but st every football on the steps
outside she starts and clasps her hands more
| tightly together. A bright flush is on her
| cheek, her eyes are large with expectation.
| The fairy tale is nearly ended: $50 you see,
| alter ALL Miranda is saying, 1.-The knight
came back to the princess is a step
outside, the, door opens, and the Deacon
pleasant day, Mirandar' he begins, nerV-
ously.
Miranda puts the child off her knee and
| runs out of the room. Then, What is it,
| fatherT she save, quietly.
Thes Deacon gives little uneasy cough.
Tibet friend as we was speakin' OF the other
day." be says, slowly, "he's merded, MI
| randy"
She stands for few minutes looking into
| the dusty street Then she turns; the flush
has faded from her face; she is very white.
II went shopping this morning with Aunt
Libby, father" she says, in a strange, hard
voice, land we bought this" taking parcel
r. a-IN 49,. -
| will like itP'
The Deacon chokes down something in his
| throat. 81 kDow'd ye had true grit, Mi
| randy" he says
"Hush," she answers, and kisses him. The
| next day they go back to Romulu5.