The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1885-07-09
NED'S keepsake.
by STANLEY vERNET.


A bright June afternoon is drawing TO a
CLOSE. Margery Orme sits on the kitchen
porch hulling strawberries, while her foster
brother, Ned barton, cleans and polishes a
pair OF ivory-handed revolvers, which were
the gift of an uncle who went 10 Australia
when a lad aud made fortune In the gold
.diggings. Coming back to his native coun-
try after twenty years absence, he felt the
usual disappointment of a wanderer in the
changes that time had wrought, and returned
20 the land that had smiled upon his ambi-
ton.
Before sailing he gave each of his remain
ang relatives "a keepsake. Considering his
wealth, the presents were thought meagcr
by como OF the recipients, and Ned's revolv-
ers are priced most of all.
They of little use in his quiet life, but
NE 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 Dyes wander often In the rec
ton OF the rose-soented lawn where young
lady or the blonde type Is gently swaying in
a hammock and reading a novel. middle
aged matron of ar.stocratic appearance sits
near the hammock. keep ng motherly
watch over the fair-hasred beauty, who does
not once look at the PAIR on the kitchen porch.
''How beautiful she is.'' Ned suddenly ex-
claims.
Margery, bobbing her head that is covered
with closely cropped brown curls toward the
lawn and savage.y crushing a luscious berry
between her thumb and finger. II would
like her looks better If she didn't snub
xne so.''
Don't be spitefui. Margery. OF course
her ways are different from ours. She has
always been used TO refined society,"" Ned
says, apoiogetically. Margery does not reply,
and he continues: II never cared much about
riQ M
would rather die than plod along as have
always done. Ii only had thousand dol
lars of ready money could buy share in
the new silver mining company that has
made Robert Oakley's fortune. Two years
ago he was as poor as am Now he is likely
20 become a millionaire. III / could have a
,itte luck of that kind, / don't believe Mrs.
Atherton would frown as she does now when
Florence speaks to me. After all, l can't
blame her for wishing her daughter to dis
courage the attentions of a country fellow
like me, who possesses nothing except a bit
oftstony land and an old rookery of house,
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-
SitiQn, and a glance from her lovely orbs
falls smilingly upon Ned. 1t is the invitation
Exo desires. One revolver is thrust into his
y pscket, the other left carelessiy on the steps,
+ win an old silk handkerchief with which he
p hasibeen rubbing the dangerous toys. In a
moment he Is occupying vacant chair by
=, the hammock.
Margery moves little more in the shade
- OF the morning-glory vines that partly cover
the porch, and bitterly wishes the summer
senps Ind the boarders back IN the city.
NCome Margery, it's time to lay the cloth
for supper" calls the CHEEKY voice of Mrs.
Burton n o,sor /. .wor. no,.orv ~ ,,,.
most cndearing name she has called the kind
lady since She forlorn little orphan, found
a home and friends beneath that hosptable
roof.
Ned does not appear at the supper table;
Margery sees him 10 away, looking moody
aud reckless, toward Clintonvile, village
three-ouarters OF a mile distant.
Alter the supper dishes are washed, and
everything put in order for the night Mar
gerry takes her garden hat and goes out into
the cool twilight Mareery is tired and a lit
tile inclined to be disconnected with her lot.
She Is ashamed of her brown hands. cotton
dresses, and thick shoes. She wishes she was
fair and slender, and had silks and muslins,
French kid slippers, and gloves that
would reach 10 her elbow. The hardest house
hold tasks have been cheerfully taken upon
her young shoulders, and she never thought
them mental, until Florence Atherton came
with her superclious airs and made her feel
like a servant. She would not have cared
so much III Neds manner TO her had not
changed. They had been like brother and
sister, with Just shade OF warmer affection
unexpressed in their hearts; but now he
seems to have forgotten her in his admira-
ton OF Miss Anterior, whose influence Is
making a different man of Ned. Florence Is
fond of rdlculing "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
ssyoung bloods" of that locality.
.'He is trying TO be aristocratic," Mar
very sarcasticaliy thinks, as she looks anx-
iously up the dusty road that leads 70 the
village. She sees figure in the distance,
and hopes IL may be Ned coming home.
Quickly unlatching the gate, she goes out to
meet him, thinking that she would try TO
beerSdrinkfng.
The man she meets proves to be Barney
Prcen n sort of half -witted fellow who drift
ed into Clintonvile a few years before from
whence no one knew. He had found work nj
N livery barn, where he was kicked by
vicious horse. Z he accident resulted IN q
severe attack of brain fever. which left him
sssoft la the head" people said. He Is a re-
puisive-looking object, irstinctively stunned
but considered perfectly harmless. He has
A largo head, long body. short legs pale
ba9gard face aud light sinister eyes, over
hung by shaggy red brows that nearly me-
over the bridge OF his nose, and match IL
color the unkempt hair on his head He still
haups about the village stables, sleeping n
1he hay at night and begging cold victua
from tho hotel aus other houses where hi
occasionally does odd jobs. For n day or TIVE
ne has been employed mending Old harnes
for Ned
pe rulls OF his greasy cap TO Margery an
savs In n husky kind OF voice that Il pecuiia
20 him. sslts goin' to be a black night, Miss