The Somerset reporter., 1886-03-31
SELECTED.
TRoTTIE.

The sun shone as brilliantly on the pa
rade ground at Fort Fletcher AS though il
were an earthly paradise instead of II
bleak and ugly bit of Montana prairie. Gu
OF from its parent wilderness only by
some rough defences aud two rows of suf
ticiently ill-built quarters. 1t was quit,
deserted at this hour, except by hall
dozen OF the garrison children, who, being
of an age to enjoy sunshine undlsturbed
by any drriereeaHSco as to the ugliness il
shone upon, were amusing themselves i'm.
mensely, and filing the clear all with Joy.
ful shouts and shrill laughter, the only
mperfection in their happiness being the
necessity, strictly enforced by warnings
and punishments, of keeping to the upper
end of the parade, far away ilom d GER
tam low stone wall, behind which Il bluff,
dangerously attractive to youthful enter
prise, overhung the Yellowstone River.
Mabel Heriot. sitting in the small porch
in front Of her husbands quarters, her
fingers busy with some huge darnS In :.
pair of scarlet stockings, turned her pret-
~, discontented eyes, more often than
was good for the progress of her work,
to another pair of scarlet stockings which
flashed in and out among the group OF
children with an activity which promised
ner more darning in the near future for
they Belonged to her small son, ana
though Trotte was only three years old,
he had early manifested a positive genius
for wear and tear, holding his own in
that as in other boyish attributes, among
the elder children with il cheerful self
confidence which filled his mother with
mingled admiration and regtt.
''lle is such real boy she said to
herself, with half sigh and half smile.
If he were only quiet little fellow like
Harry Scott, how much less work it
would be to take caIc of him. | shall
never be able to keep his clothes mcnded
Is he grows rougher and more needless in
his uncivliAed place"
Then the stockings she was darning
dropped on her lap, and her thoughts left
the stockings she had been Watching, and
slipped back, as they were apt to do
1ack over the four years OF her marriage,
with all its poverty, its privatiOns, and
its dreary exile in this far Western post
back to the DAYS of her girlhood. In
he tender light which is shed on the past
by the knowledge that il can return in no
possible future, those girish days had
Irowu to look "ery shadowless to Mabel
Heriot Life had been so easy-no cares
no possibilities, no anXietics-whilt
everything girl could desire of luxury
amusement, and admiration had been
showered upon her as the adopted daugh.
ter of wealthy and generous, though
rather ty1annical, uncle. 1t had all been
quite perfect until she bad danced with
Tom Heriot at West Point ball, and
read something in his blue eyes, heard
something iu his pleasant voice, that
stirred her heart with the conviction
that, charming aS her HE had seemed, il
would henceforward be very empty and
deSolate if she must Danish those eyes
and that voice from it-a conviction
strong enough to support her through all
the stormy scenes which fallowed her un-
cle's bitter opposition to her engagement
TO a penniess lieutenant; strong enough
to make her reply to his final declaration
hat she must choose between her lover
and him by putting her hand in Tom Her
lots, with the passionate protest that
where he went, there she must follow,
even though ii were to the worlds md.
Nor had she yet, even to her own heart,
said THAI she repented her choice; only,
ike many another mos, unherOic woman,
she had discovered that ii Is not the great
crises OF life which are the most difficult
meet heroically, and that among the
most practical and prosaic of every d "
hardships her fancy was apt to stray,
more than was loval to Tom, o dream OF
what her life might have been il she bad
chosen differently. On, that "il", She
little knew, when admiring the patience
which kept her lips silent, how often Tom
had seen that if in her eyes, and had
turned away n weight of scli-reproach on
his faithful heart that he had accepted
from her girish tenderness the sacrifice
Of a future which might have been SO
8 l. 81. L.. b.. II a ,,.,I..
And now there was Trottie-Trottie,
whose every curl of red.gold hair was
,leirer to his mother than She had b, :
e9ed in those idle, youthful days any.
hing ever could be. and yet who
very day, almost every hour, of hi' little
/ ife added to her cares and anXieiieS !
Her thoughts came back suddenly &c
the present at a more uproarious shout
han usual from the children, and she saw
rrottie cantering toward her astride of q
stick, while half the pleats of his kilteC
skirt ;railed behind him. "Oh, what s
boy! - she cried, rising to catch him as h,
passed
Not II boy; Troltie horse. Listen
mamma and with most lilt-like neigh
md final prance of the scarlet stock
'ngs he paused before her.
"Noughty, naughty Tottie,' she said
quite declining to give his performance
he smile its realism deserved. "Sue thi'
great rip, which mamma only mcnt:e'
last night
"rrottic, sorry he cried, looking up II
her troubled face, and then with sprini
Ne clasped both arms about her neck, a
he bent over him to gather up the tor
pleats, and gave her such hug as sma
arms know how To give. "Trottie bi
hear now" he laughed between two ferc
,ious grunts.
As she freed herself, smiling and frowI