Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1886-09-26
A THORN ON THE STEM.

Just going out myself to take your place.
The boys have got half through"
"Oh, never mind, father" said pretty
Mary, relieving him of his milking pail
and stool in a coaxing way. ~This gentle
man has been taking my picture
your picture, sh? Good evening, sir
suppose you are one of them artist chaps
at the tavern3"
The gentleman referred to, handsome
young fellow, bowed. Yes, he was one of
them chaps" And in proof thereof he
opened his portfolio. Mary glided off to-
ward the barnyard; the old man gszed
with an open mouth at her portrait.
That's her, sure enough; and the cows
couldn't be better il you had stuck them
in there just as they be in the yard And
Trip, too, you can see the bark Just COM
ing out of his mouth vow it's wonder
full say, sir, should like TO see how
you do it"
"You shall Come this way
The artist crossed the road, followed by
the farmer, and sat down near the barn
yard. Mary sat among a group of mixers,
her tongue running fast about her por-
trait, while she leaned her pretty head
against the spotted side of old Mooly, and
watched her rapidly-filling pail. Before
the work was over, the quick pencil had
caught them all, and grouped them
around the center figure, like stars around
the mOon-like rustic court attending
upon their rustic queen.
well, it beats ALI" calculated the
farmer. "Mary, he's made another pict-
ure of you!"
| She came out, smiling and blushing.
Dear me, sir, l wanted to smooth my
] hnfr -nA ohnr haf
took me again.
time" said the artist, gravely, as he closed
his book. at Is almost time for me TO
60"
@Come in for a moment and take a cup
Of new milk" said the farmer, heartily
That's what you don't get in London,
/ Mr.. -"
MY name is Curtis Howard, sir. You
are right; never get milk there, and
will trouble Miss Mary"
Miss Mary" hurried away to wash her
hands and brush her dark hair. When
she came back with the milk, the artist
stood in the open parlor door, chatting
with her father as il he had known him
| for years.
~Yes, go to- morrow" he said, in an
swer to question, Just as she enter ed;
and it was well he took the milk, or she
might have dropped it. He looked at her
keenly; a deep blush covered her face; he
sighed and raised a glass to his lips
~Your health, Miss Mary, and a good
husband to you"
The old man burst out laughing Mary
put the empty glass away with a small
pain at her heart. she had often been
joked about a husband before, yet some
how she did not like to hear the stranger
joke about it. She would never marry
not she!
The evening passed swiftly away, and
the village clock struck nins. The artist
arose to go.
Good bye" he said, "and many thanks
for your hospitality"
Good bye. sir! II ever you come this
way, drop in and stay a week or two
with US. Mary here will take good care o
you, and you can make pictures of her to
your hearts content"
Thank yOu-yOu are very kind; AMI If
am near you, shall not fail to accept
the invitation. Miss Mary. may venture
to ask one thing of you in memory of this
pleasant visit"
What can l give you, sir," she said, in
voice that trembled, though she tried
to keep it steady.
THAT flower, IL you will"
He pointed to the rose on her bosom.
She unfastened 1t, and seeing a thorn
upon the stem, removed it before she
placed it in his hand. He smiled sadly
Thank you May all your roses be
thornless for everi | shall finish your
picture, and perhaps you may see it again
some day. Good, bye, now"
He held out his hand She gave him
hers. The old farmer had already made
two steps toward the gate and stood with
his back toward them, gazing out tow
ard his beloved barn-yard and the fields
beyond Two pair of eyes looked into
each others depths; two pair of lips met
softly; two hearts gave a quick bound
And then the artist went away. It was
quite time for him to do so.
So Curtis Howard went away about his
business, and Miss Mary went to hers
Yet often, during the succeeding autumn
anC winter. after her work was done, she
stood before the two pictures changing in
the place of honor on the parlor wall, and
sighed in an incomprehensible way that
would hayeopoken volumes to any one
experienced enough to read them.
And what of him' All that year he
had worked as he had never worked be-
fore, and the end was gained His great
picture had given him fame enough to be
the master of pretty little villa on the
Thames, daintily furnished, and boasting
rose garden worthy Of Istamboul,
pleasure yacht, and a carriage. There
was dun COW, moreover. in the little
pasture at the back, and a noble New
foundland dog lying at his feet. Also
lady's work table and easy-chair beside
one of the windows, at which he gazed
with proud smile. He took an embroid-
cred note-case from his breast pocket,
and extracted from its leaves the faded
effigy OF blush. rose.
do you see that, Paul, my boy,' he
said, gayly, holding it toward the dog,
who was watching him curiously.
And Paul SINE { 1t, and looked still |
more bewildered. What could his mas
ter want of such thing Was it not |
June, and were not the roses blooming |
in the garden, Why did he not go there |
and gather fresh one'
All Paul, that was all you knew about it! |
Curtis Howard was pressing it to his lips, |
like lover in an old romance, murmur- |
ing, "She took the thorn from it before /
she gave 1t to me, angel that she was! |
Dear little Mary"
Mary Morrison's tasks for the day were !
over, the cows had been stalled for the |
night, the milk was put away, and her |
father had gone to the next house to !
smoke his pipe with brother farmer, |
and exchange opinions about plowing. |
The girl was alone and little lonely. So. |
calling Trip, she put on her hat, and /
went slowly down the hill Beside the ]
gate she halted.
Here we first met" she said, softly, to |
herself; and leaning against the rail some /
thing dimmed her eyes. She dashed it I