Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1886-12-23

her. and her head nesting on a cush.
ion made of its soft folds. She slept
long and sweetly while the train jar.
red on, the snow drifts deepsned, the
wind howled through the deep cuts,
and the winter nights came stealing
on.
! Margie could scarcely help thinking
it part Of her dreams, when q voice
reused her with the words, We are
near - station. I think You d
better put on your bonnet 1t was
her friend Emmis who spoke. and
Margis attempted to smile back into
the girls bright face. bat she WAS too
bswiidersd and startled tospeak or 70
do anything but rub her eyes. Then,
with fingers that seemed fairly numb
with sleepiness, she tied on her bon
net, picked up her bag, and followed
Emmie and her friends from the cars.
She shivered with the plunge into the
snowy air. which roughly and effectu-
ally wakened her. Some one put out
a hand to help her to the platform;
some one else called out, Come on,
John; we are waiting and she saw
that Mr.. Winston was again her help
er. He walked on up the platform,
and she looked around eagerly for the
carriage which was to meet her. The
cars whistled, and moved off up the
snowy track, and Margis vas left
standing, lonely dark little hgure on
the white platform. Snow everywhere
met her eyes. Snow on the distant
mountains that rose like white domes
into the sky, feathery plumes of snow
crowning every dark pine tree in the
dim forests all around the little station,
great drifts of snow heaped in the rar-
row road that plunged into the forest
and was lost to view; snow on the wood
piled along the railroad, snow on the
glaring red stage that stood near the
house, and on the backs of the six bay
horses that were harnessed to it, and
that stamped and smoked as the flakes
gathered on them; snow under Margis's 8
little feet, and on her cloak, and in
her eyes, and in the air she breathed.
And there was no carriage waiting
for her. The stage driver, who was
standing by his horses, shook his head
as she questioned him, and said he
didn't believe it would be possible for
a carriage to come from willie in
a week.
She looked around the wide waste
of snow, and saw no house but the
little frame building which served the
purposes of depot, store, ami post Office
at once. A week in this dreary place.
That was simply impossible. She must
get on by some means Was there no
cart to be hired? No horse she could
ride to--ville?'
The driver looked curiously at the
troubled, childish face of the question
er, and shook his head again. No,
ma am there amt nothin' to be got
about here, and 'twouldn't be possible
to 60 in, or on it, if there was; not
such weather as this. l am going
through if things hold together. That
is am going to take load of folks to
Col. Ben Elliott's, mile this side of
willie. / don't see nothin to
hinder your going that far with them.
/ thought you were one of that crowd
No. Margie WASH t one of that crowd
She was a stranger to all of them. She
had no right to seat in vehicle char
tered by them, and she could not ask
it as a favor. Besides. she could not
60 to Col. Elliott's, of course. Was
there no place here that she could
stay in till her aunt sent for her.
Yes, the driver 's'posed she could
stay at Mrs Simmons. She was the
storskeeper's wife and lived in the
rooms over tho store.
While Margie was making up her
mind to ask shelter Of Mrs. Simmons,
quick step came over the snowy
platform, and Mr.. Winstons voice
sounded beside her.
Excuse me. I did not mean to
leave you standing in the snow, but
/ went to insure your trunks being
taken off. There 10 very comfort
able room above the store. Will you
join the ladies of my party thsre2'
He spoke in such q quiet, matter
of-fact voice. exactly as if he had
been appointed by the railroad com.
pany to look after unprotected ladies,
and was apologizing for neglect Of
duty, and was so perfectly gentle
manly and unobtrusive in his manner,
that even Margie's excessive pride and
shyness could not take fright at being
thus dependent upon the care of .
stranger. She gave him another of
those pretty grateful thank yous' of
hers, and went into the little passage
and up the narrow stairs he pointed
out.
A confusion of gay laughing voices
guided her to the neat sitting room
where Mrs. Simmons was bustling
about, very proud and glad to enter
tain Col. Elliott's daughters and their
friends. She made Margis welcome,
too, for she was q kind, hospitable
soul, and something in the girls fair
face and blue eyes went straight to
her heart she said.
She took her into the company
room. the pride Of her heart, which
sdioined the sitting.room. and, giving
her water to baths her face, went
back to the parlor again. Somehow,
the sound Of happy voices in the next
room made Margie more lonely and
wretchsd than she had ever felt in
her life. Great tears plashed into