The Mankato free press. [volume] (Mankato, Blue Earth County, Minn.) 1879-1924, 1886-10-15
A THORN ON THE STEM.

@Why. Mary, how late you arel" ex.
claimed Mary Morrisan's father, a farmer
living near Weston, Cheshire. II was
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 coaxinG way. "This gentle
man has been taking my picture"
| "YOur picture, sh2 Good evening, sir.
suppose you are one of them artist chaps
at the taverni"
| 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 gazed
with an open mouth ut her portrait.
"That's her, sure enough; and the COWS
couldn't be better If you had stuck them
In there just as they be In the yard. And
Trip, too, You can SEQ the bh.k 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 n group of mixers,
her tongue running fast about her por-
| trait, while she leaned her pretty head
against the spotted side of old Moody, and
watched her rapidly-fl 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.
SWELL, it beats ALI" calculated the
farmer. "Mary, he's made another pict-
ure of you'll"
She came out, smiling and blushing.
"Dear me, sir wanted to smooth my
hair and change my dress before you
took me again.
ave will let that 60 till come another
time" said the artist, gravely, as he closed
his book. at Is almost time for me to
CO."
"Come in for a moment and take n 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
WIN iCk 40 IL lC
for years.
ayes, l go Tomorrow" he said, in an
swer to a question, Just as she enter ed;
might have dropped 1t. He looked Mt her
keenly; deep blush covered her face; he
sighed and raised glass to his lips.
"Your health, Miss Mary, and good
husband to you"
The old man burst out laughing. Mary
put the empty glass away with a small
pain Mt her heart. She had often been
joked about husband before, yet some
how she did not like to hear the stranger
joke about 1t. She would never marry
not she!
The evening passed swiftly away, and
the village clock struck nine. The artist
arose to 60
Goodbye" he said. land many thanks
for your hospitality"
Goodbye sir! If ever you come this
way, drop in and stay a week or two
with us. Mary here will take good care of
you, and you can make pictures of her to
your hearts content"
"Thank you-you are very kind and If
am near you, l 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 give you, sir9" she said, in
voice that trembled, though she tried
to keep it steady
THAT flower, IL you will"
He pointed to tho rose on her bosom.
She unfastened 1t, and seeing a thorn
upon the stem, removed IL before she
placed 1t in his hand. He smiled sadly.
"Thank you May all your roses be
thornless for ever! l 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 quick bound.
And then the artist went away. 1t 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
and winter. after her work was done, she
stood before tho two pictures Changing IN
the place Of honor on the parlOr wall and
sighed in an incomprehensible way that
would have spoken volumes to any one
experienced enough to read them.
And what of him2 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 a pretty little villa on the
Thames, daintily furnished, and boasting
a rose garden worthy of IstambOul, n
pleasure yacht, and carriage. There
was dun cow, moreover, In the little
pasture at tho back, and noble New
foundland dog lying at his feet. Also a
lady's work table and easy-chair beside
| one of the windows, at which he gazed
| with proud smile. He took an embroid-
cred nOtecase from his breast pocket,
| and extracted from its leaves the faded
efflgy of a blush-rose.
"DO you see that, Paul, my boyP" he
| said. gayly, holding 1t toward the dog,
| who was watching him curiOusly.
And Paul sme't It, and looked still
| more bewildered. What could his mas
ter want of such thing1 Was it not
June, and were not the roses blooming
in the gardenS Why did he not go there
| and gather fresh one?
All Paul, that was all you knew about It'll
Curtis Howard was pressing 1t to his lips,
| like lover In an old romance, murmur-
| luH, tOOh III
she gave 1t to me, angel that she wasl
Dear little Maryp
Mary Morrison's tasks for the day were
over, the cows had been stalled for the
night, the milk waI put away, and her
father had gone to the next house to
| smoke his pipe with brother farmer,
| and exchange opinions abont blowing.
| The girl was alone and a 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
away Indignantly Had she not promised
herself that she would grieve ND more for
what could not be helped.
"Crying for the moon, like great hlby,
| as ami" she said, stamping her little
| foot Indignantly Al wonder, Trip, that
you do not laugh'at mel"
Trip had something better tn do. An
enemy was in sight-a great black dog
was marching gravely up the hill, wav-
Ing his feathery tail as IL he were mon
arch of all he yed Trip, small as
he was, would convince him to the con-
trary, and showing all his teeth, and
growing as II he had swallowed an earth
quake, he made sudden dash into the
road, with q bark like twelve penny
truLIpets blown by one breath.
"Trip, Tripr" cried the girl, without