The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1886-04-22
THE MAID OF THE MILL.

THE MAID OF THE MILL.
''Do | look nice, Bettyp w ould you
ever know me for your little mill-girl?'
The old woman turned from setting
the tea-kettle on the kitchen hearth to
look at the figure which the gay flames
from that hearth were lighting up.
1t was still Christmas-tide, and the
little figure looked most like bunch OF
Christmas holly.
Her shining green-silk skirts were cut
and pointed like overlapping holly
leaves; holly berries and leaves peeped
forth here and there amid them; sprays
of berries fastened the eider-down snow
mantle trailing from the shoulder, and
the snowy powdered hair that fell down
over it in one long half-curled coil.
But there was nothing wintry about
the little April face, half smiles, half
tears, that looked up at Old Betty.
The old woman took off her glasses
and wiped them, and put them on again
to look at her darling
'.Eh, Miss Margery-"
mo, no, Betty! You'll never miss
me, as I've often told you. can never
forget the fourteen years thought was
your grand-child-th fourteen years
you cherished me as seldom was grand
child cherished And this evening,
granny, l am thinking of them-more
than ever"
"One of them, dearie?''
THE year before we left the old mill,
granny. The year-Philip Brand was
there"
The old white-capped head shook
drearily.
You might be thinking O something
better, child. Surely 'tisn't because he
was an artist that you've got yourself
up in this dress, like you were to be
what he used to call "a model for him
to paint? Worse luck to him and his
models! was an old fool ever to let
you sit to him, as he called Though
it was mostly standing, by what could
make out. And why l ever let him
come and board that summer at the
mill-tor it was before my poor John
died, and the mill had as much as ever
it could grind, and we didn't want for
anything, let alone boarders--h
Margery took the hard old hand in
both her soft white young ones.
Dear granny, who can tell? The
days of plenty may be coming back. At
any rate, tonight we will be merry. For
this is the last night of fChristmas-tide-
Twelfth-Night, you know-and l am
going to a feast.
'"To feastl''
Betty's eyes grew round with wonder.
A feast; and the little village dressmaker
knew nobody likely to give one in the
place, where they had only been estab-
lished fer the last few days.
There's to be grand masqued ball
up at The Hollies, granny
'But, dearie, surely you know no.
body to ask you there?"
She smiled softly.
''Yes, / have been asked-asked to
stay. granny, refused then; but don't
know now. Pm going to see."
The old woman looked at her, puzz-
led
Granny, will you get my poor moth
er's letterp-the one she gave you on her
death-bed for me to read upon my eigh-
teenth birthday 1t waited for me sew
enteen long years, you know; while you
at the mill took care of the little friend
less, nameless orphan, and gave her
been of your own flesh and blood"
'.And why shouldn't we, dearie?
Your mother was so young, and fair,
and sweet and she died in my arms,
before you were even old enough to miss
her; and John and me, we'd no little
ones of our own
'.And so you took in one of whom you
knew nothing at all, not even who she
was" said the girl with grave tender
ness in face and voice,
Il made sure as your mother 'ud tell
you, dear, in this letter kept for you till
this very Christmas Day that's gone. y"
Betty was taking it out of little old
fashioned desk nova letter sealed up
in "a new blank envelope, as Margery
had given it back to her.
And when | read it, said Margery.
taking it from her again and tucking it
away deftly among the holly-sprigs of
her corsage-'did you ever ask me
what was in it, and why, on reading it,
| begged you to come away with me
from the dear old ncighborhood? We
had to leave the mill anyhow, you
know, or it would have been a hard
thing to beg of you. Or did you just
come here to this unknown place with
me, trusting me for all, like the dear old
| granny that you are?n
Old Betty looked bewildered.
why, who have l got to trust be-
sides you. dearie?-and I've always
trusted you"
Exactly. And so now you are going
to take the little dark-lantern, granny,
and walk with me as far as the Hall
| gate, and leave me there
Miss Margery! And how ever you're
to get back
Margery turned round on her and
laughed-just little tremulously. Her
| fingers, too, were a trifie unsteady, as
/ they tied on her mask over her fair face,
| in which the color came and went fit
fully.
I'm going like Cinderella to the ball,
| granny. l shall either flee back to you,