Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1886-06-03
The Squire's Apples.


Dessolr, ecstatically. with red cheeks,
just as II fairy pencil had painted
them. and delicious, bloomy streaks
here and there ! l should like to copy
them on plaque or a pannel or some.
thing, If only one could be sure of re-
producing those delicate tints of rose
and white y
We'll, declare y said Rose Hebron,
the country cousin, whom she was Wis.
iting, laughing with u merry, thrush
like laugh, as the two glrls sat on u
moss-enameled boulder under the
boughs of the ladY-apple-tree, with
here and there yellow leaf fluttering
di eamily down at their feet. who
would dream OF such poetical de.
scription applying to the apples that
grow in Squire Sandford's orchard p
Wasn't it good of him to allow us
to gather them p said Linuet, trim
ming the side-leatlets off q lovely
branch of yellow golden rod.
Il shall not believe that they are ab
solutely ours though declared Rose,
until l see them in the old apple bin
at home.'
why not p
oh, Squire Cedric is eccentric =
Rose answered, carelessly.
Cedric ? Is that his name p
Yes. Isn't it an odd relic of the
Saxton times p laughed Rose.
IT'S very romantic name,' remark.
ed Linnet, wrinkling her brows in
pretty consideration Of the epithet.
He isn't romantic observed Rose.
Isn't he ? But why not p
He's so odd ! Thirty, at least y
Rose responded, with au emphatic nod
of the head.
'Horrid ogre y said Linnet, who was
in her seventeenth year. Come, Rosey,
let's 60 home. I'm as hungry as a can.
nibal :! Gathering apples is such hard
work y
She skipped ahead, with her yellow
tresses floating behind, like STRAY
strands Of sunshine, and her white
dress rustling over the drifts of per-
fumed leaves that carpeted the path.
Rose followed, with affectlonate eyes
of admiration.
What is the difference between me
and Linuet p she asked herself. MY
dress is white also my hair is as gold.
en- as hers. Why is it that she is like
a dancing sprite-I, a ploeding human
being p
Poor little Rosy ! She did not realize
that Linnet Dessoir had grown up in
an altogether different atmosphere
that Linnet had unconsciously model
ed her dress from the graceful robes
which her father, the artist. kept to
drape his lay-feures that her eye had
been trained, her taste cultured, in
every possible point.
He's only poor struggling artist =
Farmer Hebron had been wont con-
temptously to observe. when he saw
his brother. in-law's name among the
lists specially .honored by the Academy
of Design.
He's a good fellow enough Eugene
Dess Dir airily remarked, when his agri-
cultural connection happened to be
mentioned. But he hasn't an idea be-
yond his own fat cattle lie don't
live; he only vegetables y
Linnet, however, the bright, mother
erless young beauty, was great favor
ite of the kind heal ted Hebrons and
when she had 50 enthusiastically ad-
mired the beautiful pink aud white
lady-apples on Squire Sandford's tree,
Mr.. Hebron had gone so far out of his
way to ask the Squire for barrel.
Just to please the little GIRL said
he. She thinks a deal of pretty
things
she 10 quite welcome,' said Squire
Sanford, with formal politeness. If
you will send barrel TO the tree to-
morrow, Mr.. Heron, it shall be filled
for your niece
And when the Squire said this he
pictured in his minds eye the aforesaid
nisce as a romp o. eleven or twelve,
with shingled hair, freckles and prefer
naturally long arms.
All night long Linnet Dessoir dream
ed of the lady-apples. and when the
sun rose, a sphere of rubbed fire, above
the eastern hills. she jumped out Of
bed and dressed herself with haste.
Il can't sleep another minute said
she. It's just the very sort Of morn
ing to walk out across the woods and
look at the lady-apple- with the
little spring gushing out so close to its
roots, and the blue asters, and thickets
of golden-rod, by the stone fence. I
won't waAe Rosy. Rosy was up late
last night, putting labels on the ounce
jelly. I'll let her sleep, and 60 by my
self.'
But Miss Hebron was no more of
lauoapd in the mOrninU than was her