The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1886-05-26
THE MAID OF THE MILL.

you ever know me Tor your HttIe
mill-girl ?"
The old woman turned from set
ting the tea Kettle on the hearth to
look at the figure the gay flames
from that hearth were lighting up.
/; was still Christmas-tide, and
the little figure looked most like q
bunch Of Christmas holly.
Her shining green silk skirts were
cut and pointed like overlapping
holly leaves holly berries ond buds
peeped out 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 alfcurled coil.
But there was nothing wintry
about the little April face, halt
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-"
"No, no, Betty You'll never
miss me, as I've often told you. l
can never forget the fourteen years
l thought | was your grand-child-
the fourteen years you cherished me
as seldom grand-child was cherished.
And this evening, granny, | am
thinking of them-more than ever
"0ne 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 some
thing better, child. Surely 'tisn't
because he was an artist that you've
got yourself 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 7 l was
an old fool ever to let you sit to
him, as he called it-though it was
mostly standing, by what I could
make out. And why l ever let him
come and board that summer at the
mill-for 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 board
ers-"
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
again. At any rate tonight we will
be merry. For this is the last night
of Christmas-tide-Twelfth Night.
you know-and | am going to a
feast.
Betty's eyes grew round with won
der. a feast; and the little village
knew nobody likely to
give one in the place, where they
had only been established for the
last few days.
There's to be grand masque hall
up at rhe Hollies, granny"
But, dearie, surely you know no.
body to ask you there.
She smiled softly.
"Yes, granny.I have been asked
asked to stay. | refused then, but
| don't know now. I'm going to
SEE"
The old woman looked at her,
puzzled.
Granny, will you get my poor
mothers letter ?-the one she gave
you on her death bed for me to read
upon my eighteenth birthday. 1t
waited for me seventeen long years,
you know while you at the mill
took care of the little friendless.
nameless orphan, and gave her your
name and love, as if she had been
Of your own flesh and blood.
And why shouldn't We dearle?
Your mothe- was so young, and fair,
and sweet, and she died in my arms
before you were old enough TO miss
her; and John and me, we'd no lit
lie 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 a
grave tenderness in face and voice.
Il made sure as your mother nd /,
ell you. dear, in tins letter kept for
you till this very Christmas Day |
hats gone"
Betty was taking it out of an old
ashioned drawer-a letter sealed up
a new blank envelope, as Margery
nad given it back TO her.
And when / read it, said Mar
yery, taking it away from her again
ind tucking it away deftly among
he holly-sprigs of her ccrsage, did
you ever ask me what was in it, and
Why, on reading it, | begged you to
come away with nae from the dear
I'D neighborhood ? We bad to leave
he mill anyhow, you know. or it
would have been a hard thing to beg
If you. Or did you just come here
o this unknown place with me,
rusting me for all, like the dear old
granny that your are?"
Old Betty looked bewildered.
why, who have l got to trust be-
tides you, Ireland I've always
rusted you"
Exactly. And so now you are
yoing to take the little dark-lan.ern,
granny. and walk with me as far as
he Hall gate, and leave me there.
Miss Margery And how ever
IRE you to get back"
Margery turned round on her ard
aughed-just a little tremulously. ]