Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1888-04-21
and AWAY from from, Plymouth HunoR

ferring to walk thousand times; and
how, once in the chaise, Sam had beer
the very pink of courtesy, and begged
her to drive over with him to Parsor
Amory, three miles out of her way
that Lucy Amory may see you dom
disdain my company. For you see,
said Sam, who was not as back as-he
was painted. or as many liked to sup
pose, lucy can make me what she
will; without her I shall be nothing and
nobody; but they've told her she might
as well Jump into the river as marry
such a scapegrace. And, perhaps, if
made her little JeaIous-you know
there's no harm in that, is there? All's
fair in love; and, perhaps, if the old
folks see me driving about with Becky
Thorne my stock may go up. and I may
be saved from the burning as Parson
Amory says"
And Becky had consented. How
! could she refuse to do a service for
such true lover? So slight thing,
too! She had often traversed the same
road since on foot, on her daily rounds
of toll or mercy. Sam Eustis had
married Lucy Amory years ago, and
was the foremost man in the country
to-day. Strange how that drive had
interfered with Miss Becky's prospects;
how that simple fact of carrying home
Mrs. Eustis' needlework should have
determined her fate and devoted her to
life of hardship and the Old Ladies'
Home at the end! Talk of trihes |!
Poor Miss Becky! She remembered
once or twice the opportunity had
offered when she might have made it
up with Larry; but pride, or sort of
fine reserve, had locked her lips
Larry ought to know that she was
above silly firtations. Once, when
they met at Lucy Amory's wedding,
when they all went out into the orchard
while the bride planted young tree
and the guests looked for four-leaved
clovers, she had found herself-whether
by accident or design she could not
tell-on the grass beside Larry; their
fingers met on the same lucky clover,
their eyes met above it, and for an in
slant she had it on her tongues end to
confess all about the drive and it's re-
suits, to put pride in her pocket; but
just then Nell Amory called to Larry:
ooh, horrid spider-on my arm,
Larry! Kill him quick-do! Oh! oh
oh II shall die-I shall faint!"
And that was the end of it.
The old orchard, with it's fragrant !
ounce bushes, it's gnarled apple-trees,
it's four-leaved clovers, was thing of
the past; a cotton mill roared and
Numbered all day long, where the
birds built and the trees blossomed
thirty odd years ago. 1t no longer
blossomed except in Miss Becky's
She had turned her thoughts
to raising plants when she was left to
her own resources. but one cruel |
winters night killed all her slips, and |
the capital was lacking by which she
might renew her stock. Since then
'he had gone out for daily sewing, had
the sick, had been in demand
:or temporary housekeeper whenever
! tired matron wished an outing; but
ately her eyes no longer served her for
inc work, and sewing machines had
been introduced; she was not so alert
n the sick room as of yore; she moved
more slowly, and her housekeeping
alent was no longer in request; added
o this, the bank where her little earn
ngs had been growing, one day failed
nd left her high and dry. Some of
Ter friends had travelled to pastures
lew, some had married away, some had
gnored or forgotten her. As for
larry Rogers, he had been away from
plymouth this many year. Some
ody had sent him abroad
be year after Lucy Amory's
larriage to develop his musical
enius. He had grown into a
'mous violinist, playing all over the
ountry to crowded houses, before the
nest people in the land. It was (
eautiful romance to Miss Becky to
lad in the Plymouth Record about ]
ur gifted townsnan;;" she did not /,
lame him because her life had been ,
olorless. She sang again the old
mes he had taught her, and made
tile sunshine in her heart All of
appiness she had ever known he had
rought her. Why should she COM :