The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1889-11-02
BLUEBERRIES.
How I Finally Got Debbie and
Burberry Pie.


crying. A great tree she had been
very fond of had burst into n red
blaze, changed to pink ashes, and
dropped out of sight as we gazed.
81 can not bear to see it," she said,
hiding her face on my shoulder.
mo matter, Debbie." l said
'.There'll be plenty of blueberries next
summer. You know there always are
the year after these fires, and am as
famous for eating blueberry pie as you
are for making it."
But Debbie would not laugh.
There are always blueberries
enough" she said. '.But loued that
tree-the tree we sat under when"
"When asked you to be my wife"
said l. "And you said yes, otherwise
/ should not have made that remark
about blueberry pies"
But liked the tree, too, for all that
Debbie took things of that sort very
hard. She could not bear to see
the flowers fade in autumn, or the
grass grow brown. She often said
that she believed the green things
growing had souls.
She had been just like that ever since
she was baby, when she petted every
thing in the place. The calves, the
lambs, the little piglets, even the old
black hog in his sty came in for a
share of her favor, though he was the
most unlovable creature alive. And |
remember that one Thanksgiving Day
the turkey that graced the feast had
been her special favorite-she absented
herself from table, and was found
after long search and much alarm,
hiding in the garret. II can't touch
him, mother" she confessed. 81 can't
we have been too friendly"
'.An odd child" the farmers wives
declared, and thanked Heaven their
own had more plain common sense and
less imagination. But even then, to
my fancy, Debbie Doane was the
sweetest. prettiest creature alive. A
slender, blue-eyed, fair-haired wisp Of
child. as light on her feet as any
bird. She knew all the birds in the
wood, it seemed to me, and where they
nested, and / never dared touch one.
1 had a boys natural brutality, of
course, but for Debbie's sake | kept
it under, until it died natural death
with manhood, for we lived in that
pleasant place among the mountains
-Debbie and Until she was eigh-
teen, and one-and-twenty.
Our parents were friends, and l was
an only child, while Debbie's little
brothers-there were two or three of
them, / believe-had passed away when
they were babies. Our liking for each
other pleased our mothers, and when
one day began to know that l did not
love Debbie as sister, was sure that
no one would disapprove; and up there
under the tree we had just seen drop,
we kissed each other for the first time
as lovers kiss, and said those things to
each other which only lovers say.
And so had come to thinking of her
as my future wife, and talking about
her making blueberry pie for me.
But long before the blueberries
sprang up over the ashes OF the dead
pines every thing had changed.
Debbie's father was hot-tempered
man, and mine an obstinate one. They
got along wonderfully with each other
for many years. and itseemed to be one
of those especial bits of spite which
Fate doles out to lovers, that they
should have their first serious falling
out directly Debbie and l were engaged.
What was it about, you ask? OF all
men on earth, farmers quarrel about
the smallest things. The ill-feeling
began about a bit of land,
worth next to nothing, was continued
by our old pear tree, which projected
its roots into Mr., Doane's cellar, and
finished by one of Doane's cows, who
trod down our corn; and one day the
two elderly men faced each other, their
faces crimson, their eyes blazing, blot
ting out the friendship of years by their
mutual taunts and reproaches, until,
at last, Doane struck my father, and
my father knocked him down. He fell
with his head against bit OF wood,
and cut it. and the blood flowed over
his face and neck. The women
screamed; Doane lay at length upon
the grass, a CORY spectacle. Mrs.
Doane called one farmland to help
his master in. another to run for the
doctor, and the general impression
that a murder had been committed
was conveyed. 1t was a matter for
bit of court-plaster, after all; but
lifelong friendship was over forever;
and it was conceded on both sides that
Debbie and | must break with each
other.
Upon the mountain, where the blue
berries were to be next summer, we
met for the last timc. The ashes of
the tree we had first kissed under were
all blown away, and only grim, black
stump remained to tell where it once
stood. Debbie was very pale, but very
firm.
''It would be an insult to father II
should marry the son of man who
tried to kill him." she saidi land Mr..
Ashton did try, Eben."
my father only resented blow, as
any man ought" said.
"But how furiously," said Debbie;
show brutally."
And then we quarreled, until at last
we parted, going by different ways
y.