The Pioche weekly record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1877-1900, 1889-08-03
largo, scantily furnished, rag-carpeted best

large, scantiy furnished, rag-carpeted best
room.
He gasped as he stood there. He had
vaguely hoped for little repreve, but she
sat there by the lamp, alone, bending
over some work. She rose at his entrance
and came forward a little to offer her hand;
but he did not see 1t, and she dropped it
back in awkward haste.
won't you take chair2" she said.
She brought one forward. Thornton sat
down. He dropped his hat as he did so, and
picked it up with red face. Then he sat
still. He would have tried to speak, but he
knew he could not; his tongue felt thick
and immovable.
"lts showing, amt it, said the school
teacher; she bore the marks Of dlfidence
herself in her timcrous voice and look.
Thorton nodded; it WAS all he could do
He stared at her tixedly, almost vacuously.
His mind wandered back and strove to
anchor itself to something. Once he had
spent an evening at Bissels, on the occasion
of sociable, and taken her hand in one of
the games; once he had overtalfen her, in q
wagon, on her way to school and gwen her
a lift. That was all. He thought it might
have been less hard for him if there had
been something more but that was all his
morbid Observation-Disclosures had allowed
him.
The ticking of clock on corner-stand
filled the silence. 1t was round nickel
clock, and it licked so loudly as to force
itself upon them.
"That's my school Clock" said the teach
err. ~ am all ready for tomorrow. There
are my books over there with it and the
register.
The school director dropped his miserable
eyes to the faded stripe in the carpet at his
feet, but he did not see it; his hat shook
with the trembling of his hands.
five ben thinking how many I'll have.
likely" the school teacher went on. His
misery impaired itself to her in degree of
nervousness, and she let her work drop. 81
had twenty-five this summer; there's al
ways more winters, amt thereP'
He managed to say yes. His eyes were
wandering about the room now, his lips
parted rs if for air. He saw new pane in
the window, clumsily puttied-a campkor
bottle left on the melode on-a break in the
cane seat Of chair-a small tub filed with
white asters still in bloom. He continued
looking ut hese.
'They're real late, amt they?" said the
girl. ''They're mine. l potted 'em myself
and guess they'll last best part of the win
ter; I've heard they will, took care Of Do
you want one!"
She put down her work and went aud
picked one. Then, with shy laugh, she
took her scissors and went back to them.
"May be your mother'd like few; she
hain't got 'em, has shea" she said
She made bunch and tied it with her
black thread. Thornton watched her;
slight girl in cheap and well worn dress,
| her dark hair in grlish braid, and her
eyes mild. This she was, but who shall tell
what he wass His agony rose, culminatel
| as she turned to him; he clutched his hat
| till its stiff brim cracked. She was coming
| toward him with the flowers.
"There, may be she'd like few" she re-
peated fain t-heartediy; but he did not hear
her. He felt his face ahame like fire, and
| choking IN his throat. He struggled to
| speak, and did make an inarticulate sound.
at which she looked at him in wonder
He looked up at her pitifully-and then fell
stumblingly on his knees at her feet and
buried his face in her skirt, and cropping
for her hands, pulled them down TIL they
pressed his throbbing head and rested
there, her happy, wondering tears falling
upon them.
Bashful!' said Dave Kinney to Hanks,
the store-keeper. 'pd like to know what's
yourtdeeo' bashfulness. WY, JIM Thorn,
ton walked out o. this store that night and
up to Bissel's straight as a string, and told
that school teacher that, OWN to circum.
stances that he didn't have no control over,
she couldn't have the school this winter, ner
likely there couldn't nobody else neither,
but if It'll be any consideration to her, she
could have him; told her that right up and
down, and didn't make no bones Of it, II
Jim Thorntons bashful, WY, the Teller that
ain't's what I'd like to see.n-Emma A.
| Opper in Leslie's NeWspaper