Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1889-07-27
ONE ARM-TWO SLEEVES
BY ALEX. DUKE BAILIE.

In the beautiful Roanoke valley OF
Virginia the Puryear family had lived
for century, respected as ever they
were, but the fortunes of war had left
them but little of their former fortune
of money One treasure they pos
sessed, however, in an only child, a
daughter, upon whom her romantic
mother had inflicted the name of Are
thusa.
This was too much for the good peo-
pie of that section, and as she was such
q bright. roly-poly little kitten of a
/. creature. "Puss" she was called by her
father, and "Puss" she was to all her
friends and neighbors.
Adjoining the Puryear estate was
that of old man Holmes, and Walter,
his son, was as brave and ambitious
young fellow as ever carried heart,
eyes, and tongue in most presentable
anatomy. He was not satisfied with
the humdrum, sleepy life of the val
ley, and when offered position, at
sixteen years of age, in a great ma
chine shop in the North, he eagerly
tookit. Many times he had been COM
ing home, but something always pre-
vented. He had learned and advanced
quickly, and was in love with his trade.
When, however, five years had nearly
passed, his parents wrote him, in a tone
he could not resist, that they wished
to see him enter upon manhood under
the old roof-trees, and that he must
come to them and pass his twenty-first
birthday.
Walter was of the same mind, espe-
cially as he had accepted a position as
locomotive engineer upon Western
road at high salary. The place was
one he had long desired, the free, dan
gerous life exactly suited his nature
He went back to the home of his
childhood, man every inch of him,
and proud indeed were his parents.
He mad little time to stay, and stuck
close to his old mothers side. Puss
Puryear did not see him for several
days after his arrival, because the
morning he came she left for short
visit to the county seat.
The evening of her return she was
walking alone near the river bank,
swinging her gypsy hat in her hand,
ENJOYING the south wind which tossed
her hair and cooled her face:
whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad,
Whistle and I'll came to you;
Though father and mother and all should 60
WHISTLE and I'll come to you,"
she sang liltingly, as she tripped
along.
IF only knew you, and could vent
ure to say how much I should like to
whistle"
She looked up and met pair of dark
eyes sparkling from swart face. The
man made bow deferential enough to
atone for the freedom of speech, and
she smiled:
"Then you don't know me?"
"What! Puss! I know the smile
and dimples now. But I did not ex-
pect to see-to see"
"A young lady of the venerable age
of sixteen, you mean," she said, laugh
ingly.
"That is just it," replied Walter
"the little Puss in short dresses that l
said 'good-by' to five years ago was
certainly very different from the Miss
Arethusa 1 meet now. I remember I
kissed Puss farewell: Isuppose could
not salute Miss Arethusa in the same
way on return?"
Il am very certain you could not,
Sir Walter. But for mercy's sake, not
that Arathusa; I'm Puss, the same as
ever"
That was not the last walk these
two young people took along the river
bank. Walter, instead of taking his
intended tour during the vacation he
had given himself, remained at the old
homestead until the last moment, tax
ing just time enough to reach his new
post of duty on the date specified by
contract.
Before he left, the old, old story had
been told, and when he this time part
ed with Puss Puryear he kissed good
BY On the lips of his betrothed.
In q year he was to come for her.
His letters were Joy to her heart, his
intelligence and excellent training
gained him the highest reputation,
and, young in years. he was yet the
most trusted engineer on the new and
great road.
The year was almost up, the people
Of that quiet valley were already an.
ticipating the excitement and frohc Of
the wedding, when the frequent letters
ceased. Puss waited for several weeks
sure that the badly managed mail
matters of that sleepy section were te
blame. Then her Southern pride was
toused and she wrote no more, and
tried to convince herself that she die
not care. Newspapers were few and
poor. only one little local sheet evel
reached the homes about there except
at the houses of the largest planters.
Spite of pride, the girls heart wa:
breaking, her health gave way rapidly
the old doctor could do nothing fol
her, and she became the shadow of hel
former self.
II do not want to die" she told tn,
Doctor, II want to live for my mothel
and father. am all they have. But
oh! it is SO hard to live.
A few months after she was pur
Il e. l. -