Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1889-05-18

ne rnrew tho leaves away, irritabiy, ana
tc!d her to leave Off her spinning.
''Somc day l shall paint you with that
wheel as painted tho Broodhuiz VIII you
let me, BcbeeF'
''Yesn
She answered him as she would have an
swered II he had told her to go on pilgrimage
from one end Of tho Low Countries to the
other
''What were you going to do todayr'
~ am goiug into tho market with tho how-
ers; go every day."
"How much will you maker
1.-TWO or three francs, IL am lucky"
"And do you never have holidnyr
"Oh, yes; but not often, you know, because
it Ia on tho fete days that tho people want the
most flowers"
"But In the winterf"
"Then work at the lace"
'Do you never go into the woodsf'
81 have been, once or twice; but it loses
whole day."
"You are afraid Of not carningr
"Yes. Because am afraid Of owing peo-
pie anything"
"Well, give up this one day, and we will
make holiday. Tho people are out; they will
not know. Come into tho forest, and we will
dine at cafe in the woods; and we will bc as
poetic as you like, and will tell you a tale Of
one called Rosalind, who pranked herself in
boys attire all for love, In the Ardenncs
country yonder. Come, 1t is tho very day
for the forest; 1t will make me lad again at
Meudon, when the lilacs were in bloom. Poor
Paris Come"
'Do you mean itf'
The color was bright in her face, her heart
was dancing, her littlc feet felt themselves
already on tha fresh preen turf
She had no thought that there could DO any
harm in it. She would have gone with Jean.
not or old Bac
"Of course | mean it. Come. I was going
to Mayence TO see the Magi and Van Dycks
Christ. We will go to Soignies instead and
study green leaves will paint your face by
sunlight. 1t is the best way to paint you
You belong to tho open dir. So should Gret-
chem or how else should she have tho blue
sky in her eyesp
'But have only wooden shoesr'
Her face was scarlet as she glanced at her
feet; he who had wanted to give her tho silk
stockings-how would he like to be secn walk
ing abroad with those two clumsy, Gathering,
work k-a-day, little sabotsi
''Never mind. My dear, In my time have
had enough Of satin shoes and Of silver gilt
heels; they clickclack as loud as yours, and
cost much more to those who walk with them,
not to mention that they will seldom deign to
walk Mt all. Your wooden shoes arc pictur-
esque. Paganini made violin out Of q
wooden shee. Whe Knows what music may
lurk In yours, only you have never beard II.
Perhaps have. It was Bac who gavo you
tho red shoes, that was the barbarian, not l.
Come"
'You really mean It'll"
Come"
"But they will miss me at market"
"They will think you are gone on the pill
grimage; you need never tell them you have
not"
"But IL they ask meY'
"Does It never happen that you say any
other thing than the truthi'
ANY other thing than tho TRUTH OF
course not People take for granted that ono
tells truth; it would be very base to cheat
them Do you really mean that may come
in the forest--and you will tell me stories
like those you give me to read"
81 will tell you better story. Lock your
hut, Bebee, and come"
"And to think you are not ashamedl"
"Ashamedr
"Yes, because of my wooden shoes"
Was it poSsihlel Bebee thought, as she ran
out into the garden and locked the door be-
hind her, and pushed the key under the water
butt as usual, being quite content with that
prudent precaution against robbers which
had served Antoine all his days Was it pos
sible, this wonderful joyi Her cheeks were
Ike her roses, her eyes had a brilliance like
the sun, the natural grace and mirth Of tho
child blossomed in a thousand ways and ges-
tures.
As she went by the shrine In the wall sne
l..A N,..z l..
Of the cross; then she gathered little moss
rose that nodded close under the border Of
the palisade and turned and gave It to him.
Look, she sends you this She is not an
cry, you sec, and it Is much more pleasure
when she is pleased-do you not knowp
He shrank a little. as her fingers touched
him.
What pity you had no mother, Bebeep
he said, on an impulse of emotion, of which
in Paris he would have been more ashamed
than Of any guilt