Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1889-04-27

ful as peach bloom n beautliul, and her IN.
| nocent, couragcous happy eyes had dreams
In them underneath their laughter --irums
| that went further than tho grcm woods OF
Iaessn. further even than tho white clouds
| Of summer.
She could uos move among them IDLY as
poets and girls love 10 do; she had to lie ectivc
amidst them, clse drought and rain. and
worm and snail, and blight and fruss would
have undo havoc Of their fairc,t hopea
Tho lovclicst love b that which dreams high
above all storms. unsoilcd by all burdens; hut
| perhaps the strongest love b that which,
whilst Il adores, drags its feet through miro,
and burns its brow in heat, for the thing b.
loved.
| 30 Bebco dreamed In hcr garden; but all
tho timo for sake Of 10 hoed and dug, and hurt
her hands, and tired her limbs, and bowed
her shoulder under tho great metal pails
from the we'll
This wondrous morning, with tho bright
burden Of her sixteen years upon her. she
drcsed herscR quickly and fed her fowls and,
happy a. a bird, went to xis on her little
wooden stool In the doorway.
Thero bad been frcsh rain In the night; the
garden was radiant tho smell Of the wet
earth was sweeter than all perfumes that aru
burned in palaces
hair a slie went out; tho Startling called To
her. "Dcbce Bebec-bon Jour, bon jour n
These wcro all tho words II knew Il said the
samo words . thousand times Q week. But
TO Bebee 10 seemed that tho Startling most
certainly know that she was 10 years old that
day.
Breaking her bread into tho milk, she sat In
tho dawn and thought without knowing that
sho thought II, "liow good II = to live when
ono 10 youngr
Old people say the samo thing often, but
they sigh whom they say IL Bebee smiled.
Nero Krebs opened her door In the nexs
cottage and nodded over tho wall
"What fine thing to DO i6i A merry
year. Bebee"
Marthe, the carpenterS wife. came out from
her gate, broom In hand.
"Tho holy saints keep you. Bcbco. why.
you are quite a woman nowi"
The little children Of varnhart, tho char.
coal burner, who were rs poor al any mouse
In tho old churches, rushed out Of their little
home up the lane, bringing with them a cake
stuck full Of sugar and seeds, and tied round
with a bluo ribbon, that their mother had
made that very week, oil In her honor
"Only sce, Bcbecl Such a grand cakoi"
they shouted, dancing down the lane "Jules
picked tho plums, and Jeanne washed the al
moods, and Christine took the ribbon of her
own communion cap-all for you--all for
you; but you will let us como and eat II toof'
Old Granmere Bishot, who was the Oldest
woman about iaeken, hobbcd through tho
grass on her crutches and nodded her white
shaking head, and smiled at IIcbcc.
II have nothing TO give you, little one-ex-
cept my blessing, II you care for that.r
Bcbco ran out. breaking from the children,
and knelt down In the wet grass, and bent
her pretty sunny head 10 tho bene,liction-
Trine, tho millers wife, tho richest woman
Of them all, cssicd TO the child from the steps
Of tho mill
"a merry year, and tho blessing Of Heaven,
Bebeel Come up, and hero Is my first dish of
cherries for you; not tasted ono myself, they
win mako you feast with Varnhart's cake,
though sho should have known better, 30 poor
as she ia Charity begins nt home and these
childrcn's stomachs arc empty"
Bobco ran up and then down again g'ee
fully, with her lapful of big black cherries,
Tambour, tho old whIto dog, who had used
to drag her about In his milk cart, leaping
on her In sympathy and congratulation.
"What supper We will havel" she cried to
tho charcoal burners children, who were
turning 'summersaults In the dock leaves,
where tho swans stared and hisscd
When one Is sixteen, cherries and cake
havo flavor of Paradise STILL especially when
they arc tasted twice, or thrice ut most, In all
the year.
An old man called to her as she went by
his door. All these little cabius lie close to-
gether, with only their apple trees, or their tall
beans, or their hedges OF thorn between them
you may ride by and never notice them II
you do not look for them under tho leaves
closely as you would for thrushes' nests.
He, too, was very old; life long ncighbor
and gossip of Antoincs; no had been n dny
laborer In these same fields all his years, aud
had never Travelled further than wherc tho
red mill sails turned among tho COLA and tho
corn
Como In, my pretty one, for n second"
no whispered with an air of mystery that
made Bebeo's heart quicken with expectancy
Como In; have something for you. They
wero my dead daughters-you hive heard
mo talk Of her--Lisetto, who died forty years
or more ago, they say; for me, think II was
yesterday. Nero Krebs--sho IL a hard wo
man-heard mo talking Of my girl She
burst out laughing, Lord sake, fool, why,
your girl would be sixty now an shc had
lived Well, 80 1t may be, you see, the now
mill was put up tho week she died, and you
call the now mill old; but, my girl, she Is
young to mo- Always young Come here.
Bcbee."
Beboo went after him, little awed, into
tho dusby interior, that smelled Of stored ap
pies and OF dried herbs that hung from tho
roof. There was q walnut wood press, such
as tho peasants Of France and the low co,in.
tries keep their home spun linen In and their
own lace that serves for the nuptials and
baptisins Of half u score Of generations
Tho old man unlocked II with trembling
hand, and there came from II an odor Of dead
lavender and Of withered roso leaves
On tho shelves there were girls set Of
clothes, and girls sabots and girls com
munion veil and wreath.
'They are all hers" no whispered; "all
hers And sometimes In tho evening tino
see her coming along tho lano for them-tio
you not knowf There Is nothing changed,
nothing changed; tho grass, and tho trees,
and tho huts, and tho pond arc all here--why
should sho only bo gone awayT
"Antoino Is gone"
"Yes. But no was old; my girl Is young"
He stood a moment, with the press door
open, a perplexod trouble In his dim eyes; tho
divine faith Of lovo and tho mulo like stupid
ity Of ignorance made him cling to this ono
thought without power Of judgment In It,
"They say sho would DO sixty be said,
with little dreary smile. "But that Is alb
surd, you know. Why, she had checks like
yours, and she would run--no lapwing could
fly faster over corn. These are her things,
you SEQ; yes-all Of them. That Is the sprig Of
sweetbrier she woro In her belt the day before
tho wagon knocked her down and killed her
have never touched tho things But look
here, Bebce, you arc a good child and true,
and like her just little mean TO give you
her silver clasps. They wero her great-groat-
great~grandmothoris before her. God knows
how old they arc not And a girl should
have some little wealth Of that sort-and for
Antoines sake"-