Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1889-05-11

~ an going to learn TO be very pise, dear
With her fingers buried in her curls, with
her book on her knea, with the moon rays
white and strong on the page, Beboe sat en-
tranced as the hours went by; the childrcn's
play shouts died away, the babhlo of the Gos.
sip at the house doors ceased; people went by
and called good night 10 her; the littlo huts
shut up ono by one, like the white and purple
convolvulus cups In tho hedges.
Bebee did not stir, nor did she hear them.
sho was deaf even to the singing Of tho night
ingales In the willows, where she sat In her
little dark porch, with the ivy dropping from
the thatch above, and tho wet garden ways
beyond her,
A heavy step came tramplns down the lane,
A voice called 20 her:
What are you doing, Bcbee, there this
time of tho night 1t is on tho strike Of
twelve"
She started as II she were doing some evil
thing, and stretched her arms out, and looked
around with blinded wondering eyes, as If
she had been rudely wakened from her sleep.
what arc you doing up SO later asked
Jeannot; he was coming from the forest In
the dead Of night TO bring food for his fam
ily. he lost his sleep thus often, but be never
thought that he did anything except his duty
in those long, dark, tiring tramps to and fro
between Soignies and Laeken.
Bebee shut her book, and smiled with
dreaming eyes, that saw him not at oil.
~ was reading-and, Jeannot, his name Is
Flamen for tho world-but may call him
Victurn
'What do caro- for his namer
"You asked it this morning."
more fool l. Why do you readi Reading
Is not for poor folk like you and mo-"
Bebee smiled up at the white clear moon
that sailed above the woods.
She was not awake out Of her dream. She
only dimly heard the words he spoke
you are little peasant said Jeannot
roughly, as he paused at the gate. at is all
you can do TO get your bread. You have no
one 10 stand between you and hunger. How
will it be with you when tho slug gets your
roses, and tho snail your carnations, and your
hens die OF damp, and your lace is all wovo
swry, because your head runs on reading and
folly, and you arc spoilt for all simple pleas
ures and for all honest workY'
Sho smiled, still looking up ct tho moon,
with the dropping ivy touching her hair.
"Nou are cross, dear Jeannot Good
night"
4 moment afterwards the little rickety door
was shut, and the rusty bolt drawn within il:
Jeannot stood in tho cool summer night all
alone and knew how stupid he had been in
his wrath.
He leaned on tho cato a minute, then
crossed the garden as softly rs his wooden
shoes would let him. He tapped gently on
shutter OF the lattice.
"Bebee-Bebee-just listen. spoke rough
ly, dear-i know | have no right | am
sorry WIN you be friends with me againf-
do be friends again"
She opened the shutter a little way, 80 that
be could see her pretty mouth speaking.
"Oh, Jeannot, what does il matteri Yes,
we are friends-wo will always be friends, OF
eourSe-only you do not know Good night
He went away with heavy heart and c
long drawn step. He would have preferred
that she should have been angry with him
Bebee, left alone, let tho clothes drop o1
her pretty round shoulders and her rosy
limbs, and shook out her coils of hair, and
kissed tho book, and laid it under her head,
and went 10 sleep with smile on her face
Only, as she slept, her fingers moved as IL
she were counting her beads, and her lips
murmured