The morning call., 1890-08-04
MARY RAVENEL.
BY AMY RANDOLPH.


%TTOP-PICKING?" said young Durell.
@s5 as he took a rosy August apple from
HSkS his pocket and fed it leisurely to the
beautiful white horse against which he
leaned. 'Why, yes, it is rather romantic
business, if you look upon it from
romantic point of view You're an artist.
eh? Come to sketch our little bits of rustic
scenery? But there's nothing particularly
picturesque about our hop-fields. Just sun
shine, and the gold-green of the clusters, and
the curling tendrils reaching out for some
thing to grasp at, and the air SO blue and
clear that one can almost see the straight
lines of the sunshine. or course, it looks
pretty to me, for l was born and brought
up in it-but-eXcuse mel can't see what
there is specially worthy of an artists
pencil?'
Mr.. Raymond smiled.
sDo you see those long perspectives of
green alleys" said he, with the figures
running in and out? And the old woman
sitting among the fragrant heaps, with the
scarlet cloak and the two little tOdders at
her feet? And yonder feeble. bent old
man, with water-cans on his shoulder?
Why, there are a hundred bits OF green
here, to say nothing of the background"
Aud Raymond took out his mill-boards
and cOlor-boxes. set up an impromptu easel
and began diligently to paint.
Squire Durel's son looked on with an
amused smile. To him, the machinery Of
the great hop farm was the real business OF
life. Artists and such like were merely
| pleasure-seekers, who disported themselves
| airily along the outskirts OF creation.
ssXou will find soma VprV DrettV faces
here" said Durell, "f you care for sketch
| ing that sort of thing. People come here
from all parts of the country in hop-picking
| time. Gypsies, tramps, respectable poor
workers who don't object to turning an
honest penny. young people who come here
for the frolic of the thing, and poor old
wretehes who think that every season will
| be their last. It's healthy, the doctors say.
! At al! events, it's profitable. In hop season
| there isn't cottage, farmhouse garrett,
nor even barn untenanted. There are
tents. white sprinkle of them, down in the
meadow by the vines. where people sleep at
nights. You are staying in this part of the
neighborhuod? No? My father will be
very glad to see you up at the house II you
will honor us by becoming our guest to-
night"
And raising his light straw hat Daniel
| Durel went his way, the beautiful, satin
skinned white horse following like dOcile
| kitten at his heels.
|
! come dUwn with hamper from the house,
"take cup of hot coffee aud two or three
| of these white rolls, with my compliments
| to that gentleman in the linen coat who is
| sketching under the trees. And HughW
"Sir?"
Did you carry the sardine sandwiches
| and the basket of apricots and the fresh
milk to the young girl in black"
| The man nodded.
She didn't want to take 'em, Mr.. Dan
- Cg,a. To- linz
| back But / minded your order. sir, and
made off as fast as l could, pretending not
| to hear"
Durell smiled That's right said ne.
And don't forget the cold meat aud slices
| of new bread for old Dunstable. He grows
| feebler and feebler every day, and there
was nothing but the heel of loaf and a
black cheese rind in his dinner basket, for
l saw IL myself
Its ali right, SIR" said Hugh.
And then Durell, going up to the great
house, shrewdly noting all the hop pickers
as they sat and lay around under the shadow
of the vines, in the dolce far niente OF the
noon intermission. finally came into the
great cool room, where the scent of cheese
| making filed the air. and the muslin cur
tans fIoated to and fro in the breeze.
The squire himself sat there, equity, but
| content. Iced ciaret and cold chicken were
on the table; forced dollhouse peaches
scented the atmosphere; plate OF deviled
tongue, with curry sauce, supplied the fiery
| element, and delicate outlets, Dreaded and
| fried in egg, were brought in, hot and savory.
The old gentleman's face frightened at the
sight OF his son.
at has seemed long day without you,
my boy" said he. sit down; sit down:
the morning that wish you'd bring wife
home TO the old placer She would be COM
pany for me when you are gone. Why don't
you think Of it, my lad ?" -.
Is have been thinking of it, father,"
said the sources son. "But what would
you say, sir, if l were to marry poor grl?"
The squire set down his glass of iced
claret. Evidently this was new view Of
"a poor girl Daniel"
But good girl, father, and as sweet
and lovely as yonder half-opened rosebud.
You will perhaps laugh at me-" lie added,
but believe l have lost my heart to one
of our hop;;gickers."
Daniel"
{" Her name is Mary Raveuel, sir; never
saw her before this season. She is picking
hops with her aunt, or some elderly rela-
tive-a pale and fragile-lookiDg girl, but as
beautiful as dream. And-I love her"
The old squire nodded his head.
can trust you, my son." said he, and
whoever you choose to bring here Will be as
welcome as the flowers of May
While all this time, the artist, strollng
| idly along to observe the various groups,
came upon pale-faced girl in black-a
girl with large, melting, wine-browu eyes.
straight, pure features, and tender, dark
hair, Overhanglng her forehead like a mist
Of jst; .u.o,r, - ..,o,
YES" Miss Ravenel'" she smiled
back. You are astonished to see me here.
But the doctor declared that hop picking
would be the very thing for ME. So Aunt
Verna brought me, and here we are. And
l am really accomplishing wonders in the
hop-picking line! Sit down here and eat
some of these delicious dollhouse grapes.
They are sent to us daily by an unknown
factor. That is" as Aunt Vera smiled
meaningly, mot exactly unknown. 1t is
Squire DurelPs son. He will persist in
sending all these delightful things, although
| tell him, over and over, that l have no
need of them. / believe he thinks / am a
starving dreSsmaker, or something of the
kind" with a blush and smile. but, oh,
be is so good And [ like him so much !
Now show, us, please, what you have been
sketehing."
Mr.. Durell came down, in the warm red
glow OF the summer sunset. to the willow
| shaded curve of the river where Miss Ra-
venel liked to sit when her days work was
done.
II have brought you some of the rare or
chids from the conservatory" said he
"You told me the other day that you liked
flowers
Il am so much obliged TO you," said she,
gratefully. But Mr.. Durell, have some
thing to tell you"
"Stop minute" he said. "Ihave some
thing to tell you-that l love you--that
want to make you my wife. Dear Miss Ra-
venel, are you snrpIisedat thisp Have you
not seen it growing out of my heart by de-
grees? My father is old and infrm, but he
is ready TO welcome you with all paterEa
love, and"
"You really love me?" she cried. with
wide-open eyes. "Me, poor, pale little
| fol,.