Los Cerrillos rustler. (Cerrillos, N.M.) 188?-1891, 1890-09-26


empiy old school hoasc; they had prac-
tcod aognther. while be wrote the score
On she blackboard but an this had
not suffice. 20 enable her 30 earn a live
nhoo1 Her education. musical and
otherwise, had stopped short of any
commercial value. In those days she
bad never expected 20 earn her living
by the sweat Of her brow. Larry was
going 10 give her every thing. How
trivial the little quarrel seemed to-day
which circumvented this fine resolve
Of his, But what magnitude It had
assumed az the time, ON his return
from a trip to a neighboring city. some
b1sybody whispered 20 Larry that Miss
Becky had been seen driving with
Squire Eustis' son. sam. behind his
t~rotters sam was just home from col
lege, a harum-scarum fellow. they said.
who made love right and left. and gam
hled a BIT, and when Larry rcproached
her with h she had not denied; she had
simply said: what then? II you choose
to listen TO gossip rather than wait till
! tell you"
''But you didn't tell me; and I've been
home a week
II had forgotten all about IL till you
reminded me, - said Becky.
ats such an everyday affair for you
10 drive with Sam Eustis!-which In
credulity so stung Becky that she would
not condescend to explain that she had
carried some needlework up 70 Squire
Eustis' which she had been doing for
his wife. and. that as she left to walk
home, sam was starting of with his
smart chaise and new dapple-grays. and
the Squire said: Take Miss Becky
home, sam, and show her their paces;'
and how she had peer ashamed to re-
fuse the kindness, although prefcrring
to walk a thousand times: and how.
once In the chaise, sam had been the
pink Of courtesy, and had begged her to
drive over with him to Parson Amory's,
three miles out OF her way, that Lucy
Auory may see that you don't disdain
my company. For you see said sam,
who was not as black as he was painted,
or as many liked to suppose, Lucy can
make me what she will; without her |
shall be nothing and nobody; but they've
bAh NV az Minus " WIN AiAAAkN ahtAh
: me; they've told her she might just as
well jump into the river as marry such a
scapcgrace. And perhaps IL ] made her
a little iealous-you know there's no
= harm In that, Is there? all's fair in
: loye-and perhaps II the old folks see me
driving about with Miss Becky Thorne
my stock may go up. and | may be saved
| from the burning as Parson Amory
says" And Becky had consented;
, how could she refuse to do a
/ service for such true lover? So slight
| n thing, too! She had often travorsed
| the same road since. on foot, on her
daily rounds of toll or mercy. Sam
Eustis had married Lucy Amory years
ago, and was the foremost man in the
county to-day. Strange, how that
friendly drive had interfered with Miss
Becky's prospects; how the simple fact
of carrying home Mrs. Eustis' needle
: work should have determined her fate,
t and devoted her to a life OF hardship
I and the 'Old Ladies' Home at the
end. Talk of trifes! Poor Miss Becky
she remembered that once or twice the
opportunity had offered when she might
have made it up with Larry; but pride,
| or a sort OF fine reserve, had locked her
~lips-Larry ought to know that she was
7 above silly flirtations. Once, when they
had met at Lucy Amory's wedding.
: when they all went out into the orchard
I while the bride planted a young tree.
{ and the guests looked for four-leaved
! %cloyers, she had found herself-whether
q by accident or design she could not lell
ON the grass beside Larry; their fin
] gers met over the same lucky clover.
: their eyes met above 1t, and for an in
slant she had 1t on her tongues end TO
. confess all about the drive and its re-
suit, to put pride in her pocket, but just
: then Nell Amory called to Larry.
q 'Oh, d horrid spider!-on my arm,
J Larry! KIN him, quick-do! Oh-oh-
oh, ! shall die-I shall faint.' and that
was the end of it.
The old orchard, with its fragrant
ounce bushes, its gnarled apple trees,
its four-lcayed clovers, was q thing OF
the past; a cotton-mill roared and thun-
dered there all day long where the
birds built and the trees b%ourgconed
thirty odd years ago. 1t no longer
blossomcd, excel in Miss Becky's MEM
Org. She had turned her thoughts TO
raising plants whnn she was left to her
own resources. bua one cruel winters
night killed all her slips and the cap
ital was lacking by which she might re-
new her stock. Since thon she had
gone out for daily sewing, had watched
with the sick, had been in demand for
temporary h~ousekeeper whenever a
tired matron wished an outing; but lat
terly her eyes no longer served her for
fine work, and sewing-machines had
been introduced; she was not so alert
in the sick-room as of yore; she moved
more slowly and her housekeeping