Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1890-05-10

gnmpss OF brown neck r,id pair OF firm
red lips. Of the gray Tor stretching above us,
and, farther aloft, nock Of field fare hang
ing In the pale sky and then shut my eyes for
tho dazzle, but could still feel the beat ef
Joans heart as she held mo close and the
touch Of her breath ON my forehead
Down the hill she carried me, picking the
softest turf, and moving with an cascful swing
that rather lullcd my hurt than jolted Il. l
was doing, even, when strange noise awoks
me-
at first to swell up towards Us, and then
broke OH in half dozen or more sharp yells.
Joan took no heed Of them, but, seeing my
eyes unclose, aud hearing me moan. stopped
short.
"Hurts thee, ladf'
"No." Twas not my pain, but tho sight Of
the sinking sun that wrung the exclamation
from me--"I was thinking" muttered.
don't; tits bad for health. But bitle thee
still awhile, and shalt lie pom soft bed.n
By this time we had come down to the
road, and the yells werc still going on, louder
than ever. Wo crossed the road, descended
another slope, and came all at once ON low
pile Of buildings that . moment before had
been hid. Twas but three novels OF mud,
stuck together In the shape Of . headless
cross, the main arm pointing out towards the
moor. Around the whole ran battered wall
patched with furze, and from this dwelling
the screams were issuing:
"Joan!" the voice began, "Joan-Jan Ter
gagles a-clawin' my legs-Gar-rout, thou
hell cat-Blast thee. let me zogl Puli'n Oh,
Joan-Joani"
The voice died away into a vail; then
broke out in a racket Of curses. Joan stepped
to tho door and flung 1t wide. A my eyes
grew used to the gloom inside, they saw this:
A rude kitchen-the furniture but two
rickety chairs, now tossed on their faces, an
oak table, with legs sunk into the earth, .
keg Of strong waters, tilted over and drain
Ing upon the mud floor, a ladder leading up
to q loft, and in two of the corners few
bundles of bracken strewn for bedding. To
the left, as one entered, was an open hearth; /;
but the glowing peat turves were now pitched
to right end left over the hearthstone and
about the floor, where they rested, filling the
den with smoke. Under one Of the chairs .
black cat spat and bristled; while In the
middle Of the room, barefooted in the en-
bers, crouched man. He was half naked,
old, and bent, with matted gray hair and
beard hanging almost to his waist. His chest
and legs were bleeding from a score Of
scratches; and he pointed at the cat, opening
and shutting his mouth like dog, and bark
ing out curse upon curse.
No way upset, Joan stepped across the
bitchen, laid me on one Of the bracken beds
and explained:
"Thats feyther; he's drunk"
With which she turned, dealt the old man
a cuff that stretched him senseess, and, gath
ering up the turves, piled them afresh on the
hearth. This done, she took the keg and
give me q drink Of it, The stuff scalded me,
but thanked her. And then, when she had
shifted my bed bit to case the pain Of lying,
she rightcd n chair, drew 1t up and sat beside
me. The old man lay like a log where he had
fallen and was now snoring. Presently the
fumes Of the liquor or mere faintness mas
tered mo and my eyes closed. But the pict-
urc they closed upon was that Of Joan, as she
leaned forward. chin on hand, with the glow
of the fire on her brown skin and in the depths
OF her dark eyes
Continued merit Saturday