The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1890-09-03
A PRETTY GIRLS WHIM.

here and there.
1t was a July day. A girl lay idly in
wide luxurious hammock, her bright
head ON the soft tinted cushions, her
deep brown eyes appraised to the whis-
peing leaves above.
She looked the ideal of happy content
as she lay there in pretty laziness, one
slim hand dropping over the hammock's
edge. A great Newfoundland dog lay
on the grass beside her as she swayed
gently to and fro, toying affectionately
with the dogs great, noble head.
Sometimes he would open his almost
human eyes and look up at her silently,
with happy content that matched her
own.
1t was very pleasant there. The book
she had been reading had dropped upon
the grass and lay with crumpled leaves.
A rosebud marked the place.
Wilma Pierce, whose summers were
spent at her grandmothers quaint old
country home, had come here few days
since, tired out in body and brain as
only young, hard working teacher can
be-
Already the soothing quiet of the love-
ly place had done her good, and the
brightness of complexion and the 1.-THE
ness Of form, which had been impaired
by the years hard work, were returning
to her.
A silvery haired, sweet faced old lady
came out of the wide hall door with a
light wrap in her hand. She approached
the hammock with anxious solicitude in
her kind. old face.
Child, it is cool for thee here; thee
must be more prudent with myself"
She wrapped the soft, gray shawl
about the girls shoulders with loving,
motherly hands. Wilma looked up and
smiled protestingly.
at isn't chilly, grandmamma, dear
but submit"
She took the wrinkled old hand in
hers and held it gently against her warm
cheek.
The old Quakeress bent her stately
form and left soft, swift kiss upon the
girls forehead.
II must go in, dear heart; thee had
best fall asleep for little if thee can"
The soft, gray gown swept away
across the grass, and the wearer stopped
beside the door to pull a sweet, white
rose that stretched temptingly toward
her.
She went in, and the girl and her
dumb companion were again alone.
By and by she fell asleep. The roses
at her bare, white throat rose and fell
with gentle regularity as her breath
came and went. 1t was pretty picture.
Ronald Mitchell, coming quietly across
the garden, thought 50 as he caught
sight of it, and paused involuntarily.
The dog raised his great, shaggy head
and looked a silent welcome from his
brown eyes. They were old friends
Ronald, the young farmer, and Rebecca
Northheld's dog Don.
The young man stood breathless a no
ment looking at the sleeper, then with
a softer light in his blue eyes and
warmer tinge on his smooth shaven
cheek he went on toward the house. He
entered with the familiarity of well
known and welcome friend. and sat
down easily in big, Anticipated rocking
chair.
Rebecca Mortified came into the
room, her old face alight with welcome.
She came and laid her small hand on
his shoulder. Ronald" she said, my
grandchild, Wilma Pierce, is come.
Perhaps it is not news to thee2 She Is
good child, Wilma is, but fear she
loves the world too well. There is little
Of the Quaker about her, Ronald"
He smiled. II saw her when came
through the garden just now. She is
unlike you in her dress, but her face has
a likeness to yours"
They sat together in the quiet room
and talked little while. All at once a
shadow fell across the bare, white floor,
and they both looked up. Wilma stood
in the wide doorway, her face little
flushed with sleep, her eyes dewy like
child's after a refreshing slumber. She
held a yellow rose in her hand.
"Grandmamms," she said, all unoon-
scious of a strangers presence, as she
looked half sleepily at the flower; grand
mamma, what a lovely roseI Just see
how
Wilma" the calm, sweet voice inter
rupted her, "come here. This is Ronald
Mitchell, the son of my old friend and
schoolmate, Eunice Sand"
Wilma advanced q little and held out
her hand frankly, but when she met the
intense gaze of the clear blue eyes above
her shy look came into her own and
she withdrew her hand.
Ronald, watching her, wondered If
her grandmother remark about her had
implied that she was bit of a coquette.
She leaned over the old lady's high
backed chair and fastened the rich rose
in the silvery white waves Of her beauti-
full hair. And then she went away, with
a murmured word of excuse, leaving be
hind her a scent Of roses and remem-
brance of a fair, fresh young face rising
howerlike above her pale blue gown.
That was their first meeting All sum-
mer the young farmer came and went at
his own will and helped 70 make the old
place pleasant.
They sang together in the garden.
There was no musical instrument in the
primitive Quaker household. but Wilma
had brought her guitar with her. They
read together in the old summer house
through long, lovely afternoons, while
grandmamma sat near with her homely
knitting work.
They walked together in the great old
fashioned garden and aleng the muir
muring creeks, and sat idly en- the little