The Press., 1891-11-19

ender. gray and tan. at the lace
 trimmed handkerchiefs. thin as cobwebs;
 the fans in their ivory boxes, the ex- quisite dressing case with silver fittings
 the fine laces and thousand dainty be- longings of yonilg society girls life.
 She closed them again with compressed
 ups. Her jewel box was open and
 empty. Not trinket remained except
 the little watch she wore at her belt. She took nothing: all the elegant trifes
 were left intact on the walls and about the tables, but at last she opened secret
 drawer of her writing desk and drew out
 photograph at which she gazed intently
 for some moments with half shut eyes,
 then tore the picture in small fragments
 and threw them into the fireplace. It
 was the picture of young man of twenty-four, dark. handsome, sensi-
 tive and high bred face with the hair
 lightly tossed off the forehead and an
 artistic cut to the low collar and the
 velvet studio coat in which he was
 dressed. She opened the window to ad-
 init the fresh morning air, then slipped quietly out of the room. crossed the
 broad hall on tiptoe, descended the back stairs and passing through side door let herself out by the garden into the
 slum berous street still chill and misty
 with dawn light. A covered cart was drawn up at the gate, and an old country
 man with bowed shoulders and weeks stubble like hoar frost on his chin stood holding 8 lean white horse, evidently much depressed in spirits from the way
 he applied his nose to the pavement and emitted an occasional weak cough.
 'Fm. on hand, miss," said the man in a voice that seemed to scratch the ear like 8 bunch of teasel.
 ."l knew you would be here Burns; you're trusty.
 .Trusty and rusty,- said Burns grin ming and showing painful deficiency of front teeth But tain't natural" he added, tapping his chest to account for
 the latter fact: tits the inf1uenzy." "Tll look after the horse, Burns, while you bring out my traps They're all in the hall near the door"
 Burns made several consecutive trips
 indoors and came -shouldering 8 number of nondescript boxes and loose household utensils, among them 8 squarish ma chine set on legs.
 What's that2" he asked, pointing to
 the last named and squinting at it. with
 his legs wide apart.
 "An incubator.
 "An incubatorl A chicken hatcheri Lord have mercy on us, miss, you don't mean it7 Why. you'll make the folks upon Scrabble Hill open their eyes. They never did see such a thing, for they're way back in the Dark Ages and never dreamed that an old settin hen could be beat at that kind of business. You'll teach 'em lots," and Burns again took squint at the machine.
 Agnes did not fail to remark the tone of sarcasm in which Burns referred to the astonishment of the natives up on Scrabble Hill, but she hurried her de- parture, and was soon driving out of the sleepy town, bearing away westward across the river, where the irregular,
 broken hills took on an intenser blue and the forest trees were just beginning
 to spray out light, feathery green. A rapid brook at the bottom of a small valley began to catch the early light on
 it's foam bells, while one long beam shot
 across the dewy grass, where dandelions sparkled and buttercups and daisies were bndded thick in the sheeny mead
 ows. The road crossed a stone bridge and turned sharply up the back of rock strewn hill crowned with pines, where the clouds shone between red stems, and
 wild growth and brush fringed the track that grew narrower as they crawled along the slope. The delicate young emerald of the tasseled spruces and tamaracks, the messy stumps with ane- mones nodding near, the rough hi1lsides breaking into verdure, the smells of earth and budding clover. the hum of
 bees in big patch of the wild honey suckle filled Agnes with savage, free delight. But Burns. as he smacked the old horse with the stub of 8 whip, kept his eyes screwed into wrinkles, like cir
 cles in pond from a dropped stone, spreading over the stubble of his face and pursing his lips. which slowly
 formed the word "incumbater, followed by the mysterious exclamation. ''Gosh
 all hemlocks, meyer didr'
 They seemed to be climbing for half
 an hour. with the woods thickening about them. the clean evergreen woods, where the light made pathways among the sparse undergrowth over pale pine
 needles, touching the bent head of a dog
 tooth violet or the pearly 1rops of Solo mons seal. Soon they had crossed the ridge and were now on the other side of the world, so far as Littlefeld was con-
 cerned Scrabble Hill began here. New social vistas opened before Agnes. The cuplike hollow lay at their feet brim-
 ming with new grass with the wind in
 it. Cattle roved, young leaves shivered, farmhouses stood here and there in the gray mist of blossoming fruit trees The long road was white with cherry blos- soms from bordering trees, and branches made slim elongated shadows across the
 track. Men were blowing in the fields. blackbird whistled on the snake fence,
 and afar of on the hill stood the un- painted. irregular little farmhouse, which was henceforth to be Agnes Ransom's
 home. She knew that from its crest there opened eastward large view of billowy
 blue hills and secluded valleys and a winding river. The old house was on the divide between two townships. Tt
 was situated nowhere and didn't face nothin," as Burns said According to the farmer 1t was askew on it's founda- tions and cat-a-cornered to the road and tried to adjust itself to triangular bit of ground. making a conspicuous failure of the attempt The front yard. which
 was not rightly front yard Ut all, but just green before the house. opened on large truck garden that lay on a warm aorfthp,.1, cyYnaffra