Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1891-11-21

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SECT one somewhere else if he's dis
agreeable, counseled Rosaie, vaguely.
Rosalie YVES the artist of the family.
Just now she was painting bunch of
withered mignonnette, and expanding
on it a good deal of chrome yellow,
burnt sienna, and jealous devotion.
''That is easily said, cried Phylida,
who, epitome of meekness and sweet
ness though she was, could not resist
shooting her adviser a scornful glance.
"Bur nowhere-nowhere are such pump
kins as 1illers raised At least there
are not any others as good in this part of
the world. His have the regular lemon
flavor"
sect one Of those, then," said Rosa
lie, dreamily, changing her advice and
her brush with equal dexterity.
al wish, said Pnylida to herself that
very afternoon, as, with the surah ties of
her blue zephyr hood bowed under
her dimpled chin, and her worn out
sealskin jacket relic of maternal
prosperity over her brave lit
tie body, she made her way against a
bleak north wind toward the Miller farm
II wish the girls would take a tiny
/ bit more interest in the managing and
the bills, if trihc less in their music
and painting. But then they are tai
ented, and l am not. And whatever is,
is best -
With which axiom of questionable
veracity she endeayored to encourage
herself.
She walked rapidly. Her cheeks were
rose,re1, her eyes like sapphires, when
she reached the gate leading into the
Miller grounds.
Swiftly she passed Oh toward the ga.
bIed, red rooted house.
AS she turned curve of the avenue,
she became aware of another presence.
In the path just ahead of her, gun in
hand and dog at heels, gentleman was
stalking.
He looked bach he stood still; took
off his hat.
Their glances met. Not like Mr.. Mil
ler-not in the least like Mr.. Miller.
That individual had been small and
swart and gray haired This gentleman
was very tall, very straight-limbed, very,
very handsome, and young. With pos
tive sinking OF her heart Phylida noted
that.
Young She had never dreamed of the
new proprietor of the Miller farm as
young. 1t would be harder to ask a
favor of him than it would be if he were
old aud ugly-yes, aud cranky-or SO
she faucied.
ell beg your pardon" she said as
she approached him, "but Mr.. Miller
promised--promiscd-"
What under the heavens had Mr.. Mil
Ter promised3 There was something in
the CLEAN of those brown and brilliant
eyes that routed memory.
eyes" kindly.
"He promised me You are the new
owner of the farmG"
He smiled.
Fortunately, yes"
Was he laughing at herr She felt the
crimson creeping from chin to brow.
"Well, Mr.. Miller promised me 6
pumpkin
There-it was saidl
"He did3 Then you assuredly shall
l have one. Where-to whom shall I send
t itl'
For three years had Phylida obtained
from Mr.. Miller hel Thanksgiving pump,
kin. Never had he offered to send il
home for her. She had always chosen
the smallest one she could find, and then
had paid Billy Belts to carry it to Holly
Hill Lodge for her This mental duty
the young gentleman in question per
formed annually with much cheerfulness
for the sum of ave cents.
"fy name is Phylida Millburn.
live at Holly Hill Lodge"
"Ohr with a comprehensive lifting
Of thick, dark brows. "Wait a mo
ment, please.
He shouldercd his way off throug
, the cracking strubbery. In few min
n utes he returned, balancing on hi
/ shoulder huge globe of gold-one a:
T. suredly large enough to have forme,
Cinderella's coach.
J. "That," cried PhYlida, in dismay
y "must weigh thirty pounds, if it weigh
re an ounce. We couldn't use that in
1 year
y But he was walking with leisurel
deliberatiou toward Holly Hill, and sh
a, was obliged to turn aud keep up wit
him.
is ''You've no idea," he said, coolly
lie "what an appetite have for pumpki
tn pie, and this doesn't weigh quite thir
pounds.
What did he meant She actual