The Mitchell capital. (Mitchell, Dakota [S.D.]) 1879-1918, 1891-07-10
A FOURTH OF JULY STORY

1t was wonder to all Snowden how
Mrs. Ely and her daughter managed to
live. They had COW. it is true. but a
procession Of small boys came every
night and morning to the widows pretty
cottage with pitchers and pennies in
hand for the daily measure of milk. One
little egg cup full Lefty poured from the
pail as she brought it in frothing for her
mothers tea. The rest was all convert
ed into money. and except the micro
scopic insurance that came from the
friendly brothers of something to which
the late Mr.. Ely belonged very little
other Iucre found its way into the small
cottage
Not hundred yards from this tiniest
Of cottages was an imposing stone gate
way leading to the we'll kept grounds Of
Squire Melville. His grand house was
closed all winter, but one Of the symp-
toms Of spring we'll known to the villag-
ers was the renovating and house clean
ing which presaged the coming of the
family. 1t was the only house of any
pretension near and was the tangible
evidence Of the great financial success
which had been won by this one Of the
town boys Of the previous generation,
who had left his early home and taken
his chances in one Of the worlds great
marts.
The battle Of life had left Squire Mel
vile cold, hard and purseproud. and
with enough pride Of another kind to
make him take pleasure in exhibiting
his glory to the eyes Of his old associ-
ates.
He had a meek and invalid wife.
whose fortune had been the stepping
stone to his prosperity. and a son and
daughter, who were we'll liked in Snow
den
The latter was engaged to a California
nabobs son, and 80 was of more conse-
qnence in her gratified fathers eyes than
she had ever been before. But the son,
around whose future every ambitious
hope of his worldly father centered. had
fallen in love with pretty Lefty Ely.
and the fact had but just come to that
disappointed fathers knowledge.
John Melville" he had said. you
are driveling idiot. Do you suppose l
am going to see the fortune have spent
my life and health in getting poured
into the lap Of beggar, a scrub, dairy
woman2 A low creature like the serv.
ants in my kitchen2"
There was q storm Of angry words be-
tween them. for no man could listen
calmly to abuse Of his loved one Then
the older man. more polite than the
younger. forced his tongue to mildness
that found no echo in his heart. and
tried pathetic appeal to his son. beg
ging him, for his sake, to surrender his
aeeting fancy. but threats and entreaties
had no effect. Raging with anger, the
son flung himself out of the home, fol-
lowed by the wrathful insults of his
father
In the vine arched doorway of the lit
tie cottage, Lefty stood with her flower
like face lifted as her eyes looked
dreamily into the blue glory of the sum-
mer sky Roses nassed themselves
above her. delicate sprays heavy with
bloom waved about her. and climb mbing
vine of the York and Lancaster wreathed
the pillars that upheld the roof There
were roses on both sides of her, and in
the pink perfection Of her setting she
was the loveliest flower of all.
"My Rose of Summer" whispered
Jack Melville. swinging himself over the
low rail and stealing an arm around her
slight waist
"You are worth fighting for" he con-
tinued. as they stepped together into the
little house.
Fighting. Jack3"
Yes. my precious. I have just had
battle royal with my father. and he
flushed as he remembered the scofang
sights which had been heaped upon his
darling
Lefty grew pale and wept as Jack
gave her an extended account of the
stormy interview which had left its
traces on his words and looks. When he
finished he saw look Of severe resolu-
ton in her lovely face that astonished
him. he bent to kiss the red lips that