Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1891-05-22
SALLY'S SPHERE.
BY ANNIE F. JOHNSON.

The band was playing out on the hotel
piazza. The little steamer Idlewild came
putting in across the blue lake, and
gay colors flashed along the carriage
drive or darted to and fro in, the tennis
court.
Sally stood at the front window of
her room, peering through the curtain at
the scene below, and anxiously awaiting
Mrs. Sutherland's summons to go down.
hot kitchen Of an old farmhouse care
fully ironing the dress she now wore.
Through the open window she had
caught glimpses of the men at work in
the hay field, and once when she paused
in the door moment, Jonas had waved
his broad brimmed hat to her.
She remembered how admiringly she
had watched him pitching up the heavy
fork-fulls of hay, and how grave his eyes
were that night when he called to say
goodbye. Then looking down again on
the well-dressed groups below, she re-
membered with sudden disapproval that
he had seated himself to talk to her in
his shirt sleeves, with his old straw hat
pushed back on his head.
Sally Merrill's short life had been a
double one. Outwardly it had always
been bound by the narrow horizon OF a
country neighborhood, where she had
grown up, a homely, practical girl,
whose good nature and high spirits made
her everybody's favorite. But through
the books old Miss Jewsberry loaned her
every week, she had found her way into
a different society. She went to the rus
tic gatherings with Jonas and enjoyed
them, but between times dreamed of the
romances she had read, and fell in love
with the white handed heroes.
Half the time when she went about
the house, sweeping and busting and
putting it in order, in her imagination
she was trailing majesrically down long
bathrooms, or making witty replies to the
groups of admirers always around her.
She vaguely felt that she was destined to
realize some of these experiences some
day.
The little looking glass above her
washstand showed nothing beautiful to
the face smiling SO hopefully into it..
Sally was so accustomed to seeing the
small, honest eyes reflected there, the
pale hair, the commonplace little features,
that it never occurred to her that she
was not even what people call pretty.
Now she heard Mrs. Sutherland's
knock at the door, and shaking out the
daintily ironed folds of her white muslin,
hurried tc open it.
ho old
stood there with seene face and soft,
white hair, had been lifelong friend of
Sally's mother. She had been ordered
to the lakes by her physician for change
of climate. Not wishing to be alone,
and remembering Sally's bright face and
pleasant ways, she had invited her to be
her guest for month. They had ar
rived but a few hours before
This was the first time Sally had ever
been out of sight of the hills that sur
rounded her old home.
Now the sunset was reddening the lake,
and the music of the band foated en-
trancingly along the hall. With Mrs
Sutherland's hand on her arm, she passed
down the broad staircase to dinner, feel
ing that the life she coveted was within
her grasp. The opening chapter of her
romance lay spread out before her.
Mrs. Sutherland wondered at the way
the little country girl adapted herself to
surroundings. None of the bashful ig-
norance she had expected, showed itself
in look or tone. She did not know that
for years Sally had dreamt she s'dwelt in
marble halls" She did not know how
much of the world, of sentiment, and
ambition, she had learned from those
rows of fictitious social lights, on Miss
Jewsberry's bookcase shelves.
Mrs. Sutherland found a number of
old friends among the guests at the
hotel. They thought it odd she should
choose to chaperone such plain, insig-
nifcant little body as Sally at fashion
able summer resort; but then, whatever
Mrs. Sutherland chose to do, always
passed unquestioned, in the set where
she held acknowledged supremacy.
A week wss& by. Seven days so full