Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1891-11-20

she was quite Unlike neT SlsVeIsi tniS
little housekeeper of the family. She
was plump and peach-cheeked, with
violet eyes, reddish-brown hair, and
"A mouth like baby's, dewy red
"You see lis this way, girls, she ex-
planned. 'Old Mr.. Miller promised to
give me a fine pumpkin for my Thanks
giving pies, but last week stranger
bought out and took possession Of the Mil
Ter farm. Whether he will let me have
the pumpkin or not remains to be seen."
sect one somewhere else if he's dis
agreeable, couuseled RoSalie, vaguely.
Rosalie was the artist of the family.
Just now she was painting bunch Of
withered mignonnette, aud expending
on it good deal of chrome yellow,
burnt sienna, and Jealous devotion.
THAT is easily said" cried Phylida,
who, epitome of meekuess and sweet
ness though she was, could not resist
shooting her adviser scornful glance.
''Bur nowhere e-nowhere are such pump
kins as Miller's 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, theu," said Rosa
lie, dreamily, changm5 her advice and
her brush with equal dexterity.
~ wish, said Phylida to herself that
very afternoon, as, with the surah ties Of
her blue zephyr hood bowed under
her dimpled chin, and her worn ou.
sealskin iacket-a relic of maternal
osperity-buttoued over her brave 1T
tie body, she made her way against a
bleak north wind toward the Miller farm
IL wish the girls would take tiny
bit more interest in the managing aud
the bills, il triGc less in their music
and painting. But then they are tai
ented, and am not. And whatever is,
is best
With which axiom Of questionable
veracity she endeavored to encourage
herself.
She walked rapidly. Her cheeks were
rose.rei, her eyes like sapphires, when
she reached the gate leading into the
Miller grounds.
Swiftly she passed on toward the ga
blcd, red rooted house.
AS she turned curve of the avenue,
she became aware of another pres ence.
In the path Just ahead of her, gun II
hand and dog at heels, gentleman wa:
stalking.
He looked back 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 hes Phylida' noted
that.
Young She had never dreamed of thu
new proprietor of the Miller farm a
Young. 1t would be harder to ask
favor of him than it would be il he wer'
old and ugly-yes, and cranky-or Sc
she fancied.
"I-I beg your pardon" she said as
she approached him, "but Mr. Mile
promised-promiscd-"
What under the heavens had Mr.. Mil
> Ter promisedl There was something il
the CLEAN of those brown and brillian
eyes that routed memory.
"Yes," kindly.
tHe promised me You are the ne'
owner of the farm2'
He smiled.
fortunately, yes
, Was he laughing at herl She felt th
crimson creeping from chin to brow.
!. "WeH, Mr.. Miller promised me
= pumpkin y
There-it was said.
"He did, Then you assuredly sha
have one. Where-to whom shall | sen
it7'
If For three years had Phylids obtaine
J. from Mr.. Miller her Thanksgiving puml
kin. Never had he offered to send
4 home for her. She had always chose
Il the smallest one she could dnd, and the
had paid Billy Belts to carry it to Hol
h Hill Lodge for her. This menial du
the young gentleman in question pc
J. formed annually with much cheerfulnei
for the sum Of five cents.
}. "My name is Phylida Millburn.
' live at Holly Hill Lodge"