Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-02-03


 "I came back from Europe as soon as heard that you were not
 "Oh," cried Agnes with great show of vivacity, you are the young person who has been wandering about the fields with photographic camera, and chance led you into the neighborhood of Scrabble Hill"
 It was now the young mans turn to blush under his coat of tan.
 Pardon me for coming here, Miss Ransom" he said in a low voice: "I could not keep away"
 "Why should 1 pardon you, MT. Fall lon? Are not the roads open to travelling photographers and all varieties"-
 "Of tramps," he added quickly.
 "It is you that say it, MT. Fallon, not l. Possibly some of these strollers may be friends in disguise"
 He lifted his eyes to hers with smile like flash of sunlight.
 "Where on earth are you bound, Miss Ransom, if may ask?'
 "To the poor farm, and incidentally in quest of the man who takes pictures to satisfy my young friend here, who de- sires above all things to be taken in her best clothes"
 "Oh, Miss Ransom, if you would allow me to come to Scrabble Hilll'
 "Why noe," said Agnes laughing, and easily rega;ning her ascendancy over the agitated young man. Have not told you that the highways are all free2 And now if you please you may mount into the wagon, if you are not ashamed to ride in a market cart, for such it is."
 Fellon sprang to the seat beside her, and as if he felt that little audacity was necessary at this stage of the game (and to tell the truth, audacity was more native to him than confusion of face), he seized the reins and boldly turned the vehicle at short corners on the narrow road, scraping the wheels terrifcally.
 "Why do you go to the poor farm, to that discouraging placer Let us drive off into illimitable space. l have thou sands of things to say to you"
 Agnes meantime had turned around to Phemy, who sat on the back seat with her mouth wide open in utter be- wilderment, to explain that MT. Fallon was an old friend, and she went on to hint that the young man was sometimes afflicted with mild and harmless form of dementia, in which he went about the country with photographic camera on his back.
 After that memorable drive Fallon got in the habit of strolling over to the Scrabble Hill farm with singular punctu- ality. His photographic art seemed speedily to fall into ruinous desuetude, except as it was practiced on Miss Ran som and Phemy, on the Burns family, the horses and cows and hens. He took lively interest in the incubator, and when the first chicks were matched was filled with enthusiasm for the process by which they found their way into the world. He admired the new henhouse, and advised Agnes to procure turkeys be- cause they took we'll in sketch, and geese because possibly the bird that lays the golden egg might be found among them. He even undertook the education of Phemy, who advanced much faster in reading with him than under Miss Ran som's instruction. He advised her how | to get the best effects out of her tempest of reddish hair, so that it might be in- troduced into picture.
 Phemy was vaguely jealous of him and yet fascinated at the same time. He had taken five photographs of her with her ''joolry'' on, and she pinned them to | the wall of her bedroom in row, and now sat contemplating them on the edge of the bed with her thin arms clasped round her knees. She speculated in a hazy way on the cause of MT. Fallon's anomalous appearance at Scrabble Hill, and at last it dawned upon her that he was tcourtin." She had heafd of ''court- in" before, but had never happened to witness the phenomenon. If the artist meant to take her young mistress away from her she would like to scratch his eyes out. Dear me" she said to herself, eying her queer face in the bit of look ing glass, 'every girl, if she's good for something and ain't as humbly as a hedge fence, has a him of her own. wonder if l shall ever have him of my own?' After studying her face some time in the glass she concluded it was very doubtful, and then she ran her tongue out and made horrible grimace.
 But if there was what Phemy called "courtin business" going on between the artist and Miss Ransom, it was con ducted on very peculiar lines. They quarreled and spatted good deal, so il seemed to Phemy, and couldn't agree or what they called art, with a big A whatever that might mean. Then they made up their differences with a merry laugh, and Miss Agnes sang an old bal lad as she sat and sewed, with the front door open and the sunshine and fresh air coming in nimbly, and bees and birds fitting about, and the hills showing their pleasant faces, with the scent oi clover and honey dew and the peace and restfulness of the country stretch ing to an infinite distance. Fallon had brought his banjo, and sometimes ac companied Agnes while she sang, for ht played with spirit. Then Burns and hil wife would stand just round the corner of the house listening to the concert "Golly," said John, wiping his brow eff that ain't most as good as a camI meetin."
 Fallon, with his easy manners and